“You called 9-1-1 on yourself for beating the crap out of your brother, who’s a drug addict, for gutting your apartment while you were on vacation … and you don’t want to press charges?” Taylor’s frown was big and bad, betraying the rest of her small, heart-shaped face, and I nodded firmly from behind the bars that separated us. Her displeasure was clear, but she worked for me, and we’d known each other long enough for her to realize that changing my mind wasn’t possible. “… Well, I guess it’s not too bad. You didn’t resist arrest, and this is your first offense… I’m sure that you’ll just get a slap on the wrist, Pauly.”
“I need you to go start on some restraining order papers, against Tommy and the girlfriend, for Mom and me. I don’t care if the state goes after them; I just want them gone from my life.” Weariness laced my voice, and I leaned on the bars to duck my head. I started at my hands, frowning at the blood that still tainted my knuckles, where Tommy’s teeth had broken the skin. The episode felt surreal, but the cage around me proved I hadn’t been dreaming at the time.
“I’m going to post bail as soon as you see the judge tomorrow, okay? Depending on who you get, you might even just be let go, given the circumstances.” I should’ve felt relieved, but there was nothing but exhaustion building up against my ribs. I didn’t try to keep the conversation going, just nodded wearily. There was nothing more to say, and after a few seconds, Taylor just wandered off. I watched her go, from under furrowed brows, and I couldn’t help but crack a hollow smile. She’d always been awkward, even in third grade when we’d first met.
“That’s a wild story, man.” I twisted towards the husky, feminine voice, frowning deeply before catching sight of its owner. The woman, leaning on the bars with her arms hanging over the horizontal slate, grinned with a bright twinkle in her baby-blue eyes. “I still can’t get over the fact that you called the cops on yourself…”
Musing, almost to herself, the woman sighed heavily, her smile fading the longer I kept quiet, wondering where this conversation could possibly go. Her slender, lithe body shuffled under black, comfortable-looking party clothes; leather pants and a crop top which gave me a good idea of why she was in the holding cell next to mine. I let the silence stretch, cocking my head slightly as I trained my gaze on her face, once again.
“You seem awfully relaxed for someone who was arrested for getting into a bar fight.” Curiosity laced my voice, and I arched a brow when the woman flushed pale-pink. My suspicions were confirmed instantly, but she only flipped her long, board-straight, dirty blonde hair over her shoulder, to shrug carelessly. The action gave me the impression that she was trying not to show just how worried she really was, and my frown thinned out.
“He touched my butt, after I told him not to. There was already an off-duty cop at the bar, so…” She let the explanation hang and rocked back on her sneakered heels to grip the bar with both hands. “Anyway, I’m McKayla - C.K. for short. I’m curious - why did you let your brother stay in your apartment, in the first place, if you don’t trust him?”
“I guess … I just needed a reason to get him out of my life for good.” I stiffened, blinking slowly, as my own words echoed in my head; blurting out that particular explanation to a stranger - what the Hell was I thinking? But, it’s not a lie… I tore my eyes off McKayla and stared at the concrete floor, pursing my lips into a thin line.
Maybe seeing my apartment like that, at the hands of my little brother, had finally stripped away whatever excuses I’d told myself before, to make things seem less bad than they were.
“That’s not a bad thing, Paul. If he’s toxic, he shouldn’t be in your life - brother or not.” McKayla’s use of my name brought me out of my inner reflection and I glanced over at her, to find her shaking her head. “Take it from someone who knows how good it feels to separate from that, even though you’ll feel guilty at first.”
“I don’t feel guilty.” I answered; heaving a sigh of my own and reached to scratch my five-o’clock shadow absently. My mind worked, trying to figure out why I was telling these things to her, but like so many other wonders, I didn’t have an answer. “I feel bad for my mom … she still thinks Tommy can pull through. I haven’t told her about this yet, though. I don’t know how she’ll take it.”
“Paul -” McKayla’s call was firm and determined, and it drew my gaze once again. Her expression pulled and twisted with a wisdom that battled a sympathy I didn’t particularly want. “Believe it or not, there was a time when your mom lived without you and your brother.”
McKayla didn’t seem to be able to finish anything she said, and she just closed her mouth and let me fill in the gaps she left behind. Frustration built in my chest and I snorted roughly, before pushing myself off the cell bars. I trudged to a bench where I dropped down heavily, leaning back against the cinder block wall that lined the opposite side. Her gaze followed ne intently, bordering on a glare, and she was frowning again when I glanced at her.
