Home Sweet Home (Chapters 6-10)

Chapter Six
Thursday morning 5:30 am



Another coffee filled morning, I meet Sully at the Hometown Cafe. Paradise on earth for breakfast lovers, of which I am one. Hometown has the biggest portions you will ever see. Pancakes as big as your plate, Potatoes piled sky high. I settle into a mug of coffee and a plate of biscuits and gravy with bacon and potatoes. Sully setting across from me has waffles, and sausage with OJ. JP who Sully had called was also there he had pancakes and 4 eggs all mashed into one hellacious looking syrupy, yolk bomb. He is washing it down with Tomato Juice and Tabasco. The guy is a pork chop away from a heart attack I think to myself, but I love him anyways.

Halfway through the meal Sully has filled JP on what happened that morning, and why the fuck they are up so early. JP had moved away 5 years earlier, but only 2 towns over, which in California speak, was roughly 15 miles down the same street that ran through town. JP had married a nice girl. A little heavyset but like Coop had said at the bachelor party 'beggars cant be choosers'. We all loved Tracy, and we felt sure she felt the same for us. Amanda and I had already been married for 5 years, establishing careers, her as a real estate agent, and me as a history teacher and high school baseball coach. Our last visit to California had been for JP and Tracy's wedding. Being the only married couples in the group the contact was usually monthly by phone, or daily by text or email by the wives. Amanda and Tracy were friends.

"So what do you think we should do call the police or something" JP said in between bites of his coronary bomb.

"No" I heard myself say

"No it could have been just some kids jacking around like we used to"

"Get with the fucking program Doc, they called you by name, and that fucking song, something is going on, but I don't think the cops will be much help."

"So what do we do" asked JP

"Mickey" I say not even realizing why

"Yeah we need to find Mickey", Sully agreed " Somehow, someway, I can't shake the feeling that that weasel fuck is up to his eyeballs in this shit"

"Have the cops said anything about Coop yet" I ask

"No" Sully says "I asked Mrs. C last night, and they are still calling it a homicide but other than a pipe with no prints they got nothing. Who ever did it know what they were doing. Tony said the scene was pretty clean"

" Well I agree with Sully" I say to JP, " we don't have to be anywhere until this afternoon, lets go see if we can find Mickey."

We leave the cafe, as soon as we get in the car we realize that if Mickey ain't home, no one has a clue where to find him. We drive up the boulevard taking it slow buying time really. No one wanting to face the inevitable, but knowing that we had to. We turn into the trailer court that Mickey had been calling home for the last two years. On the edge of town facing the desert, a real shit hole, with trash, beat up kids toys, and big ass dogs chained to trees welcoming us as we entered the court. A beat up half broke neon sign, blinked on and off 'Desert Oasis' it said, "first class family units".

"Some fucking oasis" Sully said.

We drove to the back of the court, no one up this hour, the only noise was the wind blowing through some desert brush. All the occupants sleeping off last night's fix. We parked the car at a cul-de-sac, and walked to the beat up piece of shit, Mickey had been calling home.

"Why the hell didn't he ask one of us for help, when he lost job" I asked to both of them, "hell a little hurt pride is better than this"

"I told you Doc" Sully answered, "that Weasel fuck has been out of it for two years, he won't let any of us get close. I know Coop had been here once, that's the only way I knew how to get here. Coop came by a few months back trying to talk some sense in the guy. The only time I see him now, is if he tries to butter me up for a free drink. Hell Pop said he has had to call him a cab 3 times in the last year, and eat the tab. If Pop didn't have it in his heart for Mickey he would have whopped him with that sawed off bat he keeps behind the bar."

We approached the fence. JP pointed out a street sign that said Hayes Rd. in faded type, held to the chain link with baling wire.

"Some fucking welcome mat" he said to the both of us.

We opened the gate and walked up the ramp to the porch, half expecting Cujo to jump out, or some junkie to come at us with a needle. Sully knocked on the door and as he did the door opened, letting out a ferocious smell of mold and mildew.
'Fuck a stick" Sully exclaimed as he held his shirt over his mouth and walked in.

