Once Were Cops Read Online Free PDF Page A

by his behavior, as if he’d
    lost his way and was floundering.
    Fuck, I let him flounder.
    The bollix had gone out of his way to make me life
    hell, and now he didn’t know his arse from his
    elbow, he even forgot one time to slide the bar up
    his sleeve till I reminded him.
    Our luck stayed golden and we brought down a
    major dope dealer by pure chance, it was a collar
    that made the front pages of the Daily News.
    Kebar said,
    “This rate, kid, you’ll make detective in no time.”
    And thing is, I felt blessed, bulletproof, no matter
    what I touched, it panned out. I’m Irish, I should
    have known better, things go that well, God is
    seriously screwing with you, seeing just how much
    you think it is your sheer talent before He fucks you
    good.
    I was learning the lingo, my American coming in
    daily, still had me brogue of course and it amused
    the other cops to hear me cuss American with an
    Irish accent but at least I was getting there.
    I noticed they had picked up a few of mine too,
    even Kebar had started calling creeps “bollix” and
    I once heard him say …
    “Things were fierce.”
    Best of all was when we pulled in a vicious
    hooker who had been slashing Johns and he said,
    as she tried to bite him,
    “Fuck on a bike.”
    Had him.
    A month flew by in a haze, and knocking off work,
    Kebar asked,
    “There’s a bar in Brooklyn, got some great beer,
    I’d, um … you know, appreciate it if you let me …
    buy you a few brews.”
    I figured he’d done enough penance, said,
    “Sounds good.”
    His whole face lit up and to see him smile, it was a
    whole other guy, like he was ten years old.
    We arranged to meet at eight o’clock and as I
    headed for the locker room, he went,
    “Shea?”
    First time he used me name, and I turned. He said,
    ” ‘Predate it.” I said, “Whatever.”
    I was going to cut him some slack but not get stupid
    either.
    Little did I know.
    I got back to my place, I showered, broke out a
    cold one and rolled a little weed, nothing major,
    just chill on out, fingered the green rosary, the need
    was mounting.
    This was always the roughest time, as the darkness
    mounted and demanded its due, the other side of
    me, the good cop, wanted to be a regular guy and,
    here’s the joke, to meet a woman who would so
    consume me that I wouldn’t need the long slender
    necks of others. The zoning was becoming more
    powerful and the durations longer, how much of
    any decency was left was eroding rapidly.
    I had the TV on, listened to the news, a hundred
    Americans killed in Iraq in one month.
    Jesus.
    I turned it off, sank back in a chair, lit up the spliff, took a long draw of the Miller, hit the radio, a
    station playing old hits.
    “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell, I sang along with the
    chorus, the weed chilling me way out.
    My uniform was hanging on the back of the door,
    and I gazed at it, still in amazement it was actually
    mine.
    I said,
    “Fuck, you son of a gun, you really did it.”
    I had bigger plans, no way was I going home after
    a year, I fully intended being a hero cop and then
    no way could they send me home, that precinct, it
    would be mine, I’d already started gleaning
    information, like that O’Brien liked young girls, I’d
    gather me ammunition and then when my plans
    were full crystallized, I’d hit like that cobra.
    Back home, the lads would be getting ready to go
    out for a few pints.
    For few, read fifteen. Jaysus, if they could see me
    now.
    Was this the American Dream?
    Fecking would be if I made detective, and the way
    I was cruising, what could stop me?
    Dumb fuck I am, I’m Irish, superstition is our
    birthright but did I bless meself, touch wood, do
    any ritual stuff? Nope. Bad fuck to it now, would it
    have changed anything? Wouldn’t have hurt. But
    no, I opened another brew, and here were U2 with
    still haven z found what I’m looking for. I had,
    hadn’t I? Damn straight, my accent coming in.
    I figured I should eat something and the weed had
    given