Hank, the dedicated young policeman who becomes friends with KT, was modeled on a person I knew in college, a driven but isolated individual who managed to attend school full-time while also working full-time. His job, an inhalation technician on a cardiac arrest team in a local hospital, exposed him to a level of death and suffering that left him cynically alone.
“What was the most you ever took off a dealer?” I asked.
“Somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty thousand,”
“Wow,” I said. “In his pants?”
Hank laughed. “Yeah, one pocket over from his Glock.” He looked at the TV. “Yeah,” he said, pointing at the CSI team running down a side street, blasting away at an escaping skank. “Sure, just like we do here in Ardsdale every day. It’s so fun to empty a few clips indiscriminately into a horde of civilians.” He looked at me. “Did you get to the gym?”
“You know, a lot of this show was filmed in LA” He headed towards the stairs, and I realized he was singing quietly to himself, “Tomorrow, tomorrow, I luv ya, tomorrow…”
Hank can be such a wise ass.
“I will,” I shouted up at him. “I will, you’ll see.”
“You’re only a day away.” His words boomed down at me.
“You’re off-key,” I shouted back.
He didn’t answer. I mean, dammit, a twenty-something cop who reads Brecht and sings show tunes. – KT Cantori