Strip Me Bare

by Marissa Carmel

  Holy shit, what?

  As I put my hands behind my back, Ryan goes nuts, flailing in Officer Vincent’s grip. “She had nothing to do with it!” he yells. “She didn’t know it was there! It’s mine! It’s mine! I take full responsibility!”

  “Ryan shut the fuck up!” I snap. That idiot just incriminated himself.

  The officer pulls at my arm and I catch a glimpse of his nametag. “Is this true? Did you know anything about the drugs?” Officer O’Malley asks strictly.

  “No, nothing,” I answer automatically, suddenly realizing I just threw Ryan under the bus. I’m not thinking very clearly.

  Officer O’Malley lets go of my arm and Ryan expels a ragged sigh as he’s dragged back to the parked cop cars.

  My mind is in hyperdrive. I want to scream, I want to yell, I want them to know who the fuck my father is. Who they’re messing with. But I can’t utter his name, because I know as soon as I do, my whole life will get flushed away. I watch helplessly as Ryan is shoved into the back of a Crown Vic, and I can only hope that with all the commotion they’ll forget to mirandize him.

  “Ryan Pierce,” Officer Vincent says in a detached tone, “you’re under arrest, you have the right to remain silent…”

  Fuck.

  “Ma’am. Impound will be here shortly to tow the car away. You’ll have to call for a ride or come to the station with me.” Officer O’Malley says.

  I look at him vacantly. How ironic, Ryan bought his car at a police auction. Which is where it’s going to end up again if we don’t fix this fast.

  “Um, I’ll come with you,” I answer distracted as I watch Officer Vincent’s cruiser pull away with Ryan cuffed in the back seat. His head is pressed against the window, his eyes looking downwards.

  I slip into the cop car a shaking mess. “Can I make a phone call?” I ask, shifting restlessly in the back seat. The police radio talking and hissing as we start to drive off.

  “Yes,” Officer O’Malley answers evenly as he steers.

  I quickly whip out my phone and dial the only person’s number I know can help.

  “Uncle John,” I say after he picks up on the second ring. “I need you.”

  By the time I get to Shrewsbury police station, my uncle is there waiting, pacing the front steps. The station is a small, brick building with black double doors and police cars parked in front.

  “Alana,” he says urgently when he sees me, and I know there’s a reprimand coming by the tone of his voice.

  “Uncle John, wait. Before you go all parental on me, please hear me out.”

  He huffs, “Drugs?”

  “Yes. No,” I sit down on the cold concrete step and drop my head into my hands, my uncle sitting next to me.

  I would give anything for a cigarette right now and at the moment, I’m considering reinstating the habit.

  Where the hell do I start?

  “Seven years ago, I met Ryan-”

  “Seven years?” he interrupts me surprised.

  “Yes,” I say dejectedly, “and we fell ridiculously in love. Then one day he just disappeared, without a trace. I never knew what happened, until I discovered him dancing at Culture the night of Emily’s bachelorette party.”

  “That must have been a shock.”

  “To say the least,” I scoff, “but what shocked me more was finding out what happened to him. Sean, his twin, is pretty heavily involved in drugs.”

  “I see,” he says speculatively.

  “But that’s the thing, you don’t.” I turn to him, “Sean used Ryan’s identity to get out of an arrest, and then never showed up for the court date. Ryan got pulled over and was detained on the spot for an outstanding warrant. He wouldn’t give Sean up. And ended up serving time in Sean’s place. He did three years.”

  “What?” my uncle says outraged.

  “Yes, and I never knew, but it gets better.” I run my hands through my hair, “Daddy convicted him.”

  “Oh Jesus Christ,” my uncle John rakes his hands down his face. “So Ryan’s occupation had nothing to do with why you didn’t want your father knowing about him?”

  I nod somberly.

  “And it was Sean’s drugs in Ryan’s car?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know Ryan is back in the same boat as before. Shrewsbury is in Merrick’s district.”

  “I know,” I say despairingly, wishing I could cry, but I can’t. The only thing I can do is strangle my emotions, restraining everything I feel.

  “Where is Sean now?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Alana, you have to find him. He’s the only person who can get Ryan out of this.”

  “I know, but I don’t think Ryan’s mom will tell me where he is. She’s part of the reason Ryan took the fall for Sean the first time.”

  “This situation just gets better and better.” My uncle looks at me in disbelief. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” he says like the bad ass lawyer that he is. “First, I’m going to go find out when Ryan’s arraignment is, and then get him a lawyer. Shelly, she practices in New York and New Jersey, and she’s one of the best criminal attorneys on my payroll. Then, Ryan has to find Sean.” He stipulates, “He can’t take the fall for him again.”

  No disagreement there.

  “I’m going to put in a call to Judge Reynolds, he’s a personal friend and owes me big for keeping his son out of jail. If, worst case scenario, you can’t find Sean, I’ll at least make sure Ryan doesn’t go in front of your father again. Hopefully we can work a deal with the prosecutor. It’s going to be tough though, this is his second offense. From what you told me on the phone, with the amount of heroin they found, he’ll be charged with not only possession but also intent to distribute. That’s twenty years, Alana.”

