Biker Chick

by Dakota Knight

  “Don’t get it twisted, Miss Thang. I’m still your mother. But you’ve made the choice. I’ve tried to show you a better way. I’ve tried to do the right thing. Now, I’m far from perfect. I’ve been asking the Lord if I did wrong, letting you hustle and being a part of it when I knew it wasn’t totally right. Maybe my punishment is seeing you take the same road I did with your father.” Mom’s eyes began to tear up. “But I can’t sit back and be a part of your destruction. Mark my words. This thing with you and Ray . . . it won’t last if you don’t do the right thing. One way or the other, it’s going to fail.” She wiped her cheeks before opening the door wider. “Now, I’ve got things to do, so . . .”

  I wasn’t going to let her off that easy. It was my time to rant. “How can you just say good-bye like it’s nothing? I’m your flesh and blood. You stuck by Dad when he was trying to get out and do the right thing, and now you’re kicking me to the curb when I try and do the same thing? What’s up with that . . .”

  “You better watch your damn tone, Crystal Marie Sells. Don’t you dare compare your father with that fool you’re running around with.”

  “But it’s the same . . .”

  “Crystal.” The tone in Mom’s voice and the look in her eyes made me shut my mouth. I began to cry.

  I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. I felt Mom’s arms surround me. She hugged me tight. “I just want you to know that you always have choices,” she said softly. “You can always turn your life around. That’s what your father taught me. That’s the lesson I want you to learn. Now, I’m not trying to come between you and Ray, believe that. I understand you have to find your own way. And I’ve provided you a path to get to me. I’ll still know how you’re doing. Never doubt my love for you, Crys. Never.”

  I buried my head in Mom’s shoulder and hugged her. I didn’t want her to let me go, but she did. The moment of warmth between us was gone.

  “Now, it’s time for you to leave.” Through my tear-filled eyes, I watched her walk to the door again and hold it open.

  I knew our conversation was over. There was no room to argue. Mom had made her decision, and I had made mine. I walked slowly toward the door, silently hoping Mom would tell me she had made a mistake, but knowing with one hundred percent certainty that she wouldn’t say a word.

  I reached for the security door and looked at Mom one more time. I could swear that I saw some longing in her eyes, but only for a second. Her eyes shifted so she wouldn’t have to look at me.

  “I love you, Mom,” I said, choking up as I walked through the door.

  “I know,” she replied.

  Those were her last words to me. I stood in the driveway for a long time, wanting to go back inside. Maybe she was looking out the window hoping for the same thing. I like to think that she was. But she didn’t come out and I didn’t go back in. Eventually, I got on my ride and headed back to the love of my life—Ray.

  I wondered what Mom would say if she knew about my current situation. My mind conjured up images of her wagging her fingers in front of my face and saying, “I told you so.” I was so caught up in my thoughts about the last conversation with Mom that I never heard the car pulling up. I never heard the doors open. I didn’t hear anything except my own thoughts until I heard a male voice calling out my name.

  “Crystal Marie Sells?” My name sounded more like a foggy question. I could barely hear it.

  “Are you Crystal Marie Sells?” the voice asked again, this time more clearly.

  I whipped around prepared to ask, “Who wants to know?” When I saw the man speaking to me, I froze. He was dressed in standard ghetto gear, baggy jeans, oversized T-shirt, and Jordans. He was dark-skinned, like chocolate, with dark eyes, and a smooth face. Another man standing behind him wore similar clothes. He was lighter and cuter than his friend, but his expression was the same. I didn’t know these dudes.

  I searched for some sort of familiarity. If they were members of the Cruz, I had never seen them. My first thought was gang bangers looking for Ray’s bag. My heart lurched at the thought of them pulling out guns and firing at me. I knew what was in Ray’s bag, and I thought I knew what it was for, but that didn’t mean other people didn’t know about it too. The Cruz had rivals, and I had a well-known face. My heart was pounding as I thought about what to do. In a split second, I decided to lie, to say I knew nothing. I would take my chances that I could still bluff with the best of them.

