Iย look at my father, standing guiltily in the doorway to the holding room. Iโm seated at a table very similar to the one I was seated at a few weeks ago when I was arrested. Only now Iโm paying the price for that arrest.
I look down at my wrists and push the cu๏ฌs down half an inch to relieve some of the pressure. โWhat good is your law degree if you canโt even get me out of this?โ
I know that was a low blow, but Iโm pissed. Frustrated. In a state of shock over the fact that I was just sentenced to ninety days in jail, despite this being myย rst o๏ฌense. I know it had everything to do with the fact that Judge Corley presided over the case. Seems to be my luck, lately. My fateย wouldย be in the hand of one of my fatherโs surface friends.
My father closes the door to the holding room, locking us both in. Itโs
our last visit before Iโm taken to my cell, and honestly, Iโd rather he not even be here right now.
He takes three slow steps into the room and then comes to a stop as he hovers over me. โWhy the hell did you refuse rehab?โ he growls.
I close my eyes, disappointed in his focus. โI donโt need rehab.โ
โAll you had to do was a short stint in rehab, and this whole thing would have been removed from your record.โ
Heโs angry. Heโs yelling. His plan was for me to accept rehab, but I know for a fact that this was his way of making himself feel better about the fact that Iโve been arrested. If I were to spend my time in rehab rather than jail, it would be easier for him to swallow. Maybe I chose jail time just to spite him.
โI can talk with Judge Corley. Iโll tell him you made the wrong decision and see if heโll reconsider it.โ
I shake my head. โJust go, Dad.โ
His expression is unwavering. He doesnโt retreat from the room.
โGo!โ I say, louder this time. โLeave! I donโt want you to visit. I donโt want you to call me. I donโt want to speak to you while Iโm in there, because I hope to God youโre going to take your own advice.โ
He still doesnโt move, so I take a step toward him, then around him. I beat on the door. โLet me out!โ I say to the baili๏ฌ.
My father puts his hand on my shoulder, and I shrug it o๏ฌ. โDonโt, Dad.
Just . . . I canโt right now.โ
e door opens, and Iโm escorted down a hallway, away from my father. Once my cu๏ฌs are removed and the bars clank closed behind me, I take a seat on the cot. I rest my head in my hands and think back to the weekend I ended up here.ย e weekend I should have done everything di๏ฌerently.
If I had just found it in me to see that what Iโm doing isnโt protecting anyone. Itโs not helping anyone.
Iโm enabling, and Iโve been doing it for years.ย And now Iโm paying the ultimate price, because itโs costing me you, Auburn.
THREE WEEKS EARLIER
I glance down at my phone and cringe when I see my fatherโs number. If heโs calling me this late, it can only mean one thing.
โI should go,โ I say as I silence the phone and slide it back into my pocket. I push the cup toward her and I see her expression fall with her nod, but she quickly turns around to hide it.
โWell, thanks for the job,โ she says. โAnd for walking me home.โ
I lean forward on the bar and drop my head into the palms of my hands. I rub them over my face, when really I want to punch myself.ย ings were going so well between us just now and the second I get a phone call from my father, I shut down and make it look like the exact opposite of what it is. She thinks Iโm leaving because whoever just called me was a girl.ย atโs the furthest thing from the truth, and even though I hate that I just
disappointed her, I love that sheโs jealous right now. People donโt get jealous unless there are underlying feelings at play.
She pretends to busy herself by washing my co๏ฌee cup and she fails to notice Iโm walking up behind her.
โIt wasnโt a girl,โ I say to her.ย e close proximity of my voice startles her and she spins around, looking up at me wide-eyed. She fails to respond, so I take a step closer and say it again to make sure she understands and that she believes me. โI donโt want you to think Iโm leaving because another girl just called me.โ
I can see the relief in her eyes and a small smile attempt to form on her mouth, but she faces the sink again in hopes that I donโt notice. โItโs not my business who calls you, Owen.โ
I grin, even though she canโt see me. Of course it isnโt her business, but she wants it to be her business as much as I do. I close the gap between us by placing both of my palms on the counter on either side of her. I rest my chin on her shoulder, and I want to bury myself against her neck and inhale her, but I grip the counter and remain where I am. It becomes even harder to control my impulses when I feel her lean into me.
ere are so many things I want right now. I want to wrap my arms around her. I want to kiss her. I want to pick her up and carry her to my bed. I want her to spend the night with me. I want to confess to her all the things Iโve been keeping bottled up since she showed up on my doorstep.
