If you've ever been pulled over for a minor traffic infraction, you may notice there are only two types of police officers: those who chew gum, and those who do not. Fresh from the academy, where I'm pretty sure the technique is informally taught, a gum-chewer tends to be young and green, with an overbuilt torso and a vaguely threatening swagger. Working a knowing wad between his front teeth, he isn't all that interested in your response to a question such as, "Do you know how fast you were going?" -- and is really only asking to watch you squirm. 
"So did you sleep with the captain or didn't you?" Officer Mark"Bad-Ass" Muñoz inquired of me, casually popping a stick of Big Red.
"Do you want the truth or the lie?" The truth was that I hadn't. The lie was that I hadn't wanted to -- that I hadn't imagined it a hundred different times, a thousand different ways -- that I couldn't practically smell his skin against mine right then and there on the table.
All of this would be pretty inappropriate, since Mark and I were sitting side by side in the back booth of Mel's Diner having a "Tin Lunch" -- provided to uniformed cops free of charge, courtesy of the establishment.
"I can't blame you for asking," I said, "what with all the gossip. But it's not really your business." I reached in my purse for my ringing cellphone -- and Mark grabbed my hand, searching my eyes for the truth. "Hey. Answer the question."
I glanced at the call -- from my paparazzo friend Atti, hard at work conducting his own private investigation into my dead stripper friend's ever more convoluted back story. Letting it go to voice mail, I set the phone on the table and let out a long sigh. "The captain is our boss, that's it. I don't care what people are saying and neither should you. Now let go of me or I'll call a cop." He smiled, kissing my forehead. "That's all I wanted to hear."
Like a harmless little bulldog, my big, bad, very public boyfriend knew better than anyone that what we had wasn't serious. I'm not even sure why we were dating, other than we seemed to have been cast in some weird play with a national television audience. We would kiss good night after another evening performance, then go back stage to lead our separate lives. If I'd only known I was such a good actress in the first place, I would never have ended up the mystery blonde at the center of the latest scandal unfolding inside the L.A.P.D.
Other than his wife, that is -- especially in light of how certain new credibility issues might affect the testimony of her husband's accused lover in a gruesome homicide case she was investigating in hopes of nailing a serial killer. "I have to get downtown," I told Mark. "I seriously don't know what to tell Agent Knowles about all of this."
Then again, Mark wouldn't know the truth if it bit him in the nose -- which of course it was about to. Things would have gone so differently from that point forward if only I hadn't left my phone on the table -- and Mark hadn't noticed the waiting message from Atti.What happened next would also require Mark to be the type of guy who secretly takes note of his girlfriends' passwords just so he can check up on them. He picked up my phone, hammering in "CHERRYBOMB" -- all upper case, just exactly as I had it discretely tattooed on my backside.
"Hey blondie, I need you call me back before you meet with the FBI," Atti said in his urgent message, speaking in very hushed tones. "Turns out your boyfriend had a relationship with Rita nobody's talking about. Call me!"
As to which "boyfriend" Atti had been researching -- Bad-ass or the captain -- I guess that could have seemed murky to Mark, given my slipperiness under his questioning. Rita would have been so proud. She always thought I shared too much with guys. "Keep the sumbidges guessing," she'd slur, wandering around up all night half crocked. "Frackin bastids."In a hurry, Mark asked the waitress for the check. "Compliments of the house, Officer," she said, shooing him out as he popped yet another stick of Big Red. "As if you boys have to ask." Like I say, the gum-chewers don't tend to wait around long for answers they already have.
