Page 7 of Resting Grump Face
Yeah, where would I fucking go?
I rattle against the cuffs, clenching my fists. This is unbelievable. I will have my assistant get the camera footage from the airport, figure out how that reporter got into the VIP lounge, who she is and for whom she works. Or rather, for whom she used to work, because I am going to sue her harder than a middle-aged woman threatens to sue the diner across church for messing up her Sunday reservation.
I should probably give my mom a call, I think when Officer Jabali returns a little later.
“Come on,” he mumbles and releases me from the table.
“Finally. Is he coming to get me or can I just go on my own? Also, I will need some pants.”
“Yup.” The officer nods and drops a pair of orange trousers on the table. “Put those on.”
“Really?”
“Don’t make me play dress-up, pretty boy,” he snarls and reaches for his baton.
For a brief moment, I consider knocking Jabali out. It wouldn’t be too hard. He’d probably drop like a stone, or rather a heavy-set boulder. But I wouldn’t make it to my plane and then I’d definitely miss the wedding. So instead, I do as I am told.It’s fine. I will be out of here in a few minutes and on my way, just as planned.
“Come on,” Jabali mumbles, chewing on some jerky that he produced from seemingly thin air. “It’s your lucky day. My colleague here,” he tries to push me towards another cop who has the mandatory donut in his hand, “is headed towards the station anyway, so he will take you along.”
“That’s awfully nice of you to offer, officer.” I can’t help but grind my teeth a little. “But I am not going to the station. I have a plane to catch.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Officer Jabali explains to his colleague. “I think he’s drunk or high or both. He’s been rumbling on incoherently the entire time. Said something about losing a bunch of money too. Run him through the system, take some blood and do whatever else we do with someone like him, you know the drill.”
“Yes, sir,” the other officer responds, grabs me by the arm and leads me away.
I look back at Jabali’s grinning face and know there’s no way out at this point, nothing to be done. Nothing other than imagining revenge, envisioning what I would do to the person who got me into these cuffs in the first place. It’s a little disconcerting that those things also include a whole lot of kissing, touching and caressing.
I might actually be losing my mind here.
The rest of the evening is spent looking at a lot fewer bars than I had always imagined. Instead, the single holding cell has a heavy steel door with a little window at the top. The bed, if you can call it that, is all metal and cold, much like the toilet. It’s degrading, though that’s not even what I’m mad about. By now, my plane has long left with Olivia’s friends and family and I will definitely miss the practice dinner, as well as the little bachelor party I had planned for Phoenix. I hate that I am letting my friend down, especially on a day like this. All because of her.
For the rest of the night, I don’t get any shut eye. Instead, I just pace around the tiny cell.
Early in the morning, I am being processed and when they finally find out who I am, I am released immediately. I call Bruceand it takes another hour until he finally shows up with the biggest grin I have ever seen on him.
“Well, well, well, brother,” he says, looking at the bruises around my wrists and the cut on my forehead. “I guess it was only a matter of time for you to end up here, after all those scandals you’ve gotten yourself into the last couple of months.”
“I called the wrong brother, didn’t I? Couldn’t you have sent one of your assistants to pick me up?”
“And miss all of this?” He motions me up and down. “Not a chance. Hold on, let me take a picture of you. Wait, do you guys have a mug shot?” he asks the officer behind the counter. “I’ll have it printed on actual mugs and give them out at the office.”
“I’m gonna have to stay here if I murder him right now, won’t I?” I think out loud, which the officer answers with a disinterest nod. I grab the plastic bag that contains my belt, shoe strings, empty wallet, and opened pack of condoms. After all, there’s no time to waste. “Your jet?”
“It’s being prepared as we speak,” Bruce answers when we make our way to his limousine. “And stop being so grumpy. You’re not heading to work. You have the weekend off for the first time in months, presumably. Enjoy yourself a little.”
All that elicits from me is a low grumble. Enjoying myself is how I got here in the first place.
“Fine, suit yourself. Oh, and speaking of suit, here are the pants you requested over the phone. Had to make two stops on the way to find them.” He hands me a big, expensive-looking bag once we’re inside the car. “Julio, take us to the airport, please.”
“Thank you. But you didn’t have to get something that fancy. Any dress pants would have sufficed, really.” I open the bag and pull out a pair of pink pajama pants with little white pompoms on strings for a belt.
“It’s the new collection. Everyone is wearing them these days.” He laughs as I detach the Dollar Store price tag and exchange orange for pink.
That’s what I get for calling my brother to my rescue.
“I should beat you up and steal your pants.” I grumble a little more. “You’re lucky that pink suits me.”
Bruce is thoroughly entertained, despite my threats to drink his most expensive Scotch on the plane. I have to admit, it surprises me a little that he isn't angry. Usually, my brother is even more concerned about our company than I am. Maybe he hasn’t quite grasped the possible ramifications of this yet.