I want them all so badly that Iโm willing to do the last thing I want to do, which is slow down so that I donโt scare her o๏ฌ.
โI want to see you again.โ
When she says โOkay,โ it takes everything I have not to pick her up and spin her around. I somehow remain calm and collected, even as she walks me to her door and we tell each other good-bye.
And when sheย nally closes the door for the last time, I want to knock on it again. I want to make her open it for a fourth time so that I can press my lips to hers and get a feel for what our future is hopefully about to consist of.
Before I can decide whether to leave and wait until tomorrow or go ahead and make her open the door so I can kiss her tonight, my phone makes the decision for me. I pull it out of my pocket after it begins ringing and answer my fatherโs phone call.
โAre you okay?โ I ask him. โOwen . . . shit . . . this . . .โ
I can tell by his voice that heโs been drinking. He mutters something unintelligible and then . . . nothing.
โDad?โ
Silence. When I make it outside of the apartment building, I press my hand against my ear to try to hear him better.
โDad!โ I yell.
I hear rustling and then more muttering. โI know I shouldnโt have done it . . . Iโm sorry, Owen, I just couldnโt . . .โ
I close my eyes and try to remain calm, but he isnโt making any sense. โTell me where you are. Iโm on my way.โ
He mutters a street name that isnโt far from his house. I tell him to stay put, and I run the entire way back to my apartment in order to get my car.
I have no idea what Iโllย nd once I reach him. I just hope he hasnโt done something stupid that could get him arrested. Heโs been lucky up to this point, but no one can have as much luck as heโs had and continue to get away with it.
 |
When I pull onto the street, I donโt see anything.ย ere are a few scattered houses, but itโs mostly a barren area close to the subdivision he lives in. When I near the end of the road, Iย nally see his car. It looks like heโs run the car o๏ฌย the road.
I pull over onto the side of the road and get out to check on him. I walk to the front of the car to assess any damage he might have done, but there isnโt any. His taillights are on, and it looks like he just couldnโtย gure out how to get back on the road.
Heโs passed out in the front seat and the doors are locked.
โDad!โ I beat on the window until heย nally wakes up. He fumbles with the buttons on the door and rolls the window halfway down in an attempt to unlock the car.
โWrong button,โ I tell him. I reach through the window and unlock the door, pulling it open.
โScoot over,โ I say to him. He leans his head against the headrest and looks at me with a face full of disappointment.
โIโm okay,โ he mumbles. โI just needed to take a nap.โ
I shove my shoulder into him to scoot him out of the driverโs seat. He groans and climbs across the seat, slumping against the passenger door. Sadly, this is becoming routine. In the past year alone, this is the third time Iโve had to come to his rescue. It used to not be so bad when it was just the pain pills, but now that heโs mixing them with alcohol, itโs harder for him to hide it from everyone else.
I try to start the car, but itโs still in drive. I put it in park and crank it with ease. I put the car in reverse and it pulls onto the road without a problem.
โHowโd you get it to do that?โ he says. โIt wouldnโt work when I tried.โ โIt was in drive, Dad. You canโt start cars when theyโre in drive.โ
When I pass by my car still pulled over in the ditch, I hold my key fob up and lock it. Iโll have to get Harrison to pick me up and follow me back out to the car after I drop my father o๏ฌย at home.
Weโve driven about a mile when the crying starts. Heโs huddled up against the passenger window and his whole body begins to shake from his tears. It used to bother me, but Iโve become immune to it. And I probably hate that Iโve become immune to his depression more than I even hate his depression.
