“We know,” the receptionist chimed in. “We know. He’s in the back, Officer.”
“I’d really like to see him,” I said. “Please. I can get him out of here, I’ll pay his bail in full. I promise.”
The officer’s greedy eyes practically glowed at the mention of a bail payment in full. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Of course, my lad!” He wrapped an arm around me—an awkward maneuver, since he was about a head shorter than I was—and led me back through a heavy door of iron.
The inside of the temporary lock-up was damp and cheerless. The stone floor had been scrubbed to nearly an inch of its life and the walls were painted a dank, dull green. I could smell sweat and sewage and desperation, and I winced as the officer led me down a dark hallway.
“Your mate’s back here,” the officer said. “Call when you need me.”
He took a massive ring of keys from his belt and unlocked a door that looked like an iron grate, sliding to the side. It was so dark in the cell that my eyes had trouble adjusting. Finally, I saw a small form curled up on a metal bench.
“Connor?” I blinked. “Is that you?”
“Hey, Jay,” Connor said in a dull voice. He stretched, sat up, then stood and walked closer. Even in the dull light I could tell that he looked awful. His brown hair was lank and his grey eyes looked glassy and dilated.
“What happened to you, mate?” I ruffled his hair and tried to pull him close, but Connor resisted. “What the fuck did you do?”
He laughed dryly, then sat down with a clang on the metal bench, and I lowered myself to his height. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I got caught with blow, again. Do you even care, Jay?”
“Of course I care, don’t be a prick,” I said. “You’re my best mate, and we’re getting you out of here. Into a good rehab program. And I’m taking care of it, no question.”
Connor let out a heavy sigh. I knew he wanted to fight me on this—he always wanted to fight me on matters of money. He was wearing his own clothes, but they were stained and torn. I wondered if he’d been pissing all of his money away on coke, but didn’t want to ask.
“This isn’t right, mate,” Connor said. “You can’t just storm in here and tell me you’re going to fix me up all proper! That doesn’t make a lick of sense.” He leaned with his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “Not for me, at least. Save your money for those pretty lasses around you, or for your bleeding rich football friends. You don’t care about me, Jay. Just admit it.”
He looked at me with clear bitterness in his eyes, and I rolled my eyes. “What I don’t care for is this stupid pity party,” I said. “You can’t sit here in the dark and feel sorry for yourself. You have to get up and fix this. I’m going to help you, okay?”
“It’s too late,” Connor said. He sniffed. There was dried blood crusted underneath his nostrils, and without asking, I knew my last prediction had come true. “The only thing I want is some more of that bloody white powder. I’m not gonna have a good life like you do, mate. It’s the gutter for me.”
I looked at Connor with my eyebrows raised. “Stop it,” I said. “You’re being a real dickhead right now. If you think I’m giving up on you, you have no idea who I really am. I’m your best mate, and I’m here to make sure you get the help you need. I know this sounds corny, but it’s the truth. I care about you, man. I’m not gonna let you rot off and die somewhere.”
Connor looked away. Talking about emotions wasn’t a strong point for either one of us, but I knew that my words had hit home. He buried his face in his hands.
“It’s too late, mate,” Connor said in a muffled voice. “It’s too late for me.”
I stood up and sighed before banging on the iron bars for the policeman. “Officer!” I called loudly. “Officer!”
Connor looked up at me, his face twisted with disgust. “Yeah, run away,” he said with a sneer. “Run away back to your regular life, filled with fun and football and pussy. You don’t need me. You don’t need me at all.”
The cop strolled back in front of Connor’s cell. He gazed at me. “Ready to come out?”
“Only when my mate comes out, too,” I said firmly. “I’m staying here until he agrees to leave with me.”
Connor looked at me with disbelief and shock on his face.
“I’m paying his full bail,” I continued. “And while we wait for the court date, I’m taking him directly to the best private rehab facility in Manchester.”