“Mr. Hill’s resisted arrest, caused property damage to the premises, and had illegal drugs on him at the time of arrest.” The man on the back wall smirked as the cop in the chair filled in the missing blanks to my puzzle.
“Mr. Hill will plead guilty to destruction of property and under the influence, but the others need to be dropped before we sign off on anything.”
My head was spinning with all the fast talking happening between the lawyer and the officer, and I was still clueless as to what really happened.
“Just wait,” I blurted out, holding my hands up to pause the conversation. “You’re saying he broke stuff in the studio, and then resisted arrest? Who called the police, and what drugs did he have on him?”
“Molly, it doesn’t matter right now. Let me do my job and you can grill your client once I get him released.” Bruce’s tone almost made me want to stand up and knee the arse in the balls for talking to me that way. I might not be some fancy lawyer, but I was no dummy either.
“Yeah, I’m not okay with that tone. Thanks.” Glaring at him, I pulled the folder out from under his flattened hand and flipped it open to read the report. “I’m going to need a minute to read this, thanks guys.” Just because they were men in suits did not give them the right to make me feel inferior to the situation at hand. Obviously, my presence meant something, otherwise my ass wouldn’t have been called.
After a couple minutes of reading the arrest report and intake forms, I silently said a few curse words and vowed to donkey punch Chance in the face the moment he stepped outside the precinct. Who in the hell tells the cops they can ‘suck his big, fat, biracial cock’ and ‘they better not steal my drugs cause that shit wasn’t easy to come by today’. Seriously? For one, he only had one ethnicity in his genes, and admitting he had drugs on him was just about the stupidest thing I’d ever heard come out of that idiot’s mouth.
“I’m done,” I mentioned loudly, closing the folder and sliding it back over to Bruce.
“Great.” Looking over at me, Bruce faked a smile and turned back to the police officer. “Like I said earlier, we will plead out to destruction and under the influence charges. Has the bail amount been set?”
The officer and Bruce went back forth a couple times while I pulled out my phone to text Megan. Luckily, I grabbed the black card from work before leaving the office, since the bail amount listed wasn’t going to be cheap.
After texting Megan the bail amount, I glanced back up to see Bruce and the officers shaking hands. Swiftly, they both stood and fixed their suit jackets, and I was left awkwardly sitting in the hard metal chair.
“Are you done?” I asked quietly. I was still clueless as to what actually transpired, but obviously it couldn’t have been bad if the three men in the room were now joking about something I had no clue on.
“You can go pay the bail amount, Molly. He should be released within the hour.” Bruce looked over at the two officers exiting the room as they nodded their head.
“I’ll have my office send over the paperwork to file. Thanks officers,” Bruce commented as they slipped out the door.
As I was grabbing my purse from the floor, the door slammed, startling my already confused self. “Thanks for holding the door, jackass.” Snorting in disgust, I reached for the door handle, which apparently had locked when the others left.
“Hello?” I pounded my fist on the solid steel door.
Seriously? Who gets locked in an interrogation room when they didn’t have any part of the crime? I should have stayed in freaking bed this morning. At least my frustrations would have been taken out with sexual cardio instead of pounding on a damn door. Balls.
Chapter 15
It might not be the Four Seasons, but rehab can’t be that bad, right?
After paying the obscene bail amount, I waited for over an hour before they released Chance from holding. Then, we had to leave out the front of the building because I was sure the dick hole had been rude the entire time they had him in custody. So, not only did I have a raging lunatic drummer that was coming off whatever he snorted earlier, but I also had to deal with the paparazzi that caught wind of the situation earlier.
“Just keep your mouth shut, please,” I threatened Chance as we walked for the large revolving glass doors ahead of us. The mass of people outside was nauseating, and knowing that we had to make an exit without any help made me almost want to start throwing elbows.
“Fuck, Molly. I didn’t do shit,” Chance snipped, sliding on his oversized sunglasses and shoving his hands into the front of his jeans.
