Fletcher turns his back on me as the bailiff pulls me toward him. Ajay and I make eye contact and I try to convey some remorse, but he turns toward his girlfriend just as I’m pushed through the wooden door.
13
Ajay
The words “Ajay and I are still married” keep replaying over in my head as I’m driven back to jail. Leave it to Whiskey to smart off to the judge and leave it to Harvey to be a major piece of shit by having me locked up again. As soon as the cell door slams shut, I can hear Pate laughing. I’d really like to take on
e of my drumsticks and put it where… no, my drumsticks are too good for the likes of him.
The cell door opens, and Whiskey is pushed inside. I’m stunned by her presence. The bailiff looks at the both of us and says, “Harvey thinks you two need to spend some time together and get your story straight.” He shuts the door, leaving us in the cell together.
I don’t ask if she’s okay or what the hell she’s doing, lying on the stand like that. I do feel like confronting her, telling her that she needs to tell the damn truth so I can get back to my job. But I don’t. Instead, I sit down on the edge of the cot and rest my elbows on my knees. I’ve worked so hard to keep a clean image, this is surely going to get my ass booted from the band. And once that happens, I’ll have nothing.
Whiskey sits across from me and cries softly. It’s a ploy. I know her. She’s not crying because she’s hurt, it’s because someone with authority has pissed her off and she didn’t see it coming. My girl was — and still is by the looks of it — a con artist. I’m not falling for it though.
Whiskey stands and goes to the bars. Of all the times we broke the law, I never imagined us locked up together. Yet, here we are, and for what? Harvey has such a bone to pick with me, her, and apparently us, that he has no qualms about putting us in here when the information he needs is probably right in front of his face.
“Pate,” Whiskey yells, “turn your damn television down, I can’t think!”
“Shut up, Jamie. You ain’t the boss of me.”
“Asshole,” she mutters as she sits across from me again. “You’re quiet.”
I shake my head slightly. “Not much to say.”
“You don’t have anything to say to me? No questions? Nothing?”
“No, I do, but I’m not sure I can find the words until my temper cools down.”
“Fair enough,” she says.
“Actually, I do have something to say.” When I look at her, I want to tell her that I love her, that I always have and have wished for years that things hadn’t ended between us, but they did, and at the time I thought it was for the best. I remember the nights when we were apart and I needed her, when all I wanted was to wrap my arms around her because feeling her pressed against my body made the world seem fair. And then I remember the night she showed up in Nashville and how I was hurting her and remind myself I made the right decision, even if it’s something I’ve regretted every day since.
“Go ahead then.”
I sit up straight, pressing my back to the wall. “Why can’t you just tell the truth, Whiskey? Why did you have to lie about us being married?”
“Who says I’m lying?”
Why does she want to play these stupid games? “Whiskey, you’re messing with our lives here. I could be on my way to wherever the hell I’m supposed to be by now if you would just tell Harvey that it was you who vandalized his house. And, while you’re at it, tell him that maybe he shouldn’t be such a dick to the next group of kids that do the same thing.”
“Is that what you want? To get out of here so you can carry on with your life?”
“I have obligations.”
“Right, most of us do. It’s called being an adult.”
My eyes cut to hers. “And you’re acting like a child, Whiskey. Harvey is going to figure out you’re lying, he’s going to think I put you up to it, and we’re both going to become Bubba’s bitch in jail.”
She laughs, but there’s nothing funny about the situation. I stand and go over to the wall. There’s a small window at the top and I can just about see a glimpse of the sky. It’s bright blue with no clouds. A perfect day in my opinion.
“What if I told you we’re still married?”
I sigh. “I signed the papers, just like you asked. You were there; you watched me do it.”
She stands again and moves to the opposite end of the cell. The space between us is small, but it feels like miles apart. Only God knows how much I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless. The slap in the face that would follow would be worth it just to feel her lips pressed against mine one last time.
“I never signed the papers and I didn’t file them.”