Page 26 of Hell and High Water

“Fuck, Detective, you’re not wrong, there. A guy’s gotta eat.”

“You look like you never eat, Vinny. You should lay off the drugs.”

“You should lay off the booze and donuts. You look like shit.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Diet keeps me focused.” Sloane slips back into our old interplay, not quite friends, but the Detective always loved to gossip, catch a smoke out by the dumpsters. He loves a dirty joke and looking at women in short skirts. Simple guy.

Now he seems strung out. Nervous.

Cops in Sanctum have always been malleable. Some are dirty. Most are just looking for a little extra on the side, but not anything outright illegal.

Which is why so many of them take side gigs working for rich families, running security, bailing their spoiled kids out of trouble. But so many of those families are bailing on the town, running, or just locking up the gates to their mansions and hiding.

Which leaves those cops to sell their loyalty to whoever they think may come out on top.

“You heard anything about a guy named Vice?” I whisper, getting close.

Sloan visibly flinches, either from the name or my breath, hard to tell.

“Shut the fuck up!” he hisses, dragging me away from his desk and toward the back door.

“You wanna get yourself tossed in a cell and forgotten about?”

“So you have…”

“Half the precinct has done a lot more than ‘hear’ about him,” he mutters.

“But not you, huh?”

“Look. They got families. I understand. I got a kid myself. But no way I’m throwing my lot in with an obvious mobster from who the fuck knows where.”

Huh. Go figure. Sloane’s got a pinch of integrity, after all.

“Why isn’t anybody pushing back?” I ask, offering him a smoke as we lean against the side of the building, trying to put him at ease.

“Look, we're going to have a full government shutdown from the way things are going. Never mind the gangs. There are rumors trickling down from on high that several prominent members of our city have gone bye-bye overnight.”

“Like who?”

“Simmons. Weller. Half the staff from city hall have come around looking for work. Funds are drying up. I’ve heard rumors of the electric and water offices talking about going on strike.”

“Shit … we lose power, there’s gonna be riots.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. Regular folk need paychecks, so most people are still showing up for work, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Nobody signing checks…”

“Means nobody gets paid.”

“I remember what that’s like… getting paid.” I snicker.

Sloane huffs a laugh, takes a drag. He’s probably worried more about his own paycheck than anyone else, but at least he’s still here trying.

Problem is, no money inevitably leads to civil unrest, desperation of an entire displaced population. Mass exodus. I hold those thoughts back, staying in character.

Vinny’s world view is a little smaller than that.

“Fuckin rich assholes always leaving the rest of us to starve, huh?”

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