  “Uh . . . Who wants to know?” I stammered out, even though I thought I already knew the answer. I instinctively backed away from the man in front of me.

  “The name’s Bishop,” he replied, trying to sound legit. But I could hear the undertone of a voice that was much more educated. I had made a mistake. I almost laughed out loud, despite the seriousness of the situation. There I was, thinking I was dealing with gangsters, and I was so wrong. I looked in Bishop’s eyes and saw something else—police.

  “What do you want?” I asked, less scared, but still cautious. Bishop was a cop, but that didn’t mean he was a good cop.

  “Can we talk?” he asked, gesturing toward a black Lincoln parked parallel to the driveway.

  “You can’t possibly think I’m going to get into that?” I said, backing away further, my legs preparing for a sprint.

  “Look, we can make this easy, or we can make this hard. It’s your choice,” Bishop said, this time flashing a smile.

  “You don’t even know who I am.” I folded my arms across my chest and twisted my lips, mustering up what attitude I could. The adrenalin started pumping through me. I balled my hands into fists and looked past Bishop to the Meadows.

  “Don’t think about it, Crystal. Just come with us.”

  I didn’t want to waste time with pretenses, so I just laid it out. “Aren’t you going to blow your cover?” I asked. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to announce you’re cops before you go arresting people?”

  Bishop turned to look at his partner before training his eyes on me. He smiled again. “Like I said, Miss Sells, we can make this easy or make this hard. Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.”

  I smacked my lips and said, “So now it’s Miss Sells, huh?”

  I tried to stall Bishop and his partner. “I need to see some ID,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere unless I know who you are.”

  This time, Bishop chuckled. “You’re acting like you have a whole lot of choices, but you don’t. You’re coming with us, one way or the other.”

  “I don’t know who you are,” I said. “And I know my rights. So unless you plan on arresting me and committing police brutality by knocking me out to get me in your ride, I suggest you pull out some plastic with a picture.”

  As if on cue, I heard the piercing warbles of police sirens. Woop Woop. Woop Woop. Woop Woop. Two Queens with blue and red stripes and gold emblems on the car doors traveled slowly down the street, coming from opposite directions. Their Crowns flashed, the lights circulating rapidly.

  “So, what do you say, Crystal? You can see my ID,” Bishop looked in both directions at the approaching cop cars, “or you can see theirs.”

  Bishop smiled again. I guess he was savoring his victory. My shoulders slumped as defeat washed over me. I looked back at my old house before turning back around. Bishop was walking toward me. He was taller than I thought at first, and his head blocked the sunlight as he stood in front of me. He reached for my arm but I pulled away.

  “Whoa, Miss Sells,” he said, reaching for me again. “Don’t worry, we don’t bite and we’re not going to hurt you.” I stiffened as his hand wrapped around my upper arm. Bishop’s partner was already heading for the car. We stood there motionless until the light-skinned man opened the back door to the Lincoln.

  “I’d be honored if you’d come with me.”

  My face started to heat up as Bishop led me to the Lincoln. The sirens sounded again. Woop Woop. Woop Woop. Bishop raised his free hand and waved awkwardly. My eyes stung, but I batted away the tears. There I was,
former honor student with great smarts, and I was headed off to the last place on Earth I wanted to be . . . jail.

  Chapter Nineteen

  But with promises of renewal comes rain . . .

  Even though I did what Dymond said by not going to Ray’s house, the cops found me anyway. Seems they were scoping out my old place on the chance I would return. As Bishop’s partner, “Zach”, drove us downtown, I had grim thoughts about strip searches and orange jumpsuits. A girl I knew from the Meadows, Marie, had been shacked up over a weekend for a PBC charge and told me it was the worst experience she ever had. No privacy. Women looking at her like they wanted a piece of her. She told me she felt so grimy and nasty that she showered for an hour after they let her go. And then she soaked in the bath until her skin was wrinkled like one of those fancy Chinese dogs.

