An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 31)

Flight leaves at 10:30, be there! :) I have something for you.

My phone buzzed on the counter top, right next to the browning bananas, displaying a new text message from Tristan. Tonight he left for Arizona, and instead of spending the remaining hours with him, I was standing in Blake's kitchen trying to make a pizza pocket. Let me just clarify that I hadn't ditched him solely to make pizza pockets, though. In fact, he'd been the one who bailed on me, claiming that he had relatives to say goodbye to or something like that.

It was his loss, though. I made a mean pizza pocket.

My phone buzzed again, this time blasting some song by some band that I'd stopped liking years ago, but had never gotten around to changing my ring tone from. I'd expected it to be Tristan on the other end, making sure I'd gotten his text and was coming to see him before he left, but boy was I wrong.

“Hartley?” the voice asked, and I narrowed my eyes at the tone in his voice. In the year and a half that I'd known him, I had become pro at telling when Mickey wanted something from me. This was one of those times.

“What do you want?”

“Uhm, it's a bit of a long story. Can you and Dallas come down here? And bring like, two grand with you too?”

I kid you not, there was actually a second or two where my heart completely stopped beating, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. He was so dead.

“Mickey,” I warned, my voice dangerously low, “What did you do?”

“Well, it wasn't just me, Poe and Blake are here too.”

“Where is 'here', dare I ask?”

“Uhmmmmm,” he said, prolonging it as long as possible, “The police station.”

“What?!”

“Okay, you sound angry, so I'm going to let you talk to Poe.” There was a shuffling noise as Mickey handed the phone off to his brother, and I could hear hushed whispers arguing before finally Poe answered with a gruff, “Just do it, Hartley.”

And then, just like that, he hung up.

************

“Here they are.” the secretary at the desk told me with the blank faced stare of a woman who was totally not willing to put up with anyone's shit today, or probably any other day for that matter. Judging by the type of people in the waiting room, though, I didn't really blame her.

“Hiya, Hartley!” Mickey greeted Dallas and I with an embarrassed smile, emerging from the cell with Blake on his heels. Poe was pressed up against the cell wall to our left, a cop struggling to take off his handcuffs. The look of absolute ease and serenity on Poe's face as the officer searched for the key made me wonder just how many times he'd been in this situation before.

“There we go. Have a good night, Poe.”

“You too, John.” he said with a salute, rubbing his wrists absently as he sauntered out of the cell to come join us.

Apparently, this happened to him a lot.

“I don't even know where to begin.” I told them, crossing my arms across my chest. The more I hung out with them, the more and more motherly I felt, even though I was younger than all of them. It was a bizarre feeling.

“I'd just like to start off by saying thanks for coming all the way out here. And for parting with 2000 dollars. And for not punching any of us in the face.” Blake started, but I just sighed, too tired to even bother with his apology.

“Okay, yeah. So let's get this over with, what did you guys do?”

Immediately, their faces broke out into the same satisfied smirk, making them look more related than ever. If Mickey grew another foot, he'd look like Poe, and if Poe grew a beard, he'd look like Blake. Their gene pool deserved a trophy, to say the least.

“Well, we got arrested for trespassing.”

“And vandalism.”

I took a seat on the bench to my left, right beside Dallas's wheelchair, anticipating a very long story. The guys remained standing, though, retelling their night with animated faces and a ton of hand gestures.

“...And then we took like 8 cartons of eggs and I threw them at her house while Blake put, like, two pots of mashed potatoes into her gas tank...”

“...And then I pretty much turned her porch into a slip and slide. And stole all the light bulbs out of her porch lights...”

“...Then we accidentally set her lawn on fire, and that's when the cops showed up.”

“Wait, whose house did you do this to?” Dallas asked, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips as if he already had a hunch, but didn't want to get his hopes up until it was confirmed.

“Lacey's, obviously. No one cheats on one of the Black brothers and gets away with it.”

Dallas burst out laughing at that, and then even though she was my best friend, I couldn't help but laugh at that too. I had to admit, she deserved that.

“YOU LAUGHED, WE'RE OFF THE HOOK!” Mickey cried, looking very pleased with himself. In fact, all three of them looked like they'd just made world peace while simultaneously finding the cure for cancer, and I couldn't help but smile.

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Let's get goin', eh?” I suggested, swinging my purse over my shoulder as I headed towards the double doors by the front, passing many drunk and handcuffed people as I walked past.

“One sec,” Blake told me, holding up a finger as he sashayed over to the secretaries desk and leaned in with his most charming smile plastered across his face, “I was wondering if you could maybe email me a copy of my mugshot? It's been a while since I've looked good in a picture, and I was considering making it my profile picture. If you could jus-”

“Sir. Leave.”

“But it's been so long since I've had a good profile picture!” he protested as Poe dragged him out of the building by the shirt collar, nearly throwing him into the back of my car once we reached it.

“Everyone buckled up?” I asked, mostly for politeness sake, before peeling out of the parking lot and onto the busy street. Cars crept along in front of me as I made my way to the airport, obviously not understanding the rush I was in.

“How long until Tristan's flight leaves?” Dallas asked from the passengers seat, turning down the radio a bit in order to be heard.

“It leaves at 10:30. What time is it now?” I asked, but the car remained silent. When I looked in the rear view mirror, I realized that everyone was staring at me with the same expression on their faces: dread.

“Hartley...” Mickey said quietly after a moment, “It's midnight. He's gone.”

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TWO CHAPTERS LEFT, WEEEEOOOOO. Let me know what you think, and I will try and make it happen :) Also, any ideas for spin offs of this story would be super mega appreciated. I have one in mind, but if theres anything specific you guys want, just let me know and it shall happen (maybe. probably. yes)