โIโm so sorry, Owen,โ he chokes out. โI tried. I tried, I tried, I tried.โ Heโs crying so hard that his words are becoming harder to understand, but he keeps going. โJust two more months, thatโs all I need. Iโll get help after that, I promise.โ
He continues to cry tears of shame, and this is the hardest part for me. I can take the mood swings, the withdrawls, the late-night phone calls. Iโve been dealing with them for years.
Itโs watching his tears that eats at me. Itโs seeing him still heartbroken over that night that makes me accept his excuses. Itโs hearing the depression in his voice that brings back the horror of that night, and as much as I want to hate him for being so weak, I also praise him for still being alive. Iโm not sure I would have even had the will to live if I were him.
His crying comes to an instant halt the second the lightsย ll the inside of the car. Iโve been pulled over plenty of times to know that these things are
usually routine when a car is out this late at night. But the condition my father is in right now makes me nervous.
โDad, let me handle this,โ I say as I pull over to the side of the road. โHeโll know youโre drunk if you open your mouth to speak.โ
He nods and watches the cop nervously as he approaches the car. โWhereโs your insurance?โ I ask my father, just as the cop reaches the window. My father fumbles with the glove box as I roll the window down.
e cop immediately looks familiar to me, but I donโt place him right away. It isnโt until he bends down and looks me straight in the eye that I remember him. Trey, I think is his name. I canโt believe I even remember that.
Great. I would get pulled over by the one and only guy Iโve ever punched.
He doesnโt appear to remember me, so thatโs a good thing. โLicense and insurance,โ he says sti๏ฌy.
I pull my license from my wallet and my father hands me his insurance card. When I hand both of them to Trey, he eyes my IDย rst. He smirks almost immediately. โOwen Gentry?โ He taps my driverโs license against my car and laughs. โWow. Never thought Iโd hear that name again.โ
I run my thumbs around the steering wheel and shake my head. He deย nitely remembers, all right. Not good.
Trey lifts hisย ashlight and shines it inside the car, running it over the backseat and then landing it on my father. My father shields his eyes with his elbow.
โย at you, Callahan?โ
My father nods but doesnโt respond.
Trey laughs again. โWell this is just a real treat.โ
I assume Trey knows my father because heโs a defense attorney, and Iโm not so sure thatโs a good thing for us right now. Itโs not uncommon for the lawyers who defend criminals to be loathed by the o๏ฌcers whoย arrestย those criminals.
Trey lowers theย ashlight and takes a step back. โStep out of the car, sir.โ His words are directed at me, so I do what he says. I open the door and step out. Almost immediately, he grabs me by the arm and pulls until I willingly turn and lay my arms on the hood. He begins frisking me. โYou got anything in your possession I should be aware of?โ
What the hell? I shake my head. โNo. Iโm just driving my father home.โ
โHave you had anything to drink tonight?โ
I think back on the drinks I had at the bar earlier, but that was a couple of hours ago. Iโm not even sure if I should bring that up.ย e hesitation in my answer doesnโt please him. He turns me around and shines the light directly into my eyes. โHow much have you had to drink?โ
I shake my head and try to look away from the blinding light. โJust a couple. It was earlier.โ
He steps back and tells my father to get out of the car. Luckily, my father gets the door open. At least heโs sober enough to do that.
โCome around the car,โ Trey says to my father. He watches as my father stumbles from the passenger side, all the way to where Iโm standing, holding the edge of the car for support during his journey. Heโs obviously drunk and Iโm honestly not sure if itโs illegal for a passenger to be intoxicated. As far as Trey knows, my father wasnโt driving.
โDo I have permission to search the vehicle?โ
I look at my father for guidance, but heโs leaning against the car with his eyes closed. He looks ready to fall asleep. I debate whether or not to refuse the search, butย gure that would just give Trey more reason to become suspicious. Besides, my father knows the repercussions of traveling with anything that could get him into trouble, so even though he was dumb enough to drive after drinking tonight, I seriously doubt he would actually have anything in his possession that could jeopardize his career. I casually shrug and then say, โGo ahead.โ I just want Trey to get revenge out of his system so he can be done with it and leave.
