02
Being pushed face down onto the side of a cop car wasn't my ideal Friday night. I pictured it going a little differently, maybe ending in a snug bed with lush covers and warmth. The way it was looking I'd be faced with an overnight cell and the smell of piss.
"You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent," a woman officer bellowed out my Miranda rights and pressed her bony forearm into my back, roughly closing the cuffs. "Easy on the wrists, lady," I huffed petulantly, squirming and rolling my shoulders under her grip.
She snorted and dug her elbow in harder. The already flowering bruises were giving me intense pain every time I shifted position, and the cop's abuse certainly wasn't doing me any favors. "Anything you do –"
" – can and will be used against me in a court of law. Yes, ma'am, I understand my rights as they're being read to me."
Her cat eyes narrowed on mine and she shook her head in disgust. I flashed her a brilliant smile and ducked into the famous back seat. As the door was closing I could've sworn I saw the guy gloating. A crowd of blinking onlookers had gathered, farther away of course as to not get too close to the criminal, but close enough for a good show.
People in this city officially disgusted me and I was the scum apparently.
"Have a nice ride," made it to my ears. I knew it was him: the guy that had been the first to ever inflict so much damage on me, the guy that stood between me and freedom. The one who cost me everything.
▲▲▲
The ride to the station was quiet except for the static on the radio and an occasional transmission. Sure, my restraints were painful but they only served to remind me of the moment when the cuffs closed and sealed my fate. The panic stopped and a serene calm overcame me. Settling into the back seat of the cruiser I came to terms with the fact that I was getting arrested tonight one way or another. Why spend more time than that analyzing it?
The car stopped drawing me out of my reverie. I was sufficiently familiar with my surroundings not to be intimidated. Let's just say it wasn't my first glimpse into the station. I'd been here a while back visiting a friend when he got busted for illegal possession of marijuana. He hadn't stayed long, only enough for me to make the acquaintance of the head guard.
I breathed in a huge gulp of the night's cool air to clear my head and made my way to the automatic doors that slid open to reveal an austere lobby that was lit too brightly when the building itself was morose.
I hadn't noticed when the officer slipped past me and started conversing with the secretary on duty. She was younger than him, I noted with mild amusement, yet he seemed bent on impressing her. Well, small talk isn't gonna cut it, I thought to him. You're definitely not getting any action from her, not now not ever.
I looked past him to the girl in question. She wore a lime green cardigan over a white ruffled blouse. Just one glimpse at her told me everything I needed to know. This was a part-time job she took to pay off her student loans and was patiently waiting for someone other than Mr. Prince-not-so Charming over there to notice her. Maybe one of the cute young recruits that came in every day to put in their hours. And despite her goody-two shoes image she was dying inside for a little attention.
At the moment it was clear she was more than a little annoyed with the old bag of dirt hitting on her, and kept fidgeting in her seat, eyes not making contact with his and giving clipped replies to his pestering questions.
Feeling rather generous, I decided to do the poor girl a favor. I walked to where they were and directed my words at the officer leaning casually against the front desk. "I don't think she's desperate enough. Not yet. Give it a few more months of lonely nights." The officer looked annoyed and embarrassed. I bet he'd been dying to extend his one-way flirting session. "Maybe you should spend a little less time harassing women half your age who clearly aren't interested and more time doing your job."
He turned fifty shades of red, either from anger or embarrassment I didn't care. This had to be the highlight of my night. I smiled at the girl when I saw her mitigated expression. She quickly excused herself and rushed to what I assumed was the ladies' room. Before pushing the door open, she mouthed 'thank you' and then disappeared. I didn't think she realized I'd backhandedly insulted her too. Either way the scenario was laugh-worthy.
Raising an eyebrow, I crossed my arms over my chest. Thankfully, one of his co-workers came and relieved him of having to stutter on. When I saw the man that was now escorting me to my cell, I couldn't supress a smile. His name was John and I'd run into him on occasion. He had a scruffy moustache and stubble dotting his jawline, telling me he had either forgotten to shave this morning or he was changing his image. I was inclined to think the former.
"Flirting with the law again, Samantha?" he asked, leading me down the hallway to the overnight cells.
"More like the law flirting with..." I cut myself short. I didn't want to stay on that topic too long. "Looks like it, John," I said smiling up at him. He was a far cry from being friendly or knowing my real situation, but he behaved civilly which was more than I could say for the other guys that came through here.
"You look like shit," he commented, not unkindly just truthfully.
"Thanks. I feel like it, too," I said, rubbing a sore spot on my back.
"You just don't know when to stop do you?" I ignored his question deliberately and switched the spotlight onto him.