  “I was only in lockup,” Marie had said frightfully. “I promised myself I would never write another bad check again. Shit, imagine if I had been in a real prison.”

  I told her I’d rather not imagine it at all, thank you very much. And there I was, in the back of an unmarked Lincoln, on the way to the Franklin County Municipal Jail. The same place Ray was, although he was in a different area.

  Bishop would look back at me every now and then, flashing that old crooked-tooth smile. I really wished I could pop him in the mouth.

  “So, you have an interesting last name Miss Sells. Is that fate or what?” Bishop asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders, but I didn’t respond. He was a bit too happy to see me in the back of the car and I wasn’t going fall into his little game.

  “With a name like that, you should have seen this day coming for a long time.” Bishop knocked on the passenger side window and drew my attention to the gray, windowless skyscraper on the edge of downtown Columbus. I was sweating bullets. The thought of some manly-looking woman cop seeing me naked and feeling me up made my skin crawl. I was ready to confess and we hadn’t even entered the building.

  Zach drove into a parking garage. I shivered as the sunlight disappeared and we entered a dark, dank world of gray. We parked between a couple of unmarked Crown Victorias, the Queens of the police department. Once Zach turned off the engine, Bishop turned and looked at me again . . . with that damn smile.

  “You ready, Miss Sells?” he asked. His tone was almost gleeful, as if he took great pleasure out of my fear.

  “Ready for what?” I asked, hoping my voice wasn’t really trembling as much as it sounded like it was.

  “We’re going to take you inside the station. We’re not going to have any problems out of you, are we?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head.

  Zach exited the car first, followed by Bishop, who opened the door for me. When I didn’t move, Bishop extended a hand toward me and said, “Let’s go.” I complied with his order.

  My legs started shaking when we went through a door with a sign that read: PROCESSING. I resisted for a second, and Bishop chuckled lightly.

  “What you so scared for Miss Sells?” Bishop asked as we began walking down a long dimly-lit gray hallway. At the end of the hallway was a wall of bars and two scary-looking guards. “You won’t have anything to worry about if you cooperate, right Zach?”

  Zach nodded. I had yet to hear the man speak. Wondering if Zach had a tongue eased the stress for a bit as we neared the bars. A loud buzz brought me back to reality. The bars screeched as they opened.

  The four men didn’t speak to each other. The two guards stared at me for a moment, one of them taking the extra step of putting his hand on his piece strapped on his side. The other guard nodded and gestured to some point down the long hallway. Bishop and Zach responded with nods. I noticed a room with a large glass window to my left. Another male guard sat at a large desk inside of the room. He was looking up at me while speaking on the phone. He nodded when he ended his call.

  Don’t these folks speak, I thought as we waited in the hallway. There was another loud buzz before light flooded the hallway. A door opened. I heard heavy footsteps before I saw anyone. Then, two female guards came into view. They were both black. One was heavy-set with beady eyes and a thick neck. The other one was tall, and she had broad shoulders, almost as broad as most men I knew. Oh God, I thought as a shiver crept down my spine. Here we go.

  “Well, these fine ladies will take care of you. I’ll be seeing you in a couple of minutes.” Bishop said.

  “Where are they taking me?” I asked. My voice was barely a whisper.

  Bishop smiled again. This time, his grin looked evil.

  “You’ll find out.” He nodded at the two female guards before motioning to his partner. They headed down the hallway.

  “Come on,” the heavy-set guard said. Her voice was deep. She reached for my upper arm and we began walking down the hallway toward the light.

  The door we entered actually led to another hallway. It was brightly lit with white walls and dingy floors. There were black doors on each side with small slits of glass for windows. My head moved from side to side as I tried to peek inside the windows, but we walked so fast, I couldn’t make anything out. We headed down another corridor, finally stopping at one of the black doors. The tall guard pushed a key card into a slot next to the door and there was a buzzing sound. I heard the door click.

