The Boy [mxb]

35

"I'll hear the people on bail," the judge allows.

"Remand, your honor," is the prosecutor's request. "The defendant is a flight risk with no community ties."

"Your honor!" The defence is incensed.

"The people request Mr. Vanshaw be remanded until trial. He violated his bail agreement by fleeing your courtroom."

"Given the circumstances, the court believes it is unlikely the defendant will return to this court of his own volition. I am therefore ordering him remanded," the judge decrees.

"That's outrageous. R.O.R., your honour," is the DA's swift reply.

"I'll remand the defendant." The judge bangs the gavel. "Bail, counsellor?"

"Two million dollars."

Lawyers and detectives rush swiftly from the room after arraignment.

"You're going to indite with three pubic hairs and a partial confession?" The DA sneers.

"We have a watertight case against your client." The prosecutor's voice is laced with venom.

"For what? Perjury?"

"For man two," I supply.

The DA folds her arms over her chest.

"What're you offering?"

"How's life without parole sound?" The prosecutor retorts snappily.

The DA wilts, turning to me.

"Do you people have no heart?"

"Do I look like I have a heart," I challenge drily, popping a stick of gum into my mouth. "Prosecution is going to yank your trousers around your ankles, because your client is guilty."

"My client made a mistake-"

"Criminals thrive on the indulgence of society's understanding," the prosecutor fires back.

Ken and I reach for our metaphorical popcorn to watch the catfight that ensues between the two lawyers. They're throwing around all kinds of haughty, snide, scathing words.

You'll be culpable... They'll yank your license... Brady violation... Crucify him on the stand... State bar investigator breathing down your neck... Then he walks... I'd mix the cocktail myself... Moan to the jury... It's a fucking smokescreen...

Ken and I are interrupted by our phones, ringtones both set to 'Theme from Bad Boys.'

It's bad news. Jackson got shot responding to a burglary.

My heart sinks. Not another man I love...

We burst from the courtroom and into the car. At the hospital, we learn that the bullet grazed his arm. He's fine, plays it off as: if you're not getting shot at, you're not doing your job right. But I don't share his devil-may-care attitude.

I descend on our prime suspect, Monte Turner, like an actual fucking god of wrath.

"Just remember," Ken warns as we pursuing him on foot into a bodega. "If you step out of line, Ciel will kick your ass and bite you."

"So I lost my cool once or twice, fuck me."

"I'm just saying. Tame the Beastmode."

"Alright, Ken doll." It's no wonder cap loves my cool, calm, professional, ray-of-sunshine, poster-boy best friend. I should be more like him if I want to keep my job.

But Turner runs, so fuck it. I tackle him to the ground, knocking over a display of canned soup in the process.

"Clean up on aisle three," I shout over my shoulder.