  “I know Uncle John,” my heart constricts at the thought.

  “Honey,” my uncle takes my hand, “this might get messy. I know Ryan is a nice guy and you love him, but are you sure he’s worth jeopardizing your entire future for?”

  Anger strikes me like whiplash and I have to keep myself from snapping at my uncle, because I know he’s just trying to look out for me. Ryan has already been through hell once; I’m not going to desert him if he ends up back there a second time.

  “Yes,” I answer as composed as possible. Doing what I always do, internalizing my true feelings.

  “Okay then, it’s time to come out swinging.”

  It’s what he always says when he has a tough case ahead of him. Except this time, it’s not a court case he’s referring to.

  It’s life.

  Sean has been MIA ever since Ryan’s arrested.

  It's 2 AM, Ryan’s court date is tomorrow and I can’t sleep. We’re staying in the guest room of my aunt and uncle’s house. It was easier than coming in early from the city, since Ryan’s court appearance is at 8.

  The tension between us has been as thick as exhaust fumes in a tiny condominium garage. And tomorrow everything is going to change. Somehow, my uncle jimmy rigged Ryan’s case to end up on Judge Reynolds’ docket. Not like that’s illegal or anything; Shelly was able to work a deal with the prosecutor to get Ryan into drug court, which is like an intense probation. He’ll have to move back to New Jersey and in with his mother. God help me. He’ll be heavily monitored, frequently drug tested and mandated to attend a substance abuse program. He may not be a drug addict, but they’re sure as hell going to treat him like one.

  The silver lining; he won’t be in jail.

  I don’t know what the next three months are going to be like for us. I start my last semester of law school in a few weeks and I need to concentrate heavily on that, but I also know the distance is going to kill me.

  Ryan starts whimpering in his sleep again. He’s been having nightmares ever since he was arrested. He avoids the subject when I try to talk to him about it, but it doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s dreaming about. Prison. It’s his emotional response to the fear of the future and stress of the past.
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br />   Ryan suddenly shoots up out of a dead sleep; he’s panting, sweating and swearing all at the same time.

  “Hey,” I say soothingly, rubbing his back, “it’s okay.”

  Ryan drops his head back, his bare chest expanding and contracting, but he doesn’t speak. So I ask the dumbest question imaginable, “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” his response is terse as he lies back down.

  “You know you can talk to me Ryan. If you’re scared, tell me.”

  I’m so sick of him pushing me away.

  “I’m not scared, Alana. I’m pissed off.” He rolls over.

  “Is that why you’ve been so distant?”

  He blows out a hot breath, reluctant to talk, “Yes, but I don’t want to be.”

  “Then don’t be.”

  “I don’t know how else to be right now. I don’t want to end up taking my anger out on you. It was enough you saw me go after Sean.”

  “He got what he deserved, I sort of wish you hospitalized him,” I mumble.

  We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.

  “Alana don’t say that,” Ryan snaps at me. “He’s my brother and he’s sick.”

  “Is that why you didn’t push harder to find him?”

  “Excuse me?” Ryan rolls over forcefully, his arm brushing across the satin of my camisole.

  “Why didn’t you push harder to find him?”

  It didn’t seem to matter how many times Ryan badgered his mother about Sean’s whereabouts; she told him the same thing every time. That she didn’t know where Sean was. Which is a complete crock of shit and we both know it.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. What did you want me to do, send out a search party?”

  “Yes. If you’re really so concerned about what’s going to happen to you, I think you would have tried harder to find him.”

  “Oh really?” Now he’s straight up mad.

  “You know what I think? I think this is exactly what happened seven years ago. You’ve been put between a rock and a hard place, and you don’t want be the cause of something bad happening to Sean or your mother, so you suck it up and pay the price for all of them.” Maybe that’s why he didn’t involve me the first time. He knew I would have talked him out of going through with it.

  “Everything will be fine. Shelly spoke with the prosecutor, I’m going to plead guilty, take the deal and be done with it, then move on with my life.”

  “What life?” I argue, “You’re not going to be able to leave the state of New Jersey and Vegas is shot.”

  “Pipedream.”

  “I don’t accept that.”

  “You don’t have to, it’s not your life.”

  “No, but one day it might have been our life.”

  “What do you mean, might have?”

  “We can’t have a future like this Ryan. Always looking over our shoulders worrying about what Sean might do next?”

  Ryan pauses, I can’t see his face in the darkness, but I can hear him breathe restively. “Am I going to lose you over this, Alana?”

  “This? No, but there are no guarantees down the road.”

  Ryan huffs, “Why does that statement not surprise me?”

  “What?” I retort.

  “You want to know what’s really a pipedream? The idea that someone like you could actually end up with someone like me.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I’m just the interim, the dirty little secret in your past that your future will never know about.”

