Devon Hartford - Reckless

Ruiz caught my exchange with Fowler. “I hope not, son.” He may not have been able to articulate what had just happened, but he sensed it, like a starving wolf. He probably had a secret thing for Fowler. I’m sure most of the squad did, by the looks of her.

Fowler placed her hand gently on my right triceps. Her touch was nearly a caress. “I don’t think you have to worry about this one,” she said warmly, beaming up at me.

I smiled back. Jedi mind tricks were the most effective form of combat, I’d learned. You can’t make my looks go away with threatening insults or manhandling. Ruiz was out of this game, benched on a technical foul.

Fowler’s eyes searched mine eagerly. I milked it.

Ruiz scowled while he scrutinized the two of us. Jaw muscles fluttering angrily, he finally cracked. With a grunt, he spun on his heel and stormed up to the desk sergeant, defeated.

I felt bad for Fowler. I’d probably never see her again and she’d be stuck with Ruiz for a partner for who knew how long.

Sometime later, I was led into a white-box interrogation room by two detectives. A round black table with a phone on top sat between us. They’d been drilling me with questions for hours.

I hadn’t said shit.

One detective, who had identified himself as Kurt Hewitt, wore a white, too-tight button down shirt. The collar dug into his soft neck and flesh spilled over the sides. He looked ready to pop. He glared at me, “The victim has positively IDed you from the mug book, Christos,” he said firmly. “We have witnesses putting you at the scene on the Pacific Coast Highway this morning. We know it was you who beat the guy up then fled.”

Beat? I’d hit the guy once. In self defense. I’d even asked him if he needed an ambulance.

“Quit stalling and give us something we can work with,” Hewitt finished, “so we can help you help yourself.”

That was a riot. He wasn’t here to pamper my ass, and we both knew it. All he wanted was for me to slip up and spill some incriminating information, that was it.

“Tell us what happened, in your own words,” the other detective, named Andy Vaughn, said calmly, “and maybe we’ll let you go home tonight.”

I knew that was bullshit.

Vaughn pushed a yellow legal pad and a ball point across the table. He smiled at me like we were best friends.

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “I need to talk to my lawyer.”

Hewitt exchanged a look with Vaughn. Vaughn nodded at him.

“Fine,” Hewitt sneered and stood up, jamming his hands in his front pockets. “Call him.”

Vaughn slid the phone across the table and handed me the receiver.

I dialed my lawyer’s number from memory. I’d used it enough times to know it by heart. He picked up after three rings. “Merriweather.”

“Hey, Russell. It’s Christos.” I’d known Russell since I was sixteen, from the first of many times he’d saved my ass.

“Christos! Sonuvabitch,” Russell said cheerily, “whatchoo doing calling me up this late? Better be good news.”

I chuckled. “No doubt.” Silence lingered.

Vaughn stood up, seemingly to give me some space. Both he and Hewitt remained in the room, leaning against the walls, watching me like hawks, waiting for me to incriminate myself so they could get their talons in me after the call.

“You’re in the can again, aren’t you?” Russell asked matter-of-factly.

“Yup.”

I heard a long sigh on the other end of the phone. “Christos Mother-fucking Manos, when you going to learn to behave like an adult?”

“I’m working on it.”

“I oughta whup your ass, son. What is it this time? You roll your Camaro street racing? Wheelies on Garnet to impress the ladies?”

“The charges are assault. And battery. Felony battery.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Son, you lucky you locked up, otherwise I’d get in my car and drive down there and break your face myself. When you gonna learn?”

“Like I said, I’m working on it.” Russell hadn’t had to save my ass in two years. I thought I was doing pretty good.

“You want me to call your grandfather?”

“Don’t tell him. He’ll be less worried that I don’t come home than if he finds out I’m locked up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll wait until I’m out on bail or ROR, and tell him face to face.”

“I’m not a magician, Christos. You may be stuck in there until trial, depending on the evidence, and your record.”

“No way. It’s total bullshit.”

“You’re a cocky bitch, aren’t you? Shit, maybe I’ll tell the judge myself to leave you in, knock some sense in that thick head of yours,” Russell said pointedly. His voice softened. “You sure you don’t want me to call Spiridon?”

“No, thanks. He’ll sleep better tonight not knowing. If I’m not out in the morning, you can call him then.”

“Want me to call your father?”

I felt a sharp stab in my gut when Russell mentioned my dad. “He doesn’t need to know. He’s got enough problems of his own.”

“Fine. You need me there tonight?”

“No. I can handle it.”

“Remember, Christos. Don’t say a word. Not to the detectives, not to the inmates. Nobody. You hear me?”

“Got it.”

“I’ll call the court house first thing tomorrow and find out when I need to roll on down and pull your ass out the pokey. For the time being, keep your butt tight, and don’t be nobody’s bitch,” he chuckled.

I knew he wasn’t worried about me. Not my immediate safety, anyway. Maybe about my misguided youth and not-so-bright future.

“And no fighting.” His words went from warmth to clipped business instantly. “I don’t need you stacking more charges on top of the ones you already got. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t say shit about shit to anybody.”

“Got it,” I nodded to the empty air. I placed the receiver softly in the cradle of the phone.

I smiled sarcastically at the detectives and held my wrists out to them, ready to be cuffed. “Shall we?”

“Book him,” Hewitt snarled, and stormed out of the room.

In all the times in the past I’d sat in a room just like this one (shit, I was pretty sure I’d been in this room at least once), about to be locked up, I’d never felt like I really gave a shit. Whether I was behind bars or free, I was always incarcerated inside my own prison of pain. So it didn’t matter if I was walking the streets or stuck inside a concrete cell.

