Chapter 31 Austin - Reckless Behavior
Chapter 31
Austin - Reckless Behavior
T he morning after the poker game, I woke up in the driveway, still sitting in the car—which was halfway in and halfway out of the garage. My neck had a kink in it from sleeping in the driver’s seat, and I couldn’t remember driving home.
Very not good.
I pulled the car all the way into the garage and shut the door. The clock on the dashboard read 8:15 a.m. I dragged myself into my room, pulled off my boots, and passed out on my bed.
I woke up after 3 p.m. I laid in bed and listened for Sydney upstairs but didn’t hear anything. That made me breathe a little easier. I didn’t want a confrontation with her about my drinking. Sometimes I got a little carried away, but I could handle it. Obviously, I should not have driven home last night. But otherwise.
I showered, shaved, and put on a fresh pair of jeans with a Blake Shelton concert T-shirt. I went to the garage to retrieve my guitar from my trunk. That’s when I saw it. I bent over to inspect my broken right front headlight. Blue paint streaks smeared the dented bumper. I couldn’t think of how that happened .
That mystery did little to deter my behavior. I continued to drink at poker games and at the clubs. My roots are country through and through, and there’s nothing better than a live band playing my favorite country tunes like an old, familiar jukebox. There were always pretty women that didn’t mind hooking up with me for the evening, and that suited me. I wasn’t looking for anything serious. Not even remotely.
A few weeks after my fender bender, I forgot to take the back road home and wound up in line for a DUI checkpoint. I attempted to calculate my blood alcohol level and spewed out curse words in my head as I approached my doom in slow motion. I couldn’t make a U-turn without arousing suspicion. It would be difficult to charm my way out of this.
I pulled up to the line, and the officer asked me to roll down my window. I shook my head.
“Sir, I am asking you to roll down your window and provide me with your ID.”
“I need to reach around and get my wallet out of my back pocket.” I moved my arm in slow motion. I rolled my window down a crack and passed him my license.
He wrote on a notepad. “I’ll be right back.” He walked away and stopped to confer with another officer. They came back.
“Sir, please turn off your engine and step out of the vehicle.”
I sighed inwardly as I shut off the engine and opened my door. “Am I being charged with a crime?”
“That depends on whether you pass the field sobriety test. Stand on this line.” He pointed to the white line that marks the edge of the lane.
From the line, I awaited their instructions.
“Hold your arms out to your sides…okay. Place one finger on your nose. Now the other one. Put your arms down. Walk on the line towards me. Stop. Walk backwards. Stop.”
I stood steady on my feet and completed their commands without wavering. I thought I might be able to get back in my car.
One of them came and stood in front of me. “You’re doing well. One last thing before you go.” He held out a breathalyzer tester. “Blow into this as hard as possible.”
I took it from him and blew—and watched my chances of escape wave goodbye. I handed it back to him .
“What does he win, Charlie? Looks like a ride in a squad car is in your immediate future. Put your hands behind your back. Austin Mitchell, you are under arrest for driving under the influence of alcohol.”
My momma told me that if I ever got arrested, I was to say just two things.
“I want my phone call. I want my lawyer.”
The officer turned me around and handcuffed me. “All in good time, buddy.”
I clamped my jaw shut and let them lead me to the squad car.
Late Monday morning, after my arraignment, I stopped by Venus’s office on my way to the studio. She spoke on the phone but waved me in and pointed to a chair. I sat and waited for her to finish.
She hung up the phone. “Austin! Is everything going well? What can I do for you today?”
“I like working with Marcus, Jack, and Crissy. We’ve got good stuff cooking right now.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, what’s on your mind?”
“I need a lawyer. I got arrested at a checkpoint for driving under the influence.”
“Did they test your blood alcohol level?” Venus wrote on a Post-it Note and tucked it into a folder on her desk.
“Yes, with a breathalyzer.”
She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Let me talk to one of our in-house attorneys and see who they recommend. It’s been forever since I dealt with this kind of legal issue. This is out of my depth.”
I nodded. “I appreciate any help you can provide. I have learned my lesson: call Uber if I’m too drunk to drive.” I tapped my finger on my forehead.
Venus stood up, and I took her cue. “I will get back to you. Don’t worry about this.”
“Thanks, Venus. You’re a real gem.” I tipped my hat and made my exit. I knew California had stiff penalties for drunk driving, and I didn’t want to end up without a license. It would be torture to keep my sweet car locked in the garage. And Sydney wouldn’t want to be my chauffeur, not when this was the reason for it. I hoped Venus could find a way for me to beat the charge.
Then I ended up with another pain in my ass: an ex-girlfriend. If you could even call her that. Mandi and I hooked up twice at one of my favorite clubs. We had rambunctious sex at her apartment, but I didn’t see it going anywhere. She kept texting me, asking me where I was, who I was with, and acting like a stalker. She appeared wherever I went, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I tried ignoring her texts, but they became more frequent and demanding.
The last straw came when she showed up on my doorstep. The doorbell rang one Saturday afternoon, and I opened the door without checking the peep hole. Shit. Mandi.
“Hi, Austin. I’m glad you’re okay! I’ve been worried sick about you.” She wore a low-cut tank top without a bra, highlighting her expensive breasts. Her skirt, if you could call it that, barely covered her behind and had a zipper right down the middle. I attempted to keep my eyes above her collarbone.
I leaned against the doorframe but didn’t invite her inside. “What are you doing here, Mandi?”
“I came to check on you. I haven’t heard from you in days, and I was worried. Why don’t you let me come in and we can play games?” She touched my arm.
I pulled away. “I told you I don’t want to see you anymore. I meant it.”
“All the guys say that, but then they come back for more.”
“Trust me, I am not coming back for more.” I put my hands on her shoulders and leaned into her face. “Get it through your head. Please leave me alone.”
She bristled. “Why are you being mean? Didn’t I give you what you want?”
“Yes, but now I want to be left alone.”
She slapped me across the face—surprisingly hard. “You’re going to regret this,” she snapped, then spun on her heel and stomped away.
“I’m sure I will,” I muttered, then locked the door behind me. I grabbed my phone off the couch cushion and did what I should have done weeks ago: I blocked her number.