The place was a mess dishes covered in month old food, were littered all over the kitchen, the Couch had been torn open, the few pieces of furniture Mickey had were thrown all over. There was a hole in the wall a foot wide, where it looked like some one had rammed something from the living room to the bedroom. Dog feces littered the carpet, and as they walked on the carpet the faint smell of urine came into there senses. It was obvious no one had lived here in over a month.

After spending as long as they could in the trailer, and not finding the slightest hint as to where Mickey could have run off to, they got back in to the car and drove through the desert for a while to think.

It was JP who thought of it first and it was he who was looking through the phone book while Sully got gas. " I found it" he yelled as he exited the mini mart with a couple packs of smokes, and an industrial sized bag of beef jerky, and a snickers hanging out his front pocket.

" Hey JP" I asked "you here the one about the Pollock who was so fat, that when he heard it was getting chilly, he ran out side with a spoon"

Sully laughed so hard he farted, as JP dug down deep for something, but all he could come back, with "go screw your mother you cock-a-roach", I sat back shocked I knew he didn't mean it, it was probably just a natural reaction from when were kids. Instantly JP started begging forgiveness, Sully hollered at him calling him a no good this and that with no fucking heart, but I was dazed. It took me a minute to regain focus, and when my mind came clear I walked over to JP who was on the verge of tears. I hugged him, and told him just like my father had always said you if dish it out, you have to be prepared to take it back. I knew he didn't mean it, I really did, but it hung with me for longer than I thought it would.

We had driven down the road back towards town a few miles when it dawned us that JP had never told us what he found. JP dug behind the Snickers in his front pocket, and pulled out a folded page from the phone book. The name Bushwell was underlined in pencil. We had an address.



1986



One day in late April, with the Rangers on a four game winning streak. My dad and Sully's dad did the unthinkable. Our father's had always been close. They had played baseball together in high school and later on in life when dad became the baseball coach, he and grandpa, would go down to Maggie's and catch a game with Pop Sullivan and talk baseball. Dad and grandpa had been lifelong Yankees fans, and Pop being the flagrant Irishmen he was naturally rooted for the Red Sox. It was a mutual friendship with a mutual rivalry. Pop was sure this was going to be there year the Red Sox finally won it all. They had Roger Clemens and god was on there side. grandpa who was a steadfast believer in the curse, just let him talk, knowing they didn't have a farts chance in hell of winning the pennant let alone the crown.

Anyway one day early in May, Pop Sullivan and Dad decided to take the entire team down to Newport to spend a day at the beach. Two men in there forties with twelve horny twelve year olds, they must have been nuts. They took everyone, even the two kids who rode the bench all year. There was us five of course, followed by Ricky Drake the second baseman, Marcus Hendricks, a speedy black kid who played third. Tony Ayala a Puerto Rican who played left. Jimmy Watts and Billy Baker who usually pitched, and the two kids who rode the bench Matt Calhoun, and Jose Duran. We all piled in to the two vans they had gotten and rode with the windows down for the hours drive down the 91 Freeway.

It was a sunny day, with salt in the air, pizza by the slice for 50 cents, and fresh squeezed lemonade and corn dogs at the Hot-Dog-On-A-Stick. Dad was in a great mood and for once let us play our music in the car. Van Halen with David Lee Roth belting out Panama, ZZ Top, Bob Seger, and of course Motley Crue.

"Yo JP" I yelled "you hear the one about the Pollock kid who was so fat, that when he got kidnapped it took two milk cartons to put his picture on it"

JP hated fat jokes, he was self conscience, but it was just the bait I needed as Coop threw me the Nerf Football.

JP yelled "Hey doc, you hear the one about the kid who got his ass dunked", and as he said this he came hurdling through the water landing on top of me.

The ball went flying through the air and a game of Smear the Queer had begun. Bodies flying everywhere, half choking on saltwater, it lasted 30 minutes before everyone was sore from constantly trying to keep there breath. We all washed down in the outdoor shower and then let the sun dry us off, free from the sand, smelling like coconut lotion, and starting to get burnt, we headed down the boardwalk to the pier. We all stopped and bought Snow cones, with 12 kids there were more than a few different colors smeared across our faces as we hit the pier in search of chicks. Dad and Pop had decided to spend the day fishing off of the pier where they could still keep an eye on us, but also give us some space. Knowing this Sully, stopped JP, Mickey, Coop, and I before we got on the pier.

