Chapter 1
“Teamwork is the power that allows common people to produce uncommon results” Rick Hendrick
Mike walked through Main Street USA. It was like a beehive with hundreds of people bustling around, moving in and out of stores and restaurants. Faces looking places, cameras clicking, shoes occasionally clicking off the hot asphalt ground.But he was looking at just one lowly scared face.
Mike Piazza was a cop who spent more money on guitars and Beatles then on food. He was dressed in a black t-shirt, sweat already starting to bead down the back, jeans, Converse, and sun glasses. Behind those glasses were blue eyes that were focused on one man in a crowd of many. Andrew Hernandez. A drug dealer.
Mike eased his way through the crowd, pulling his phone out of his pocket and changing the song to “Hey Jude”. Swiftly sneaking the mp3 back in his pocket and putting his head down, he continued to follow his face down the bustling, crowded, New York City like street.
The man quickly changed his direction, heading to the Plaza Restaurant. He chose an outside table away from everyne else. Mike followed him and took a seat a few tables behind. Shooing away the geese, Mike sunk down into the chair, put his feet up on the table and closed his eyes, losing himself in emotion. Exactly what Alan told him never to do. Never show it, never get lost in it.
He listened to everything and took it all in. A women calling for her child, the panic starting to edge in her voice. A kid crying over a toy he can’t have and a dad telling him he is spoiled. A man arguing with his wife in a language Mike couldn’t understand. So much to think about. So much to get lost in.
It had been a year since drug dealers killed his parents by accident, but he still felt a seering hatred towards all of them. He would never tell his boss this, but he wanted to kill them all. Every. Last. One.
Mike could feel his eyelids starting to twitch as a lump of anger the size of a basketball grew in his throat. In his mind he saw his parents, bleeding out in his hands. He saw their blood in his hands making them sticky. As he sat, he felt them getting sticky again, the anger building to the size of a car tire.
“Can I get you something sir?” A deep voice interrupted.
Mike opened his eyes and looked up. He was staring at a tall, strong, dark skinned waiter. “A coke and a Sig” he replied putting his hands in front of him to see if there was no blood.
“And how would you like your sig sir?” the waiter asked smiling.
“Chip’s special,” Mike said. “And a grilled cheese and bacon double please”
“Sure thing,” the waiter said walking away mumbling to himself, "He actually said please?"
Mike closed his eyes again, waiting, and pondering what he was going to do. As he opened his eyes and weighed his options a very attractive blond waitress, who Mike swore he knew, came over.
“Your Coke sir,” She said leaning over, to place it down and in the process, grabbing Mike’s attention away from everything else. She was wearing a black tank top and dark skinny jeans under her apron.
“Thank you” Mike managed to get out. She then handed him a stuffed Mickey Mouse. “Do I have to tip you?” he asked.
She winked at him and walked off with Mike’s gaze following every step. When she went inside he shook his head and focused his attention to the toy. He looked it over twice, sucked in his lips, and tugged on the right ear. The Mickey ripped in half to reveal a gun.
Mike picked it up and put it in the back of his jeans. Then he stood up, taking his Coke with him. Adjusting his shades, he walked over to where Andrew was sitting.
“Hey,” He said taking a seat across from Andrew while sipping his Coke “so the Dolphins suck again.” He stated conversationally. Andrew just stared at him.
“Who the hell are you” he asked finally with a heavy Spanish accent.
Mike took a long, obnoxious sip from his Coke and used it to swallow the car size ball of anger in his throat “I am your worst nightmare.”
“Is that so?” Andrew said smiling and standing up.
“Why are you smiling?” Mike asked sounding disappointed, “You’re supposed to be scared.”
Andrew started laughing. Mike put his lips together, popped them, pulled his shirt up, and took his gun out, and pointed it at Andrew’s head.
“Detective Mike Piazza Florida Department of Law Enforcement.” He said pointing at the badge on his belt “Might I suggest kind sir that you don’t move.” Andrew laughed again.
“And what are you going to do with that? You look like you’re ten.” He mocked. Just then the waiter came up. He looked at the scene, dropped the tray he was holding, pulled a gun from his apron, and pointed it at Andrew.
