“Ah, the cops. Yeah, Jake’s on duty today, and he has a stick up his ass recently, so your best bet is to wait for Kenneth to be on duty,” I respond while cleaning the mess. Was it a full damn gallon of coffee?
“Figured that much.” He nervously laughs again. “I guess Kayla got unlucky, too. Just like me.” He chuckles, thoughtfully adding, “Well, not like me. At least I’m on this side of the bars.”
I freeze. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I just saw Kayla Adams in jail,” he says, wiping the rest of the coffee from his pants.
“What?” I bellow, and Jonah takes a careful step back. I try to sound calmer. “What do you mean ‘in jail’?”
“I stopped by the station about an hour ago, and she was in the cell. I guess she did something wrong—I heard of her reputation. Never believed it, but it must not all be rumors if she’s in there. Right? I mean, Jake,” he clears his throat, “I mean Officer Attleborough wouldn’t lock up an innocent person, right?” He shrugs with such certainty that I feel like I’m going insane. He doesn’t know her or Jake well, and yet he’s so quick to judge the situation.Pot, meet kettle,my subconsciousness perversely suggests.
“Was somebody else in there?” I ask through gritted teeth. Other than his incorrect assumptions, Jonah didn’t do anything wrong. I try hard not to punch him in the face.
“No, just Jake—I mean, Officer Attleborough—and her.” His cheeks pinken as he quickly adjusts his words.
“Okay, Jonah. Thanks,” I tell him shortly and march toward my truck.
“Don’t you want coffee?” he asks, but I’m already gone.
Jake is in over his head this time. Way over his head.
I’m fuming by the time I reach the station. I push the door hard and barrel inside. There’s nobody there but Jake andher.
She sits on a cot with her legs up, leaning against the wall behind her, her palms resting on the top of her knees. Her hair is piled on the top of her head in a messy bun—not the artistic kind, but the end-of-the-day, leave-me-alone kind.
“Jake!” I roar, never taking my eyes off her. She jumps at the sound of my yell, her eyes wide.
“What?’ he barks, leisurely walking from the back room with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. I can smell Donna’s special roast from here, and she’s very particular about who she shares it with. “What?” he repeats as he strolls to his desk and takes an easy sip.
“What is she doing here?” I jerk my head at the cell. In my peripheral vision, I see her watching us with open curiosity. She hasn’t changed her pose, but her attention is definitely focused on us. I feel her eyes tracing my every move.
“Who? Ms. Adams?" He slowly takes another sip, making sure to slurp the liquid for full effect, fully knowing it will drive me nuts.
“Yes, Jake, her," I answer more patiently than he deserves.
“Well, I can’t share it with you—” he starts in that annoying, overconfident manner he usually uses at work.
“Cut it out, Jake.” My voice resembles one of an animal rather than a human at this point.
“—but, if you must know," he continues without missing a beat, "she's here for disturbing the peace on the streets of our fine town." A loud snort comes from the cell while Jake takes another sip, and I clench my fists so I won't take his mug and throw it in his face.
“Jake.” I scrub my face with my hands. “You’ve gone too far this time. You’re clearly abusing your position.”
“The fuck I am!” With that, his chill demeanor breaks, and he jumps up. “She’s here because she deserves to be here, and you know it!”
I glance at her: she’s set her feet down on the floor, her elbows resting on her knees. She’s listening while she fidgets with something in her hand. I turn back to my brother, and I don’t cushion my tone for him. "Let. Her. Go." Jake pales a little—there only been a few times he's seen me like this to date, and none of them ended well for the parties involved. He visibly swallows, his tone changing from arrogant to pleading.
“C’mon, I’m just having a little fun, that’s all.”
“You are a fucking cop, Jake! How the hell do you think all this,” I gesture to him and Kayla, “is okay?”
“She knows it’s just for fun.” His voice shrinks as he defends himself. As it fuckin’ should be.
“Look at her.” I wave at the cell. “Does it look like she’s having fun?” He follows my hand and winces. “That’s right. Let her out and pray she doesn’t sue your ass.”
“Don’t give her ideas. Her trailer-trash brain wouldn’t come up with that on her own.” He smirks, throwing a patronizing look at her.
“Shut up, Jake!” I thunder. He skitters away toward the cell, the keys clinking in his hand like in an old film with a damn dungeon. Then I hear her light footsteps.
