Old Money

8. Take Out

MIA

The tears flow free down my cheeks and I don't even try to wipe them away. I know I must look a mess, but curled up on the jail cell cot, my back against the concrete wall and my knees pulled to my chest, I couldn't care less.

A thousand thoughts run through my mind, like what my mother would think if they called her. The things my father would say if he was alive to see me now and I can feel my heart breaking in my chest. I don't know how we got here. Part of me loves Lucy and would do anything for her, but the other part feels so angry that she put us here all by herself.

Hours have passed since I was booked into the jail, and the alcohol has slowly worked its way out of my system. Lucy was placed in a different cell and I haven't seen her once since before this all happened. I just want to see that she's okay, but when I'd asked the officer guarding the room if I could just talk to her, he laughed in my face and walked away.

Goosebumps raise on my skin and I rub my hands up and down my upper arms to try and create some heat without any luck. The short dress does nothing to warm me and I reach a hand up to brush the moisture from my face. Feeling the exhaustion taking me over, I lay down on my side and close my eyes.

++

The next thing I know the cell door is buzzing and I pry my eyes open. I feel like I haven't slept at all, but by the weight of my eyelids I know I must have gotten at least an hour. The guard stands at the entrance to the cell and looks down at me with judgment on his face.

"Your bail has been posted. You're free to go."

"What?" I sit up on the cot and stare at him in disbelief. "Who? My mother?"

"I have no other information for you. You'll be given all of that at the desk." I pad across the cell in the slippers they had given me when they took my heels. Apparently they can be used as a weapon, so I had to replace them with shoes that feel like cardboard.

Jonathan? No, as nice of a guy he is, I can't imagine him having the extra cash to spend on me.

Who?

My hair falls into my face and I cross my arms over my chest as I'm led out of the cell and through a few locked doors to a lobby of sorts. When the door swings open I'm face to face with the last person I expected to see.

"Charles?" I deadpan, sweeping my hair over my shoulder and brushing it behind my ear. I know I must look a mess, but he never even crossed my mind when I was going through the list of people it could be. I'd been too overwhelmed with what had happened to think of the man I met less than a week ago. Charles says nothing as he turns away from me to the woman sitting at the desk with a stack of papers.

"I just need your signature here and here." She points as she hands him a pen. "These are stating that she is your responsibility until her court date."

"There won't be a court date, but I'll sign to humor you." There's irritation in his voice and I shrink into myself with shame and guilt. The embarrassment is almost too much to handle and even if he'd tuned to look at me, I wouldn't be able to face him.

The officer that led me from the cell hands me my shoes and the now empty clutch that had held all of Lucy's belongings. It's just a shell now since her phone, money, and drugs had been confiscated as evidence.

"Okay, she's free to go, but if she misses her court date, if one is set," there's sarcasm in the woman's voice after the comment Charles had made. "Then a warrant will be issued for both of your arrests." Charles tosses the pen down and glances at me over his shoulder before turning to the door. He doesn't wait for me to join him, he just storms out.