Keep Up

Chapter Four

After nearly two hours of driving we arrived in Cincinnati and The Cincinnatian Hotel. I refrained from saying how nice the place look as we stepped through the doors.
During the car ride I told Roman what Dean and I saw on the news, but first I had to start from the beginning when Mr. Good came back into his sons' and wife's lives. He listened with great interest and shook his head in disbelief at the right moments. Afterwards, he patted Dean-who was gripping the steering wheel so hard it looked like he was trying to break it in half-on the shoulder in comfort.
"So you guys think there's more to the story than what your dad said on camera?" Roman had asked.
Dean and I nodded in unison. "It's just not like Jackson," Dean had mumbled.
We got a two bedrooms that were connected together by a living room/kitchenette. When we got settled in, we gathered in the common room. It was already 3 in the morning and my eyes were droopy.
"So we're gonna go visit Jackson and asked him what's going on. We have to put this to rest quick," Dean said from the couch as I took one of the two recliners, trying to keep my head from lolling over to the side. Roman remained standing.
"Right now?" he asked. "I don't think they're taking visitors this late."
Dean looked over at the clock beside the couch where the lamp was standing on a small table. "But-"
"Look at Chelsea," Roman interrupted. "She's tired. We should all get some sleep and worry about it later on in the morning."
Dean seemed to deflate. "Fine," he grumbled, reaching over to push hair out of my face. "But we're waking up at 9."
Roman nodded in agreement while I just sighed in response. Roman muttered a goodnight while Dean picked me up from the chair and carried me to our bedroom. I took the jacket he let me wear off and kicked my flip flops away before crawling under the covers.
"It's gonna be okay," I told Dean sleepily. "Jackson's gonna be okay." I yawned making Dean chuckle despite himself.
"Go to sleep," he whispered, kissing my forehead. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Thank you," Dean said as he took the mug of coffee I was making for him.
"But I didn't dress it up yet," I pointed out.
"I'm drinking it black," he told me making my face scrunch up in disgust.
"That's nasty," Roman said, echoing my thoughts.
Dean shrugged. "It helps me wake up when I'm really sleepy in the morning," he explained.
I smiled. Dean was in a happier mood this morning. I guess 6 hours of sleep will do that to a person. After breakfast I took another shower and dress in jean shorts, a gray cropped tank with the Nike logo on it with a full length black tank top underneath and gray Chuck Taylor's. I filled a black purse with my phone, wallet and other things before meeting the guys in the living room.
The Cincinnati PD was located off Ezzard Charles Drive which was about 5 minutes from the hotel. It was a stately building made of tan brick with three rows of windows running along the whole width. The American flag stood tall and proud right in the middle of the concrete yard with Cincinnati Police printed on its pedestal. Dean backed into a parking space and cut the engine. He took a deep breath. I reached out from the back seat and patted his hand.
"Let's go in," I suggested. "Before you lose your nerve."
"Hi," I greeted the lady at the front desk. "We're here to visit someone held in your custody."
"Name of the person?" the lady asked, not looking up from the computer screen in front of her.
"Jackson Good," I answered.
She typed something into the computer before clicking her tongue. "He came here a little after midnight for questioning," she said. "But he was transferred to Butler County Jail around 2."
"Butler County?" Dean asked. "But that's 40 minutes away. Why wasn't he taken to Hamilton County which is only five?"
I frowned, a little scared that he knew how long a drive it was to different jails.
The lady shook her head in sympathy. "I don't know details pertaining to that," she said. "I'm sorry."
"Let's just go," I urged, pushing Dean out the door, knowing he was gonna pop a blood vessel if I didn't remove him from the lady's presence.
He really looked like he was going to break the wheel now. "Dean you have got to calm down," I told him. "Everything will be fine. Don't wig out."
"I'm calm," he sneered through clenched teeth. "I'm very calm. I've never been so calm in my life."
I looked at him, unconvinced, but leaned back into my seat and folded my arms across my chest.