“Right,” I said sarcastically, looping my arm in his while taking a deep breath. “The label has a car waiting out front for us, so keep your head down low and let me do the talking. Chance just ushered a grunt, and tried to shake the hold I had on his arm.
Tightening my grip, I took one last deep breath and exhaled it slowly as we pushed through the glass doors. The noise outside was deafening, as the camera people yelled, screamed, and cursed at Chance to try and get a reaction out of him.
“Excuse me, please move, and no comment,” was yelled more than once as we tried to push our way through the crowd and flashing lights to the waiting SUV. A pair of arms grabbed me quickly, and I yanked Chance in the direction I was being pulled.
“Oh, thank god,” I said with relief when I realized it was Amos, one of PD’s security officers pulling me in the direction of the car.
“Get in,” he directed Chance, then swiftly lifted me off my feet and deposited my body into the front seat. A fraction of a second later, the door slammed shut and he appeared in the back seat with Chance still glaring at the both of us.
“Sorry, Molly. I didn’t mean to scare you, but you guys were getting pushed around in the mass out there,” Amos declared, offering me a smile from the backseat.
“No, thank you for pulling us out of the cluster. I thought it was going to swallow us alive.” Turning around in my seat, I just clipped my seatbelt as Carl, another security officer, pulled away from the curb in a hurry.
“What a fucking joke. Hey, I need something to eat; they refused to feed me in there, those dicks.” Chance slouched down in his seat then pulled out his cell phone from his pants pocket.
Looking over my shoulder at Amos, I sneered at the loud mouthed asswipe sitting in the back seat. “Your dumb self was just arrested, you’re coming off whatever you snorted earlier, and are now bitching because they didn’t feed you? Pretty sure you can starve until we figure out what in the hell to do with your disrespecting, drugged out, pathetic wanna-be rock star self. Okay?” I heard Amos stifle a laugh as I glanced over my shoulder and caught the finger from Chance in the backseat. “Go ahead and give me the finger, call me a bitch, hell, you can even yell at me if you want too Chance. You’re the idiot that screwed up, and until you want to get help with all this shit you’ve got going on, everything is going to stay the same. I don’t care if you fail, because I’ll still have a job at the end of the day, with or without you in the band. Sadly, you, my friend, are walking on a very thin line. Everyone is replaceable, even drugged out half star rock stars.” Grinning, I turned back around in my seat and settled in for the drive back to the office. I hoped he choked on my words while trying to understand them.
***
I knew it wasn’t going to be a pleasant meeting when the moment we stepped foot into the building, we were ushered into one of the conference rooms on the fourteenth floor.
“Hi,” I acknowledged Megan while walking into the room. Offering me a weak smile, she sat in the far chair in the corner of the room. The other band members took up the chairs on the opposite wall, and I directed Chance to go join them. A scoff emerged from his lips when I pointed to an open chair, but I really didn’t care what the man thought of me. I wanted to send him to rehab a couple weeks ago, but apparently that wasn’t how we did things. Sadly, right now this room looked like an intervention, and I would give anything to scream ‘I fucking told you so’! But, I knew to keep my damn mouth
shut when upper management was present in the room.
Taking a seat next to Stephanie, I placed a copy of his arrest record, and the receipt for paying his bail in front of her. She glanced at the paper, and slid it to her right, where Mr. Pearlman, the big boss man was sitting.
“So, it looks like we have a problem here, Mr. Hill.” I’d been in Mr. Pearlman’s presence maybe two other times before, and the man was scary. The fear of heading into his office was real, knowing that most of the time coming out didn’t mean you survived with the company “The record label wants you to finish the album, but with today’s little stunt, I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”
“I’m fine,” Chance interrupted, finally taking his sunglasses off and tossing them on the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Megan sitting in the corner. I could tell this was killing her to see Chance being harped on, but the man needed a good ass kicking, not only professionally, but personally too.
