by Day, Laura
“What do you mean, Ellen?” Jonas asked.
“I worked as a court reporter. I knew all the judges and the clerks and lawyers. Anytime Blake would get arrested people would let me know and sometimes, as a favor, they would let him off the hook without any charges. I was so worried about what a record might do in his future prospects. I never really thought about the fact that he wasn't really learning the lesson that getting into fights gets you arrested.”
“This wasn't his fault,” Ivy said firmly. “Darryl was being awful. He was saying horrible things about me and provoking Blake. He threatened me and it was a step too far. Blake was just trying to protect me.”
“He needs to learn to hold his temper,” Jonas said with a shake of his head. “Fighting won’t get him anywhere in those kinds of situations.”
“He’s not being charged for two days. So right now we’re waiting. The only good news is that Darryl is in jail and should stay there for a few days, at least…But I am so tired. I think I need to go to sleep. Thank you for letting me stay here tonight. Goodnight.”
Ivy walked to her childhood bedroom. It was the same as it ever was. She sat down on her little twin bed with her pink sheets and began to undress. She felt tired and wired all at the same time. She was wide awake, but she knew that could change at any minute. She had the feeling that if she put her head down she would fall right asleep.
Ivy turned off the light and climbed into bed. She sunk into the soft mattress and her eyelids drifted closed. Her mind was still racing, but the rest of her was drifting off. It was at that moment Ivy realized something. For the first time in years, she was safe. Darryl was behind bars; he couldn't touch her or threaten her. She was really and truly free of him if only for a moment.
It felt like a great weight was lifted on her chest. She took a deep breath, allowing herself to completely relax, resting muscles that had been tense for what felt like years. It was nice, this sense of freedom. It was intoxicating. She wasn’t ready to give it up; she didn't want to have to go back to checking locks and looking over her shoulder.
But she didn’t want her freedom to come at the cost of Blake’s. She could never really be free when he was behind bars. Ivy closed her heavy eyes and thought about Blake. She missed his body next to hers. She imagined him on some prison cot; she hoped he was warm and sleeping well.
She drove back to Seattle in the morning unsure if she was going to go to her place or Blake’s. Detective Diaz had swept both apartments for cameras and bugs, but they didn't find anything else. She still couldn’t relax in either place. She still felt violated at having her most intimate moment videotaped for the sick thrill of some psycho.
She didn’t need to go to either. She was driving back into town to meet with her boss. She still hadn’t spoken to Blake. He didn’t get any calls during this time. The police contacted his mom to let her know and that was it. Ivy had called the station where he was being held and begged to speak to him, but they refused.
Her boss met her at a café near the office. It was a small place and a favorite with the staff. He was there before Ivy. She walked through the door and saw him at a table by the window, sipping coffee and looking out at the street behind the glass.
Ivy straightened her skirt and walked towards Mr. Robinson. “Hello, sir,” she said as she sat down across from her.
“Ivy, thank you for coming,” he said with a nod.
“Coffee please,” Ivy said to the waitress and then she turned to face her boss. “Mr. Robinson. I want to apologize for the other day. That was so awful and not appropriate. I can tell you that the man who was in my office, the one who got hit, has been stalking me. I have a restraining order against him. I brought the paperwork.” She produced the original order and it sat between the two of them awkwardly. Ivy hoped it would make more of an impact. She hoped that one piece of paper could explain everything.
“And the other man, the one who did the punching?” Mr. Robinson asked gently.
Boyfriend or future stepbrother, which one should Ivy go with. “He’s a friend of mine. Darryl, the man who’s been stalking me, provoked him. He threatened me.”
“Ivy, the police have informed me of your relationship with Darryl. I am sorry he has done this to you and that he’s treated you this way. But you have to see things from my perspective. A man was assaulted at my company. Your office is covered in blood. We’ve had to hire a special cleaning crew for the floor. And I’m sorry to say it, but Darryl Linden has a very famous, rich, and well-connected father.” Mr. Robinson stopped and tugged at his collar and looked around the café before continuing. “Of course, I won’t fire you over this. But I think you should take some time off, paid, of course, and then maybe we could work out some sort of program for you to work from home until this is all sorted.”
Ivy felt herself go numb, but she nodded all the same. She didn’t do the kind of job that could be done from home all the time. She needed to meet her clients and be available to them. Working from home would keep her from doing that. She could see what would happen. Her clients would be reassigned to other agents and she would be phased out.
Ivy held her head high and her tears at bay. She nodded to her boss and thanked him for being understanding. It wasn’t until she had driven five miles and pulled over into an empty parking lot that she let herself cry.
Chapter Twenty-Six
He sat alone in a cell. His cellmate was let out early in the morning. The two men hadn’t said a single word to each other. He left and Blake was stuck alone. That’s the thing about prison: it’s designed to break you. There were no windows in his cell. There were bars along one wall, but his only view just faced a matching grey wall. He had no concept of time. Five minutes could pass, or maybe it was five hours. The only thing breaking up the day was the arrival of his meals.
