I wanted to argue, but I had a sinking sense of dread that this was escalating beyond my control. I opened the door and stepped out into the rain. I was still wearing the high heels and black-checkered skirt from the dinner meeting with Scott and the food magazine. The officer looked even more pissed to see that.
“Hands on the car.”
I gave him my most disarming smile. “Officer, I want to apologize if I said anything to upset you. I know you don’t want to be out here on such a nasty night, and whatever I did—”
He grabbed my arm and spun me around, shoving my face against the car window and giving me a view of my suitcases in the back seat. Everything I owned in the world crammed into three shabby rectangles.
No,I thought.No, no, no…
“Officer, what have I done?”
“Operator,” he said into his shoulder radio, “My ten-thirty-eight just became a ten-thirty-six. Taking her into custody.”
“Taking me into custody?” I shouted.
Handcuffs tightened painfully on my wrists, and then he turned me back around. He didn’t bother patting me down, for which I was grateful. He stuck his face very close to mine. He was older. Bitter.
“Ma’am,” he said in his thick Georgia accent. “If you keep yappin’, I’m gonna keep findin’ things to write up.”
As he led me to the car, which said Eastland Sheriff’s Department on the side, I was grateful that the rain hid my tears.
3
Charlotte
I spent the drive to the sheriff’s office feeling sorry for myself. I’d lost my boyfriend to a skank named Tammy. I’d abandoned my job, my business that I’d sunk countless hours into. The apartment I’d been slowly adding things to was now Scott’s, since I was fleeing back home.
And now I’d been arrested. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The sheriff was silent during the ride. I mimicked him, since clearly anything I said was just going to tick him off more. I could hear my dad’s voice in the back of my head:never upset a small-town sheriff. They’re always looking for an excuse to take someone in.
My dad knew that becausehewas a small-town sheriff.
But even he would’ve thought this was ridiculous. On nights like tonight, when rain poured down and thunder boomed across the sky, most cops would’ve looked away from all but the most reckless offenses. For this sheriff to trudge out in the rain and pull me over for no reason, and then haul me in, he must have had areallybad day.
At least that’s one thing we have in common, I thought with a grimace.
The sheriff’s office was a small structure that looked like it was built over a century ago. Six motorcycles were parked in a row outside, blocking the road into the parking lot. When the sheriff saw this, he cursed and drove around them through the mud.
“Let’s go,” he said when we were parked.
I’m going, I thought, but didn’t say.
The receiving room of the sheriff’s office had a single desk—which was currently unoccupied—and four chairs against one wall. The sheriff began leading me down the hall to the back, but then suddenly stopped cold. He jumped aside, pulling me with him.
Six men came marching down the hall toward us. All of them wore dark jeans, black shirts, and black leather vests covered with faded patches. Between the six of them they had two dozen piercings, and nearly every inch of skin I could see was covered with ink. One guy’s head was totally shaved and covered with deathly tattoos: bones, fire, and roses with decaying petals.
The sheriff tensed as they came toward us. Was this a jail break? But all he did was nod politely and say, “Give Sid my best.”
He sounds like he’s scared,I thought.
The gang—if that’s what they were—ignored the sheriff the way a millionaire would ignore the hired help. But I wasn’t so lucky. They ogled me in passing, eyes raking my body like broken fingernails at the end of disgusting fingers.
“New one turning tricks?” the biker at the back said. “Wish I’d found herbeforeyou snatched her up.”
I realized what he meant: he thought I was a prostitute. I felt a pang of annoyance. These were my most professional clothes. Surely I looked nicer than some random hooker. The biker gang roared with laughter as they headed out into the rain, pulling on jackets and throwing hoods over their heads.
The sheriff breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they were gone, then shoved me down the hall. The sheriff’s deputy waited there with his thumbs tucked into his belt.