AFTER A RESTLESS NIGHT OF toss and turn-riddled sleep, in a cell with seven others—some coming down from drugs and mumbling throughout the night—I’m grateful to take in the fresh morning air and feel the warmth of the early sun against my skin. My bloody, torn suit is bagged and in hand, swinging along at my side. I’m aware of the hundreds of dollars it will take to repair it, but it’s of little concern at the particular point in time.
“Appreciate you comin’ to get me,” I say, glancing over at Sarge as he walks beside me.
He waves me off. “Don’t even mention it. I just wish I could’ve been there last night.”
He digs keys out of his pocket and unlocks an M5 in the parking lot. As the headlights blink and horn beeps, I tilt my head toward him.
“Damn, bro.”
“You like?” he asks with a smile on his face as he opens the car door.
“What’s not to like. She’s beautiful,” I respond, climbing in after him. It still has that new car smell, the leather and carpet spotless. “Jesus, bro. OCD much?”
He grins. “Like a motherfucker.”
As he pulls out of the parking space, I say, “I’m actually glad you weren’t there gettin’ wrapped up in that shit.”
“No, I wouldn’t have gotten involved outside of pulling you off of him before you turned his face into a jigsaw puzzle.” He chuckles.
“I just fuckin’ blacked out, man. Lost it.”
He motions to the freshly stitched wound on the side of my head, the spot that still burns. “You had every right to lose it. And that’s what friends are for. To step in if need be. Whether you’re getting your ass beat too bad, or you’re doing the beating. Speaking of which, what the hell were your pledge brothers doing at the time?” he asks as he exits the police station parking lot, navigating the M5 toward Main Street.
I shrug. “No clue. Next thing I knew, I came to and I had mace in my eyes. Come to find out, two officers were just strollin’ by when the fight started and these fuck clowns shoutin’ ‘Fight, fight, fight!’ are the only reason they even came inside. Funny how that shit works. I’ve been in so many fights in my time, ones with far uglier outcomes than last night, and I never got caught. Always got away with it. I beat this kid’s ass in basic training, for Christ’s sake. I guess, you get away with shit and get away with shit and get away with shit until one day your luck just runs the fuck out.”
“You’ll be alright, man. He attacked you first.”
“I was arrested, bro. Booked. This shit’s for real.”
“Well, like I said, I got you a great lawyer. He’s a dear friend of mine. He served too. You’re in good hands, bro.”
“And you said he’s meetin’ us at the diner?”
Sarge nods.
“I really appreciate you settin’ that up, Sarge. Seriously. And thanks for the change of clothes.”
“Hey, what are brothers for? I got your back. We’re going to get you out of this, man. Your luck hasn’t run out just yet.” He winks and passes me a reassuring nod. Pulling into the diner lot, he parks the car and lets out a heavy breath, adding, “Well, you ready for this?”
“I don’t have any other choice.” I flash him a tight smile. Exiting the vehicle, with Sarge following suit, I motion toward the door. “He already here?”
“Should be.”
Sarge leads me inside, and just to the right, in a red pleather booth, an aged man sits, a tailored sport coat showing off a still impressive physique. As he notices our approach, he stands, smiling and putting out a hand.
“Blake, what’s up, my friend.” He shakes Sarge’s hand, taking him in for a hug before turning to me. “Bishop, Adam Silver, good to see you.”
I shake his hand. “I appreciate you meetin’ with me.”
We take a seat in the booth and I notice the stack of papers in a manila folder at the table.
“You’ve been busy.” I chuckle, pointing toward the stack.
“I love my job. And I love helping veterans like you. When Blake called me this morning—early, I might add”—he narrows his eyes at Sarge with a grin—“he told me all about you and what you’ve given for this country. I’m making this my priority. I want to let you know that.”
“I really appreciate that. Truly. So, I take it you’ve read up on the situation?” I motion toward the folder again, and he nods.
“I have. And I don’t think they have a case here. The bottle became a weapon the moment he hit you with it. He should be the one with assault charges. Aggravated assault at that.”
“How sure are you I’ll be okay here?”
“Community service, maybe. A fine, perhaps, due to the excessive nature. But no jail. Nothing like that. I need a little more time as these surveillance videos are handed over to investigators before I can give you a hundred percent, but I’ll throw you a ninety-five percent certainty you won’t see another night in a cell. Not for this anyway.”
“That’s good to hear.”
As the waitress fills coffee cups for Sarge and me, Adam digs through the pile. He mutters, as if to himself, “You’ve never had any run-ins with the law either.”
“I’ve never been caught for anything, at least,” I respond, smiling.
Adam chuckles. “Yeah, well, that helps us out. I really don’t want you to worry. I don’t know what Blake told you about me, but I’ve served my own time as a JAG lawyer, and I work pro bono for veterans now. I’ve helped a lot of guys get out of some shit. You’re gonna be one of them. I’m not promising no repercussions, but I fully believe we’ll be able to make a good deal here.”
“And you feel good about no jailtime, right?”
“Absolutely. You messed him up really good, no doubt about that. But they’re going to see you were just defending yourself here. You’re going to be okay.”
“Thank you… so much,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“Don’t even mention it. A friend of Blake’s is a friend of mine. And considering what you’ve done for this country…” He shakes his head stiffly, his brows furrowed. “You deserve some goddamn leniency.” He passes me a convincing look. “We’re going to get this handled. Just give me a week and I’ll have an answer for you as to what’s coming next. Okay?”
“Should make for an interestin’ week,” I jest, taking a drink of my coffee and hoping that this man really can keep me out of a cell.
I can’t help but think the worst.
My anxiety rages.
The bottle calls and I hate, now more than ever, that it speaks so clearly to me.