The 40 minutes to Butler County were long and tense. Roman resorted to staring out the window, mute and motionless, Dean glared at the road ahead of him the entire time; I don't think he blinked, and I just fidgeted in the backseat uncomfortable. I basically leaped out of the car once we  almost came to a stop in front of the red brick building.
"Can you wait until I stop the car?" Dean asked. "If you got hurt, then what?"
I ignored him and slammed the backseat door closed. They followed me into the jail where the front desk was on the other side of the room with chairs lined up along the wall on either side.
"May I help you?" an officer asked as he kept his gaze steady on his computer.
What was on those computers that were so fascinating?
"We're visiting," Dean replied bluntly. "Jackson Good?'
The officer opened a drawer and took out a thick stack of visitor stickers. He ripped off three and handed them to each of us. I stuck mine on my right breast as the officer said, "Third floor. officers will show you the way from there."
I heard shouting and banging before the doors to the elevator opened up onto the third floor. I never made it this far in a jail. When I went to visited my uncle in Chillicothe as a teenager, there was a calm and peaceful waiting room for us with vending machines and a play room for kids.
"Chelsea?" Dean said as he stepped off the lift, noticing that I hadn't moved to follow him and Roman.
"Huh?" I replied dazedly.
He grabbed my wrist and gently pulled me off the bank out into the main room of the third floor where it was filled with nothing but filled cells and metal tables and chairs. I passed a cell where a man was shouting incoherently at me, his eyes wide as he pointed in my direction. When he saw that he had my attention, he shot me a grin that made goose bumps stand on my arms and legs.
"Come on," Dean urged as he eased me down in a chair. "Jackson Good," he told the two officers behind a desk.
Dean and Roman sat across from each other at the four-seated table. One of the officers muttered something into the walkie-talkie and a beep erupted throughout the floor and one of the cell doors up on the balcony opened. Jackson tromped down the stairs with a grim expression on his face that didn't lighten even a little when he saw us. The same officer that called for his door to be open handcuffed Jackson's hands in front of him before he came and took the last seat across from me.
"Hi," he greeted solemnly. He had a purple hue around his neck and the middle of his bottom lip was busted. He also had bite marks along both of his arms and he had a bruise on the bridge of his nose.
Dean just stared at his older brother, apparently at a lost of words, looking at his brother in this state.
"Hi," I said for him. "How you holding up?"
Jackson shrugged, shaking his head. "They're talking six months and a grand fine." He pursed his lips angrily. "Six months," he emphasized through clenched teeth. "All because of him."
"What happened?" Dean asked, finding his voice.
"I don't know what he took," Jackson began. "But next thing you know he started acting like he owned everything he touched, including mom."
"Did he put his hands on her?" Dean demanded.
I smiled despite myself.
"He almost did," Jackson admitted, "last night. But I jumped in and told him to back off. He snapped and started hitting me. Of course I was gonna fight back and through the fight he told Mom to call the cops."
"She called the cops on you?" I exclaimed.
He nodded glumly. "She's doing it again," he mumbled.
"Doing what?" Dean questioned.
"She's becoming to absorbed in him. Before he left, she was, like, obsessed with him and I don't even think she knew I was there until he finally acknowledged me every now and then," Jackson explained.
"I knew this was a bad idea," him and Dean muttered to themselves in unison.
"Guys," I warned, "you can't break them up."
"Why not?" Jackson asked more in curiosity than frustration.
"Because," I said as if it was obvious, "there's gonna be a high possibility that's he going to leave again and do you really want another Good baby fatherless?" They grumbled, even Roman looked around the room grudgingly. "Now, don't get me wrong, what your dad's-"
"Tyler," Dean corrected.
"-doing," I continued, ignoring him, "isn't right, but give it time. Talk to your mom. Maybe she can change his ways."
All three men shrugged.
"You," an officer called out to Jackson. "Back in your cell."
We all stood and Dean and Roman slapped him on the back in comfort.
"When's your trial to make your sentence final?" Dean asked him.
"Next Thursday," Jackson stated with a somewhat happy sigh as I gave him a tight hug and he was escorted back up to his room.

"We have to talk to your mom before the trial," I told Dean as we climbed back into the car.
"And tell her what exactly?" Dean asked, seemingly not liking the idea of having a civil conversation with his mother considering her recent action against her eldest son.
"I don't know," I confessed. "Convince her to tell the truth about what went down last night at the trial."
"She'll never do it," Dean told me as we pulled out of the parking lot. "It'll land Tyler in jail instead." He smirked at the thought.
I rested my chin in my palm, thinking. By the time we made it back to the hotel, I had bitten through my lip and it was now bleeding.