“Quincy, FDLE.” He said also showing a badge. Hernandez looked around wondering what to do. Suddenly he took off running, pushing people out of the way. Mike and Quincy took aim. Mike stood pointing his gun, when suddenly he started breathing heavily.
He was overcome with emotion, his mind telling him wait for backup. His heart telling him kill Andrew. Unload this ferocious machine in your hands. It’s for your family. Mike’s arms started shaking, sweat now pouring in dots down his eyes. Andrew went down.
Standing over him was another Andrew. This one was a detective named Andrew Shenemann.
Mike lowered his gun and mumbled a thank you, trying to catch his breath, thankful fate had escaped him again. Andrew picked Hernandez up by the collar and handcuffed him. He walked him back to Mike and Quincy just as Mike’s grilled cheese got to his table.
“Damn,” Quincy said, “I would have had his ass if you had waited a second.”
“Yea” Andrew replied, “And if a frog had wings it wouldn’t hop around on its ass.”
“Damn” Quincy replied throwing off his apron, “I’m glad this is over. I’m done playing Paula Dean”
Mike grabbed his sandwich as they walked back to the entrance and threw a few dollars on the table. The blond waitress stood leaning against the door frame. She popped her gum and replaced the knife she had been holding in its sheath tucked into her boot.
“Man you’re a cheap ass tipper” Quincy said as they all walked away from the resturaunt.
*********
It was a very modern building. The outside was all glass and the sidewalk outisde was lined with small potted plants. Alan and Dom walked into the hair salon and got that usual arctic ac rush you get in any building in Florida.
Dom was in the lead followed by Alan. Alan was dressed in Jeans, a long sleeve Hollister shirt, racing shoes, and Wiley-X sunglasses glasses, his sleek, skinny form showing through the shirt. His gun and badge clearly visible on his belt. He was the kind of person that was usually reserved and quiet but can get pissed off very easy. Not the greatest of combos.
Dom, who had a football player look, and a football player girl following, was wearing Wrangler jeans, a plain white shirt, and Ray Ban shades. His head cocked to the side, and big arms stretching the shirt out. The salon was bustling, with people coming in and out and a line about a half mile long. They walked through looking around.
“Hey,” Alan said motioning his head to a hair style cart packed with all sorts of things used for people’s hair, “What are those rod things. They look like tamp..”
“They are called hair setters.” Dom said without turning.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out, wait a minute.” Alan said stopping and grabbing Dom.
“How do you know? Damn your last girl friend really tamed you.”
“Shut up” Dom said.
“No, no, no” Alan replied “I’m getting really nervous. You my friend need to get some man back. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the Tampa Miami preseason game?”
“I don’t know,” Dom said thinking “maybe.”
“Dude,” was the reply “The only thing she didn’t do was put you on a leash…”
“I’m not saying anything” Dom smirked.
“Oh my god” Alan said shaking his head “you’ve got to be kidding me. Now I’m gonna have nightmares all f’ing week.”
“Hey how about your handcuff thing?” Dom asked jokingly, arching an eyebrow.
“That never happened!!” Alan yelled.
“Hey I was just saying” Dom said “that relationship was going strong”
“There wasn’t one” Alan said “I’m never talking to one of your Ex’s ever again. Even if this time was to stop her from creeping on you. Like you do any favors for me. I’m quite happy where I am thank you very much.”
“Really?” Dom asked “Then why do you bitch everyday about it? You’re like a bad Match.com example”
“Let’s go.” Alan said starting to walk away.
“Hey by the way,” Dom said, getting a devilish grin on his face “The only things that those could fit in are elephants.”
“Ahhh. Dammit! When I wake up from one nightmare, I’ll just slip into another. Thanks a shitload… PAL.”
“Just sayin'.” Dom said flashing his trademark smile, which he told Mike Piazza, is how he got girls.
They walked to about the tenth work station and stopped. There stood a girl combing an elderly women’s hair.
“Hey Casey” Dom said rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
“Hey Alan” Casey said pleasantly, ignoring Dom completely.
“What’s with all the people??” Dom asked
“Tropical storm Megan just became a category 1” She replied without even looking up.
“Ohh.” Dom said sucking his lips in and nodding.
“So, are you still mad about last month??” He asked her quietly.
“Dom” Casey said looking up finally “You left me at a luau table for three hours. Three hours. If we weren’t in a public place I would kick your ass.”
