19. Nineteen #2
“Well, you sure don’t waste any time. Not to worry, though.
I promise you’ll have ample opportunity to tell your side of the story once we get to the precinct,” he tells me before turning to the group at large.
“Alright, everyone. The show’s over. Time to go home.
And let this be a warning to you. From now on, we will keep a very close eye on this location, so I suggest you find yourself a different hobby.
Sheriff McCarthy may have turned a blind eye to your little get-togethers over the years, but there’s a new sheriff in town, and I won’t tolerate it.
Next time, I won’t hesitate to arrest the lot of you.
Is that clear?” There’s some grumbling as the crowd begins to disperse, and Payton addresses Shane, who’s just now peeling himself off the floor.
“I suggest you have that nose looked at, son. You can come down to the station anytime if you wish to press charges. Let’s go, Mr. Nelson.
” Carl snaps a pair of cold metal cuffs to my wrists, and all that’s left for me to do is stare at Shane in disbelief while I wait for him to come forward and set the record straight.
Instead, he mouths the words, “Fuck you,” followed by a sly wink, and I lose it all over again .
“You asshole,” I roar, launching myself forward, but Carl is prepared and yanks on my cuffed arms, almost popping my shoulders out of their sockets.
In a practiced move, he takes me out by the back of my knees and forcefully pushes me face-first into the dirt.
I hit the ground hard, unable to breathe as all the air is squeezed from my chest. Payton gets in on the action and pushes a knee into the space between my shoulder blades, only making things worse.
“Get the fuck off me,” I wheeze, barely able to get the words out.
“Is this rough treatment really necessary?” I hear Carter ask, as Tessa begs them to stop.
“He’s resisting arrest. If he doesn’t get himself under control, he leaves me no choice but to add assaulting an officer of the law to his long list of offenses. I suggest you tell your friend to calm down.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Tessa shouts. “Shane’s lying. Why is everyone just standing there? You all saw the way Shane goaded him. Tell them,” she pleads in a high-pitched voice that borders on hysteria.
“Stop it,” I mutter, going limp as all the fight leaves me. “Don’t bother. They won’t believe you, anyway. You can ease up now. I’ll go peacefully.”
“No! Carter, do something. Those drugs don’t belong to him,” Tessa wails, tears running down her flushed cheeks.
“I’m calling my dad,” my buddy promises as Payton orders his deputy to pull me up. I can’t help but cry out when I’m hauled to my feet before I’m shoved toward the waiting cruiser. “Don’t say anything until he gets there. He’ll be at the station as soon as possible.”
I lose my balance, toppling sideways and spilling across the backseat when Carl pushes me through the door opening with a little more force than necessary.
Trying to hang on to what little dignity I have left, I awkwardly right myself and focus on getting my erratic breathing under control.
The last thing I see before we pull out of the clearing is my distraught girlfriend clinging to Carter, who does his best to console her.
I know then that this already fucked up week is about to get a hell of a lot worse .
I should’ve just stayed on the goddamn couch.
“Are you sure you don’t want to call anyone?” Officer Carl asks me once again as he hands me a drink of water through the bars of my holding cell.
“Thanks, but I’m good,” I reply, downing the contents of the flimsy plastic cup in one gulp.
Carl gives a shrug like it’s no skin off his back and wanders back to his desk, where he begins clicking on the keyboard.
With nothing else to do but wait, I drop heavily onto the rock-hard bench anchored to the brick wall.
Staring at the stainless-steel toilet in the corner of the otherwise barren room, I pray with everything I have that I won’t be here long enough to have to use it.
I refuse to take a shit out in the open.
I’m not a fucking animal, even if Shane might disagree.
I give a low chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.
I still can’t believe he went to such lengths just to stick it to me.
I should’ve ignored him. I should’ve shrugged off his meaningless insults, grabbed a cold drink, and enjoyed the evening with my girl.
But like an idiot, I’d played right into his hands.
God, I’m such a dumbass sometimes. My old man is going to kick my ass three ways to Sunday and fuck if I don’t deserve it this time.
Dropping the back of my throbbing head against the cold wall, I close my eyes and mentally replay the evening’s events.
The whole thing screams setup. It’s crystal clear to me now.
Shane goaded me into a fight solely to plant drugs on me.
He’d most likely called the police before I even threw the first punch.
They would never have gotten there so fast otherwise.
Again, I wonder why. What is his obsession with me?
I realize fairly quickly that the reason behind his despicable actions doesn’t matter.
The question is, what’s going to happen to me now?
Officer Carl read me my rights and offered me a complimentary phone call, which I graciously declined.
I mean, what’s the point? I’m in no rush to see my father.
He’s either going to be pissed about having to drag his ass out of bed at such a late hour, or he’s well on his way to getting good and drunk.
Neither scenario will make him fun to be around.
Just then, I hear voices down the hall, and the man himself storms into the room. He’s closely followed by Mr. Evans, Sheriff Payton, and a guy I don’t recognize. I guess someone took it upon themselves to make that complementary phone call for me.
“What in the world have you gotten yourself into, son?” Mr. Evans seems to be genuinely concerned on my behalf, whereas my own father simply hovers behind him, glaring over his shoulder at me with his usual contempt.
“Those drugs weren’t mine,” I say right off the bat, meeting Mr. Evans’ eyes and silently urging him to believe me. Funny how his opinion of me seems to be the only one that matters in this moment.
“Now, Mr. Nelson. Please don’t say anything else until we’ve had a chance to consult,” the guy in the expensive suit instructs me before introducing himself as my lawyer.
Payton leads our merry little group into a sterile room, where I’m advised to undergo a saliva swab and urine test, both of which I perform on the spot.
Does it piss me off that I’m being treated like a criminal when I haven’t done anything wrong?
Sure. Am I going to put up a fight I know I can’t win?
Not really. Besides, I’m not worried about the results.
I know the tests will come back clean. I’ve already undergone a breathalyzer test that proved that I am, in fact, one hundred percent sober.
Thank God for small favors. Had I not fallen asleep on the couch earlier, I most likely would’ve been three sheets to the wind by now.
There’s a seemingly endless amount of legal blah blah and various tongue lashings from my old man, who doesn’t seem to understand what Carter’s dad is doing here but also doesn’t object when Mr. Evans requests to stay for the duration.
While the adults talk, I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut, knowing it’s my best shot at not antagonizing my father further.
At this point, I just want this over with so I can go home, take my punishment, and lick my wounds in private.
I vehemently deny ownership over the bag of cocaine and swear up and down that it belongs to Shane, who must’ve slipped it into my pocket during our altercation.
When Mr. Evans informs Payton that my girlfriend, as well as several eyewitnesses, have come forward, confirming Shane was the instigator, the sheriff reluctantly agrees to brush the drug charges under the rug.
After what feels like hours, I’m finally being released under the following conditions.
If my drug test comes back negative—which I know it will—I’m to pay a fine of seven hundred and fifty dollars for disturbing the peace and resisting arrest, which is fair enough.
I had the chance to walk away, and I chose to bash Cooper’s face in instead.
If all I have to do to make up for my lack of control is cough up a few Benjamins, I’ll gladly put in the overtime.
Once outside, I thank Mr. Evans for coming and apologize to Mr. Harper for robbing him of a good night’s sleep.
Then, I have the pleasure of sitting through the world’s most tense car ride before we eventually arrive home, where my dad adds a couple of bruises to my already battered body.