"You better watch yourself Mr. High and Mighty Governor," Liam says, a spark of pure anger in his eyes. "You think you have it all, don't you? You think you've got the new legislation and the Senator behind you, but let me tell you something asshole. That cute blonde you're trying to impress here today? Well, I've already slept with her, so I hope you enjoy my sloppy fucking seconds."
That's it. Now he's really overstepped his bounds. I don't care who's watching. It's my instinct to reach back and throw my fist right into the middle of Liam's face. It hits him with a sickening thud and I see a thin line of blood leak from his nose. The punch catches him off guard and he stumbles back into the table behind him. There's a husband and wife dining at that table, and their drinks are knocked over, the contents spilling into their laps.
"Hey, watch it!" they say, raising their arms in protest.
But before anyone can respond, Liam flies into me, throwing a punch that grazes my jaw. Our arms are now locked together and we tumble onto the dining room floor. The outside world is a blur, but I vaguely hear shouts and murmurs coming from fellow diners. People have their cell phones out. Are they recording us? I can hear security trying to break us up, but Liam isn't slowing down and neither am I. I refuse to let him get the best of me. I have my knee on his chest and I hit him again, but now there are two police officers yelling in our direction, "Break it up!"
Liam and I let go of each other, and one officers yells for us to get on our knees with our hands up. We both comply and as soon as we go, they walk over, pull our hands behind our backs and place them in handcuffs.
"Do you have any idea who you're handcuffing?" I ask.
"Save it for the judge, tough guy. We've seen enough from the two of you. We're taking you in."
"To the county jail?" Liam asks. "You've got to be kidding. I'm the Mayor of New Kingston. You can't do this."
The officers aren't listening and they begin reciting the Miranda warning, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law…"
Liam looks over at me and shakes his head in disgust. "Great, now look what you've fucking done."
"What I've done? You're the one who came marching in picking a fight."
"Knock it off, both of you," one officer says. "You can both cool off in county."
15
Liam
I know I probably shouldn't have approached Carter like that in the middle of the Harvard Club, messing up his brunch date and all, but you know what? Fuck him. He didn't need to take the first swing, did he? Fuck him and his liberal agenda—putting fucking owls before jobs. Fuck him and his plotting with Vivian. If he thinks he can steamroll me like that, he has another thing coming. Let him watch me as I fuck Vivian and then shoot his fucking owl. Then chop down his goddamn tree. And set fire to the whole fucking forest.
At least the people will have jobs.
I'm pacing back and forth in the holding tank like a caged tiger. I can feel the frustration of the situation coursing through my tense muscles. Carter has already been bailed out of this fucking place and here I am. I'm waiting for my lawyer to show up. Where is he? He should've been here by now. I don't even have a watch to look at, but it feels like I've already been stuck in here for an eternity.
He better get here soon because I don't know how much longer I can be in this place. The people in here are characters—to say the least. One guy scratched the cell wall so hard his fingertips were rubbed raw, and the next claimed he once ate a shit burrito and I really don't want to know if he's telling the truth. I don't know if there's a more awful place I can be sitting right now, to be honest.
Just as I'm getting crazy sideways stare from a fellow detainee, and I'm feeling like I may have defend myself, a guard approaches. "Mr. Jeffries, let's go. You're free to leave."
I let out a sigh of relief. Thank god; I mean, I wasn't going to last much longer in this place and I have much more important things to do. 10,000 jobs are at stake here. I stand up and walk to the sliding gate. The guard let's me out and I'm greeted by my lawyer. He walks over and gives me a solid pat on the back.
"Rough day, huh?" "What took you so long?" I ask.
"I came as fast as I could. You're lucky this incident isn’t all over the news. I heard you made quite the scene."
"Look, I didn't start this."
"That's not what I was told. I'm hearing you stormed into the Harvard Club ready to pick a fight with the Governor."
"Not a fight. A discussion, OK? I just needed to talk to Governor Andrews. But I guess the Governor is more hotheaded than anyone anticipated. He threw the first punch."
"You never should have been there."
"Instead of telling me where I should and shouldn't be, just do your fucking job as my lawyer and fix this shit storm. All of it. Understand?"
"Yes, sir. It'll be tricky, but I'll work my magic."
"That's what I like to hear," I say, resting my hand on his shoulder. I pay him enough damn money to be my lawyer. That's the least he can fucking do. We walk outside and the daylight is momentarily blinding. How long was I locked in there? I wonder. My lawyer ushers me to a parked limo.
"Over here, Mr. Jeffries," he points.