  The inside of the room was not what I expected. It was a small room with a square table in the middle surrounded by four chairs. Two light bulbs, dangling on two thin wires, snaked down from the ceiling. There weren’t any windows, however, there was a large panel that resembled a mirror. I heaved out a sigh of relief when I finally realized that I wasn’t in a jail cell but in an interrogation room. Then, my sense of relief was somewhat shattered.

  “We’re going to need to pat you down,” the heavy-set guard said.

  “What for?” I asked, my body tensing.

  “Just turn around, put your hands against the wall, and spread your legs,” the tall guard commanded.

  I started to protest, but my options were limited. At least they hadn’t asked me to take off my clothes. I reluctantly followed the guard’s command, getting into position. I heard snapping sounds. One of the guards had put on a pair of gloves. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt one of them near me.

  I cringed when I felt the hands cup my tits, feel underneath my bra, pat my stomach. I started shivering when the hands traveled lower, in between my legs and down them. It seemed like an eternity passed before I heard, “You can turn around now.”

  I don’t know what my face looked like, but when I turned around, both of the guards looked at me like I had a large growth on my face or something. Maybe fear and disgust looked that bad, because that’s what I was feeling.

  “You can sit down now,” the heavy-set guard said as she pulled off the plastic gloves and gestured toward the table. “Bishop will be here in a minute or so.”

  Neither guard showed any expression. Their eyes were emotionless, their faces almost slack, and their lips were set in straight lines. I nodded and walked over to the table, choosing one the chairs on the end. As if on cue, I heard a click and a squeak as the black door opened. Bishop stuck his head inside and looked at me. “Everything ready?” He directed the question toward the heavy-set guard.

  I stared at the panel, which shimmered from the light. My reflection was blurry. It was then I realized that Bishop must have been on the other side of that panel, staring at me as I got a pat-down. He probably enjoyed it. He entered the room and stood by the door as it closed behind him. His left hand was behind his back. The two female guards moved to opposite corners of the room, standing straight and staring at the door.

  “Now, you haven’t been treated that bad, have you?” he asked, his voice a bit too cheerful for the situation at hand.

  I ignored him and continued staring at the panel. Obviously, Bishop was about to question me. I steeled myself and thought about what Dymond had told me when she was questioned. She had used tears to get out of her situatio
n. I tried to conjure some up by blinking a couple of times, but my eyeballs were as dry as a bone. What would the Hustlette in me do? I asked myself, trying to figure out a way to handle the situation.

  “Can you hear me?” Bishop asked as he approached the table. He pulled out a chair adjacent to me and sat down. He was close. Too close. I could smell the Unforgivable cologne he had sprayed on his body and the coffee he drank. I refused to look in his direction.

  “I hear you,” I replied, blinking a couple more times.

  “And?”

  “I feel like I’m on an episode of Law and Order.” I smiled slightly at my sad attempt at a joke.

  Bishop leaned closer. “This isn’t a television show, Miss Sells. You’re in serious trouble.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Really?” Bishop asked in disbelief. “You think we’re going to fall for that?”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I shifted in my chair and looked into Bishop’s dark eyes. I had figured out what the Hustlette in me would do. “I want to speak to my lawyer,” I said seriously.

  “You’re not under arrest,” Bishop said. “So that’s not going to fly.”

  “I don’t have to speak to you. I have the right to remain silent.”

  I could have sworn I heard a muffled giggle from one of the female guards.

  Bishop sat back in his chair and regarded me. I kept my eyes trained on his. “So, you’re reading your own rights now. That’s a switch.” He smiled, and I resisted the urge to stick up my middle finger.

  “You can arrest me, or let me go.”

  “And you can answer a couple of questions and get out of here, or I can let you sit here for a while and think about your future at a correctional facility.” Bishop leaned in on me again. This time, I shifted my chair away from him.

  “I don’t know what you think I know, but I can’t help you.”