Chapter Two – Lola
CHAPTER TWO
LOLA
County jail doesn’t scare me. In fact, it feels like coming home—albeit a cold and dirty home with horrible Wi-Fi.
“If your brother would pull that stick out of his ass, neither of us would be here on a weekend.”
Bad Betty, as she likes to be called, is one of my brother’s “frequent flyers” at the jail. She’s a lady of the night, and even though she’s sixty-three with a dwindling client list, you can still find her on Moreland Ave, hustling the locals out of a few bucks. I never ask what services she performs for those few bucks, but I imagine she does a bang-up job with whatever she does, pun intended, considering she still has regular clients.
I tuck my feet underneath me on the bench and sigh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve tried to pull that stick out of his ass, Bad Betty. I think he has screws bolting it in there.”
I can appreciate my brother’s stubbornness. I can. The man has been put through the wringer. It seems like it wasn’t that long ago that I turned sixteen. (Who do you think taught me all the road rage? Spoiler alert…it was my brother.)
Brian wasn’t the patient older brother he is now. Back then, he was so into girls he couldn’t see past his upper lip. I’m telling you, the boy had a hard-on for years. Mom and I thought he would never grow out of being a horn dog.
But he did.
It just took Mom dying from a brain aneurysm to do it.
Brian changed overnight.
Gone was my sex-crazed brother with extreme road rage. He grew up fast out of necessity. He turned hard. He turned into a man.
He is seven years older than me, and it felt like he turned into a grandpa who cared more about what I was wearing than the girls constantly texting his phone. The whole reason Brian became a cop was to get girls, and suddenly, he was more interested in being an older brother, or more like a father figure, than a bachelor.
It was sweet and spectacularly annoying.
I’m grateful he didn’t take Aunt Penny’s suggestion and let me come stay with her. Brian might be a stuffy old bird when he wants to be, but he’s nowhere near the level of snoozefest that is Aunt Penny. She could send the Sandman into a coma with one of her “Back in the Day” stories. I was so not going to survive those daily doses of horror.
I’d rather spend my evenings with the new version of the man who resembled my brother.
Brian wasn’t all that bad, though. Stuffy, yes, but not bad. He got on my nerves quite a bit, but I know it came from a good place. No matter how giant that stick was shoved up his ass, my brother made decisions with my best interest in mind.
He loves me.
And I have to remember that as I sit here in this cell with Bad Betty complaining about him.
“Hey, Jerry,” I call to the guard at the desk. “Any idea when bail will be set?” Bad Betty isn’t the worst company, but the hard bed is significantly worse than my brother’s stinky sofa.
“Still waiting on the judge, kiddo. I’m sure your brother is working on it.”
Speaking of my brother... “Where did Brian go anyway? I thought he’d want to take a selfie with me since it’s bring your sister to work day .”
“A call came in. He'll be back soon.”
Boo. The least he can do is take the day off to celebrate my first time in the slammer.
“Fine.” I flop back down on the floor. “I guess Bad Betty and I will just have to talk about him some more.”
Jerry chuckles, but not enough that I believe he finds me funny.
Settling my back against the wall, I glance over at Bad Betty, whose eyes are now closed and who is indulging in a mid-afternoon nap. Lucky woman. I wasn’t blessed with the ability to sleep anywhere—not in cars, not on planes, and definitely not in a jail cell. So, I settle for just resting my eyes.
It works for about ten minutes before I hear a voice that makes me a little stabby and breaks through my jailhouse serenity.
Chad.
Scrambling to my feet, I watch the bastard approach the cell. “Jerry,” I say dryly, “I believe this one is on the wrong side of the bars.”
Chad flashes me a smug smile that would make a nun want to punch him in the face. “Now we all know that's not true. You are right where you belong.”
I hate him with a fiery passion.
“What are you doing here, asshole?”
I thought I had said all I needed to say in the parking lot earlier, my actions doing the talking for me.
“Well…” He dusts off his joggers like jail dust has suddenly flown on him. “I had to give a statement, and before I filed a restraining order against you, I thought I'd say goodbye.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my forehead. “A restraining order!”
