This isn't a story about a police interrogation team; the title refers to me, Brad Owen, at different times in my life.
I guess most people are born "good guys." According to my parents I was a good guy until my teens. Then I became haughty, immodest, arrogant, whatever you want to call it because I achieved national success in the sport/art of fencing, and through no effort on my part developed heart-throb looks. I certainly wasn't a good guy when I broke teenage girls' hearts by treating them badly, nor did my conceited attitude make me anything but a bad guy in my dealings with almost everyone that I came in contact with.
I didn't snap out of my bad guy phase until three things happened during my junior year in college. The first woman that I really wanted a true relationship dumped me after four months of going together because I was too self-important (she had no trouble telling me that to my face); I lost in both foil and saber in the semi-finals or quarter finals of the NCAA championships after having won both the previous year; and due to my drunken behavior as a result of the first two disappointments was expelled from school.
After my expulsion I took a solo wilderness hike for a month to get my head straight. I was ultimately able to objectively evaluate my unacceptable behavior, and came to realize that if I didn't change I would never be a productive member of society or have a worthwhile long-term relationship with a desirable woman (i. e. one who wasn't shallow).
After working a few menial jobs that my pre-expulsion self would have considered far below me, and devoting many hours of work to charitable endeavors in order to salve my conscience, I reviewed all of the careers that I could have which would be socially productive and that I could qualify for without going back to college to finish my degree. I settled on firefighter.
While I had never aspired to be a fireman or police officer when I was a kid, the career suddenly appealed to me because it was definitely socially productive, it was also not a desk job but both physical and mental, and because it would give me chunks of free time to do other things to better my personality and situation. Once I came to that conclusion I decided to go for the whole enchilada and become an NYC firefighter; so I moved to NYC, trained as hard as I ever had when fencing, and after my residency was established applied for a position.
My main concern with qualifying to be a firefighter was the requirement "Demonstrate proof of good character and pass a background investigation," in view of my expulsion from college. I addressed that issue head-on by making an appointment with the Dean who had expelled me and I ate humble pie. I convinced her - I was realistic enough to admit that my good looks and earnest baby-blue eyes helped - that I had turned a corner in my life. I brought recommendations from the charities that I had worked for since being expelled, told her that I hadn't had a drop of alcohol since I was expelled, and in general convinced her that I was no longer a bad guy, but a good guy. She told me to have the NYC Fire Department contact her directly and she would smooth over my expulsion.
With help from the Dean, and since I passed the physical and mental tests with flying colors, I was lucky enough to get a job with an Engine company of the FDNY. I started work in 2000. Most of the men in my Engine company were friendly and welcoming and we even had some social events with wives and kids. Of particular interest to this story were Chuck Brixey and his wife Evelyn, and Tom Watson and his wife Cheryl.
Chuck seemed to me more full of himself that most of the rest of the firefighters and was otherwise obnoxious, and his wife Evelyn seemed too docile to deal with his personality; but it wasn't my business, so I kept my thoughts to myself. The situation with Tom and Cheryl was almost opposite. Tom was a nice straight shooter who had a mild personality and Cheryl was - well, Cheryl was - intense. I tried very hard not to be judgmental when it came to Cheryl because I sensed that she was like me when I had been a bad guy. She was exceptionally sexy - tall, lean, and pretty with bigger tits and a bigger shapely ass than one would expect in an otherwise lean woman - and knew it. However, she was also a flirt when it suited her, and she flirted with me the first two times that I met her; that made me extremely nervous.
This shit hit the proverbial fan on September 11, 2001, after I had been on the job less than a year. Our Engine Company lost three good men on that date, including Tom Watson. The ensuing year really, really sucked. There was enough tragedy, angst, and hurt for a life time. Then for some members of our Engine company community things got even worse.
Cheryl had barely gotten the payout for the life insurance form Tom's death when I started hearing rumors about Chuck dating her. The problem was that Chuck was still married to Evelyn, and that was not sitting well with her, especially since they had two young kids. Even though - since I was now a good guy - that didn't sit well with me either, I initially kept my mouth shut although any small amount of respect I had for Chuck flew out the window.
That is I kept my mouth shut until after Chuck divorced Evelyn and married Cheryl that he bragged (not something to brag about) that he was going after primary custody of his and Evelyn's kids since she didn't have the monetary resources to properly care for them, and he and Cheryl were flush (due in no small part to her life insurance payment).
Something inside me snapped, and when he was telling his story of taking Evelyn to court to get the kids I got in his face. "You slimy piece of shit, Brixey. You divorce the mother of your kids for a better looking piece of ass and then you want to destroy her by taking her kids away from her. Don't you have a conscience?"
After first being startled by my aggressiveness Chuck got belligerent. I didn't let up. We were vociferously swearing at each other. While other members of the company were trying to calm the situation down Chuck made the mistake of swinging at me.
Something that most people probably don't realize is that fencing is much like a martial art. It requires the same types of discipline, skills, training, and quickness. His first punch barely grazed me when I backpedaled with the skill of the foil champion that I once was, and after that Chuck got the beating of his life before I was pulled off him by other firefighters.
Of course there was an inquiry. We were both reprimanded, but since it was clear that we could never work together again - neither of us had any pretense of wanting to - and since he had seniority, I got transferred to another, less desirable from my standpoint, Engine company. One good thing came from that - nobody ever fucked with me again; I forgot to mention earlier that Chuck is five inches taller and forty pounds heavier than I am, and considered a real "tough guy." Another bad thing, aside from the transfer and reprimand, that came from it was my need for revenge which shaded more to the bad guy side of my persona than the good guy side I had cultivated for the last three or four years.
Even before all of the hubbub from our dust-up had subsided I started working on my revenge. When I was off duty and one of Evelyn's kids was in school and the other at her Mom's house I made arrangements to visit her.
Evelyn was a mess. She was having real trouble making ends meet, had a real loss of self-worth, was depressed with the likely prospect of losing her kids, and looked like she wasn't taking care of herself. I had a frank discussion with her.
"Evelyn, I know you don't know me well, but I want to give you a little background about me so that you know where the offer that I'm going to make you is coming from," I told her, holding one of her hands.
There was a slight spark in her eye before she said "OK - I'm curious."
I told her about my background, not sugar coating the times when I was an asshole, but telling her how I badly wanted to be a good guy. I then told her about the dust-up with Chuck, which she hadn't really heard about since she had been reclusive for the last few months, and my need for revenge."
"That's where you come in, Evelyn," I smiled.
