Half of Paradise

The officer opened the door for Avery to get out.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“You can’t get me on a D.W.I. I’m not drunk.”

“He’s disgustingly sober,” Wally said.

“Don’t make it hard on yourself, Broussard.”

“I haven’t had more than four beers this evening.”

“Get out of the car.”

“I’m not going to jail for a D.W.I.”

“You just have to go to night court and pay your fine.”

“We’re absolutely broke. That means the can, doesn’t it?” Wally said.

“Come on, Broussard.”

“All right, but I want a test. Do you understand? I’m not going to jail on a drunk charge.”

“Have you been in jail before?”

“No.”

“Put away your beer and come along, too,” he said to Wally.

“Righto. Just a moment. I never leave an unfinished drink about.” Wally drank down the last of the beer in the bottle.

“I want the test right away. As soon as I get in the station,” Avery said.

“You’ll get it.”

“No jail, either. You understand.”

“Both of you get out.”

“Let go of my shoulder,” Avery said.

“I told you to get out.”

“Take your hand off me.”

“You’re making trouble for both of us. Now climb out of there.”

Avery knocked his hand away.

“All right, stand up,” the off

icer said. “You heard me. Put your hands against the car.”

“Isn’t this a bit absurd?” Wally said.

“Put your hands on the car and lean on them, Broussard.”

Avery stood with his feet wide apart and his weight on his arms. The officer shook him down carefully. He kept one leg inside Avery’s as he patted with his hands along his trousers so he could kick his feet out from under him if he attempted anything.