4. Joey
So far my escape to freedom had been exhilarating, exhausting, and embarrassing, all rolled up into one less-than twenty-four hour period. It did seem like we were hanging on embarrassing for longer than necessary, though.
”You”re a long way from home, miss.” The lanky, bald-headed cop who”d picked me up still had my phone, and was examining my credit cards and driver”s license for the four-millionth time. ”Alabama, huh?” He grinned at me, as if this was some private joke I was in on. I wasn”t sure why Alabama was funny, but he was irritatingly amused.
”People do leave the state now and then,” I said, my efforts to remain polite beginning to fail me in the face of my need to sleep. And eat. And pee.
He closed my phone case and dropped it to the desk he occupied just outside the bars of the holding cell. At least I was alone inside the cell. I didn”t get the sense that Wilcox was a hotspot for crime, based on the excitement my prowling offenses seemed to have caused here. Clearly there was no one nearby doing anything more serious to warrant police attention.
”Why did you leave the state?” the guy asked.
I had been working exceptionally hard not to think about why I left Alabama. Or about the phone the guy had picked up yet again to peer at. I”d turned it off as soon as I”d spoken to Evan and typed out a text to my mother, and now I peered at it like a bomb sitting in the palm of the guy”s hand. I”d also been trying hard not to think about what might be going on back in Peach Tree Grove right now or about whether or not there had been bed bugs in the mattress of the room I”d rented overnight at the Boomsmack Motel. I was itchy. And the bathroom in that place had not instilled enough confidence in me to risk taking a shower there. I probably smelled.
”You not talking now?” the cop asked, giving me a narrow-eyed look through the bars.
”Sorry, no. I”m just tired. Is this like, an official police interview? Do I have to answer? Should I get a lawyer, maybe?”
The man”s mouth dropped open and he leaned back as if I”d slapped him. ”Just making conversation, ma”am.”
”Samuels is here,” a voice came through the door to the front that popped open and then slammed shut again.
Relief washed through me, but a second later, a little spike of nervous fear followed. I hadn”t seen Sammy since high school. I came home for holidays and summers, but once he left for college, he never came back. We”d kept in touch via text for a while, but he was so absorbed in hockey and studying... and I”d begun dating Evan.
What would he be like now?
I knew only that he was playing professionally now, and that he played for a team here, in Wilcox. I”d seen him once on television, and his photo had come up when I’d dug around for an address, but I wasn’t sure how recent it might be. Still, the thought of John Samuels brought me a sense of comfort, just as it always had. Sammy was one of the good guys.
”Come on back,” a voice said from the door, which was opening again. Another cop came through, this one with a shaggy mullet and an extremely dark tan, and behind him—John Samuels.
I felt my face break into a smile the second his eyes found mine, but my happiness faded at the confused look on his face.
”Joey?” he stepped up closer to the bars.
”Hi Sammy.” Suddenly, humiliation bolted through me, making me shrink into myself. I dropped his gaze. The man on the other side of the holding cell bars looked like my high school friend, but he was also completely different. The man who stood there was at least four inches taller, had broad shoulders and bulging biceps I didn”t remember at all, and a shock of dark hair that was short around the sides and perfectly mussed on top. He was painfully handsome, and it only served to make me more self-conscious.
I was a bedraggled mess, and I was currently behind bars.
”This is crazy,” he said, his voice full of confusion and a little bit of wonder. ”Hey, can we let her out of the cell? She”s not a criminal, clearly.”
”So you can identify this woman?” the tall cop asked, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing it out as he approached John.
John”s size and stature made both men look little, like early attempts at men that had been abandoned once the sculptor had created John.
”Yes, I know her. This is all a mistake. She”s not a criminal. Let her out, please.”
”Okay, but if there”s another incident, I won”t say I didn”t see it coming.” The bald cop reluctantly opened the cell door as my eyes met John”s again to find a hint of amusement there.
A giggle escaped me, and I slapped a hand over my mouth.
”She”s hysterical now,” the tanned cop noted, frowning at me through his very dense mustache.
”No, I”m fine, sorry.” I stepped out the open door of the cell, smoothing the sundress I”d been wearing since my fitting the day before. ”Just... I don”t even know what I am.” I sighed, suddenly close to tears, but John put an arm over my shoulders then and pulled me to his side. I nearly burst into tears at the simple reassurance he offered without even thinking about it.
It felt like it had been years since someone had cared enough about how I felt to offer a gesture of reassurance like that.
”Do you have all your stuff?” John’s voice was soft, calm, and understanding.
”My phone...” I pointed to the bald cop holding my phone.
John held a hand out to the man, and he deposited the sparkly pink case into it, making the phone look slightly ridiculous and John”s hand look enormous.
”Is she free to go, gentlemen? Do I need to sign anything?”
”No sir,” said the bald cop. ”Just see that your girlfriend there doesn”t find herself prowling around any other sports stars” houses, will ya?” He shook his head and looked to the other cop as we headed for the door. ”Heard about some kind of hot tub squatting incident last winter too. What”s Wilcox coming to?”
