“Sense about what, pretty boy?”
“About answering dumb ass questions.”
“I’m the law, you have to answer me.”
“Not without my lawyer present.”
“All right then, wise ass, I’m a fan. If you don’t answer, I’ll have my wife post it all over her Facespace.”
Facebook, you idiot. “When my manager shows up, you can ask her your questions and if she says so, I’ll answer them.”
“She? What do women know about music?”
A lot more than you think. I sigh. “Eddie, it’s like you’ve never left the area. Women are more than capable to manage bands, write and produce music, direct movies, run Fortune 500 companies.”
“Never heard of that company.”
“No, I can’t imagine you have.” How can someone be so dense as to the world outside of their small town?
The door opens and the Sheriff’s voice bellows out my name. “Ballard, your attorney is here. Let’s go.”
I have never been so thankful in my entire life as I am now to see Sheriff Foster. As much as the man despises me, I’d rather be in his presence than Eddie’s. I’m not sure how much more of his stupid I can take.
Foster doesn’t handcuff me, and for that I’m also thankful. My wrists are still pretty raw and sore. He lead
s me by my elbow back into the precinct and into the small interview room. There, Elle and some guy I’ve never met are sitting at the table, both staring at me. Foster shoves me in and slams the door.
“Did you sleep?” Elle asks.
“I tried, but the guard kept the television blaring. And when he wasn’t watching TV, he was playing some game on his phone with the volume turned as high as it could go and talking to himself all night.”
The lawyer scribbles something down on his yellow notepad before looking up at me and extending his hand. “Saul Russo, Jr. My father has represented 4225 West for many years and I’m happy to do the same for Sinful Distraction.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Can you tell me about the night in question, as much as you can remember?” I nod and dive head first into my past and that night in particular. If this were another time in my life, I’d probably take the blame for Whiskey, but right now I have too much to lose. Saul continues to ask questions about growing up in Bailey, my relationship with Sheriff Foster, more questions about Whiskey, and about the night I just spent in jail. When he’s finished, Elle hands me a garment bag and tells me that my suit is in there — one that I didn’t know I owned — along with the toiletries I need to clean up.
When Foster returns, he leads me to the bathroom and tells me not to even think about trying to escape through the window or he’ll make sure my pretty little girlfriend pays. I don’t correct him. It’s better that he thinks Elle’s my girlfriend because then at least he won’t think about Whiskey and me together. It’s best that he thinks I’ve moved on.
The suit Elle brought for me fits like a glove. Elle is like the Jack of all trades. There isn’t anything she can’t do and if she happens upon an issue out of her control, she has a back pocket full of resources. She was meant to be in show business. After Sinful Distraction first came on the scene, she and Quinn were accused of using their fathers’ connections to garner some attention for us when in fact, Elle had done all the legwork. 4225 West did help but not in the sense the media portrayed. Our music is good, great even. I may be biased but I know how hard we work, how much time Dana and Quinn put into the songs, and their efforts shouldn’t be discounted as favors from Harrison James.
Foster pounds on the door, yelling that my time is up. I tug my white dress shirt down a bit, closer to my wrist, to hide the tattoos I have. I need to make the best first impression, even though the cards are already stacked against me. If Judge Harvey can see that I’m not the same person I was when I was seventeen, maybe he’ll throw this whole thing out. As much as I want to remain positive, I have a feeling that whatever the judge can throw at me, he will. Saul Jr. is about to earn his money.
As soon as I open the door, Foster is at attention. He motions for me to step in front of him. “I’m not going to cuff you.”
“I appreciate that.”
Instead, he grabs a hold of my bicep and squeezes it as hard as he can. After Harrison took me under his wing, one of the pieces of advice he gave me was to stay strong and healthy. He introduced me to his brother-in-law Xander, who put together a workout regimen for me and the band. With being on tour, it’s hard to get a good workout in, but we always try. Elle has made sure the bus has a few weights, mostly five and ten pound dumbbells, ankle weights, and yoga mats to help us out.
The sun is bright, and the air is warm. I tilt my face toward the sky, close my eyes and breathe in deeply. “After today, this will be your last time seeing the sun for a while.”
Shaking my head, I turn and look over my shoulder at Foster. “At best, I’ll get a night, maybe a couple in jail, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Foster laughs. “We have a hungry new State attorney who’s trying to send a message to all you punks. You’re looking at a year minimum,” he says without a hint of laughter. I know him well enough to know he’s serious. He believes I’m going to get a year in the clink. I wasn’t scared after meeting with my lawyer, but I am now.
The ride over to the courthouse takes a whole three minutes. It took longer to park than it did to get here… we probably would’ve saved on emissions had we just walked. That’s not Foster’s style though. He loves the fanfare, the pomp and circumstance of people stopping and staring. I’m willing to bet the guy would love to bellow out, “dead man walking” if given half the chance. Not in Prineville or Bailey though. These are the two dullest towns in America.
Inside the courtroom, Saul is at the table waiting for me. He smiles and holds the swinging door open so I can pass through. Foster stands off to the side, hands clasped in front of him, and the court reporter is setting up her odd little machine. The door opens behind me, but I turn around to take a look at this legal eagle that is hell bent on ruining my life. Instead, I wait until he or she comes into view. Once he does, I study him hard as he puts his briefcase down and memories flood my mind. The last time I saw this kid, he was a pimply, lanky, clinger who followed Whiskey and I everywhere because of her best friend, Dhara. We weren’t friends then. In fact, I couldn’t stand him.