I looked at a couple of other schools and applied for more scholarships and grants while I waited for my laundry, but my laptop's battery steadily chugged down to zero, and I was forced to abandon it. I had just pulled out a book when a familiar head of inky hair bustled into the laundromat. The overfilled laundry basket blocked Naomi's face, but I shot up and waved at her to catch her attention.
"Hey!" I grinned. For a day that had started so bleak, I was beginning to enjoy it.
"Fancy seeing you here."
Naomi staggered over to me and, releasing a great sigh, and dropped her basket down onto a table. "One of these days I'm going to spring for my own machine," she grumbled. "You have no idea how much laundry two teenage girls produce. My oldest refuses to wear anything more than once a wash and my youngest seems to use every towel in the house whenever as much as a single toe gets wet."
I went to stand next to Naomi, and she started sorting out her lights and darks with the kind of focus and quick hands you could expect from a Blackjack dealer.
"At least they're not as dirty as boys," I offered.
Naomi snorted. "Boys will happily live in the dirt. I could do with a stinky boy if it meant I did laundry less often." She grabbed the pile of lights and shuffled over to an open machine. "How are you doing? I'm so sorry about what happened at the Alibi. Hank was a real dick about the whole thing."
I shrugged and wrinkled my nose. "Hank had to do what he had to do, I guess. He warned me that he couldn't afford to play fair."
"He warned you not to make a scene," she corrected, grabbing her laundry soap and filling up the machine. "He never said he was going to let Donnie antagonize you into making a scene."
"Same thing."
Naomi slammed the door closed and sighed, leaning against the machine as it hummed to life.
"Still, it was bullshit. And things have been so much worse since you left."
"You're just saying that."
She shook her head, a hard glint in her chocolate eyes. "I'm not. We got a new guy on your shifts, and he's about as useless as they come, which has made Hank stressed, so he's been salty all week. Then there's Donnie. Who would've thought that removing his favorite plaything would agitate the boy?"
I chuckled. "So you're saying you wish Hank had kept me so Donnie would still have something to play with?"
She gave me a flat look. "You know what I mean. He's been even more of a dick than usual and seems to think that just because Hank fired you, he's now the king of the castle, and everyone needs to kiss his ring. It's disgusting. At least you intimidated him enough to keep him in line."
"I did not intimidate him," I said with an incredulous frown.
"Sure you did." Naomi stepped around me and grabbed her pile of darks, moving them into the next washing machine. "Maybe not when you were together, but afterward definitely. He was just as intimidated by your success and your ability to live without him as he was by that hot newcomer guy you replaced him with. Why do you think he acted out so much? Donnie needed to prove that he wasn't as much of a loser as everybody already knows him to be, but at least he knew he had to have limits so as not to make an ass out of himself in front of you."
Naomi stopped and turned to me, hand on her hip. Her expression was taut, thin lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes as she studied me. "I know I probably don't have to say this, but promise me you'll stay away from him. He's not just extra annoying. He's been more aggressive than usual, and it worries me to think of how he would act if he got you alone somehow."
"I don't need telling twice." I lifted my hand into a three-fingered salute. "Scout's honor, I'll stay away from him."
"Good."
"Thank you for the warning."
Naomi sighed. "I just wish I could do more for you. I still can't believe Hank fired you."
We chatted for the next couple of hours while we both finished up our laundry, then Naomi waved goodbye and disappeared into the night. I glanced at the clock for the fifth time since I first took my clothes out of the dryer, then checked my phone. I still hadn't heard from Jack, and he was supposed to have been back already. What was his deal?
I waited for another twenty minutes and left a voicemail and two texts on Jack's phone before I got annoyed enough to heft my basket up into my arms and strike out on my own. It wasn't too far a walk back to the motel, but it wouldn't be fun. I was equal parts worried and irritated. Maybe a little more worried, especially with the ominous warning I'd received from Naomi only a couple of hours before. Wherever Jack was, I hoped he was safe.
Chapter 28
Jack
The cold metal of the bunk bit into the flesh of my palms where my hands squeezed the sides, feet tapping anxiously on the floor. The sound of my sneakers against the cement seemed to fill the small space, resonating in my skull.
I was alone for now. Deputy Morris abandoned me about an hour ago, storming off with his paperwork and laptop to another part of the precinct. I was almost certain he wasn't allowed to do that, and I was completely certain that I was within my rights to request a phone call. Deputy Morris didn't give two shits about my rights and had made that abundantly clear.
I tried hollering out a couple times to see if that would attract attention from another member of staff, but all it did was make me feel even more like a caged animal than I already did.
The clock on the opposite wall ticked silently through the hours. Melissa was either still waiting for me at the laundromat, or had already given up and gone home. Either way, she had no idea where I was. I was desperate to call her and let her know I was okay, and that I didn't skip out on her on purpose, even though I didn't have any other information to offer. I had no idea what they'd picked me up for. I got back to the motel after my job search with the intent of grabbing a quick shower before I met up with Melissa, but I didn't even make it as far as the front door. Before I knew it, I was being hauled into a police car and locked up in this cell. What the hell was going on?
