Ben watched the man be led away and wondered how a man like that could get sprung from jail before him. He was witnessing the justice system first hand and came to the conclusion it was seriously broken. It wasn’t long before their little jail cell was stuffed with a fourth man. The smell of liquor was practically rolling off him in waves.
The drunken fool looked around the cell and his eyes stopped on Ben. He mumbled something and headed for Ben.
He stepped on Ben’s shoe, on accident or purpose, Ben didn’t know, but it wasn’t going to go unnoticed. He stood up, coming nose to nose with the man and nearly dropping back down on the bench. The smell of the man was sickening, but he managed to keep his cool.
“Need something?” he asked.
The man belched in his face. The smell was thick with liquor and stale cigarettes. Ben didn’t flinch.
“I want to sit right there,” he said, slurring the words.
Ben shrugged. “I guess if you think my seat is better, you go right ahead and have it.”
Ben stepped to the side, hoping the little conflict was over. It wasn’t. Tattooed bald man stepped up to him. Now he was facing off two men. The bald guy grabbed Ben by the shirt front and spun him around, slamming him into the bars of the cell.
Ben kept his cool, not flinching and not breaking eye contact. These men were used to beating the shit out of guys and probably women. He wasn’t a shrinking violet and didn’t cave in to anyone. The man sneered at him.
“Done?” Ben asked.
“Hell no, I’m not done. You seem to think you’re some hot shit in here, like your shit don’t stink,” the man growled.
Ben smiled. “I think the main difference here is that I don’t stink.”
He knew he was tempting fate. Showing any one of these men an ounce of fear would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull. He had to fight back with his best asset—his brain.
“You think you’re funny,” the man growled, slamming him against the bars one more time.
Ben shrugged. “I think I’m a little funny.”
The drunk behind him burst into laughter. “He is kind of funny.”
The tattooed man released his shirt and spun around to face off with his new nemesis. Ben stayed put. He felt like he’d gotten a stay of execution but wasn’t sure how long it would last. He had to get out of the cell before one of the men decided an extra ten to fifteen years tacked onto whatever charges they were facing was worth it.
“O’Leary,” the guard called out, giving Ben the escape he’d been hoping for.
He turned to face the guard. “That’s me.”
“You get your phone call,” he sneered.
Ben rolled his eyes. “My phone call? I’ve been in here how long?”
“Stay in there. I don’t give a shit.”
r /> “Whatever. I’ll take my phone call.”
He was led down the hall, the guard standing over him as he picked up the phone. He didn’t think twice about who to call. He dialed Katherine’s cell phone number and held his breath, hoping she would answer.
“Hello?” she answered, her voice questioning the caller.
“It’s me. Are you okay?”
“Ben!”
“Yes. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m at Talia’s. Where are you? Where are you calling me from?”
“Jail,” he said trying to hide the exasperation in his voice.