“Chance, there is no reason to lie now,” Stephanie interjected, giving him the patented ‘I’m disappointed in you look’ that moms, people of authority, and pastors managed to perfect without even trying.
“This is fucking bullshit!” Chance yelled.
“Seriously, Chance? Just fucking listen for once,” Brantley exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table causing me to jump a little in my seat.
“We have two options for you, Chance. The first is a thirty day impatient treatment center. After the first two weeks, they will allow you to come into the studio alone and lay down your sections to the tracks. Once you have completed the mandatory thirty days, you will continue to receive another sixty days of outpatient help.”
“I’m not going to rehab,” he jested, rolling his eyes like what was suggested was completely ludicrous.
“Then the only other option is to release you from your contract with the label. If that’s the choice you make, then you will be escorted off the premises immediately as we can no longer have you in the building if we don’t represent you.”
My heart skipped a beat when Stephanie mentioned voiding his contract. I knew they would be serious about him getting help, but I didn’t think the solution would be such a black and white kind of outcome.
“I fucking made this band,” Chance raved, standing up from his chair suddenly, sending it flying into the back wall.
“Just get your ass to rehab, Chance. It’s only thirty days and you can still work on the music,” Eric added quickly.
“Chance,” Megan said softly from the corner of the room. Tears were forming in my assistant’s eyes, and I knew this was more than she should have to handle.
“Can I get a moment with him?” I asked the board. My heart was pounding, and I half expected them to say no, but everyone sitting in the chairs nodded silently at my request. “Chance?” Motioning for the door, I could tell it he didn’t know in that messed up head of his if he should have stepped out into the hallway with me or not. “Please,” I added quickly, once again motioning for the door.
Chance scoffed and stormed around the table, slamming his hands into the door before I had a moment to push my chair back into the table. “Sorry, it will only be a moment,” I said to the group.
Ducking out the door, I trotted down the hallway to catch up with storming Chance. “Hey, give me a second,” I called after him.
Whirling around on his heels, Chance’s face looked completely defeated when he finally stopped for me to catch up. “Just take the deal, Chance. There is no reason for this to be the end all moment of your career with PD.”
“Molly, this is fucking bullshit.”
“No, what’s bullshit is that it had to come to this point before dealing with it. You fucked up, Chance, but they are giving you another shot at making it right. Don’t walk away from this. Don’t leave the guys in the band that you’ve been with for over ten years hanging, because you’d rather snort some cocaine then make music with your brothers? It’s thirty days, Chance. I’ve gone longer than that without sex.”
Chance let out a little snort with my last comment. As much as this idiot drove me completely bonkers, I never wanted to see anyone fail at something they loved. “You love this band and the music. So, go to rehab, hash out your issues in group therapy, terrorize the nurses, and sleep with all the messed up girls while completing the program, but do it.”
I could tell the words made some sense in that demented head of his. His once tense and ridged shoulders had slowly started to drop, and the sheer rage flickering in his eyes had started to dissipate. He knew the words I just laid out for him were the truth, and walking away would just be stupid.
“Okay,” he muttered softly, dropping his head to the ground.
“Alright. Let’s go tell them your decision,” I said softly. Waiting for him to walk in the conference room before me, I couldn’t help but let a massive grin spread across my tired and worn out face. I didn’t want to toot my own horn, but saving the band wasn’t something that normally happened for girls like me. Not that I would get credit for getting Chance to agree to go to rehab, but knowing that what I said to him made an obvious difference made it worthwhile in the end. Now, if I could only translate those feelings into dealing with baby mama drama, my life would get a hell of a lot easier.
Chapter 15
Lime green is no one’s color…… unless you are a Seahawks fan, for which I’m truly sorry.
“I’m going to be late for my fitting, and Danielle will have my head if I miss it.” Scrambling to gather my things from the studio, I handed over the guitar I had been using to Brantley and frantically searched for my phone. Leave it to me to get lost in the music process with the guys when my ass should have been in the car driving to the salon for my final fitting. Technically, it was the only fitting I would be having since we ordered the dress so late.