”Crime everywhere you look,” the first cop said.
John kept his arm around me as we left the back room and exited through the lobby. When we emerged from the station into the swampy summer heat of late afternoon, he stopped us on the sidewalk and turned to face me, his hands remaining on my shoulders for a brief moment.
”Joey Baxter.” A wide smile overtook his handsome face, making the dark eyes sparkle. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his collar and put them on, making him even more handsome. ”I”m guessing there”s a good story here.”
”I don”t know about that,” I told him. Seeing John was comforting, and I let the warm reassurance his presence had always given me settle my nerves.
”Well it”s good to see you, anyway,” he laughed. He helped me up into the passenger side of a huge black truck, and soon we were seated side by side, the air conditioning blasting as we drove through downtown Wilcox.
”Thanks for coming to get me,” I said, wishing my voice was a little stronger, more confident, but I was second-guessing my mad dash to Virginia. John had a life here. What had I been thinking, just showing up? Oh god. What if John was married?
I glanced at his hand on the steering wheel—no ring. But that didn”t mean no girlfriend. Or fiancée. I cringed thinking about how I”d just assumed he would be here, ready to take me in. A lot of time had passed.
”I”ll bust you out of jail anytime, Joey.” John”s easy manner relaxed me a little. He was the same in that way—In high school he”d had a way of making me see that things were okay, that the details I stressed about weren”t important, that life was good. Maybe that was why he was the person I”d run to now. ”Let”s head to my place and you can tell me what”s been going on for the last... what, five years?”
”Are you sure you have time? I kind of just showed up here. Will your, uh...girlfriend mind?”
John laughed. ”No girlfriend. My cat Hank might be a little put out. He”s used to being my one and only.”
Relief was like a cool breeze. That was good. I was already an intrusion. I didn”t want to be a third wheel.
”Best surprise I”ve had in a while, minus maybe the police station part,” he said, turning to shoot that smile at me again.
A little more tension left my body. ”Really?”
”I”m happy to see you, Joey. And it”s the off-season, so I have some time to spare.”
He seemed sincere, so I decided to accept his words at face value and let go of a tiny bit of the uncertainty I”d begun to feel over my snap decision to come here. I”d missed my friend, and if he was willing to visit for a bit, that would give me time to figure out what I was going to do next.
John pointed at my phone on the center console. ”If it”s dead, you can charge it here.” He reached for the charge cord connected to the dash.
”Oh, no, that”s okay. I think I”d rather leave it off a bit longer.”
His face changed, his mouth quirking to one side and his eyebrows lowering behind his shades, but if John thought it was odd I didn”t want my phone working, he didn”t say anything else about it.
”This is me,” he said, pulling up a narrow driveway to a one-car garage attached to a small ranch-style house. ”But I guess you knew that,” he laughed.
”Yeah, sorry.” I glanced at the enormous silver SUV parked in front of his house. ”That”s me. The cops said they were going to impound it, but I guess they didn’t get that far.”
John let out a low whistle. ”Nice ride.”
A prick of discomfort sealed my lips shut. That had always been the one thing between us that didn”t lay quite flat. Daddy”s money had been a silent reminder of just how different we were. And while I”d never been a girl to flaunt the wealth I”d grown up with, it had been impossible in the amount of time John and I spent together not to feel the disparity. Things I didn”t think twice about were out of reach for him sometimes.
But here we were, in his blingy black truck, pulling into the garage of his house. He was a professional hockey player now. And most likely, I was about to be disinherited. Maybe the tables had turned.
None of that had ever mattered to me anyway.
John parked the car and came around to help me out.
”Thanks,” I said, unable to meet his eyes again. The day was crashing in on me, the reality of what I”d done beginning to overtake the adrenaline-fueled drive and fear-soaked night I”d spent.
”Let”s go inside and you can tell me what”s going on, okay?”
I nodded and followed him inside his house, increasingly nervous as I realized how insane all of this was.
”Can I get you anything? Something to drink? You hungry?”
John had led the way to a small but modern kitchen and pulled a water pitcher from the refrigerator. He filled two glasses and handed me one before I”d managed an answer.
”Thanks. Um, actually, maybe a shower.” I felt sticky and damp, and like the accumulated fear and adrenaline might be clinging to me now.
John smiled, putting his water back on the kitchen counter. ”Yeah, of course. I”ve got a guest room here with an en suite bathroom. Should be towels and everything you need in there.” He led the way to the other side of the house, down a little hall to a bright and welcoming room decorated in yellow and white.
”Thank you,” I said, stepping in and wishing the Boomsmack motel had been half as nice. John had great taste. I turned back to him. ”I”ll get cleaned up and then I promise, I”ll explain.”
”There”s no rush, Joey. I”m curious, but I”m not going anywhere. Take your time.”
As John turned and left, shutting the door behind him, all the jittering nervous things inside me calmed down just a little. In a very strange way, I felt like I was home.
I forced myself to take a deep calming breath, letting it out slowly, and then stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.