by Meili Cady
I became overwhelmed with anxiety and quickly pulled my car off the main road to take side streets through Beverly Hills. When I got home, I chugged the gin from the water bottle, climbed into bed, and prayed that I’d get at least a few hours of sleep.
I WOKE UP WITH THE worst hangover of my life. After an almost sleepless night, I mechanically got ready and drove back to Lisette’s penthouse. I couldn’t be bothered to put on any makeup today. I could barely be bothered to stand up. To my amazement, I made it all the way to Lisette’s condo before the urge to vomit came on in full force.
On the plane ride to Ohio, I ignored the catering. I was so physically ill that I crawled on my hands and knees back and forth to the bathroom. Lisette was delighted watching this routine. It seemed to put her in a good mood. She grabbed a colorful pack of candy from a basket. She took a seat behind Frankie and whipped little candies at the back of his head. After a moment, he noticed that they were accumulating in his hair. He flicked his hand to brush them off. “Aw, man, don’t do that. Come on now. I’m serious,” he said. Lisette giggled and fired off another round of neon sugar balls at him. She took a piece of gum from a snack basket and popped it into her mouth.
I sat with my head buried in my hands, trying to block all light. Lisette had been taking swigs from a now quarter-gone bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin, and she set it down to come up behind me and pat my hair. “Oh, sweetie,” she cooed. “You poor thing.” I groaned and folded over to put my head between my knees. Time to go to the bathroom again.
After dry heaving over the toilet for a few minutes, I stood at the sink and washed my hands. I rubbed my eyes and tilted my head. I felt something roll around in my hair.
Did Lisette put one of the candies in my hair that she was throwing at Frankie?
I rummaged through the sweaty mess of hair on my head and found something that felt like a soft pebble. I took it out and held it in front of me. It was gum.
Did she put her gum in my hair on purpose? No, that would be a stretch, even for her. Thankfully, the gum hadn’t stuck in my hair. It must have fallen out of her mouth when she was talking.
Ew.
I returned to my seat and resumed my head-in-knees position. Lisette came behind me again and patted my head. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” she said. She took her hand off my head for a moment, then came back and patted it with much more pressure. I felt her press something into my scalp. I jerked away from her immediately. “What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled. She jolted back, clearly caught off guard by my reaction.
“What?” she said. She looked at Frankie and Chris Cash, who were both staring at her now. I felt around on my scalp. Gum.
“Are you in fucking third grade? Really? You put gum in my hair! What the hell is wrong with you?” I said. Lisette laughed.
“Oh my God, babe, you do have gum in your hair!” she said. “It must have fallen out of my mouth.”
“It didn’t fall out of your mouth. I felt you smush it into my scalp.” She tried to touch my hair, but I batted her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
She laughed again. “Somebody’s grumpy today. Babe, you know I would never do that on purpose. Come on.” She turned to Frankie. “Frankie, you’ve known me my entire life. Tell Meili I would never put gum in someone’s hair. Listen, I know I’m a bitch, but even I have to draw the line somewhere.” Frankie looked like he didn’t want to be involved in this.
“Man, I don’t know,” he said. “You were throwin’ those damn candies at me. If you did put gum in her hair, that’d be some dumb shit. Y’all need to grow up. Come on now, this is embarrassing.”
I took out my makeup compact and looked at my scalp in the mirror. Lisette had successfully attached the gum to the hair near my scalp this time. “Oh, it looks like it’s stuck,” she said.
“Yeah, you really got it in there,” I said snidely.
“Here, let me see it,” she said. I leaned to the side, trying to get away from her, but I was too hungover to be anything but a slow-moving animal today. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “Jesus.” She took a closer look at my hair and grimaced. “Yeah. I think we’re going to have to cut it out.” She went to the back of the plane to get scissors. I couldn’t get a good enough look at it to cut it out myself, so I begrudgingly allowed Lisette to do the cutting once she had sworn to cut only what was tangled in gum. When she finished, I felt on top of my head. Right above my bangs, there was now a chunk of half-inch-long hair that was sticking out like a cowlick. I sank back into my chair, pissed off and aching for sleep.