He nods. “The officer thought it would be for the best, since you did try to hit me with your car.”
“The officer can kiss my fucking ass.” I lunge forward and wrap my fists around the bars. “This is the first time I've seen you in three months.”
Chad shrugs. “That we know of.”
He's acting like I've stalked him for years. “We haven't been in the same county since I caught you in bed with your marketing assistant.”
At least he has the decency not to deny it. He just shrugs as I roll my eyes and practically spit out my next words. “No one is stalking you.”
I can't believe someone suggested he should file a restraining order against me, of all people. Sure, I can be a little passionate and sometimes eccentric, but I’m not a stalker or that crazy. Today was just a fluke—a bad day where I made a bad decision—nothing more. This guy thinks way too highly of himself, I certainly don't like Chad enough to stalk him.
“Regardless,” Chad says, “I'm here to let you know that if you ever come after me or Monica again, I won’t hesitate to file this restraining order.”
So, the little pussy isn’t going to file it after all? That’s a shocker.
“No problem,” I clip, finding this conversation maddening. If I could reach through these bars and grab him by the throat, I would. Damn the consequences. How dare he come here and treat me like the last five years meant nothing to him? Once upon a time, he couldn’t get enough of me; I was his lucky charm. The woman who brought him wins on and off the circuit. My, oh, my, how things have changed.
“Furthermore, I wish you luck in ever finding another job in the racing industry.” He flashes me a wink. “Word has spread quickly, and I would be surprised if you can find anyone to work with you now.”
The fucker blacklisted me.
Argh! I thrust my arms through the bars, but he steps back with a chuckle. “See ya around, Charlotte.”
I cast a look at Jerry as Chad files out of the holding room, but he won't meet my eyes. I guess it's a good thing I don't get embarrassed often, because right now, in my pajamas behind bars, I'm a hot freaking mess and feeling rather low. Which is really saying something, because I didn’t think I could feel any lower than I did when I found Chad in bed with Monica, sleeping on the sheets that I picked out, with her head resting on my pillow. Chad sat up and acted like I was being dramatic for crying and screaming. I didn't even throw anything. I wanted to, but I was too shocked to do anything but cry and ask why.
That question still haunts me today. Why did Chad do this to me? His answer was simple: “You just weren't enough.”
Like there's the definition of what enough is. How do you know how much is enough? You don't. Or at least, I didn't. I didn't love him enough. I wasn't beautiful enough. I wasn't talented enough. I could go on and on, but you get the drift. I was being judged against a scale that had no end.
“Lola?”
Brian’s voice interrupts my downward spiral. “Are you all right? I just spoke with Chad in the hall.”
Brian makes a face like he swallowed something nasty, and I couldn’t love him more for it.
“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “I’m fine, considering the prick stopped by to let me know that one of your officers suggested he file a restraining order against me just to be safe.”
Brian rears back as someone smacks him. “Who was the officer?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He didn't say.”
“Well, I assure you, no one will be filing a restraining order against you.”
He can't promise such things, but I appreciate the sentiment.
“No worries. It sounded like he wasn't planning on actually doing it. He just wanted to feel powerful.” I chuckle. “Small dick syndrome and all that.”
Brian laughs, and the keys on his belt jingle. “What were you thinking, kiddo?”
“I wasn’t.” I shrug shamefully. “I just got so angry when I saw them together.”
He nods like he understands how easy it is to slip into a rage when it comes to Chad.
“Don’t worry, though,” I assure him. “I won’t be seeing Chad or Monica anytime soon.”
Brian’s brows furrow, and I shrug like what I’m about to say is no big deal. “Word has spread through the garages; I’ll be lucky if I ever work in racing again.”
My chest tightens at the thought of never again being able to do what I love.
“You could always call you know who,” Brian suggests carefully.
“No.” Calling him is out of the question.
“I hear his team has high turnover.”
“With good reason.” I scoff. “He’s a demon. I’d have to be crazy to work for him.”
Brian cuts me a knowing look.
“Don’t start. I’m not that crazy.”