“Then it wasn't all that stolen, was it?” Seth asked.
“The father reported the card stolen, sir.”
“Okay...then where's Darcy now?”
“We handed her over to the police,” the manager said. “I presume you will find her in the city jail, in need of someone to post a bond.”
“Well, shit,” Seth said, and the manager flinched once again. “Okay. Where's the jail?”
“I will have to research that, as few guests of this hotel face problems with the police, as one can imagine.”
“Just tell me where to go.”
“I would be more than happy to do so,” the manager said. He printed off a Google map with directions to the jail and slid it across the desk. “Do let me know if there's anything further that will make your stay at the Mandrake House more comfortable. Perhaps we might direct you to a bail bondsman, or a criminal defense attorney.”
“Yeah, very funny,” Seth said. “Thanks for the map.”
He tipped the man a dollar—normally he would tip more, but he suspected the hotel manager was subtly being a douche to him throughout the conversation. Then he walked out to his car.
The jail was a zoo, full of parents bailing out kids who'd been swept up from the previous night's riot. Seth had to wait in line.
“Weeell, look what the dog dragged in,” a voice said beside him. Seth turned to see Darcy Metcalf's father approaching in his wheelchair—Mr. Metcalf was a very obese man who'd lost a foot to diabetes. His face was blood-red, and he sneered at Seth. Darcy's pale, cringing mother trailed behind him.
“Mr. Metcalf,” Seth said, surprised.
“Don't you 'Mr. Metcalf' me, you dumb fancy-pants ball of shit,” Mr. Metcalf said. “Run off with my daughter on a Friday night, then I come to find out I got to bail her big ass out of jail on Sunday morning? In goddamn Charleston. What do you got to say for yourself?”
“We were just coming here for orientation,” Seth said.
“Oh, I bet you orientationed the shit out of her, didn't you?” Mr. Metcalf said. “Who's gonna pay for this baby, that's what I want to know.”
“Morris—” his wife began.
“Shut up. I got a few things to say to Little Lord Fancy-Pants here. I had to pay Darcy's bond, and how am I gonna afford that when I'm on disability?”
“I'll pay her bail—” Seth said.
“Naw, here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna call up your daddy and tell him the Metcalf don't have to make no mortgage payments for the next three months. That's what you're gonna do.”
“I'm sure something can be worked out—” Seth began.
“You bet your ass something can be!” Mr. Metcalf interrupted. “Matter of fact, make it four months. I got a pregnant slut daughter to feed.”
“Morris!” his wife gasped.
“I'm sure this is a misunderstanding, sir,” Seth said. “Darcy and I are both going to College of Charleston, and she asked for a ride to orientation.”
“College of Charleston!” Mr. Metcalf roared. “Darcy ain't going to college, richy-pants. She got a baby. She's gone take that job at the Taco Bell in Vernon Hill, she knows what's good for her.”
“She's not going to college?” Seth asked. “That doesn't make sense. Why did she want to come with me?”
“I guess so you could stick your pecker in her babyhole,” Mr. Metcalf said.
“Morris!” Mrs. Metcalf gasped again.
“Darcy and I aren't together like that,” Seth said. “I didn't even want to bring her. It was just a favor to my girlfriend, Jenny.”
“Jenny got-damn Morton!” Mr. Metcalf said. “It's a bad crowd she's fallen in with. No wonder she got knocked up.”
“Daddy?” Darcy's voice whispered. A woman in a guard uniform had escorted her out, and now removed the handcuffs from Darcy's wrists. Darcy look dirty, confused and terrified.
“Darcy, what happened?” Seth asked. “Where’s Jenny?”
“Jenny?” Darcy looked him and up down. “Seth Barrett. Are you talking about Jenny Mittens?”
“Don't you talk to that boy!” Mr. Metcalf interrupted. “You come right over and wheel me out of this goddamned place.”
“Darcy, I don't understand what's going on,” Seth said. “Have you seen Jenny?”
“No!” Darcy cried. “Why would I have seen her? Is she in jail, too?”
“Why did you get a room on the fifth floor of the hotel?” Seth asked. “Was Jenny staying with you? To spy on me, maybe?”
“I don't know!” Darcy wailed. Tears were already running down her face. “I don’t even know why I’m in Charleston! I can't remember a dang-blasted thing! Honest Abe I don't!”