The sheriff comes knocking on the driver’s-side window the next second, and Xavier rolls down the glass, flashing his best suck-up smile to the man on the other side.
“Sheriff Daniel, what can I do for you?”
The forty-something man seems taken aback by Xavier’s attitude but quickly schools his expression. I’m guessing the kids he arrests at 1:00 a.m. aren’t all this merry.
“Well, well, Xavier Emery.” The sheriff pushes to his tiptoes to see further inside the truck. He spots me in the passenger seat and stifles a scoff like he’s not surprised to find a girl in there. “Where you two coming from so late?”
“A friend’s house.” Xavier doesn’t miss a beat.
“You mean the party at the Coxes you lot think we don’t know about?” Sheriff Daniel’s lips twist into a crooked smile.
“That would be the one.” Xav doesn’t bother lying.
“Have you been drinking?” Here comes the obvious question.
“No, sir.”
I’m willing to bet that’s a lie and Xavier’s had at least one drink tonight, but the truth could cost him his license. Plus, if he did have a few drinks, it doesn’t reflect in his behavior or driving.
The man arches an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“Where you off to?” The questions pile up.
“Just taking her home.”
“Are you now?” The sheriff grins, his words heavy with innuendo. Neither me, nor Xavier, waste our breath denying it. He’s already made up his mind. The questions drag on for eternity, until finally, Sheriff Daniel surrenders to the facts.
Everything checks out.
He’s got no reason to hold us.
“All right, well, you’ve got a burned-out taillight in the back, son. You need to get that fixed right away.”
I can’t believe it.
That’s what this is about.
I had a panic attack for a broken headlight.
“I’m giving you three days to take care of that. Not one more. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Xavier assures him.
The sheriff proceeds to give Xavier a notice to fix the violation and requests his license and registration. Xavier doesn’t put up a fight, pulling out his wallet and handing it over. Sheriff Daniel pauses when checking Xavier’s license.
“That really you?” He squints.
“Unfortunately. Old picture, you know how it is,” Xavier says.
Sheriff Daniel inches the license closer to his wrinkly face. “How old were you on this?”
“Sixteen, sir.” Xavier cringes. “I’d just gotten my license.”
I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
The photo wasn’t taken this long ago. There’s no way he looks that different. I knew him when he was sixteen and he was still good-looking. He just wasn’t as buff back then. The sheriff gives a wheezy, smoker laugh before handing Xavier his license and papers back.