I felt like rattling the bars and screaming until my lungs gave out, but I knew it would be better if I preserved my strength and even better than that if I stayed calm. For whatever reason, these guys were out to get me, and I wouldn't give them anything more than I had to.
The long hand on the clock started making another rotation of the dial before the door to the holding area opened again. It wasn't Deputy Morris who entered the room, but a short, older man with a balloon-sized gut and sidling gait. He evaluated me with eyes that looked bluer than the ocean when juxtaposed against his ruddy face, and I stared right back. It took a second for me to notice he wasn't like all the other cops I'd seen—the gold and white star on his shirt identified him as the sheriff. This could either be a very good or very bad thing.
"Jack Paxton," the sheriff rumbled, his floppy chin wriggling like a bundle of kittens when he spoke. "My name is Sheriff Beringer."
I gritted my teeth. Beringer. Of course it was.
"Do you know why we've brought you in here today, Jack?"
I rose from the small bed, crossing over to the bars and looking the sheriff straight in the eye. "I have a feeling it has something to do with your family, but I'm not sure how."
"My family?" Beringer raised a quizzical eyebrow. "No, son. This ain't got nothing to do with my clan."
"I haven't done anything wrong. I don't know why else you would have hauled me in here if not because of Donnie Beringer's ridiculous vendetta."
The sheriff's jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed into slits. "I'm going to do you a favor and forget you said that."
"Don't." I grasped the bars and leaned in closer. "Are you saying this has nothing to do with Donnie? What is he, anyway? Your cousin? Nephew?"
"None of your fucking business!" Beringer snapped. "You better learn to mind your trap when it comes to talking to authority, son. You'll soon find that I am not the kind of man you want to be messin' around with."
Beringer removed his wide-brimmed sheriff’s hat to wipe the
sweat now glistening from his tomato-red forehead. He put it back on and tossed me another surly look before depositing himself in the office chair across from me and picking up the file from the desk.
He cleared his throat and began to read.
"Jack Paxton. Twenty-eight years old." He looked back up at me. "It seems you have quite the propensity for underground fighting, which I'm sure as you know is illegal in the great state of Arizona, as well as everywhere else in this country."
I backed away from the bars, needing space to process what he'd said. Immediately my thoughts flew to Roddy, to the threat he tossed at me before I hung up on him the last time we spoke.
I could make things very bad for you...
How had he managed to sell me out without implicating himself? What could he possibly have as evidence that he could use to damn me?
I decided not to acknowledge what the sheriff said either way. I just licked my lips and stared him boldly in the eye.
"I want my phone call."
Sheriff Beringer nodded slowly with a tight-lipped smile. "I thought you might." He pulled out his handcuffs and slipped the file back onto the desk. "Get to the back of the cell. If you try anything funny, I won't hesitate to take you down. Fighter or not."
I did as he said, not letting out even a peep of complaint when he snapped the cuffs on my wrists and drew them tight enough to bruise. He led me to a phone and cuffed me next to it, informing me that I had five minutes and that was it. I thanked him, offering up a cheery smile. His obvious confusion was my only consolation in the whole humiliating ordeal.
The phone was grimy and old as dirt, the ringing coming through like I was hearing it through a wall. I couldn't even lift my free hand to block my other ear. Thankfully it was quiet in the police station.
"Hello?" Melissa picked up.
It was such a relief to hear her voice. No matter what fresh hell they put me through, at least I could always close my eyes and picture her pretty face. The thought that I might not get to touch her again sent a stab of agony through my chest, but I suppressed it. I wouldn't last long in a place like this if I let depression get the best of me.
"Hey babe, it's me."
"Jack! I've been worried sick. Where are you?"
I sighed. "I'm at the police station."
I waited for her reply with bated breath. I didn't think Melissa would leave me over this, but I still feared it more than anything else. I could handle anything the world threw at me as long as I had her.
"Oh my god! What happened? Are you okay?"
I tried to lift my hand to run it through my hair but was cut short by the metal cuff. Frustration rippled through me.
"Yeah, I'm okay. I think I've been arrested, though it's a Beringer's world at the police station too, so I'm not really sure what's going on. They didn't let me call you until now, but I've been here for hours."
Melissa's voice began to rise in pitch and volume. "What? Are you fucking serious! That's crazy! I swear to god, Jack, I'm going to get you out of there. What did they say they brought you in on?"
"Illegal fighting, apparently." I grimaced. "Babe, listen, I don't have much time. I need you to make some calls for me."
Melissa and I went through the details of what was going to happen next, which didn’t take too long since all I knew was that I needed a lawyer and all I could afford was a public defender. After that, Sheriff Beringer came back and hung up the phone for me before I had a chance to say a proper goodbye.
"I wasn't done," I said calmly, trying to hide my growing rage.
I didn't even have a chance to tell Melissa that I loved her before he hung up. What if something happened to me in here and the last thing I said to her was something about how we were going to figure all this out?
"Your time was up," he replied in a flat tone, re-securing my hands behind my back and leading me back to the cell.
I highly doubted that, but I bit my tongue.