When we touched down in Columbus, I couldn’t tell if I’d slept during the flight or not. My head was pounding. Slouched down in my seat, I squinted into a tiny makeup mirror to gauge if it was worth trying to hide my hangover. The damage appeared to be irreparable, at least for this morning. Dark circles were carved under my eyes. Unbrushed hair was matted to my skin from twisting around during the trip. My face was puffed and sweaty. I looked like a dead frog that had been fished out of a lake after a storm.
I stared ahead at the plush back of Lisette’s seat. I couldn’t see her, but I knew that she was buried in her own Chanel compact, touching up before we unloaded. She stood, and it was clear that she’d had more luck in this department than me today. My already futile chances of looking vaguely attractive had been put to rest by the gum incident. I tugged at my pencil skirt and buttoned my blazer. My hair went up in a clip. Presentable was the best I could hope for today, and even that was likely out of reach. I slid on a pair of crystal-studded Chanel sunglasses Lisette had given me as a birthday present a few years back. I didn’t want to look at anyone. I just wanted to get to a hotel and crawl into a bed. Lisette owed me a Valium for the shit she pulled during the flight.
Two pilots climbed out of the cockpit and opened the door for us. I’d never seen them before this trip. They weren’t as chatty as the others had been. I didn’t know how Lisette arranged the staffing, but there had seemed to be a familiar rotation. Not too familiar; that could be dangerous.
As Lisette moved past the pilots, she complimented them on a smooth landing before stepping down onto the tarmac. Lisette wore a low-cut, billowy pink tank top, black stretch pants, and her signature Chanel wedges. I followed close behind her in my ancient Old Navy blazer and an oversized white Eddie Bauer button-up.
Chris and Frankie began unloading the back of the plane with the help of three Lane Aviation employees. Thirteen large suitcases were loaded into two SUVs and a van that were ready for us on the tarmac.
I watched as Lisette directed the men about how to distribute the bags among the three cars. She caught my eye and shot me a tense look. After greasing the airport guys with a fifty each and a “Thanks, sweetie,” she walked straight to me and said, “Babe, come here.” I followed her behind a wing of the plane. “This is bullshit,” she said. “Something is off. Everyone is acting weird. I don’t know where the fuck they got these pilots, but we’re never using this crew again.”
Lisette and I watched as the last bags were loaded. She instructed me to ride with the bulk of the luggage in the van behind the SUVs. Of course I was the one who had to ride in the van.
Lisette jumped into the first SUV with Frankie. Chris sat shotgun next to a hired driver in the second SUV, and I skulked into the shitty white van next to another driver. I settled in and gave him a polite hello as we waited for movement from the front.
The driver was awkward. He took long breaths, looking ahead for a signal. He cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “what are you folks doing in Ohio? I mean, you’re from L.A., right? That’s where you’re coming from?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking up from a text message. “L.A.”
As we started to move he let out a nervous laugh. “Well, aha, you know, it’s none of my business what you’re doing here. Your secret is safe with me.” This was alarming.
What secret? How does he know that we have any secrets?
This guy w
as making me nervous. He was right. It was none of his business. No more talking. Back to my text message.
I was texting my father. I hadn’t had a chance to call him yesterday. I needed to be quick if I wanted to get a text out.
HEY DAD. HOPE YOU’RE HAVING A GOOD DAY. LISETTE AND I ARE WORKING ALL DAY, AND I’M GOING TO TRY TO GET TO BED EARLY TONIGHT. I’LL CALL YOU TMRW. LOVE YOU.
I felt the van turning to face the exit gate of the airport. I was about to press send when Lisette called me. I put the phone to my ear and lifted my head to answer, but she hung up abruptly before she had a chance to speak. I looked up and saw why she was calling. Our caravan had been blocked by a wall of officers in bulletproof vests, half a dozen police cars with lights flashing, and a militia’s worth of submachine guns. The officers wore blue uniforms with bright gold badges that read DEA in bold letters. Their guns were all aimed directly at us.