"How's your wife?" I asked politely, knowing very well I was overstepping my boundaries, but then again I usually was. The old me was slowly coming back. The me that people tended to have a low tolerance for.
"She's fine," he said curtly, "and what about Jason?" Now this brought a frown to my sombre face. He knew he was hitting a sore spot and was only paying me back for prying into his personal life. Jason was a boy who I'd liked years ago, who'd also visited these very premises. Long story short, John somehow found out. The info was perfect for times like these.
"Swell." I pasted on a fake smile. "Tell Angie I said hi." I knew I was pushing it, testing his limits, but I needed something to lighten up. His smile slipped and he gave me a light push into the cell before shutting the door. It closed with a click and he started to walk away. "Stay in school, Samantha," he said over his shoulder as he rounded the corner.
I laughed at his retreating figure.
As if.
Turning, I gazed out across the overnight holding cell and inspected everyone's tired faces. They appeared to be regulars judging by the familiarity they used when they were addressing each other.
True to its name, I spent the entire night with the other hooligans in our holding cell.
Slumping down on a dirty cot, I sighed, my mind flashing back to that stupid dare I took on a whim and beat myself mentally at how stupid I'd been to shake on it, binding myself to the agreement. The fatigue was really getting to me. From getting my ass kicked – for the first time ever - to dealing with the asshole officer, I was hammered. A strange thought crossed my mind then. Was this how it was for Connor when he was serving his time? Was this what he went through? Served him right, he did stab that guy. Ask me and I'll tell you he got what he deserved. I shook my head clearing any unwanted memories of the boy I hadn't seen in almost a year and wasn't looking forward to ever seeing again. He'd been a classmate, a distant friend and now, an enemy above all else. It wasn't worth it to dwell on the past though, especially when it could come back to haunt you at any moment.
Looking around the jail cell, I snuck a peek through the bars to get a view of the empty hall. There was nothing left to do but take a short nap until an officer came to get me for my regular interrogation, or as I preferred to call it: interview.
I lay down on the thinning gray cot and got as comfortable as you could get when feeling the boards and broken springs underneath and dozed off.
▲▲▲
Fifteen minutes later a voice sounded through the haze of sleep– not quite fully under but not full consciousness.
"Ms. Williams." I opened my eyes and blinked drowsily, trying to clear my head so I could stand up. Definitely not enough sleep, I thought, stretching my arms over my head.
A woman came into view after a few more blinks. "Follow me," she said. I rubbed my eyes with the base of my palms and shook my head before pushing myself off the cot and trekking after the officer. As I was waking up I noticed that the station was abnormally quiet for a Friday night.
"Having a slow night?" I asked pleasantly, trying to make conversation.
"Not everyone wants to be in your shoes tonight, Ms. Williams," the officer replied, equally pleasant.
A heavy metal door came into view at the end of the corridor and beside it was a large window that had the appearance of a mirror from inside the room. I knew it well. The officer reached for the steel door handle and ushered me in with instructions to wait there, not that I was going anywhere.
After the door closed behind her, I walked to the table and sat down in one of the metal chairs provided. Across from me there was an identical steel chair where my interrogator would sit.
There wasn't much to do, meaning I was left alone with my thoughts, an often deadly occurrence. My distress over my screw-up had faded and my energy was concentrated on the mystery guy. He didn't seem to leave my mind. And of course, the way thoughts often do mine drifted to other topics – to the post-jailing phase that surely awaited me. I felt numb and a little careless at this point, which was better than actually letting this sink in. The words of most of my teachers crossed my mind right then.
"..... going to turn out a nobody."
"Can't handle herself..."
"Where are her parents in all of this?"
The last one made me laugh. I didn't want to see those people who apparently raised me. Barely knew who they were anyways because they were so involved in their own lives they couldn't bother with mine.
After about ten minutes of staring at the stainless steel surface of the table, polished to reflect the fluorescent lights overhead, the door finally opened and a young officer in his mid- thirties looking like he'd rather have been anywhere else, walked in. I couldn't blame him, the feeling was mutual.
He sat down in the chair across from mine and it creaked under his weight. His gaze shifted to me, trying for the bad cop routine, I presumed. I sighed. What was this? Showtime?
"What do you have to say for yourself, Ms. Williams?" What did I have to say for myself? Nothing, really. I mean I'd pulled yet another classic Sam stunt, what was new? Only this time I was in jail for it.
"My name is – " He brushed me off before I could do so much as get my name out.
