Love is a Fight

Chapter 41

~ grayson ~

It smelled like fucking shit in here.

Yes, I was alive, sadly. The crash hadn't exactly worked out in my favor as I sat next to a man with a long, unkempt beard who had the smell of booze oozing out of his skin. I rolled my eyes and pushed his leg away that was taking up all the room on this small bench. His loud snores filled the small space.

I stood up walking over to the metal bars and grabbed one in each hand.

"Hey!" I shouted to catch the guards attention. "Do I get a phone call yet or what?"

The large, overweight officer who very obviously heard me, simply turned away to continue a conversation with a fellow coworker.

"Yo Santa!" I tried not to lose my patience with the pot-bellied guard who at 40 years old already had graying hair. "This is like against my rights or some shit. Am I getting a phone call or not?"

The man rolled his eyes but wore a condescending grin as he sauntered over to the jail cell. "That depends son, you still drunk?"

My jaw clenched hard. If there wasn't metal bars between us I would beat his ass in a second.

"I'm fine. I'm fucking sober. I got rights okay?"

"Oh yeah?" The smug superiority was still present in his tone. "And what do those rights say exactly?"

"They say I get a fucking phone call" I answered through gritted teeth.

"Now that's no way to ask kid. I'll tell ya what. You learn some manners and ask politely, I'll give you your goddamn phone call." He lost amusement in the conversation as he walked away.

"Please sir," I shut my eyes gripping the bars hard, "Can I make my phone call now?"

He stopped in his tracks with his dumb fucking key ring spinning around his finger. "Well since you asked nicely, I suppose I can make that happen."

Fuck this piece of shit, Walmart version of Santa.

He unlocked the cell and motioned me to follow him. "Don't try anything stupid now son. I'll have 5 guys on you before you could get out a single word."

I didn't say anything, especially not fucking thank you, as I picked up the large phone. My fingers didn't hesitate in putting in the numbers, almost subconsciously they moved to type in the number I don't even remember memorizing. After the third ring, a voice finally picked up.

"Why the fuck am I getting a phone call from the Greenwood Police Department?" Nick's dumb fucking voice instantly questioned. "Listen man, whatever you think I did, I didn't do it. I'm an innocent guy, a poster child if you will."

"Nick, shut the fuck up" I growled. For about a good two seconds I relished the silence; It didn't last very long.

"You dumb mother fucker. Do you know how much we've been looking for you young man? I swear I'm so mad at you, I should hang up on you right now—"

"Do NOT hang up idiot" I quickly cut him off.

"Bro, why are you in the hammer?" he questioned with peaked interest in his voice. I glanced at Santa who tapped on his wrist watch signaling for me to hurry it along. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead looked at the peeling paint on the wall in front of me.

"It's a long story, I'll explain later" I sighed. I hesitated in my next request as I obviously suck at asking for any kind of help, but it's either this or the County Jail up the road. "I need some money for bail. If I can't make bail they're sending me up town to County. I'll pay you back I swear dude, I just don't have much right now—"