  That statement just stabbed me right in the heart. But I know it isn’t him talking. It’s the anger and fear and resentment and rage. And even though I recognize that, it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

  “You know what,” I throw the covers off me, “now you sound like Sean and your mother. If you want to believe the pauper never ends up with the princess bullshit, fine. But don’t think I’m going to sit here and put up with you saying hurtful things to me just so you can push me away. I’ll go freely.” I get out of bed and stomp towards the door, “But let me leave you with a little reminder before I go.” I grab the knob, “I distinctly recall you telling me that you were never going to take the fall for Sean again, yet here you are. Going in front of a judge tomorrow, handing him several years of your life for something you didn’t do.”

  “I’m not going to jail.”

  “Not this time.”

  “Not ever again.”

  “Do you really believe that? Because what’s going to happen the next time Sean uses your name? Or borrows your car? Or shows up on your doorstep looking for a place to live with a Ziploc full of heroin in his pocket? He’ll never change if he knows there are no consequences for his actions. So you’re right about one thing, I’m not going to stick around to have a future with you like that.”

  I storm out of the room and down the stairs. Goddamn it, why did I ever give up smoking?

  I find myself in the kitchen. A room that’s bright and airy even in the dark. I flick on a small light underneath the cabinets and sit down at the table, dropping my head despondently onto my arms. Ugh. If I thought Jack the Stripper was a challenge to deal with, I was in no way prepared for Ryan Pierce.

  Walking away from him is the last thing I want to do, but how are we ever going to have a future like this? Constantly looking over our shoulders, worrying how Sean might destroy our lives next.

  “Alana?” Ryan’s voice is guarded in the shadows.

  “Yeah?” My voice doesn’t sound much better. I don’t pick my head up as he walks toward me, the wood floor creaking underneath his footsteps.

  “I don’t want to push you away.”

  “And I don’t want you believing all the bullshit your family pumps into your head.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Ryan-” I say cynically.

  “I try not to,” he fires back rapidly.

  I don’t know what else to say. I’m not in the mood to fight or lecture or preach. I just want to go back to bed with my boyfriend and pretend tomorrow is never going to come.

  “Do you want to leave me Alana?” Ryan asks anxiously.

  “Do you want me to leave you Ryan?” I respond softly.

  “No,” he rasps.

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  “I don’t know what to do about Sean and my mom,” he admits self-consciously. “They’re the only family I have and I’m terrified to lose them.”

  “No one understands what that’s like better than me,” I turn and hug him, pressing my cheek firmly into his abdomen, “but they’re not the only family you have.”

  Ryan clutches onto me. “I’m terrified to lose you too.”

  I must have paced back and forth a thousand times.

  Ever since Ryan and Emily left for court this morning I haven’t been able to sit still. Since I can’t set foot anywhere near that courthouse, I sent Emily in my place for moral support. If I can’t be there for Ryan, at least he can have the next best thing. I keep telling myself that everything will be fine; the deal is on the table and has already been accepted. All Ryan has to do is stand in front of Judge Reynolds, plead guilty, sign some paperwork and leave.

  So what the hell is taking so long?

  The massive front door of my uncle’s home suddenly swings open as Emily enters. She’s wearing a casual pant suit with a long black coat, her dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

  She’s accessorized perfectly, but is missing one key thing; Ryan.

  “Hey,” I bum rush her. “Where’s-”

  She puts her hand up, silencing me. The grave expression on her face telling me something went terribly wrong.

  “Em?”

  “Alana,” her voice is shaky, and it looks like she’s holding back tears, “Judge Reynolds was rushed to the hospital this morning with appendicitis.”

  “What?” My voice is small.

  “All of his cases were redistributed to other judges.”

  The floor suddenly feels
like it’s quaking.

  “Em, what are you telling me?”

  “He went in front of your father.”

  All I can do is shake my head fervently as she speaks.

  “He rejected Ryan’s plea. He remanded him and scheduled his sentencing for next week.”

  “No, Em,” I refute. “Everything was worked out!” I’m in complete denial.

  “Shelly tried to push for the deal, but your dad was adamant.”

  “Twenty years, Emily. That’s what he’s going to give him. You know my father,” I say frantically. This can’t be happening; Ryan isn’t supposed to go back to jail.

  “I know.” She tries to hug me, but I just push her away.

  “Don’t.”

  “Alana,” she says sympathetically, but I’m not having it. My thoughts are in an uproar as I pace around the foyer. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

  “Give me your keys,” I demand, motivation striking me.

  “What?” Emily says flabbergasted.

  “Give me your car keys, I need to go somewhere.” I hold out my hand sternly.

  “Where?” She puts the keys to her BMW in my palm.

  I take them hastily, but I don’t answer. I head for the door instead without even grabbing a coat; Emily calling my name.

  I pull into the parking lot of the Americana diner, tires screeching to a halt. Without losing momentum I storm out of the car and into the cold December air, praying to God Ryan’s mother is working. As soon as I walk inside I see her standing behind the counter in her pink shirt and black apron. I put on the most composed mask I can and stalk quickly up to her. I don’t want to make a scene, but if she doesn’t tell me exactly where Sean is, I’ll turn this place into a Bon Jovi concert at Madison Square Garden. I may not be able to cry, but I sure as fuck can scream.

  I don’t give her the chance to say hi, hello or good morning, assuming she’d even be so hospitable.