Read Online The First Rule of Ten by Gay Hendricks and Tinker Lindsay - Free Book Online
Authors: Gay Hendricks and Tinker Lindsay
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care of that– BLAM!”
Bill and Martha came in with the twins, so we could say good night. They were clean and pajama’d, their hair standing up in damp red spikes. One of the babies caught my eye and she grinned, her mouth dropping open like a hinge.
“Hey, Lola,” I said, pleased with myself for identifying her. Lola was a grinner practically from day one, while Maude always gave you a flat-eyed stare, as if to say, “Prove it.”
“Ummm, that would be Maude,” Julie said.
So much for my investigative abilities.
Thirty minutes later, we were serving up a cashew-and-vegetable stir-fry with basmati rice. Expertly chopped cucumber salad on the side.
Bill was soon regaling Julie with my new theory of moneymaking. He’d had a few more beers and was now into the red wine.
“He claims the money will just fall out of some tree. Poof! Like magic! So, Ten, where’s it going to come from?”
“From wherever it is now,” I said.
“How much wine has this knucklehead had, Martha?” Bill chuckled. “He’s beginning to lose the plot.”
He picked up the bottle and started to pour himself another glass.
Martha gently moved Bill’s goblet away. “Honey, I think that’s enough. Your skills as a career counselor are going downhill rapidly.”
A slight twist of irritation crossed Bill’s face. Then he sighed. “You’re right, love. Sorry. I’m just jealous, is all.”
The table fell silent. Sometimes it takes three beers and two glasses of red wine to unlock a cop’s tongue. In vino veritas.
“You and I aren’t so different, Ten,” he said. “The day after I got out of the army, I joined the LAPD. I’ve never had any other kind of job. Now I see you heading out on this big adventure into the unknown …”
Some friends might choose to placate, to say reassuring things like “You’re a great cop and you have an even greater life.” I’m not one of them. I like it when people try to talk me into my feelings, not out of them. So that’s what I did with Bill.
“What about my new life looks attractive to you?” I asked. That got a smile from Julie.
Bill’s reply was instant.
“Freedom,” he said. “Freedom to be your own man.”
“Anything else?”
Martha stood and started to stack our plates.
“Picking what you want to work on rather than, oh let’s see, getting handed a stack of files every Monday morning, getting grilled by morons in court, putting up with dingbat administrators downtown, being hauled in front of a committee every time your weapon discharges. Stop me if there’s any you haven’t heard.”
“I get the picture,” I said. “Those are all the reasons I bailed out.”
“Well, maybe that’s what I should do, too.” Bill yawned, and stretched his back until it gave a satisfying set of pops.
“How about you bailing into bed?” Martha said. “You’re talking like a man who needs a good night’s sleep.”
Bill didn’t argue with that. He stood up and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Keep me in the loop,” he said. “Don’t leave me behind.”
I stood and gave him an awkward man-hug.
“You are the loop,” I said.
Bill headed to bed, his gait unsteady.
Martha waved me off dishwashing duty.
“It’s my only alone time,” she said. “Julie, why don’t you walk Ten to his car?”
“Subtle,” Julie said.
We strolled up the sidewalk to where I’d parked my prized possession. I found myself wanting her to say something.
She didn’t disappoint.
“Wow,” she said. “I’m not a car person, but wow. What is this?”
“A ’65 Shelby Mustang,” I said. “I bought it back when I was a lowly patrolman. Not like this, of course. It was totaled. I spent three years restoring it. Helped me get my mind off cop stuff for a couple of hours every evening. Some genius mechanics over in Santa Monica did most of the heavy lifting, like rebuilding the engine.”
“I like the color, too,” Julie said, running her hand along the vivid yellow contours of
Bill and Martha came in with the twins, so we could say good night. They were clean and pajama’d, their hair standing up in damp red spikes. One of the babies caught my eye and she grinned, her mouth dropping open like a hinge.
“Hey, Lola,” I said, pleased with myself for identifying her. Lola was a grinner practically from day one, while Maude always gave you a flat-eyed stare, as if to say, “Prove it.”
“Ummm, that would be Maude,” Julie said.
So much for my investigative abilities.
Thirty minutes later, we were serving up a cashew-and-vegetable stir-fry with basmati rice. Expertly chopped cucumber salad on the side.
Bill was soon regaling Julie with my new theory of moneymaking. He’d had a few more beers and was now into the red wine.
“He claims the money will just fall out of some tree. Poof! Like magic! So, Ten, where’s it going to come from?”
“From wherever it is now,” I said.
“How much wine has this knucklehead had, Martha?” Bill chuckled. “He’s beginning to lose the plot.”
He picked up the bottle and started to pour himself another glass.
Martha gently moved Bill’s goblet away. “Honey, I think that’s enough. Your skills as a career counselor are going downhill rapidly.”
A slight twist of irritation crossed Bill’s face. Then he sighed. “You’re right, love. Sorry. I’m just jealous, is all.”
The table fell silent. Sometimes it takes three beers and two glasses of red wine to unlock a cop’s tongue. In vino veritas.
“You and I aren’t so different, Ten,” he said. “The day after I got out of the army, I joined the LAPD. I’ve never had any other kind of job. Now I see you heading out on this big adventure into the unknown …”
Some friends might choose to placate, to say reassuring things like “You’re a great cop and you have an even greater life.” I’m not one of them. I like it when people try to talk me into my feelings, not out of them. So that’s what I did with Bill.
“What about my new life looks attractive to you?” I asked. That got a smile from Julie.
Bill’s reply was instant.
“Freedom,” he said. “Freedom to be your own man.”
“Anything else?”
Martha stood and started to stack our plates.
“Picking what you want to work on rather than, oh let’s see, getting handed a stack of files every Monday morning, getting grilled by morons in court, putting up with dingbat administrators downtown, being hauled in front of a committee every time your weapon discharges. Stop me if there’s any you haven’t heard.”
“I get the picture,” I said. “Those are all the reasons I bailed out.”
“Well, maybe that’s what I should do, too.” Bill yawned, and stretched his back until it gave a satisfying set of pops.
“How about you bailing into bed?” Martha said. “You’re talking like a man who needs a good night’s sleep.”
Bill didn’t argue with that. He stood up and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Keep me in the loop,” he said. “Don’t leave me behind.”
I stood and gave him an awkward man-hug.
“You are the loop,” I said.
Bill headed to bed, his gait unsteady.
Martha waved me off dishwashing duty.
“It’s my only alone time,” she said. “Julie, why don’t you walk Ten to his car?”
“Subtle,” Julie said.
We strolled up the sidewalk to where I’d parked my prized possession. I found myself wanting her to say something.
She didn’t disappoint.
“Wow,” she said. “I’m not a car person, but wow. What is this?”
“A ’65 Shelby Mustang,” I said. “I bought it back when I was a lowly patrolman. Not like this, of course. It was totaled. I spent three years restoring it. Helped me get my mind off cop stuff for a couple of hours every evening. Some genius mechanics over in Santa Monica did most of the heavy lifting, like rebuilding the engine.”
“I like the color, too,” Julie said, running her hand along the vivid yellow contours of
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