He has his reasons for what he wears, and the tie no doubt is woven of special memories, maybe a bullet he dodged, a perfect game he bowled, the biggest fish he ever caught or an especially good first date. Marino makes a point of never throwing out something that matters to him. He’ll wander into thrift shops and junk stores looking for a past he liked better than the here and now, and it’s ironic that a badass would be so sentimental.

“Come on. I’ll drop you off.” His eyes are blacked out by vintage Ray-Ban aviator glasses I gave to him a few birthdays ago.

“Why would I need a ride?” The entrance to the brick path leading from the concrete sidewalk to the Faculty Club is just up ahead, a minute’s walk from here at most.

But he isn’t going to take no for an answer. He steers me off the sidewalk, raising a big mitt of a hand to stop traffic as we cross the street. He’s not holding me but I’m not exactly free as he guides me into the front seat of his police vehicle, where I struggle awkwardly with my bags while the run in my panty hose races from my knee down to the back of my shoe as if trying to escape Marino’s madness.

I can’t help but think, Here we go again. Another spectacle. To some it might look like I’m being picked up and questioned by the police, and I wonder if I’ll be hearing that next.

“Why are you riding around looking for me, since it seems that’s what you’re doing?” I ask as he shuts the door. “Seriously, Marino.” But he can’t hear me.

He walks around and climbs into the driver’s seat, and the interior is spotless and tricked out with every siren, light, toolbox, storage chest and piece of crime-scene equipment known to man. The dark vinyl is slick and I smell Armor All. The cloth seats hardly look sat on, the console as clean as new and the glass sparkles as if the SUV was just detailed. Marino is meticulous about his vehicles. His house, office and attire are another story.

“Did I tell you how much I hate the damn phone?” he starts complaining as he shuts his door with a thud. “Some things we don’t need to be talking about on a wireless device that has access to every damn thing about your life.”

“Why are you dressed up?”

“I had a wake. Nobody you know.”

“I see.” I don’t really.

Marino isn’t the type to put on a suit and tie for a wake. He’ll barely do that for a funeral or a wedding, and he’s certainly not dressing up in weather like this unless he has a special reason he’s not saying.