"I dunno," Mike replied. "Some recipe they found in a magazine."

"So how about Saturday?"

"Yeah, that should be good. While the ladies are cooking up their creation, we can watch the game."

"But, which game? Both teams are playing Saturday afternoon."

"Well, since we'll be at my place, I guess we get to watch my boys, huh?"

"Heh. 'Boys' is right. Compared to my south-siders, your team really is just a bunch of boys."

The friendly bantering back and forth about who's baseball team was better, the Cubs on the north side of town, or the White Sox on the south, had been going on for years. It was only one of many things that seemed like it would make a friendship between Sam and Mike utterly impossible. The two were as different as night and day.

Sam had grown up on the south side of Chicago in a rough neighborhood full of street thugs, pimps, and drug dealers. His family was poor, and their tiny apartment was unbearably hot and sticky during the humid summer months, and so cold in the winters, that at times Sam had to wear his winter coat to bed just to keep from freezing. His father worked days in a factory, and did odd jobs for people on weekends. What these "odd jobs" consisted of, Sam never knew. And he quickly learned not to ask. His mother worked off an on as a receptionist, or in whatever odd jobs her temp agency could find for her, but the jobs were few and far between, and generally lasted only a week or two.

Mike, on the other hand, had been raised on the north side, in a neighborhood known mostly for its younger, successful business community. His parents had married young while Mike's father was studying to become an accountant, both of them coming from families that were not rich, but certainly well off. Money was never anything they had to worry about. Their home was no shabby apartment. They lived in a single family home with a small yard where Mike and his sister could play without the fears faced by kids like Sam, who had to play in the streets.

Sam was a big, burly man, standing almost 6'3" and built like a diesel engine. Mike often joked that Sam had muscles in places where Mike didn't even have places. Sam worked out once or twice a week, but staying fit seemed to come easy to him, and he didn't seem to have to worry about his brawny physique turning to flab any time soon. His jet black hair was cropped short, almost military in style, and he kept his moustache trimmed so precisely, some wonder if he measured each whisker to make sure they were uniform in length. He had dark skin, and a square jaw that contributed to his look of strength and authority, as did his dark eyes that bellied a life of hardship and pain. When he relaxed on warm summer weekends, and removed his shirt, you could still see scars where he had been stabbed in knife fights as a kid, and other marks that served of reminders of the life he was now trying to help others avoid.

Mike was a slender man. He wasn't nearly as tall as Sam, barely reaching a height of 5'11''. He was by no means scrawny or out of shape, but when he stood next to Sam, he was certainly dwarfed by the larger man. His light complexion was matched by short, light brown hair that never seemed to stay in place, and seemed to wage a war against Mike and his army of men's hair sprays, mousse, and gels that he would use to try and reign it in and hold it in place. Although Mike sported no facial hair, he did seem to have a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow that no amount of shaving could make go away. His light brown eyes, set in a perpetual smile, were surrounded by the creases and lines in his face that were not from a life of hardship, but from his bout with alcoholism years earlier. Although successful, his father had been a heavy drinker. His mother considered herself to be a "social" drinker, but she could certainly match Mike's father drink-for-drink, and often did. Mike picked up the habit at a rather young age, and became hooked quickly. He'd been through the 12-step program, and had been sober for several years now, but the memories of things he had done while drunk were still etched in those lines on his face.

When Sam finished high school, which in itself was a surprise to his parents, he thought about joining the military. College was not an option. He was not the brightest of students, and there were no scholarships coming his way. But he wanted out of his neighborhood, and a chance at a better life. Just before leaving to sign up with the army, he took one more look at his neighborhood, at the homes, at the suffering, and at the kids who would have to grow up in the same awful way that he had. That was the moment he decided he wanted to protect these streets, instead of fighting wars in lands across the sea. He passed over the army, and instead, enrolled in the Police Academy.

Mike was all set for college at that time. He had been accepted in several of the local Chicago colleges, including Columbia, DePaul, and even Northwestern, the Big Ten School located up in Evanston. But he couldn't decide exactly what he wanted to do. He had plenty of choices, so he decided to go to DePaul for a year while he figured out what he wanted to major in, and then he could transfer to one of the other schools if necessary. But during the summer before college was to start, tragedy struck, not once, but twice.

In June of that summer, Mike's sister Lisa was on a camping trip with some friends, and got separated from the group. As she was trying to find her way back to them, she was attacked, and became the victim of a rapist and murderer. Mike's family was in disbelief that their daughter and sister could be taken from them so suddenly. But she was gone in the blink of an eye. To make matters worse, the perpetrator was never found.