"Hey guys look what I found on the beach" Sully said

Knowing Sully when he said found, it meant stole, it was a can of Skoal Wintergreen tobacco. We had all tried it before, being baseball players it was almost a birthright, but since none of our parents chewed and we were a long ways away from 18, you could say it was hard to come by.

There was half a can, and we all took turns digging our fingers in and packing our lips with way more then the normal person would normally chew. Yep we were all well acquainted with chewing all right, not more than five minutes later, coop was the first one to let it go over the pier, before long we were all throwing up over the pier, with a forty foot drop into the water. Vomit on our chins and shirts, multicolored due to the snow cones. A woman next to Mickey screamed, a little girl started crying, an old woman threw up herself, and 2 Japanese fisherman were singing our praises, because the mackerel had surfaced chumming on the vomit. It was complete chaos. Yeah we were really going to get the chicks now.

"Hey JP" I said my face turning green by the second "did you hear the one about the BLAAHH................"




Chapter Seven
Thursday 7:30 am


The apartment complex that was the home to Becky Bushwell was only a slight step above the paradise called Desert Oasis. Graffiti was scribbled here and there, along the sides of the building and up the staircases. The grass once growing, was now dead, and the last bits of a rock garden were all that kept the dust down. A dumpster next to the covered parking, had trash bags thrown all around it, and a ripped recliner was lodged into the bin. I found 4B on the Fourth level, of the north side of the building. I knocked several times, and heard a TV on inside. It seemed as I knocked the TV grew louder, so I knocked again even harder. This time the door cracked open, with the safety chain in place. An aged face stared back.

"I ain't buying no bibles" she said as she recognized Sully behind me.

Finally she unlocked the safety chain. When the door opened into full view I was stunned. I had remembered Becky from high school, but this women in no way resembled what I remembered. standing before us, was a women who was the same age as we were but looked old enough to be one of our mothers. Cheap lipstick was smeared a little, giving her mouth an uneven look. She was a good 30 pounds overweight, and about 5'6. She had black hair, that look greasy and unwashed. A torn tanktop, held back the massive drooping cleavage, and a bikini bottom covered the rest.

"If your looking for that piece of shit Mickey he ain't here" she said without us even asking.

"Why you being so defensive" Sully asked

" Mickey took me for this month's rent, said he was going to pay it last week , and then I ain't seen him since, you know how many things I've had to do to make that money back" she said giving us a lustful look

" Ain't gonna fuckin happen Becky" Sully said " We just want Mickey, how long has he been staying with you"

" About three months, here and there, damn near every night for the last month, I got no idea where that asshole is, but if you do find him, you tell him he better make good with that money, I know people in this town to. You be surprised what a blow job will get you in return, I could bury that motherfucker if I need to"

"Is that a threat" I ask

"No that be a god damn fact" she muttered " I give to the skins, and the skins give back, tit for tat so to speak"

"Literally" I'm thinking. I'm grasping at straws thinking about what I can ask her, when suddenly a loud bang comes for inside the apartment, we can see in her eyes that she has been playing us from the start, and she knows this to. Instantly she tries to slam the door but it is no way a match for Sully who shoves her aside as we all step in.

"Get the fuck out of my house you pieces of shit, leave him alone, don't you god damn touch him." Becky yelled

I look to the back of the room, shit is strung everywhere and half laying half falling off the couch is Mickey, completely unconscious with a needle sticking from his arm. Zippos and burnt spoons, are scattered all over the coffee table, A half drank can of beer has been knocked over and is dripping all over the stained carpet.

JP grabs for his cell phone, and starts dialing 911, as Sully and I race across the room to Mickey, he looks dead, it looks like this is it, but as I feel his neck, I can feel the faint pulse of his juggler, a slow pump.

"Hey JP" I yell "get that fucking ambulance moving"

"There coming there coming" he yells back

I look at Mickey's arm and it is a myriad of needle marks, he has been at this quite awhile. Suddenly I hear someone screaming and I turn to see Becky with a steak knife coming out of the kitchen heading straight for JP who is on the phone with his back to her.

