Pulp - Charles Bukowski [64]
I sat in the car waiting for Cindy to come out.
It was a sultry summer morning.
I must have fallen asleep, sitting there. I don’t know what awakened me. But there was her Mercedes backing out of the drive. She swung it around, headed south and I followed her. Red Mercedes. I followed her to the freeway, the San Diego, she took the fast lane and hit it. Well, she was doing 75 anyhow. She must have been hot. She wanted it. I felt something twitch between my legs. A sheath of sweat began to layer my forehead. She got it up to 80. She was in heat, the bitch was in heat! Cindy, Cindy! I stayed right with her 4 car lengths behind. I’d nail her ass, I’d nail her ass like it had never been nailed before! This was it! Chase and consummation! I was Nick Belane, super dick!
Then I saw the flashing red lights in my rear view mirror.
Shit!
I gradually edged over to the slow lane, saw a shoulder, parked the Bug, got out. The cops stopped 5 car lengths back. One got out on each side. I went toward them, reaching for my wallet. The tall cop flipped his gun out of the holster, pointed it at me.
“Hold it, buddy!”
I stopped. “What the hell you going to do, drill me? Go ahead, go ahead, drill me!”
The shorter one came around behind me, got me in an arm lock, walked me to the hood of the police car and slammed me down over it.
“You shit!” he said. “You know what we do with pricks like you?”
“Yeah, I got a damned good idea.”
“This prick is a wise guy!” said the short cop.
“Take it easy, Louie,” said the tall cop, “somebody might have a camcorder. This is not the place.”
“Bill, I hate wise guys!”
“We’ll bust him, Louis. We’ll bust his ass good later.”
I was still jammed over the hood. Cars were slowing on the freeway. The gawkers were gawking.
“Come on, fellows,” I said, “we’re causing a traffic jam.”
“You think we give a fuck?” asked Bill
“You threatened us, you ran toward us reaching into your waistband!” screamed Louie.
“I was reaching for my wallet. I wanted to show you my i.d. I’m a registered detective, city of Los Angeles. I was tailing a suspect.”
Louie let go the death grip he had on my arm.
“Stand up.”
“O.k.”
“Now, slowly reach for your wallet and take out your driver’s license.”
“O.k.”
I handed him a little slip of paper, folded up.
“What the hell is this?” he asked.
The cop handed it back to me.
“Unfold it, then hand it back.”
I did that, said, “It’s a kind of temporary license. They took my old one when I failed my driver’s license test, the written one. This lets me drive until I take my next test in a week.”
“You mean, you flunked your test?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, Bill, this guy flunked his driver’s test!”
“What? Really?”
“I had things on my mind…”
“Looks like you had nothing on your mind,” Louie smirked.
“It’s for laughs,” said Bill.
“And you mean you’re a licensed detective?” asked Louie.
“Yep.”
“Hard to believe.”
“I was hot after a suspect when you flashed your lights. I was just about to nail her ass.”
I handed Louie the photo.
“Holy shit!” he said. He kept staring at the photo. It was a full length shot. She was in a mini-skirt and a low cut blouse, very low cut.
“Hey, Bill, look at this!”
“I was hot on her tail, Bill, I was just about to nail her ass.”
Bill kept staring at the photo.
“Uhhh uhhh uhhh,” he went.
“I need the photo back, officer. Personal evidence.”
“Oh yeah, sure,” he said, reluctantly handing it back.
“Well, we ought to bust you,” said Louie.
“But we won’t,” said Bill, “we’ll write you up for doing 75 even though you were doing 80. But we get to keep the photo.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“But that’s extortion!” I said.
Bill moved his hand toward his gun.
“What did you say?”
“I said, it’s a deal.”
I handed the photo back to Bill. He began writing out the speeding ticket. I stood there waiting. Then he handed me the ticket.
“Sign it.”
I did.
He ripped it off and handed it to me.
“You’ve got ten days