“Is there a particular reason you want to keep this going …?” I posed my question blandly, arching a brow, while McKayla’s expression scrunched and her eyes filled with confusion and annoyance.
“You’re a bit of an asshole. I like that.” I rolled my eyes at that and didn’t bother to answer, McKayla shuffled loudly away from the bars, to the bench on the other side of her cell. Turning my gaze back to the floor, I clenched and flexed my fists absently as I finally tried to process what had happened today.
Jon was going to lecture the shit out of me when he heard about all of this; I’d left his home only to get arrested, not an hour later.
Not to mention what happened to my own apartment. My earlier declaration about moving out was biting me in the ass now. Not only would I have to pay my landlord for the damages but I’d also have to find a new place to stay until a damn biohazard team could come and clean up what my brother had left behind.
White knuckle tension tightened my fists, and I blew out a hot breath at the thought of Tommy. I shook my head wildly and ground my teeth, forcing my mind to anything else.
At least, now I can remodel. Mine was a sad resignation; I loved how my apartment had turned out. My landlord was so impressed that any work she needed done; she always came to me first. That led to a bunch of other residential connections and my business had nearly doubled, in the past two years, just because of where I’d decided to live.
I had no doubt that the sweet, middle-aged lady would let me stay in the building after everything. Even the whole situation with the meth wasn’t a big problem for me and the units around me, if I got it all cleaned up properly.
But months and months of work lay ahead, and even the simple fact that I could bill myself, and make a profit, wasn’t enough to ease the knots in my chest.
“-Eah … it’s no big deal. I understand the situation completely, Taylor.” I frowned deeply under furrowed brows, lifting my head at the sound of the voices that came from around the corner. Taylor came skipping into view; all smiles, with the precinct chief behind her and I pushed myself to my feet with a grunt.
“The lieutenant here was nice enough to release you, Paul.” Relief warred with surprise against my ribs, and I strode up to the door as keys jingled and rattled shrilly. The officer kept a straight face when he nodded at me, looking like he had much better things to do than keep me locked up.
This part of the city wasn’t too bad on crime, but I’d bet money the man didn’t see any point in doing paperwork concerning my situation.
“What happened to arraignment or whatever?” I wasn’t an idiot, but I knew very little about the court system, and Taylor snorted a laugh at my question. The cell door swung open, and I stepped out into lighter air that was easier to inhale. I watched Taylor cross her arms over her non-existent bust, as I raked my palms over my head, before stretching my arms high.
“All you have to do is testify against Tommy about your apartment. You’re free; he goes to jail for drugs, grand theft, solicitation of stolen goods - yada yada - and you don’t have to worry about him for the next twelve-twenty years.” I froze at that and let out a rough groan, before sliding my hands down my face. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid, and Taylor knew it, if the way she sucked her teeth indignantly was any indication. “Don’t be like that, Paul. Tommy needs to get set straight, and jail is the only place he can go, where you won’t have to worry about him.”
“You … have a point, I guess. What about the woman?” Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less, but everyone wanted to sweep this under the rug. I was plenty okay with going back to business as usual, and I rolled my shoulders before I felt an intent gaze boring into my back. When I blinked, McKayla’s sharp, blue eyes flashed against my lids, but I only shook my head hard before following the policeman out of the holding area.
“Oh, she’s dead.” We’d rounded the corner; away from McKayla’s probing stare, before Taylor spoke up. For a moment, my brain couldn’t process my lawyer’s nonchalant statement, and I ducked my head in a nod.
But, then, it hit me and I jerked slightly, and my gaze flew to Taylor. She only shrugged, her pristine, baby-blue blouse ruffling lightly and displacing the fact that we were talking about a dead girl.
“Yeah- she’d overdosed before you got there. She was probably dead when you walked in the door. I would say ‘I’m sorry’, but… you know… Anyway, I’ve already requested DNA tests from the coroner to see if Tommy’s the baby’s father. It’ll take a while, but at least it’ll be a definitive answer.” Taylor might’ve been awkward when it came to casual conversation, but her lawyer-mode was akin to a night and day difference. I trained my gaze before me, pursing my lips tightly, as I contemplated what this could mean.
I didn’t particularly care that the girl was dead; I didn’t even know her name, and I certainly didn’t like her when she was alive.
But my mom wouldn’t take this well at all.