"Yes, I'm aware of your name." He reached for a folder I hadn't noticed earlier and pulled out a crisp sheet of paper. It had my school photo stapled to the top of sheets held in place with a paperclip and my personal information printed in a mandatory Times New Roman script below. "Samantha Williams."
"Sam is fine. Preferable," I said irritated at the use of my full name.
"And I would prefer that you weren't here, if you held a semblance of respect for the law, but we don't always get what we want," he said tersely after scanning the contents of the folder. The slight widening of his eyes tipped me off to when he'd stumbled upon my record in his search.
"Can we get a move on?" I asked annoyed, not enjoying a minute here that I could be sleeping.
"Why are you in a rush?" I gave him a blank stare to say his humor wasn't amusing. "Alright. Why don't we begin with ....?"
"How about we skip that, fast forward and send me home?" Protocol stated that I would have to remain in custody until I made bail, obviously I wasn't expecting him to comply but it was worth a shot.
"I don't think so, Ms. Williams." Eesh. Did this guy ever give up? You know try and then throw in the towel and call it a day?
"For now, how about you fill out the paper work?" I rolled my eyes in utter annoyance and scribbled the highlights of the night in the space provided and signed on the X.
He grabbed the pages and scanned the explanation. He shook his head and continued with the proceedings. "Alright, I assume you understand what you've gotten yourself into."
"Yes, officer," I said, biting back my tongue to keep from snapping at him. He was dragging this out more than necessary, driving me crazy in the process. "Don't I get a phone call?"
"Not until I say you do," he said rifling through more documents. Images of jumping across the table and strangling him played through my mind.
"Can I at least have that framed?" I asked wickedly pointing to the mug shot taped to the front cover. He gave me a disbelieving look, his jaw dropping ever so slightly. Ha! "What? I think it'll look pretty next to my detention slips." I gave him a full toothed smile and blinked slowly at him. His face was priceless, though he said nothing.
"Good thing we received information at the right time. Wouldn't want you to have gotten loose." I assumed that was his attempt at a comeback. Then it occurred to me what he was actually saying.
I shot out of my chair like an arrow; the chair's legs making an insufferable screeching noise sliding across the concrete floor. His hand went instinctively to his holster in surprise and then lowered when he saw my baffled expression.
Whoa, whoa. Let's just back up a minute here. Had he said what I thought he'd said? Were my ears hearing right?
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. Now if you would please sit back down and – "
Slowly starting to catch on, I recalled the unknown figure. The one that had gotten in my way and nearly prevented me from getting past the school grounds. Then Mr. Ross popped up right along with the mystery guy. Sure they'd been the ones to call it in, but how had they been at the right place at the right time?
"Who tipped you off?" I asked changing the subject after a moment's reflection.
"Pardon?" he asked, taken aback by my sudden question. He was younger than I'd taken him to be, and had purplish bags under his eyes as if he's been working till the early morning hours lately. I was probably adding to his stress. I couldn't give less of a shit right now though.
"Who really tipped you off?" I repeated enunciating every word, my patience wearing thin, and my tone becoming increasingly demanding. Curiosity and anger were getting the best of me and I'd already lost my cool.
"Ms. Williams," he said pointedly. "I don't know what kind of conspiracy theory you've come up with, but I assure you it's wrong. Mr. Ross and well, it doesn't matter who else, called the police to inform us of your late night escapade when they saw you defacing school property." I gave him The Look, the one that could freeze over hell and I swore he backed away ever so slightly. I was guessing he'd taken a better look at my record than I'd assumed.
"I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer - " I said spotting his name tag on his uniform, " - Clyde, but I know Mr. Ross called the police. How did he know is my question."
"This person has asked to remain anonymous," he said at last, allowing a bit of information to slip through the cracks. So someone did sound the alarm. Of course this was his answer but I really needed to know details, and I intended to find out.
Then it dawned on me. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before. The figure that was shadowed, the one I couldn't see because it was so dark. It couldn't have been anyone else to put so much effort to stop me from getting away. Or else he wouldn't have fought me.
The guy I went up against knew my name somehow and if he went through all the trouble to stop me from getting away, he wouldn't hesitate to give my name up to the cops. But something was still off, not quite right. Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice was telling me it wasn't that simple.
No matter what my gut feeling said he'd definitely had to do with this more than he'd let on. Oh, now I was hell bent on finding this prick. I had my first hint. It was a guy. My second hint was that he was strong, really strong. That narrowed it down to about half the city. No, I needed someone with motive. Someone who would do me in without any hesitations and I thought I knew someone like that.
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alright so that was the second instalment of Cell Mates. things are picking up, getting hot and sam's getting ready to rumble! cote if you've enjoyed it so far, i'd love to hear your opinion