I should correct him about Elle being my girlfriend, but that all seems so trivial in the big picture. The more pressing matter is the fact that he is putting me in a holding cell. “Sheriff, you can’t be serious. Surely, I can come back Monday and see Judge Harvey?”
He looks to the ceiling and I follow his gaze, wondering if the answer to my plight is up there even though I know it’s not. “And risk you running? Not a chance, Ballard.” Foster walks out, leaving me to my thoughts. Rumors in small towns travel fast making it only a matter of minutes until Whiskey knows I’m here. I can’t imagine she’ll come and see me, as I probably wouldn’t go see her either. Everything we needed to say to each other, we did years ago. She hates me, and I’m okay with that. I left because I needed to find myself. I needed to get a damn job so I could support a wife and any children we were going to have. Being in a small town really prevents growth and lacks opportunity, and I was never going to make it big by playing in random garages for street parties. Being paid in a six-pack or case of beer doesn’t equate to putting food on the table.
The door opens again and Elle steps through. Her long hair is piled into a messy bun and she’s changed from her sweats into work clothes. She looks pissed. I don’t blame her. This stop really puts a wrench in our tour. She pulls the chair out, much slower, and apparently mindful of the awful sound it could make. She sits down and clasps her hands together.
“I’ve spoken to our attorney; he’ll be here in the morning. I’ve also left a message for my dad. Because this is their tour, it’s their call on what will happen.”
“What does that mean?”
“A few things really. The band could decide to postpone a few stops while we sort this out.”
“Or? I feel like there’s a huge ‘or’ floating in the air.”
She sets her hands down on the table. “Or the band could decide to replace you as their opening act.”
“But your dad—” She shakes her head and I stop talking.
“This is business, and they’ve already done us a solid by having the band open up for them. I won’t ask my dad or uncles for any favors. It’ll be a decision they make with their manager.”
I nod because there isn’t anything I can say right now.
“Ajay, do you have a record?”
Shaking my head, I meet her gaze. “No. I was a rough kid, did some stupid shit, but I’ve never been arrested. The Sheriff…” I pause and think about what I’m going to say. “We have a history and I may have broken his daughter’s heart.”
“It’d probably be better if you had a record. Scorned law enforcement are not our friends.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. Look at that, I can’t even break the law right — or whatever it actually is that I’ve done.
Elle takes a deep breath. “He won’t let you out without seeing a judge and being that it’s the middle of the m
orning on Sunday, you’ll have to stay here until Monday. We’re going to find a place to sleep or at least park the bus. I’ll see about bringing you some food or something after we all get some sleep.” She reaches across the table and sets her hand on mine. Her grip is reaffirming, but I’m still scared shitless. Not about spending the night in a cell, but of losing my job. I worked my ass off for it and if something happens, it’ll destroy me.
Foster doesn’t return. Instead, it’s some kid I went to high school with by the name of Eddie Mahon. He squares his shoulder when we make eye contact. “Stand up,” he says gruffly. I do as he says, which it seems isn’t good enough for him. He kicks my chair away from me and it goes flying into the wall. “Let’s go.”
I’m surprised he doesn’t put me back into cuffs, not that I’d be able to break away from the death grip he has on my arm even if I tried. Out in the hall, things are quiet with the exception of the dispatch radio going off. I’m hoping that Foster wasn’t too nasty to Elle, but knowing him, he probably tried to charm her. The old man can’t even charm a snake.
The Prineville County jail is nothing more than three holding cells which consists of two cots each and no urinals. Lovely, I get to raise my hand like an elementary student and ask to use the facilities.
Mahon puts me in the middle cell, directly across from an open-spaced office. He pulls the door shut as soon as I’m over the threshold. “Lucky for you, I’ll be right over there if you need me.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t even acknowledge him. Sitting down on the cot, I sigh and cover my face with my hands. I can only hope and pray that once all this blows over, Elle doesn’t kick me in the nuts and send me packing.
4
Jamie
By noon on Sunday, Bailey’s has a fairly steady crowd — almost everything else in town is closed, not opening until dinner or people realize that going home to cook after church isn’t always what they want to do. Sundays are the only time minors are allowed in Bailey’s as well, and part of me thinks that the teens beg their parents to come here. I know I used to. The thrill of being in a bar, underage, added an odd bit of excitement to my life. The teen boys seem to enjoy shooting a game of pool or throwing a round of darts while the girls hog the juke box, playing all of their favorite songs and dancing in large groups. It’s days like today that are my favorite, mostly because my daughter will come in later with my parents and seeing her can change my outlook instantly.
Dhara, who just walked in, looks worse for the wear. She takes one look at me and plops down into a booth, not her usual spot at the bar. She barely looks at me as I approach the table. “Did you sleep at all last night?” She shakes her head.
“I’m so angry with myself.”
“It’s just a concert, D. It’s not like you were going backstage to meet the band.”
“I know, but I can’t help the way I feel. Like something’s missing.”
“It’s called food. What can I get you?” I set a drink napkin down on the table and wait for her to tell me what she wants. She has the menu memorized and doesn’t need to look it over.