Networking
When the low life cop confronted Robinson, then followed his tantrum by dragging Robi out of her own house by the arm, Robinson flipped on his cell phone and hit Taylors programmed house number.
No one told The Honorable how to conduct himself with his daughter, much less how he should conduct himself in his house. True, it was Robi's house, but to The Honorable it was his house. It held his daughter, did it not? His daughter. His house.
It was time to make his position clear. Loud and clear. No low life cop was going to waste away *his* daughters life and potential. Not after all the time RAS has spent nurturing, leading, commanding that future. He'd invested far too much to let his daughter ruin her life on her latest play thing.
It was time to network... the low life cop needed to disappear just as all the other rebellious "phases" in his daughters life had disappeared once RAS had all he needed to make it happen. With enough pressure applied, with enough of the right kind of 'influence', RAS was sure it would go over quiet well. He was sure once the cop had been reduced to blues again that Robi would forget about him. Let the cop find a nice meter maid to f uck. RAS' daughter was off limits to any man he did not approve of, this cop immediately fell into that category.
With a cruel yet satisfying smile, RAS left the message on Taylors machine...
"Taylor, you ole dog, how the hell are you? This is RAS. Listen, we need to discuss a situation. I need some pressure applied in the right area, a message to send. A cop named O'Roarke is fishing off the wrong pier. Tell me what you can find out about him, what he's got going. He needs a little reminder that Malibu is a far cry from Rancho Cordova. He's out of his league. Call me."
And RAS flipped his phone closed. "Let's just see how long this little experiment of hers lasts once this cop is issueing parking tickets again."
Glancing at the balled up, black material on the patio chair, RAS grunted and swallowed the last of his scotch leaving the glass on the chair next to what his daughter had not been wearing when he arrived to find the cop.
Mike Taylor
Unregistered User
(7/5/05 6:40 pm) Reply
Answering Machine
Mike played the message again, just to make sure he had heard correctly. Robinson A. Scott, Sr., was asking him to reach out and impact a police officer, in a cryptic answering machine message. It wasn't the first time that he'd been asked for a favor. And it wasn't the first time that an LAPD cop was digging into business that wasn't his to be in. Taylor assumed the obvious, that RAS was being blackmailed by a corrupt cop.
Maneuvering over to his hutch, he opened the walnut door, and removed a bottle of whiskey, and poured it into the glass of coke he had on a coaster, making himself a Jack and coke, contemplating the situation.
Mike had a variety of people he could call to find out about a cop, his contacts in the three branches of government were numerous, thirty years on the bench had allowed him to see some grow from being a lawyer to being Attorney-General.
Picking up the phone, he dialed the number for RAS. Certainly, he didn't call the house, he knew better. He dialed the number for their country club. "Good evening, it's Judge Taylor..." The country club was very formal on the phone, especially when it came to titles of its members. "...is Judge Scott around?"
He waited for the receptionist to transfer the call to RAS, taking a sip of his Jack and Coke in the meantime.
Mike Taylor
Unregistered User
(7/13/05 4:38 pm) Reply
On the Fairway
Mike Taylor finished his conversation with Rob Scott, and took another sip of his Jack and Coke. To most, Rob was the Honorable Robinson A. Scott, Sr. Mike identified closely with Rob as Rob Scott, a man who just wanted a son to carry on his legacy.
He too had desired a Michael J. Taylor, Jr., whom he had envisioned as the next Chief Justice of the United States, or as the Attorney-General. Instead, he had ended up with two daughters, who he named Michaela, and Michelle. One was now a special agent with the FBI, the other...owned a flower shop.
He thought about what Rob had asked of him for a moment, and understood completely. If his precious Micahaela was ever seeing an ordinary cop, he'd be disappointed too. After all, he was going to have to settle for Michaela being the first female Director of the FBI...
Picking up the phone, he made the cardinal sin of making a golf date without inviting Larry or Rob. He instead called Commissioner Ted Hunt of the LAPD. "Ted..it's Mike Taylor...I was wondering if you and Merrill want to go do a set at the Clovermere.." Referring to the Commissioner of Police and the Chief of the Fifth Precinct, and the prestigious golf course in Pasadena, of which Mike wasn't a member. "Hollis Brodell needs three more, and he tapped me to get two..." Referring to the State Senator for Orange County, Chair of the State Judiciary Committee, who had access to every golf course on the West Coast..
Email This To a Friend
Topic Commands
Click to receive email notification of replies 
Click to stop receiving email notification of replies