This time it was different.

This time I had something I was going to miss way more than I wanted to admit to myself or anyone else.

This time I had that kooky angel Samantha Smith wondering where I was and whether or not I was okay.

Guilt slammed me in the face. I was a total douche for getting myself into this mess. I sighed heavily.

Was I ever going to fucking change?

Not if I was locked up.

Fuck me.

SAMANTHA

PRESENT DAY

Someone knocked on the front door of my apartment.

“It must be them,” I said to Christos, and walked out of the bathroom to go answer. I checked the peephole and opened the door with a smile on my face. Christos stood right behind me.

“Hey, guys!” Romeo said cheerfully, standing on the balcony walkway outside. He wore a new steampunk coat I hadn’t seen before. Made from tailored black wool, the coat had intricate black-thread embroidery and twin rows of vertical black buttons running down the front and back. As usual, his monocle dangled from one of the coat’s buttons. Buckled black boots covered his feet. “Don’t I look festive?” he jested while holding his monocle up to one eye.

“Romeo!” I said, holding out my arms.

Romeo wrapped me up in a huge hug. “So good to see you, Sam!”

“What up, man,” Christos smiled.

Romeo released me and his eyes roamed all over Christos. “Wow, Sam, I forgot how hot your boyfriend is! Can I lick him from head to toe?”

“No!” I laughed.

“How about just a nipple?”

“No, Romeo!” I insisted.

Christos chuckled, indulging in Romeo’s bad behavior.

Someone had to put a stop to it. “Down, Romeo!” I ordered jokingly.

“Easy girl,” Romeo faux-frowned. “I was just window shopping,”

“Seriously, dude, I’m flattered,” Christos beamed, totally at ease with Romeo’s fawning, “but I play for the opposing team.”

“Oh! Can I be your water boy?” Romeo pleaded. “Hand you clean towels in the locker room? Bend over and pick up the soap in the shower when you drop it? I’ll do whatever you want, Christos. Have your way with me!” He stepped past me, dropped to his knees beside Christos, and wrapped his arms around Christos’ legs. Romeo began bawling insincerely, “Please, Sam! Just one sip from his chalice! I want to taste his sweet nectar!” he whined.

“No, Romeo!” I giggled. He was so ridiculous, and I loved him for it.

“Sorry, man,” Christos laughed. “I’m sworn to Samantha.”

Romeo sneered and rolled his eyes. He stood up and smoothed out his black embroidered steampunk jacket. “You’re such a wuss for the puss, Christos,” he said dismissively.

“That I am,” Christos chuckled.

“Well, we should go,” Romeo said, finally over it, “before Kamiko withers away in my car.”

“I’m still not dressed!” I blurted. “I can’t go out on New Year’s in a t-shirt and jeans!”

Romeo frowned. “Have you even picked out an outfit?”

“No,” I said guiltily.

Romeo rolled his eyes.. “In that case, I better get Kamiko or she might die of starvation while you do.” He winked at Christos.

I stamped my foot and groused, “It doesn’t take me that long to pick an outfit!”

Christos and Romeo exchanged a doubtful look.

“You guys suck!” I stormed into my bedroom while Christos and Romeo broke into laughter.

SAMANTHA

Fortunately, I’d finished my hair before Christos had come over earlier. While Christos, Romeo, and Kamiko chatted in my living room, I threw on some eyeliner and lip gloss, and set about picking out an outfit.

My mind drifted as I rifled through my closet.

I still hadn’t told my parents about wanting to change my major to Art. I’d wanted to avoid starting World War Smith at my parents’ house over Winter Break, so I hadn’t brought it up. I’d have to tell them sooner or later. But tonight was New Year’s Eve, and I planned on celebrating it with the man I loved. Christos had been amazingly supportive since we’d met. Going forward, I hoped that I could give back to him the devotion he’d shown me.

I finally decided on skinny pants and matching heels, a print shirt, and the new, super-cute pleather coat I’d snagged off of ebay for twenty bucks. I grabbed my favorite clutch purse and came out of my bedroom. “Ta-da!”

“Wow, Sam, you’re runway hot!” Kamiko said. She stood up from the couch and gave me a big hug.

“Thanks, Kamiko,” I smiled. “How was your Winter Break?”

“Pretty boss,” Kamiko said.

I was confused. “You mean you enjoyed it?”

“No,” she smirked, “I mean my family bossed me around the whole time. Not just my parents. My older brothers and sisters, too. Since I’m the youngest, it’s like having six parents. They ragged on me all break because I got a B+ in O-chem. So I locked myself in my room the whole time and binged on watching episodes of Adventure Time and Bravest Warriors while drawing both show’s characters in my sketchbook.”

“Did you draw Catbug?” Romeo asked.

“Sugar peas!” Kamiko squealed, flinging her arms wide.

I wasn’t sure who or what a Catbug was. I suspected I’d find out over the course of winter quarter while hanging in Kamiko’s dorm room between classes.

“Everybody ready?” Christos asked.

“I think so,” I said. Romeo and Kamiko nodded at me. “Let’s hit it!”

We all piled into Christos’ 1968 Camaro downstairs.

“Where are we going, Christos?” Romeo asked from the back seat. “Sam said it was some kind of awesome surprise.”

“It should be pretty awesome,” Christos replied.

“Are you going to kidnap us, tie us up in some morbid dungeon, then have your way with us?” Romeo mused.

“Only Samantha,” Christos joked, rubbing my knee.

“Always a bridesmaid,” Romeo sulked.

Christos fired up the Camaro, its engine rumbling in anticipation of the open road as Christos pulled the car onto the street outside my apartment.