“Look, I can expla-” Dom started to speak but was cut off.
“We’re here to talk with your costumer” Alan interjected pleasantly. The person in the chair turned around to reveal a 64 year old woman.
“Yes?” she asked in a not so pleasant voice, with a thick southern draw.
“Mrs. Carver?” Dom asked
“What the hell do you want pretty boy?” She asked.
“Pretty boy.” Alan whispered smiling.
“You have a warrant to appear in traffic court-” Dom started but couldn’t finish because as soon as he said that the women pulled a Glock out of her bag and pointed it at Dom who, instinctively, pulled out his weapon. Alan did the same.
“What the hell” Dom yelled “we’ve got a Mexican Standoff going with a 65 year old! I thought Mike was the only person who got into this shit.”
“Shut up!” the women sneered, pointing the gun at Dom.
“Wait what is going on??” Dom yelled. “You’re a grandma. You’re supposed to do laundry and make cookies and stuff!”
“My grandma makes cookies.” Alan threw in quietly.
“Shut up pretty boy!” Mrs. Carver yelled.
“I thought that was Him!” Alan replied gesturing with his shulder at Dom.
“Obviously you’re cuter.” Dom replied smirking.
“Have you seen who goes after you?” Alan asked
“You’re just a cougar magnet.” Dom said
“How” Alan said turning to face Dom “Can you say that? Honestly you went out with a 20 year old.”
“A very-sexy-Gator's-cheerleader-20 year old.” Dom replied shrugging.
“Look ma’am,” Alan said looking at the women and putting his hands out, “Let’s talk about this. If you really want to shot him go ahead. Shoot him. Honestly he’s a pain in the ass. But if you do I’m letting you know he’s covered me for a while now so I’m going to unload a clip in you. And I really don’t want to do the shit load of paperwork that comes with it”
The women looked confused.
“And” Alan continued “look at all these innocent people. Could you do it?”
Mrs. Carver was thinking this over when suddenly there was a loud thump and she slumped over. Casey was standing over her with a crazed look and a hair dryer.
“Phew” Dom and Alan let out a sigh of relief.
“You know what” Casey said “She never tipped” Alan threw her a half smile as he put his gun away.
“Bye sweetheart” Dom said grabbing Mrs. Carver and walking out
“Your lucky that wasn’t you, you lousy, scruffy, lifeless, hobo, no good, little spoiled, son of a bitch” Came the reply
**
The FDLE building was large and very modern with a large fountin in the front. The outside was sleek black glass that glistened in the Florida afternoon oven sun. It had a table-sized touch screen computer as well as five floors and a jail for holding next door.
Warren Denis, the supervisor walked through the mass of people to get the unit five zero’s office area. There he found Alan, Dom, Mike, Andrew, Quincy, and a bunch of other people sitting around, drinking coffee and talking.
“All that I’m saying,” Andrew said sitting in an office chair “is we got our bust so much quicker than yours.”
“Well,” Dom responded sitting backwards on a chair, “we had to deal with the hurricane. Plus our had more style.”
“Ohh” Mike said “Hair salon, style. Get it. That works on so many levels.”
Dom just looked at him.
“There was a hurricane at the hair salon?” Russell Malko another cop asked.
“No dumbass” Dom continued “There were a lot of people at the hair salon because of the hurricane. You know the wind is going to be 190 miles per hour but they have to look pretty.”
“That’s stupid” Mike said “If there’s a hurricane coming I’m not runnin out to get my hair done.”
“Yea” Dom said smirking “We all know what you do when a hurricane is coming Mike. You go to Wal-Mart and Barnes and Noble and buy all the Playboys you can get your hands on in case your power goes out” Every one was laughing at that.
“Ha Ha Ha” Mike replied “But its still more action than you’ve gotten in a while”
“Yea” came the reply “How’s Chas going?”
“Hate to break up the heart to heart” Warren interjected “But we got something.”
“What’s up” Alan said talking the lead.
“Somebody high jacked a tanker truck at the Hess station by Epcot.”
“Damn it Quincy.” Everyone laughed and moved out.
A/N sorry for any copyrighted material I may have missed removing- things like ipod, abercrombie, holisder, hess, stuff like that.... so here's me giving them credit for being them.