Page 8 of Wreckage of Me
“Who said I want to be in a relationship? With a criminal at that?” I try to act offended, like that would be the least desirable situation I’d want to find myself in.
“You protesting this much only makes me think that I’m right about it,” Sully smirks in the corner of his mouth. The nerve on this dude, I think to myself.
“Screw you, Blake.” I purposely act childish and make sure to use his first name even though I know he prefers his last.
After about forty-five minutes of endless driving during which time, we had a couple of close calls where I questioned my entire purpose in life, we finally make it to the police station.
“You got anger issues, dude,” I point a finger at Sully right before exiting his ridiculous truck.
“What are you talking about?” he gives me a confused look like he didn’t just about ram a couple of hopeless drivers who had the misfortune of ending up in front of his truck while on the expressway. “I’ll have you know that I’m the most laid back person you’ll ever meet,” he insists.
“Not when you drive, you’re not,” I make sure to tell him. And I got more to say to him, but I notice a suit, that definitely looks like it could belong on a lawyer, approaching us at the entrance of the police station.
“Sully,” the suit comes straight for us, arm stretched with hand ready to shake Blake’s. “And you must be Miss Rebecca Garner,” he turns to me next.
“Yes, very nice meeting you, Mister…” I wait for him to introduce himself.
“John Smith, ma’am.” Very generic and fitting for a lawyer I suppose. “We should probably talk first before you make any official statement. You don’t want to say anything in there that you can’t take back.” I nod in understanding, even though I am nervous and confused as all hell.
I’ve been fighting with these people for twenty-four hours to let me give them a statement, and now that I have the opportunity to, I want to drop dead on the spot.
“Tell me everything you know,” John Smith prods me.
“Here?” I look around us, surprised to hear he wants me to tell him my side of the story right here in the open like this.
“Uh,” he starts looking around, but not like he’s looking for a spot where we could talk, but rather like he’s got no clue why we’re here. “Where would you like to go?” He is on the shorter side, and when he looks up at me like that, I feel like a giant.
“Not sure…” I look at Sully for help, but he just shrugs like he’s clueless.
We are left in this weird standoff with John Smith staring at me while I’m staring at Sully. And the asshole is just acting stupid and like he can’t help us.
“Maybe they have a more private room inside,” I finally suggest and point toward the building of the police station.
“Yes, yes, indeed,” John Smith mumbles and turns to walk toward the main entrance.
Me and Sully turn to follow him. I side eye Sully on our way in, but he’s not giving anything away. When I feel like I can’t take it anymore, I elbow him hard in the ribs.
“What the hell, girl,” he looks at me like I’ve lost it, and most likely I have.
“Is this the famousclub attorney?” I make sure to use finger quotation marks when I speak.
“You got a problem with Sh… I mean John?”
See, that slip right there tells me something is completely off with this whole picture. I put a hand on his arm and stop his progress, letting John Smith walk in by himself.
“This is the best you people could do?” I am appalled at what’s happening. Based on this, I am certain that Dylan will be spending lots of years in prison.
“What is your deal?” Sully acts all offended. “And who you callingyou people?”
“You!” I stick a finger right up into his face. “You and this motorcycle club that keeps on coming back into my life like a bad penny.” I am whisper yelling at this point while also looking around to make sure no one is paying attention to us.
Sully smacks my finger out of his face, then gives me a stern look.
“I can assure you that while John is not your typical guy, he is a very good attorney at law, and he will do a very good job repping Wrecker. Are you judging him based off his looks?”
I put my head down in shame. I did judge John Smith based on his looks.
“That’s what I thought,” Sully concludes, after which he grabs me by the arm and marches me inside the police station.
