"Yes," Larry responded, voice determined, "it's either that or get eroded down just a little bit more every day until you're a shell of who you were before. Do you know how fucking paranoid cops get around other cops who aren't on the take? That 'upstanding, moral individual' always ends up being the first one sent into a high risk situation."

"Jesus," Olivia swore silently, glancing nervously at Freddy, "and you know the problem I've always had with this..."

Freddy sighed. When he'd first told his mom he was considering the Academy she'd turned white, then green. All she could think of was him getting shot. She'd had recurring nightmares about having to bury her little boy.

"You think you have some kind of obligation to society to keep the streets 'clean', kid?" Larry wasn't finished with his lecture.

"I don't know. Just... things can't be like in the old West. That's the alternative, isn't it? A corrupt power structure or no structure at all. Just mayhem and violence. And in a world like that, who suffers? People who can't take care of themselves. What about women like my mom?"

"I can take care of myself just fine, Freddy..." Olivia interjected, exasperated.

"I know you do. But what if there were no laws protecting you? What do you think happened to the women who lived 100 years ago? 200 years ago? They got married because they knew they couldn't survive alone. And that's bullshit."

"You've been watching too many Clint Eastwood movies, kid."

"You know it's true. You know that it's just a matter of choosing the lesser of the two evils."

"Don't martyr yourself for the man. You'll end up dead or worse, I guarantee it," Larry's voice was hard, imploring.
"What do you do for a living?" Freddy shot back, invigorated. Larry pursed his lips and took a long swig of his booze.

"I work down at the docks. I'm not a stupid guy either, but working with my hands is good enough for me."

"You don't get bored?"

"Work isn't about being entertained. It isn't about finding your fucking passion or any of that horseshit. Ask your mom what she does every day."

"I know, she prepares documents for some hotshot defense attorney downtown."

"Do you know who he defends?"

"Larry..." Olivia interjected tersely. Freddy shot her a questioning look.

"No, I don't."

Larry didn't say another word. He just sat back and continued to smoke silently as mother and son stared each other down. Olivia cracked first.

"He defends criminals. Not petty criminals. The kind who get brought in for racketeering..."

"Holy fucking shit," Freddy's eyes grew wide, "he's a mob lawyer! You work for a fucking mob lawyer?"

"Keep it down, kid," Larry shushed him. Olivia looked like she wanted to cry.

"It paid a lot more for the same work. I didn't ask why at first, and it didn't take long to figure out. Criminals deserve representation too, Freddy. It's the law."

A puzzle piece slid into place.

"How did you meet my mom for real? Do you really work with her co-worker's brother?"

"Yes," said Larry, eyes stern and piercing, "that's all you need to know."

Freddy held the piercing gaze and tapped his cigarette butt into his empty beer can.

"I'm going to the movies. There's a late show of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' I can still catch."

Olivia sighed and laid a casual hand on Larry's forearm.

"Don't stay out too late or I'll worry."

He nodded and left them alone.

TBC