A month later, just as Mike thought he might be able to get over his grieving and move on, the second tragedy struck. His parents had gone out for the evening, when they were mugged. It was a random mugging, but instead of just giving over his wallet, Mike's father tried to fight back. It was a mistake he would not live to regret. The mugger stabbed Mike's father once in the chest, and then again to finish him off, the blade slipping between his ribs and piercing his heart. Mike's mother could do nothing but stand and scream at the sight of her husband bleeding to death on the sidewalk. The mugger had no choice but to kill her quickly to silence her, and keep her from identifying him to the police. He slit her throat without a second thought, using the same blade that was already covered in her husband's blood. His plan worked, because like the man who killed Mike's sister, he got away, and was never apprehended.

Mike was not only shocked by the two attacks on his family, and the deaths of his only three family members, but also at the fact that two separate criminals had committed violent murders and walked away free. It was then that he decided he had to do something about it. He called the University to cancel his enrollment, and made a call to the Police Academy.

Sam and Mike met each other during their time at the academy, and despite their differences, became great fiends. Others at the academy referred to them as Felix and Oscar, "The Odd Couple", although they never actually figured out which of them was supposed to be Oscar, and which was Felix. Sam and Mike joked that they thought they were closer to being Tom and Jerry, the cartoon cat and mouse.

Mike was almost thrown out of the Academy several times because of his problems with alcohol. After the deaths of his sister and parents, his drinking got much more intense. If it weren't for Sam covering for him, helping him hide his alcoholism from the instructors, and at times just plain lying for him, Mike surely would not have graduated.

But graduate they both did. Six years later, Sam was still a uniform cop trying to protect the streets from the thugs and gangs that tormented his childhood. Mike had been moved to homicide, where as a detective he could use his past experience to try and comfort victims' families, all the while trying to extract information about the victim. It was something he excelled at. He managed to quickly gather information that other "less sensitive" detectives would take weeks to get.

And through it all, the two remained best friends, along with their wives.

Both men had gotten married soon after graduating from the Academy, each standing up as Best Man for the other's wedding. It was during his engagement that Mike kicked his drinking problem, with the help of his fiancee, Jane, and his friend Sam. Jane had told him that although she loved him deeply, his drinking was the one thing about him she couldn't live with, and if he didn't stop, she couldn't go through with the marriage.

Both couples lived in Park Ridge, one of the city's northwest suburbs, and got together often for meals, movies, games, and even evenings out when Mike and his wife could find a babysitter for their young daughter.

Now Mike and Sam were sitting in one of their favorite downtown coffee shops. They stayed away from the trendier, "designer" coffee shops that were springing up all over the place, and stuck to the smaller, mom-and-pop type places.

This one was right in the heart of Chicago's Loop, near the corner of Halsted and Jackson streets, not far from the constant rumble of the elevated train tracks that carried thousand of commuters into and out of the city each day. The decor dated back to the 50s and the coffee was just the way Mike and Sam liked it... black, and strong. No fancy cappuccinos or lattes for these two. Mike's pager went off, and before he could even read the number on the illuminated display, his cell phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled the phone out, looked at the display, and saw the same number as the pager display.

"Someone sure is getting anxious" Mike said into the phone without bothering with a customary greeting.

"Why didn't you answer your page" came from the voice on the other end.

"Hey, give me a chance! The pager went off only seconds before you called my cell."

"Well, you're needed at Chicago and Rush. Get there ASAP."

"What's going on?"

"A body was found. That's all I know. Just get there."

Mike closed the lid on the palm-sized phone without a goodbye, and looked at Sam with a shrug. "Duty calls."

"Yeah, I should get back to the park anyway. The concert there will be over soon."

"And you never know how wild and crazy those folks will get after one of those long orchestra concerts."

Mike and Sam often joked about pulling duty in Grant Park during the series of free symphony concerts each summer. Neither of them was a fan of classical music, so they tried to stay as far away from the park as possible during the concert. After all, the people who attended those concerts were not exactly the violent types, and there was rarely any trouble. Sam would just be sure to return before the concert was over, to help direct foot traffic and make sure the old ladies all felt safe from whatever it was they thought might be lurking in the trees after dark, since the shows often ended well after dusk.

Mike put away the cell phone and pager, and started patting his pockets, looking for his wallet, even looking on the floor, as if he couldn't find it.

"Don't worry. I'll get this one." Sam pulled a five out of his wallet and paid for the coffee. He often paid for their little get-togethers because he knew that even on his cops' salary, his two-income; no-children household had more disposable cash than Mike's detective's salaried, one-income, one-child household.

"Thanks buddy," Mike said with a smile, to let his friend know he hadn't actually lost his wallet, and shouldn't waste time to look for it. "I'll call you about this weekend."

"See ya then!"

Mike was quickly out the door and on his way to the crime scene, leaving Sam to face the old ladies and the classical music enthusiasts at the park. With a sigh, he dropped their empty paper coffee cups in the trash and headed back to his assigned duty.