On instinct, I glanced to the driver. His eyes were locked straight ahead. We were set up. No wonder the pilots seemed odd. They must have known what was waiting for us.
“Put your hands in the air and get out of the vehicle.” I looked to the side of the van and found myself staring down the black barrel of an MP5 submachine gun. The officer behind it said again, “Miss, put your hands in the air and step out of the vehicle.” I was still holding my cell phone, and I lifted it into the air as I put both hands up. “Um, should I—er, can I put my phone down?” I asked the officer. I suspected I couldn’t bring it with me.
He nodded. “Yes. Set it down and step out.” I set my phone on the dashboard near my purse and stepped out of the van. “Are you carrying any weapons?” the officer asked.
“No,” I said. It occurred to me that it would be reasonable to feel some sense of panic right now, but I felt apathetic and numb. My pulse had raised more over a parking ticket.
“You’re sure? You’re not carrying any weapons at all?” the officer asked.
“I’m sure.”
“I’m going to pat you down,” he said. “Stay still.” He took his aim off me and patted me down with his hands. “Okay.” He took a long look at me. “What are you doing in Ohio?”
I wanted very much to avoid answering this. They were about to find out anyway. Why continue this ridiculous charade? I really didn’t want to say that we were filming a music video here. I knew that was a stupid idea, and it didn’t even come close to adding up given the circumstances. It never had. However, I didn’t want to be the first one to say what was really going on.
The officer stared at me, waiting for an answer. I broke eye contact with him, muttered something under my breath about a music video and cringed.
“What was that?” he asked. I wasn’t going to repeat it. I hoped that he hadn’t heard me. I just looked back at him for a moment in silence. His stare softened slightly. “You’re not in charge here, are you?”
I let out an involuntary laugh. “No.”
“I didn’t think so,” he said. The officer and I both looked around us. From a glance, I couldn’t count how many dozens of officers there were, let alone how many guns. If this were a movie, Bruce Willis would have been lowered onto the tarmac via helicopter with a knife in his teeth and a machine gun slung over his back, saying something like, “We’ve got these bastards,” into a walkie-talkie.
I saw Chris Cash up ahead, smiling and laughing next to an officer. Of course he would be laughing through this. There really is a lot of truth to the idea that people either laugh or cry in extreme situations. I couldn’t see Frankie or Lisette. They were two SUVs ahead of me.
The officer at my side eyed me. “Do you understand what’s happening?” he asked. I said nothing. I must have seemed catatonic to him. He pointed to the badge he wore over his bulletproof vest and uniform. “Hey, do you know what this is? This is a federal badge. I’m a federal officer.” I nodded, unsure of how to respond. He went on, trying a different approach. “What’s your name?”
“Meili. What’s your name?”
“My name is Steve. Where are you from, Meili? Where’s your family?”
“Washington State. My family’s there.”
“Washington? No kidding. I just spent six months working on the force up there. Beautiful area. Where in Washington?”
“Bremerton, about an hour outside of Seattle.”
“You know anyone on the force there?”
I thought for a moment. “Yeah, actually. I’ve got a cousin in Belfair who is a police officer. You know Belfair?”
He shook his head. “No, I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know anyone there. You go back often?”
“I try to. Maybe twice a year.”
Officer Steve straightened his posture when he saw two other officers approach the SUV ahead of us with two German shepherds on leashes. The dogs eagerly sniffed around. “You know what kind of dogs those are?” he asked me.
“Uh . . .” I said. “I’m . . . you know . . . I don’t, I don’t know much about dogs.”
He looked at me, a little frustrated. “I wasn’t asking which breed they are. Okay, they’re looking for something. What do you think they’re looking for?”
I scrunched up my face as I considered how best to answer his question.
Well, Officer, my guess is they’re after that pot in the suitcases.
“Something . . . illegal?” I said.
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “That’s right. Now, we’re gonna wait here until we know whether or not they find anything.”
