“I’m on my way,” I disconnect the call and set the alarm behind me.
It’s just a short drive to the police station from my house. Making my way inside the small brick building I’m buzzed in and directed to the back where the cells are. Greene is at his desk filling out paperwork and just beyond that is the holding cell where six of my star players are seated, heads hanging low.
“James. Good to see you despite the circumstances,” he says, standing and shaking my hand.
“Same,” I say, cutting a glance at the boys who are refusing to make eye contact with me. “Have you called their parents?”
He nods his head, “yeah, I had to per department policy, but I wanted you to have a shot at ‘em before they get here. You’ve probably got a good 15 or 20 minutes.” He sits back down at his desk and I make my way back to the cell. I’m in utter disbelief. This is the shit that will get them benched or kicked off the team.
“What the hell were you guys thinking?” I demand, forcing all of them to make eye contact with me. “Who was driving?” Davies raises his hand.
“Me coach, but I swear, I only had a few beers.”
“You shouldn’t be having any beers, Tommy. Christ, you just turned 18 a few weeks ago. You’re underage not to mention that’s irresponsible. What if you would have hit someone? Drunk driving is reckless and stupid. I’ve told you guys before, I don’t care what fucking time it is. If you’re stranded somewhere and you can’t call your parents, you can ALWAYS call me.” A murmur of ‘we know’ and ‘we’re sorries’ rise up from within the cell.
“You’re all benched for the next two games,” I start, cutting them off when they start to object. “Enough! I don’t want to hear it. Getting arrested is immediate grounds for being kicked off the team so be thankful that all I’m doing is benching you,” I go on just as I hear the chatter of their parents as they’re approaching the room. “I’m incredibly disappointed in all of you,” I say just before their parents’ approach. After chatting with them for a few, I make my way out of the precinct and head back to my house, hoping Lex is ready for round two.
Lex
“There. I think that’s the last of it.” Avery groans as she flops down on the couch across from me. I glance up from my position, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table coloring with Blake. She looks exhausted.
“Laundry all done? That’s cause for celebration,” I joke with her. I’m spending my Friday night hanging out with her. I came over bearing wine and dinner and offered to watch Blake for her so she could get some housework done. I’ve been here about two hours and in that time Blake and I have built a fort, raced race cars on his new track, and now we are coloring. I can see why she is exhausted. This kid is a handful. I can’t imagine being 21 and raising two kids at the same time.
“Alright, Blakey boo. Time for pajamas and bed.” She says, simultaneously boxing the crayons back up.
“Aww man,” he huffs, “I was having so much fun coloring with Lex.” He sticks his lower lip out in a pout. Avery narrows her eyes at him. He stands, begrudgingly. “Night, Lex. Thank you for playing with me,” he mumbles, sulking out of the living room. I have to smother my laugh. Avery shakes her head.
“That kid, I swear. He’s going to make me gray and old.” She bounces off the couch and trails after him. I stand up from the floor and stretch before I start picking up the living room. Putting toys in their baskets, picking up discarded crayons, and carrying some dishes into the kitchen. I’ve washed everything in the sink and am just getting ready to dry them when Avery saunters into the kitchen and hip checks me out of the way to take over.
“Thank you,” she says, “it’s nice to have some help every once in a while.”
“I’m sure it is,” I give her a sympathetic look, “and it’s nice to have a friend when I’m new to town. You’ve made me feel incredibly welcome. I can’t thank you enough for that.” Sucking in a shaky breath, I exhale, “I haven’t had a lot of good in my life. Coming to Alabama has been….” I pause, looking for the right word. “Freeing,” I pick my glass of wine up. That’s exactly what it has felt like. Like I’m free. Free from Jase, free from the watchful eyes of all his cop friends anytime I was out running errands, free to just live my lif
e and be who I want to be. I’m still not exactly sure who that woman is, but I’m certain that I’m finally on track to finding her. Avery puts the last dish away and pours herself a glass of wine.
“I know what it’s like to not have many friends. I had to grow up quickly. My mom,” she shakes her head, something akin to disgust marring her features, “if you can even fucking call her that, was a waste of space. A user and a drug addict. Always looking for her next high. Making kids with all these different men, hoping one of them would eventually settle down because she “accidentally” got knocked up. It didn’t work with my dad, or Vie’s, and definitely not Blakes. One day she just woke up and decided this wasn’t the life she wanted anymore. She didn’t want to be stuck in a dead-end town, raising babies she didn’t really want. So, she left. I’ve been raising these babies since I was just a baby myself. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for dating and friendships and wine nights,” she leans over and clinks her glass with mine before taking a sip. “So, thank you,” she says, “for hanging out with a frazzled pseudo-mom and her kid so she could finish the laundry and shave her legs without someone watching the entire time.”
???
It’s later in the evening and I’m curled up on my couch reading. I see headlights sweep across the living room, indicating that Clarissa is home. I stick the bookmark inside and close the book, tossing it onto the table in front of me. I stand and cross my arms, waiting for her to unlock the door. She pushes it open and turns around to snick the door shut quietly.
“What the fuck, Riss?” I demand and she screams, turning around and dropping back against the door.
“God damnitt, Lexie, don’t do that shit,” she avoids my eyes and makes her way out to the kitchen, pulling an open bottle of wine out of the fridge and pouring herself a glass. I follow her, leaning against the counter and narrowing my eyes at her.
“What the hell are you doing staying out until 2 am in a town where you know literally nobody?” I question.
“Sorry, mom,” she rolls her eyes, finishing the glass and pouring another, but still avoiding my question.
“Cut the shit, Clarissa. I was worried. You didn’t answer any of my messages, your phone went straight to voicemail. I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but don’t you dare cut me out,” I say, pulling in a shaky breath, tears springing to my eyes. Her face softens.
“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to worry. I’m just.. I’m still not. I can’t,” she finishes, shaking her head, her eyes overflowing with tears.
“I get it. I do. But please for the love of god just answer a text message, okay?” I ask, making my way around the island and pulling her into my arms. I don’t know what’s happened to my best friend, but I can tell it’s something that’s eating her up inside. She sobs quietly against my neck, clutching my sweater. I’m afraid whatever it is will be huge.
Ford
"Bachina." I freeze on the stairs, tipping my head, trying to figure out what my sweet little girl just said. I creep a little lower on the stairs and can see her at the table, legs swinging, while she colors.