Everything turns slow, movement is measured by hours rather than seconds. "God no" i say to myself, this can't be happening, what about Tracy, I can't lose another friend. Just as suddenly, reality comes crashing back to full speed, as Becky continues her murderous rampage, hell bent with fury on her face, I see a big freckly, gorilla arm come out of no where, as Sully punches her square in the chin, knocking her back against the living room and out cold. JP who had by now turned around sat there dumbfounded by how close he had came to meeting his maker.



Chapter Eight
Thursday Morning 9:30 am



The emergency room is a chaotic hell hole when we get there, after the ambulance had arrived we gave our statement to the police and let them deal with the bitch. However this turned out, it sure wasn't going to look good for Mickey. with all of the shit they had laying around, he was definitely looking at doing some time. Right now though he had to make it through this, the aftermath was far off at this point.

We set back in the waiting room drinking shitty hospital coffee for at least 2 hours before the doctor came out. He told us how lucky our friend was, and he told us how lucky Mickey was to have friends like us. Everything was so unclear, Mickey was alive but the toxicology reports showed over 6 different drugs in his system, he had slipped into a coma, and now it was just a waiting game. I gave the doctor my cell number, he said we could see Mickey, but we had to keep it short. Looking at my friend right now the way he was for some reason was the last thing I wanted to do, as long as I knew he was okay, and in good care, that would suffice for now. Honestly, the way he had been living, i just couldn't stomach looking at the weaselly bastard.



1986



Tony Ayala and Jose Duran, two of the kids from the Rangers, lived next door to each other. In fact I believe they were cousins. May had rolled around, baseball was in full swing. The Rocket Roger Clemens was off on a tear, reporters already talking Rookie of the Year. The Rangers were 7-1 and currently in first place in our league, our only loss coming from the Eagleton Expos. The Ayala and Duran families had decided to throw a Cinco de Mayo party and we were all invited as well as our parents. Everyone was there with the exception of JP's grandparents, he had ridden over with Sully. Carlos Santana, was blasting from a boom box, and carne asada was cooking, the parents were all drinking Corona's, and Sully dad had brought over a couple bottles of Tequila from Maggie's. We were all a little out of our environment, but living in Southern California, the Hispanic culture was everywhere, and to be honest they are great people, so everyone wasn't to uncomfortable, and most just wanted to have a good time and eat some good food. As the parents were singing a horrible version of La Bamba, Tony's dad start serving up the food, we ate until are hearts were content. It was a good time.

The five of us had decided to explore the neighborhood a little bit, we weren't far from our street but we were far enough for most of it to be unrecognizable, because our parents wouldn't let us walk this far on our own. We had rounded a corner and were walking towards an alley through an empty parking lot, when JP spotted something bizarre in one of the trash dumpsters. As we approached it we realized there was blood, fresh blood on the side. We looked around quickly and about 50 yards down the alley lying on the ground next to a chain link fence, was a homeless person, who had had the living shit kicked out of him. We ran over to see if he was all right, or if he was even alive. There was a lot of blood, and instantly, Mickey started looking squeamish. I bent over the man to see if he was breathing while Sully and Coop tried to turn him over, and that's when it hit me. A rock had been thrown from somewhere, it had hit me in the back of the head. I went down but not out. I lay next to the bleeding homeless man when I spied Charlie Hooker, Tyson Brooks, and 4 other kids who were older coming from the way we had came. We had been ambushed. Two of the older kids had JP and Mickey down on the ground, kicking and flailing. One of the older kids took Sully, and Tyson Brooks and the other older kid, had Coop pinned to the ground. Coop was trying to get away but the other two were just bigger. The chicken shit Charlie Hooker came over to Coop and sat right on his chest , as the other kid held his legs down, and Tyson held his arms down.

"Whose fucking choking, now bitch" yelled Hooker over and over, as he slapped Coop across the face and then continued choking him.