He did push ups and jumping jacks and squats and somehow it still wasn’t lunch. He was pacing his cell when he heard footsteps coming towards him.
Blake raced to the bars and tried to see who was coming. “Hey,” he said once the guard came into view. “Look, I need to make a phone call, man. I’ve been stuck in here for days. I need to talk to my family.”
“They’ve been notified of your arrest,” the officer said as he continued to walk.
“Yeah, but I need to talk to them. Come on, help me out here. I’m trapped in this cell, no lawyer, no rights. I don’t even get a phone call!?”
But the officer was gone, walking down the hallway at the same pace. He hadn’t even bothered to slow down when he spoke to Blake. In a few seconds he was out of sight and Blake was stuck.
With no other options, Blake walked over to his cot and lay down. He put his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling above him.
The memory came unbidden. It was his second arrest. It was the one that mattered. He had been arrested once before. He was sixteen and he caught Tommy McCallister keying his car. Hunched over the car, key in hand, Tommy had looked up just in time to see Blake’s first. Blake had been arrested for that, but he agreed to not press charges against Tommy for damaging his car and Tommy agreed not to press assault charges.
Blake hadn’t felt guilty for hitting Tommy McCallister. The other guy had been asking for it. Instead of facing Blake like a man he had snuck around like a coward. Blake caught him and made him pay the price. It seemed right and fair to him at the time. He was let go without any charges and that seemed right to him.
His second fight had been different. A kid from the ninth grade bet that he could beat eighth grade Blake. He bet Blake fifty dollars he could do it. A young Blake couldn't pass up that kind of money. The fight started and Blake won fair and square, decking the other kid out in less than two minutes. It was later in the day when the police showed up at the door. He had been sitting down to dinner with his mom. She hadn’t known about the fight. Blake didn’t have a single scratch or bruise on him and he had a crisp fifty in his pocket. His mother cried when the police explained to her what
Blake had done. That was the worst part. He had made his mother cry. It broke his heart.
He was handcuffed and taken from his house and put in the back of a squad car. He was alone with the police. Trapped in the backseat. The lights were flashing and the neighbors were all standing in the street trying to see what happened. He knew his mother would be embarrassed and that made it all worse.
“Is this worth it?” Officer Williams asked. He had been younger then, in his thirties probably, but even then he seemed ancient to a fifteen-year-old Blake. “You like being in jail?”
“No, sir,” Blake said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He had been in an actual cell. Officer Williams was on the other side of the bars. It was a bit of a scared straight program, not that Blake knew that at the time.
“Why did you start a fight with that boy?” Officer Williams asked. “I would think your mother taught you better than that.”
“It was a fair fight. He bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t beat him and I did and he called the cops. It’s not fair!”
“It is fair; this is the law. This person has charged you with assaulting him. You could be taken from your home and sent to a juvenile detention center; you could be tried as an adult. Do you want that.”
“No, sir,” Blake had said. He had been sitting on the cot wondering where his life had gone so wrong. He was making promises with himself and with God. If he could just make this go away, then Blake would never break the law again.
“Fifty dollars is not worth the price of your freedom. Look at me, boy,” Williams said and Blake raised his red eyes to the older man. “People are going to provoke you. But you need to think before you act. You can’t just run around doing whatever you want. You’re not a boy anymore; you’re a man. There are repercussions for your actions. Unless you're willing to do the time, don’t do the crime. It’s not that hard, Blake.”
That wasn’t true, though. Blake had, of course, broken all of his promises to himself and God when he got out. That wasn't his last run in with the law. But Officer Williams was wrong. It wasn’t as simple as guilt or innocence; life was more complicated than that. Blake was guilty of hitting Darryl, but he had been provoked. Darryl had threatened Ivy. So he was guilty and now he was doing his time with no idea what was happening to the real bad guy.
He languished for another night and then on the next day he went to his bail hearing. He sat chained to the other prisoners in his matching jumpsuit waiting for his time before the judge.
“Holy shit. Blake Lambert, how did you end up in here?” The man two prisoners down asked as he leaned forward to look at Blake.
Blake closed his eyes. Being recognized was the last thing he needed. “I’m innocent,” Blake said. This wasn't his first time in handcuffs. His case was called and a bailiff uncuffed him and he shuffled into the crowded courtroom. It was just a hearing to determine bail, so the only person he knew was his lawyer and manager, Tim Cook.
“Don’t worry, Blake, I’m gonna get you out of here,” Tim said as he rested his hand on Blake’s shoulder. Blake nodded and stood next to him looking respectfully towards the judge as his case was called.
“Request for bail?” the judge asked as he rifled through Blake’s file.