"You win many of your fights?" Beringer asked as he unlocked the cell. He slid the door open, and I stepped inside, walking up to the back wall and standing with my nose against it while I waited for him to un-cuff me.
He took his sweet time.
"You hear me?" he asked.
I didn't respond. He was trying to bait me into saying something incriminating, and I was done speaking until I had a lawyer present. I wasn't stupid.
"Well, I hope for your sake you did." He pulled the cuffs off and retreated, locking me back into my new home. "'Cause where you're going, you're gonna have to do lots of fighting."
I waited until the sheriff left the room before I turned and massaged my aching wrists. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pound my fists on the floor until it cracked. Or until my fists cracked, which would be more likely.
Instead, I sat down on the edge of the little bed and gripped the cold metal. And I waited.
Chapter 29
Melissa
Prisoners shouted from the upper windows as Sadie and I marched up the prison's front steps, everything from marriage proposals to lewd questions about my tits. Sadie squeezed my hand reassuringly and kept tugging me forward, even though my heels begged to dig in and pretend none of this was happening. Not that my heart would let them.
"I've never been in a prison before," I admitted in a hushed tone.
We approached the front doors, and she glanced up at me. "Me neither. Try not to think about it too much. Just pretend my brother is away on some retreat or something."
"Right..." I looked up at the ever-vigilant lens of the security camera, swallowing hard. "No sweat."
Sadie yanked on the front door, an industrial hunk of steel that squealed in protest with the force of her pull. She marched through like a woman on a mission, and I scrambled along behind her.
I wasn't sure who was supposed to be comforting whom today. Sadie was great at helping keep me calm when all I wanted to do was crawl up the walls, bawling. I was not as great at keeping her rage in check. I only hoped Jack could help relax her a little because at this rate I could see her doing some damage to the next person who looked at her the wrong way.
The front door led into a small waiting area with a check-in desk and a few chairs. There was a metal detector just before a hallway that led off inside the prison, with a burly looking guard standing in front of it. Sadie stomped over to the desk and gave the guard behind it our details. He checked us in and told us to wait with the others in the waiting area until visitation began.
"This is bullshit," Sadie muttered, slumping down into one of the cheap plastic chairs. "I can't believe my brother's in prison. In fucking prison! Was the judge who denied him bail a Beringer too? Who the hell isn't in this goddamn place?"
"I don't think there are any Beringers in here at least," I said, glancing around at the deflated looking souls also awaiting their turn to speak with loved ones. The prison was a couple of hours outside of Cannon, further than that for Sadie. She was staying the night with me, but she'd have to go back to Tucson tomorrow for school. It was selfish, but I wished she could stay with me until we got Jack back. I hated sleeping alone. All I could think about was how much I missed him. It felt like ten years, even though he'd only been in prison about a week.
"I'm going to skin every last one of them," Sadie muttered through clenched teeth. "I can't believe we're actually visiting my brother in jail right now."
"He won't be here for long."
"We don't know that."
I grabbed Sadie's hand and squeezed. It surprised me how naturally the action came, and when she leaned in against my shoulder, I rested my head on top of hers.
"This is all a misunderstanding," I told her. "It's gotta be."
Inside, I knew that wasn't likely. I knew that Jack was facing near-impossible odds in a justice system that was rigged against guys like him, guys without money or education. I also knew that the crimes he was being charged with were crimes he'd committed. Jack had made a name for himself in illegal bar fights, and his p
rize for that was an orange jumpsuit with a prisoner number. It made me sick to think about how impossible the situation was, so I tried not to think about it.
"Alright, everybody," yelled the guard standing in front of the metal detector. She gestured over to the metal table beside her, on which rested a stack of plastic boxes. "Line up in front of me. Put your keys, spare change, any metal, and your shoes in here. Wait behind the red line until I call you forward."
Ten minutes later we were inside the prison proper, waiting on one side of the world's most depressing phone booth as the guards ushered in the prisoners. Sadie and I both craned our necks to catch sight of Jack. We saw him at the same time and shot up from our chairs, pressing our hands to the glass in our desperation to get closer to him.
"No touching the glass!" one of the supervising guards yelled.
Sadie shot a glare at him that could have cut diamonds, but he merely turned it right back on her.
Jack, seeing all this, laughed as we all sat down. I picked up the phone and held it between Sadie and me so we could both hear.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to get you on the visitor's list," he said. "Prison is an administrative nightmare."
"I hope that's the only kind of nightmare it is," Sadie said.
Jack shrugged. The sleeves of his jumpsuit were rolled up to his elbows, and his dark hair was messy like he'd just rolled out of bed. I inspected every inch of skin I could see but could find no bruises. I just hoped there weren't any hidden ones.
"It's been fine," he said. "The others leave me alone, for the most part."
"And you've been getting enough to eat?"
Jack's lip curved into a half-smile, eyes twinkling. "Yes, Sadie. And I've been cleaning behind my ears and everything."
"You can't blame her for being worried," I defended. "It's a full-time job these days. Fuck, we both miss you so much."
"And I miss you too." His expression softened, and he sat forward in his chair. "Uh, they're transferring me to a federal prison next week."
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