“What about the bridge?” Eric called out as I scrambled for the door.
“Just drop it down a few chords and pick up the pace. Repeat the intro to the chorus twice, and call it good. You guys sound great,” I said while pushing the studio door open. Panic erupted in me when I noticed a large clock in the hall flashing a little after four. Of course my appointment was at four, and I was betting the vibration in my bag was Danielle calling and cursing me out for being late.
Bounding down the steps in the parking garage, I jumped down the last couple steps, and totally missed the landing.
“Shitcockles!” I cried out, as my hand reached out to brace my fall. A sickening snap tore through the concrete area, instantly sending pain through my entire left arm.
Closing my eyes, I instinctively pulled my hurt wrist up my chest, cradling the thing like a dinosaur loving on itself. The pain was unbearable as I wallowed back and forth on the hard concrete floor. Of all the times I could have been clumsy, my coordination picked this one. It was three freaking steps, not like I was trying to jump the damn Grand Canyon.
“Mother fucker, cock sucking leach!” I cried out in pain.
Glaring at the small window to the parking door garage, I managed to pull myself up on my knees and stumble for the door. It didn’t matter if my arm was broken or not, I had to get to that dress fitting in order to save my own life. It wouldn’t matter if my arm was in a cast if I wasn’t alive on my wedding day.
Stumbling around the garage, I managed to pull my keys from my purse and jam them into the lock of my sweet car. Sliding into the seat, I winced while closing the door. Sitting in the seat, I contemplated how in the hell I was going to accomplish getting to the salon when my arm felt like it had broken into a million and one pieces, and the only thing holding it together was the flap of skin connecting my hand and elbow together.
Leaning over, I got the keys into the ignition, and cranked the starter over. Without a doubt, she turned over perfectly. Looking behind me, I had to hold my breath as the pain rocketed through me while reaching out and grabbing the shifting knob. Reversing this beast was a two handed job, and if I w
as going to make it out of the parking lot in once piece, I had to use my other arm.
Biting down hard on my bottom lip, I forced my hand on the steering while white uttering some very un-lady like words. Taking a deep breath, I took my foot off the brake and slowly backed myself out of the small parking spot I had been occupying.
Letting my breath out, I forced a smile as I tried to straighten the car out until I heard that horrible sound.
Hearing the crack of my bones in the stairwell was one thing. Hearing the crunch of metal and paint scraping was a whole new level of pain. Instantly, my stomach lurched and the coffee I had been binging on earlier ended up all over my lap and steering wheel. I could get run over by a race horse, and I wouldn’t shed a tear, but knowing that sound came from my car being violated almost broke my soul in a matter of seconds.
Bursting into sobs, the hysterics took over my body as I alternated wailing for my poor car and the pain racking through the right side of my body.
“Molly?” Brantley’s voice broke through the breakdown I was having in the car. I looked like a mess, my car was probably smashed, and I was sure the pungent smell of regurgitated coffee would turn even the most well-wishing do-gooder from helping me at that moment.
“Holy shit, Molly,” was all I heard through the continued sobs coming from my body. The passenger door opened suddenly, and a pair of hands shot into the vehicle. Someone could have been robbing me at that point, and I wouldn’t have cared. Today was an absolute disaster, and it hurt more to know that I wrecked my poor baby than what was going on with my arm or the wedding dress I should have been slipping on by now.
“Reid? It’s Eric. Molly is a complete mess, and I don’t know what happened. She’s hunched over in the driver seat of her car, cradling her arm, and I’m pretty sure that’s puke all over the interior.”
“It’s okay, we’ve got you,” Brantley soothed while reaching around me and putting my car into park. Grabbing the keys from the ignition, he grabbed ahold of my chin and forced me to look at him. “Are you okay?”
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