This was by far the worst predicament we had ever been in, and I was starting to seriously doubt we would get out. I wasn't bleeding much, and as Coop, JP, and Mickey were getting the holy hell beat out of them, I noticed that Sully was actually beating his guy. A surge of adrenaline hit me, knowing that if Sully could do it, so could I. I felt around my immediate area, and found two things, a knife that had fallen out of the homeless man's jacket, and a two x four that was laying about five feet away next to the chain link fence. I got my self to my feet, and with everyone's back to me I took my opportunity. I grabbed the two by four, and the knife. Sully by now had gotten the best of his guy, I threw him the knife, as I took the two by four, and with visions of Donnie Baseball, I swung for the fences right into Charlie Hooker's right arm. Tyson who had seen me coming, but was to slow to react lunged for me, and as he was just about to me, Sully slashed out with the knife, drawing blood across Tyson's arm. We all sat stunned at the ramifications of what had just happened. Shouts started coming from the apartments above us. Tyson and one of the older kids, picked up Charlie from the asphalt, and started making a retreat, yelling threats and profanities. Tyson with blood running down his arm looked at all of us but especially Sully with a look of pure hate. As they made there way down the alley and with sounds of sirens in the distance I noticed Charlie's arm was hanging at a weird angle. Quietly inside I had an overbearing sense of satisfaction knowing Charlie Hooker would never pitch again.



Chapter Nine
Saturday Afternoon


Coop's funeral, wasn't a small affair as much as a high school reunion, people I had not seen in years appeared out of nowhere to pay there last respects to someone everyone considered a friend. The Cooper's were not overly religious, but at a time when they needed it Pop Sullivan had arranged through his priest a non denominational pastor to say a few words Sully, JP, and I all delivered eulogies. JP brought the house to tears recalling the days of a chubby kid who always seemed to fill like one of the popular kids, mainly because he was Coop's friend. High school can be a shit hole, for teens and many could relate to JP's situation. I spoke of the time we played the Parkwood Pirates, and how Coop had hit the game winning homer, somehow someway, baseball is my life and my passion, and most of my memories revolve around it. Sully on the other hand delivered something more recent, and equally emotional. He remarked on the conversation he had had just two weeks ago, where he told Sully, he was thinking he had finally found the right women, and was going to ask Angie to marry him. This brought an emotional sob, from not only Angie, but to Mrs. C., which turned into outright wails when Sully got down from the podium, and gave Angie the engagement ring that Coop had bought, and left in his dresser drawer at his condo. The same one he had shown Sully only two weeks ago, when he asked Sully if he would be his best man.

With a final prayer, and a fitting tribute, Pop Sullivan rose, to lead the procession, and Sully and I rose to take the lead end of the casket. JP and Tony Ayala brought up the middle, with Marcus Hendricks, and Ricky Drake, bringing up the rear. Tony who was a police officer, in the narcotics unit had actually been one of the first to respond to Coop's murder. As we exited the funeral home, the afternoon sun seemed blinding. It was stifling hot. a dry heat, and being all bundled up in a suit it was getting uncomfortable. JP looked like a waterfall. We loaded the casket into the hearse and as it pulled away to lead the processional, the pall bearer's loaded into a limo Pop had rented, with the cooper family.

The graveside service didn't last long, as everything that needed to be said was said earlier. We answered all of the questions revolving around Mickey the best we could, and as the services came to a close, and the people started to leave, JP, Sully and I stood there together looking at the grave. From the inside of my jacket pocket, I pulled out a baseball, we all signed it, and wrote down a few words. I then laid it among the flowers adorning the casket. I took one last look as I turned back to the waiting car. JP and Sully were a few steps behind us. We all were crying.


Chapter Ten


The limo took us back to Maggie’s and in typical fashion, of our lifestyles, and knowing Coop would do the same for us, we got drunk, and we remembered. Sometimes friends are more than friends, sometimes friends are as close as family, and sometimes on a personal level, besides are families, friends are all we have, all we can't count on. But not just any friends, true friends. when you have one you will know, I've been lucky to have 4 my whole life. More than Lou Gehrig, at this moment I feel like the luckiest man on the face of the earth to have considered Tommy Cooper not only a true friend, not only a pal, but a brother.

Pop closed the Tavern for the night, to only friends and family of the Cooper's. At about 8pm, a bottle of whiskey was produced from behind the bar, and shot glasses lined the bar. JP took the glass held it high, and said "To you Coop", and downed the glass and turned it over, Tony Ayala was next, downed his shot and turned the glass down, I went next, and thinking of nothing better to say, I simply blurted out, "you were a clutch son of a bitch Tommy" realizing I hadn't ever remembered calling him by his first name I downed the whiskey, felt the fire in the back of my throat, and turned over the glass. Sully looked at all of us and together with Pop they chanted on Irish folk song that ended with a girl getting her skirt pulled up, they clinked glasses, downed the whiskey, and turned over there glass.