Trey orders us to stand near the rear of the vehicle while he leans across the front seat. My father is alert now, watching him closely. Heโs wringing his hands together and his eyes are wide with fear.ย e look on his face is enough for me to know that Trey is more than likely going toย nd something inside this car.
โDad,โ I whisper, disappointed. His eyes meet mine and theyโre full of apologies.
I canโt count the number of times my father has promised me he was going to get help. I think he waited a little too long.
My father closes his eyes when Trey begins making his way to the rear of the vehicle. He sets one, two, three bottles of pills on the car. He proceeds to open each one to inspect the contents.
โLooks like Oxy,โ Trey says, rolling a pill between his thumb and foreย nger. He looks at me and then at my father. โEither of you have a prescription for these?โ
I look at my father, hoping beyond all hope that he does, in fact, have a prescription. I know itโs wishful thinking, though.
Trey smiles.ย e bastard smiles like he just hit gold.ย He leans his elbows on the car and begins putting the pills back into their bottles, one by one. โYou know,โ he says, looking at neither of us, but speaking to us both, โOxy is considered a penalty group one drug when obtained illegally.โ He looks up at me. โNow, I know you arenโt a lawyer like your father here, so let me explain it to you in laymenโs terms.โ He stands up straight and puts the caps back on the bottles. โIn the state of Texas, being arrested for a penalty group one is an automatic state-jail felony.โ
I close my eyes and exhale.ย is is the last thing my father needs. If he loses his career on top of everything else heโs lost, thereโs no way he would survive.
โI suggest, before either of you speak again, that you take into consideration what would happen if a defense attorney were to be charged with a felony. Iโm almost certain that would result in the loss of his license to practice law.โ
Trey walks around the vehicle and steps between my father and me. He eyes my father up and down. โย ink about that for a second. A lawyer, whose entire career consists of defending criminals, loses his career andย becomesย the criminal. Irony at its best.โ Trey then turns and faces me full on. โDid you work tonight, Gentry?โ
I tilt my head, confused by his line of questioning.
โYou own that studio, right? Wasnโt tonight one of the nights you were open?โ
I hate that he knows about my studio. I hate it even more that heโs asking about it.
I nod. โYeah. Firstย ursday of every month.โ
He takes a step closer. โI thought so,โ he says. He rolls the three bottles of pills between his hands. โI saw you leaving the studio with someone earlier tonight. A girl?โ
Was he following me? Why would he be following me? And why would he be asking about Auburn?
My throat runs dry.
I canโt believe I havenโt put two and two together until this moment.ย Of courseย Auburn would have a connection to Trey. His family is probably the reason sheโs back in Texas.
โYeah,โ I say,ย nding a way to downplay it. โShe worked for me tonight, so I walked her home.โ
His eyes narrow at my response and he nods. โYeah,โ he says dryly. โI donโt particularly like her working for someone like you.โ
I know heโs a cop, but right now all I see is an asshole.ย e muscles in my arms clench and his eyes immediately fall to theย sts at my sides. โWhat do you mean someone like me?โ
His eyes meet mine again with a laugh. โWell, you and I donโt really have the best history, do we? You attacked me theย rst time we met. As soon as I pulled you over tonight, you admitted to driving under the inย uence. And now . . .โ He looks down at the pills in his hands. โNow Iย nd these in the vehicle youโre driving.โ
My father steps forward. โย ose areโโ
โStop!โ I yell at my father, cutting him o๏ฌ. I know heโs about to claim them, but he isnโt sober enough to realize what that could do to his career.
Trey laughs again, and Iโm honestly sick of hearing that noise. โAnyway,โ he says, โif she needs an escort home, she has me for that.โ
He slams the pills down on the hood. โSo, which one of you belongs to these?โ
My father looks at me. I can see the struggle in his eyes because he doesnโt know what to say. I donโt give him the chance.
โย eyโre mine.โ
I close my eyes and I think about Auburn, because this moment and Treyโs indirect threat to stay away from her is about to take away whatever chance we might have had.
Fuck me.
My cheek meets the cold metal of the hood. โYou have the right to remain silent . . .โ
My hands are pulled behind me, and the cu๏ฌs are snapped into place.
