My Brother's Best Friend

Chap. 44

"Emily Winston?" the officer called.

I stood up and was released from the holding cell, and into the custody of my parents.

And neither one of them looked too thrilled about it.

"Thank you so much," mom said to the officer.

Thank you for arresting me?

"Of course Mrs. Winston."

My dad said his goodbyes before the three of us headed out to my parents Range Rover.

The silence was deafening.

My mom sat with her right leg crossed over her left, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

My dad reached over to turn on the radio, and then retracted his hand, instead drumming his fingers on his leg.

And that's how the car ride was the entire way to the apartment.

My dad unlocked the apartment door, and I took a seat on the couch, sitting criss-cross as my mom paced the floor.

My dad took a seat in the armchair, leaning back with a sigh.

"I can't do this," my mom said, her voice shaking.

Dad looked over to her.

"You wouldn't see your brother doing something this stupid," mom lashed out.

Of course not. Emmett at a party? Never.

"Lorraine," dad said, standing up. "Why don't you take a walk?"

Mom wiped a tear off of her face before leaving the apartment, letting the door slam behind her.

Dad let out another sigh before turning to face me, taking a seat at the other end of the couch.

"So the good news," dad said, after a few moments of silence, "is that your mother and I were able to talk them out of pressing charges."

"Wait, what?"

"No charges have formally been... well charged against you I guess. What we're calling last night is Scared Straight, just to try and make you realize the consequences of your actions."

"So I'm not going to Teen Court?"

"No. Your parents are the Winstons. We own half of the state. Our daughter is not going to any type of court."

Great. Now my dad is going to hold this over my head for pretty much the rest of my life.

"Your mother is pretty upset," dad commented.

"I noticed."

"I'm not naïve," dad said. "I know that you and Emmett go to parties, you've both had a couple of drinks, and I hope you're smart enough to find sober rides home."

I looked over at him in surprise.

This is not how I expected this conversation to start off.

"I was the same in high school," dad continued. "But you have to know a good party from a cop party. And you can't let your Blood-Alcohol Level get that high Emily, you're still young."

So is he getting to the part where he's going to start yelling at me or?

"Any party that's advertised on social media is automatically a cop party," dad informed me. "If the address is passed around, or if people leave the party to bring back more people? Those parties are automatically targeted."

Well I'd learned about the party on Twitter. So I guess I set myself up for that one.

"And you have to drink responsibly. Eat before the party, that way you're not drinking on an empty stomach. And since you're so small, the alcohol is going to go straight to your blood stream. So you have to take the drinks slow, one beer, two at most."