Tony Ayala, had always been a good friend, but not a close friend, hell bent on getting out of the neighborhood, he did everything he could to get ahead. Our senior year of high school his cousin Jose Duran, had been shot and killed, in a drive by shooting while attending a party a couple of towns away with his girlfriend. It was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The result was devastating to Tony. Knowing baseball would be ending for him at the end of the year, he did everything possible to get his grades up. Straight out of high school he did four years in the United States Marine Corp, being honorably discharged with several service accommodations, he joined the Police academy. Rising quick through ranks, he did a year of patrol, when he broke up a drug deal gone bad, he saved the life of a small child playing in her front yard, when the bullets started flying. Soon after he was rewarded with a promotion to the narcotics unit, where he has been ever since. He was hard core, and definitely someone you wanted on your side.

The four of us retreated to a back booth, with a couple of beers, and some plates of appetizers.
We talked baseball for a while, and I filled Tony in on my family, my new career as a high school baseball coach

"How's Mickey doing" I asked Tony

"At last check he was still in a coma, but the docs are pretty sure he will come out of it in time". he replied

Continuing he said "I'm sure you guys know this but, that bitch that this Irish bastard here knocked out is going to do some time, for assault if not attempted manslaughter not to mention all the dope, she'll be lucky to see the sun for the next 8-10."

"What about Mickey" JP inquired

"I hate to say this guys, but I think Mickey is going to go down. We had had some tips over the last few months that he was becoming sort of a player in the local drug scene, but no one had any positive proof, until you guys busted in today, there was enough meth, coke, and paraphernalia, in that apartment, to light up three blocks, it looked to me that a major sale was going down in the near future, and thanks to today there are going to be some pissed off people looking for there drugs and money. If Mickey does do time he won't survive it, they will put a hit on him in the joint, easier than they could here on the streets, and for cheaper to. Nope I don't want to put any more guilt on you guys than you already have, But today pretty much sealed the deal on old Mickey Hayes."

Sully finally spoke up " What about the people he was selling for, couldn't he turn states evidence, bring down the big kahuna, and then go into one of those Protection Programs?"

"Guys I don't think you understand. Meth is now, like Coke was to the 80's. There is some major money being traded, kids dying, you name it. Whoever was able to process that much dope will be able to get to Mickey wherever he goes. They probably lost close to a couple hundred G's today, that won't go unnoticed. "Tony answered

I perked up "Well who are these major suppliers, surely you guys have some tips on them, don't you"

"Sure we do" he said, "the problem is catching them in the act, and having enough for the DA to put them away for good, otherwise someone new steps in and takes over his territory. Remember "The Choke"? he goes by Skull now, he and that Neanderthal Tyson Brooks have set up shop over in San Bernadino, we've been trying to nail him for nine months. But no one will come forward. Fernando Ruiz used to run that territory, but he magically disappeared last year, until his arm washed up in Hermosa under the pier. Hence the new guy steps in. Those fucking skinheads are everywhere, peddling there shit, but Charlie Hooker aka Skull is untouchable, they would rather pull a hard twenty easy then rat out the man and see where that gets them."

This news took us all by surprise, a little, and also verified what JP had said about seeing Mickey and Hooker together last year. It was obvious to all three of us that a connection had been made, but not all the pieces were known yet, so with a look from Sully at both JP and I, we decided to keep it under our hat for now. Not that we didn't trust Tony, but Mickey was in enough shit right now, without anymore help from us.

I filled Tony in on what had happened the night before at the motel, he seemed a bit concerned, and after several requests he finally convinced me to check out, check in to another hotel, and then stay at Sully's.

"At least if something else happens you have this giant Mick Gorilla to protect ya" Tony said with a laugh

"Choke on a taco you fucking bastard" Sully responded humorously.

We all got a good laugh, JP was eying me knowing a slam was coming at his expense, but I decided to lay off. We all shook hands with Tony, promised to stay in touch, and he let us know he would do everything he could for Mickey. With that he left Maggie’s and left us alone with an empty bar. Only Pop was there turning over barstools and watching the Red Sox blow an 8th inning lead to the Yankees. Cursing the Babe, Buckner, Boone, and Bucky "fucking" Dent.