Page 100 of Dirty Roulette
Ryder
It’s cold in here. The damn police dragged me into a small room with white walls and cameras at every angle to make sure they didn't miss a single movement of mine.
It’s better here than the crowded cell with all the thugs. Tattoos graffitied every man's face, and they reeked of meth. The lingering scent here of clorox wipes is better than body odor. No one in those cells let anyone sleep, and every other hour someone was destroying the toilet that couldn’t seat one ass cheek. It’s been well over two days, and I’m already losing it.
An officer gave me a tiny cup of lukewarm water, and it didn’t even begin to quench my thirst. I’ve been left in here for a good thirty minutes, staring into outer space. Knowing this entire thing is being surveilled, I pay attention to my movements. Body language speaks volumes and if one thing is out of place, the worse it’s going to get.
I was drilled into for hours about how this all played out. Why I lost it on Brody and everything that led up to it – Charlie’s shittyrelationship with Brody, how my ex cheated on me with him, and Brody having nudes of Paytonsheapparently sent to him. The only two words I should have mentioned were “Dirty” and “Roulette”, but throwing the hazing game into the mix is like stepping on a landmine and I doubt an officer is going to take this hazing game seriously.
Officers convinced me I need to be in a room with a jacket and padded walls. I dropped the pin telling them Charlie was assaulted, but they kept switching it on me. I’m the one with the bad thoughts, I’m the bad guy, I’m the problem, I’m shady and obsessed with Brody – always trying to drag his name through the mud. When I mention I have no idea where Charlie is, the concern was swept under the rug. She’s just with a friend, she took a drive to think, maybe she’s in a hotel. Not a single soul in here cared if she was missing or not.
Keys jimmy the lock and two men step in: one in a suit with a folder in his hand and the other in an officer’s uniform. The steps they take into the room whisper in my earsif I’m not scared, then they are going to make sure I am before they leave.
“Ryder...” The man in the suit sits down, placing the folder on the square wooden table. The blonde hair and structure of his face and Greek nose are identical to Brody’s. “I’m Mr. Thomas.”
Now this seems like a conflict of interest. The contents of the puny bologna sandwich they fed me swim like they want to resurface.
I don’t say a single word. My tongue runs across the back of my teeth. Damn, I’d give anything to have a toothbrush and toothpaste. But that doesn’t exist here.
“I’d like to discuss a few things, and then you’ll be on your way out of here...”
Nothing comes out of my mouth, not even a sign I can breathe. I continue to dig my tongue between my teeth. If any words are goingto come out of my mouth, it’s me demanding for a damn lawyer. Now I’m faced with a lawyer, but it’s not the one representing me.
“I can get these pending charges dropped if you work with me...” He tilts his head, and I meet his poison-tipped gaze.
The tremors in my legs act up again, and I place a hand on my knee to stop the world from seeing me as some nut job who lost his cool. Jealousy doesn’t exist with Brody; it's pure, unfiltered, hate for him burning inside me.
“In your interview with the detectives, you said my son assaulted your sister?” He tips his chin in superiority. Lacing his fingers together, he places them over the folder on the table and leans closer to me. “If you retract your statement, this will all go away...” The serpent leaks off his tongue.
I wish I knew where Charlie is. For all I know she is actually missing, and I’m failing yet again at being a brother. My hands bunch in tight fists on my lap. A sledgehammer slams into my chest with a venomous look on his face.
“Charlie’s not around to tell her side of the story... so why don’t we just put this behind us?” The menacing confidence in his black eyes convinces me he has no soul, and I’m sitting in front of the devil. “Or I’ll be taking you to court and I promise you they’ll put you in for the maximum amount of years... let's say four for the assault, and police find a present in your car, maybe adding three, or five years.” A smirk slides up one-half of his face. I’m not a major in law, or rules. I can’t tell if it’s a way to scare me, or if it's the truth, but it’s close enough to a decade.
“You can still go play football. Graduate without anything following you.” A chill runs up my spine, lifting the hairs on my nape. I sag deeper into the chair, my hands folding across my chest. Anger grabs me by the jaw, but I keep it shut like an iron door.
“You won’t have to rot in here...” Power over the police force and the law reeks off this fucker. It will be easy for him to write me off or throw me back behind bars. Either way, there is no justice for my sister. Brody gets a slap on the wrist.
“What do you say?” His Adam's Apple convulses. The evil look on his face makes my mouth water.
“All you need to do is write it down.” He pulls a pen out of the pockets of his slacks and places it on the table. He opens the folder with a document for a witness statement.
It slides over to my side of the table. I gulp down the lump of lies I’m about to write on the sheet of paper. I push the cap off the pen and stare down at the document and the dull lines.
A high-pitched noise seeps into my ears as the tip of the pen meets the lines and I start to write out the lie. Choking back the pain welling up in my throat, I have no choice. If Charlie has any shot, it’s going to be this sheet of paper.
I finished writing him a five-paragraph essay retracting my entire statement, and act like the wordrapedidn’t exist in the dictionary. I push it across the table with the pen and lean back in the chair.
A wicked smirk forms on his lips, reading it and making sure everything he wants is in ink. Might as well slice my hand open and sign it in blood to seal the deal I made with the devil.
He motions at the officer with two fingers. “We’re good here.”
The officer cocks a brow. “Looks like you got lucky,” he mutters and opens the door for me. The officer takes me through the hallways until we reach the main front lobby. I’m given back my wallet, phone, keys, and book bag.
The smell of rain meets my lungs when I step out of the double doors. My phone only has ten percent battery life and I manage to schedule an Uber before it powers off.
Chapter thirty-seven
Payton