“Your honor, I request that my client be released up his own recognizance. Mr. Lambert is an upstanding member of the community with no pending charges. He is not a flight risk nor is he a risk to the community.
“Mr. Lambert has two arrests and currently has a career as a cage fighter.” The other attorney was a balding man in an expensive-looking suit. He was looking over papers as he spoke. “Mr. Lambert also has two prior arrests and quite a bit in assets. He also has international connections. We are asking you remand him in custody. I would argue that Mr. Lambert is a flight risk and a threat to the community, despite what his manager might tell you.”
“Hmmm,” the judge said, looking through the paperwork then at Blake.
Blake waited patiently, there was nothing he could do now. His entire life was in the hands of some random judge.
“Bail is set at ten million dollars,” the judge said with a bang of his gavel.
Blake winced. Ten million dollars was a lot of money. Far more than he had.
“You only need ten percent to make bail, so that’s one hundred thousand dollars,” Tim said shrugging his shoulders like it was nothing.
“I don’t have one hundred thousand dollars,” Blake answered. He was frustrated and mad. The cuffs were chafing his wrists and he was freezing in his thin jumpsuit. He wanted to get out of here.
“We’ll have to put your condo up,” Tim said. “I have the paperwork at my office. I can have it faxed over and have you out of here in an hour and as long as you show up for your hearing. You’ll get the house back, all right?”
“Yeah,” Blake answered with a nod.
One more hour. Blake could handle one more hour of this place if it meant he would never have to go back. Hopefully he wouldn’t come back. Hopefully the charges against him wouldn’t stick. Blake looked around at the grey prison walls and hoped that he wasn’t looking at his future.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ivy sat on her bed back in her old apartment. It felt wrong to be at Blake’s place without him there. She still felt like a guest. Besides, Darryl was still in jail. This was as safe as she was going to get. But she was too sad to appreciate it.
She felt listless and useless. She was “on leave” from work and she didn’t want to intrude on her father’s happiness. So now she was alone her apartment. Doing anything felt like a Herculean task. Just getting out of bed seemed to take more energy than she was capable of. She would finally start to move, only to lose her motivation halfway there.
Finally, she lugged herself out of bed and walked over over to her closet. Buried far in the back underneath old quilts and stuffed animals was her evidence against Darryl: her phone logs detailing the long string of unending calls from unknown numbers, the strange and disturbing letters she had received, some blank, others with disgusting notes written in them, stuffed animals with their eyes removed and their stomach’s split open.
It went on and on. Clearly Darryl was obsessed with her. Or obsessed with this. He loved it. She could tell that he took great care in the “gifts” he left her. Nothing was cheap or shoddy. It somehow made his actions even more frightening. He was a smart and dedicated psycho, the worst kind.
Ivy looked down at the box and wondered what to do next. She knew Blake’s attorney would want all of this evidence and she knew the police had already given him a lot of information. But it didn’t seem enough somehow. All of these horrifying presents to her and they were going to be locked away and Darryl given a slap on the wrist. It wasn’t fair.
There was another box on her living room table. This box has spent the last five years hidden in a corner in her father’s attic. She had buried it under piles of old clothes and CDs. But now it was out. It was her Blake Box: all of her memories of her relationship with Blake, all of the little mementos she had kept from their high school romance.
She had almost forgotten about it. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down at the table, gently opening the flaps on the cardboard box and peering inside. The first thing she pulled out was an old photo of her and Blake. It was taken when they were on a tenth grade field trip to the Space Needle. They were still friends at that point, though Ivy was already crushing on him hard.
His arm was draped over her shoulder. She was staring into the camera, a choker wrapped tightly around her neck with her hair up in some elaborate style. But Blake wasn’t looking at the camera; he was looking at her. She loved this picture. Something about Blake’s eyes forever looking at her, it was always such a romantic idea.
There were movie ticket stubs and little things from strange gas stations. On bored Saturdays they use to just drive in one direction for hours. They would stop in every weird little town they passed – small towns that had a gas station and not much el
se. It was their odd hobby, driving around the state with no destination in mind. The only thing they had wanted was to spend time with each other.
He had been a great boyfriend. Attentive and sweet and patient. Not that Ivy was shy or chaste. She and Blake had been each other’s first everything. And no one had ever been better than he was. He was a good kisser. If only he would have been less of a trouble maker. But Blake was never willing to let an opportunity to get into a fight pass him by.
Anytime anyone started anything Blake had to finish it. Once they had been playing pool at a dive bar when a biker brushed against Blake’s shoulder as he lined up for a shot. Ivy remembered begging him to just let it go, but Blake refused. He got in the other guy’s face and demanded an apology.
It ended with Ivy running for the car as the owner chased them out of the bar with a gun. She had broken up with him over that. They had gotten back together, of course, and, to Blake’s credit, that never happened again. But there was always something. Some guy who gave him a look he didn’t like, or car that was tailgating him. He would take any opportunity to fight.