Criminal(13)

‘Making me want you again...’

I had to have misunderstood. It just couldn't be real. I didn't understand how it could be.

It's one thing for me to think about my step-brother like this, but for the feelings to be mutual? That's just me dreaming, wanting for something that can't ever, ever be.

I have to get out. Out of this town, out of this state, somewhere as far from him and the bar and Ryder as I can get.

I drive for what feels like such a long time but must have been only forty-five minutes.

The sky's turning that navy color, sunrise just an hour or two away, and my eyes are grainy. I can barely keep them open, all the adrenaline of the day taking its toll on me now.

I have no idea where I am, but when I see a sign for a motel coming up, it seems my prayers are about to be answered.

Pulling into a parking spot near the road and walking into the dimly lit lobby, I feel like a zombie, and the front desk clerk doesn't seem much better. Her face is sour and tight, but all I want is a bed for the night, to crash. To be alone and try to make sense of what's happening.

"One night, please," I say, struggling to smile.

"I'm sorry, we're full," she says in return, not even bothering to look.

"But the sign says vacancy?" I press, more angrily than I intend.

I can't believe my luck.

She shrugs. "We're full."

"You've gotta be shitting me!"

The glare she gives me says it all, and I'm too tired to fight, too tired to even cry. A tremble goes through me, and I suck in some breath before simply turning and making my way back to my car.

I can't go on. I crawl into the back seat, pull the itchy spare blanket over my shoulders, and just try to find some peace.

It reminds me of those dark days after losing our home, back when I still had too much pride to talk to Kaiden about it, and I shiver despite the warmth of the night. I just need some sleep, and then I can figure it all out tomorrow.

***

I wake up startled to a knocking on the window. At first I'm not entirely sure where I am. It comes back to me, slowly.

I slept in the car again.

For a second, I picture Kaiden coming to find me, an extra blanket and a warm coffee in hand, and I smile.

Until I see the early morning light spilling over the cop at my window, lights flashing on his car parked not far away.

"Fuck," I curse to myself, bolting up. My legs are cramped, and I have a kink in my neck, but I roll down the window.

"Is there something wrong, officer?" I ask before I see the desk clerk standing not far away, a smug look on her rancid little face.

"I'm going to need you to step outside the vehicle, miss."

***

"Kaiden... I know you're probably mad at me, but if you get this, I really need your help. I'm at a police station in Ramona, and if you don't pick me up, if someone doesn't pick me up, I'm going to be transferred somewhere else. I don't really know where. They impounded my car..."

I try not to sob as I'm leaving him the message, but I've never been in trouble before. Never even been sent to the principal’s office. But now I'm in jail, being threatened with some half-baked vagrancy charge. I’d tried to explain over and over that the motel was full and I just needed to sleep, that it wasn't safe for me to drive, but they just kept telling me to tell it to the judge.

I hang up the phone and get escorted back to my cell. It's a gross grey-green color, not really like what I've seen on TV. I guess because it's just lockup and not jail-jail. I go to the table and sit at one of the chairs, listening to the sound of the person in the bed retching something awful.

And all I can do is push my palms to my eyes and sob.

"Please, Kaiden," I whimper under my breath. "Please come."

“Who’s Kaiden?”

I startle, wiping my eyes of their tears and try to look... what? Hard? I’m an eighteen-year-old girl that looks more like a high school cheerleader, not a thug.

I look into the face of a woman double my age at least, who’s leaning on her knee in the dark corner of the top bunk. I hadn’t realized that there were three of us in here.

“My brother,” I say too quickly, opening up too fast. I’ve seen the TV shows, I know these people aren’t on my side. But I’m so scared, and I want so badly for someone to tell me it’ll be okay, and she looks like she’s been here before.

“I’m sorry for, uh, waking you,” I say as I wipe the rest of my eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. Missy-moo beneath me here is what’s keeping me up. Ever since they got rid of the drunk tank, this place has gone downhill.” She gives me a wry sort of smile, half-cunning, half-genuineness. She reminds me of one of the customers at the bar. Someone that time and life hasn’t been kind to.