Trust me, this won’t take long.
I was amazed when it took more than sixty seconds for the dogs to give some kind of signal to the officers holding their leashes. The reaction rippled through the vast crowd of DEA agents on the scene. Steve turned to me and reluctantly reached for something at his side. “You know what I have to do now, right?” I saw him take out a pair of handcuffs.
I’m being arrested. This is really happening. There is nothing I can say, and nothing I can do, to stop those handcuffs from going on me.
My face dropped. He paused for a moment, recognizing fear in my eyes. “Hold your hands out. I’m going to put these on in the front, but just for right now.” He slid the cold steel under my wrists, then bonded them. He looked at me. “I’ll let you keep them in front for now, but just so you know, in a few minutes we’re going to have to put them behind you.”
“Thanks,” I said in a low voice. Steve walked off to confer with another officer. The handcuffs were tight and uncomfortable, even wearing them in front of me. I supposed that was the point. I saw Chris Cash standing a few paces away from the SUV ahead of me. His wrists had been cuffed behind his back. He wasn’t laughing now, and neither was I. I didn’t feel like laughing or crying. It was all too surreal. Was I supposed to follow Officer Steve? I slowly walked across the pavement in handcuffs, taking hesitant steps to show that I wasn’t trying to make a break for it. I had a feeling all these guns were loaded. Two officers walked by me as I went, neither acknowledging me. When they passed, I saw Lisette. She stood only a few yards away from me. Her tiny wrists had been pulled behind her in handcuffs. I stood with my hands cuffed in front of me. I wondered how Lisette was planning to make all this okay. Each of us stood motionless on the concrete. She was staring down at the ground. I watched her intently until she lifted her eyes to meet mine. I didn’t recognize the expression on her face. It was one that suggested something I never imagined she was capable of: defeat.
An officer walked over to address Lisette and me. “My name is Agent Matt Heufelder. We’re gonna head out in a few minutes,” he said. He looked us up and down, clearly not yet sure what to make of us. “You two are going to ride in this car.” He indicated a black SUV behind him. I got the sense that he was in charge here. He came up to me and took my handcuffs off. “We need these in back now, sorry,” he said. Lisette watched as he pulled my hands behind me and bound them at the wrist.
Agent Heufelder instructed us to get into the backseat of the SUV. I quickly realized
that it was impossible to climb into an elevated vehicle gracefully with handcuffs on. It took some doing, but I managed to flop myself up and into the backseat. It was extremely uncomfortable once I sat down, forcing a strain on the cuffs behind me. I could feel the steel digging into my skin on my wrist bones.
Agent Heufelder stood by the open car door as we got situated. “No talking,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Lisette and I sat side by side, handcuffed, in the backseat of a police SUV. I wanted to be able to talk with her and ask her what was going to happen to us. I wanted to know that she had a plan.
She got us into this. Now how the hell is she going to get us out?
Within a few minutes, Agent Heufelder returned to the SUV. He helped us buckle our seat belts, then shut the back doors and got into the driver’s seat. A female officer sat next to him up front. As the car began to move forward, she glanced back at Lisette and me.
What must she be thinking of us right now?
I felt like a zoo animal. I never would’ve imagined that being arrested would be so . . . awkward. The officers in the front seat started a casual, friendly conversation with each other. For some reason this made me feel even more awkward. I arched my back and tried to reposition my hands behind me so that there was less strain on my wrists. The skin around the handcuffs felt like it was about to break. Lisette saw me writhing around. “What the hell are you doing? Stop,” she hissed in a low whisper. “Stop doing that. Just sit still.” The officers in the front ceased their conversation. Lisette knew she had everyone’s attention again. In a notably British accent, she said, “This is humiliating. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.” Agent Heufelder looked at Lisette in the rearview mirror as he drove. She fumed. “I don’t know what my family is going to do when they find out about this,” she said. “And Samsung . . . You know, Samsung?” They officers looked at each other.
“The electronics company?” Heufelder asked.
“Yes,” Lisette said. “That’s my family.”