Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

I look around and try to get my bearings. The song Let me Think About It by Freddy Le Grande is playing. I love this song, so I begin to groove a bit as I walk through the crowd. This song reminds me of my situation with Julian at the moment. Let me think about it.

Okay, focus. I’ll just do one lap.

I’m not going to find her even if she is in here, anyway. It’s completely packed. I begin to walk through the club to the beat of the music, looking around as I do. The dance floor is going off, and I smile as I watch the girls getting down and dirty as they dance.

This place is cool.

I get to the back corner, and all at once the music stops and the lights come on. What the hell? I frown as I look around.

A voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Identification check."

Huh?

What the hell? I turn to walk out and see about twenty police checking identification at the door.

Jesus, it’s a sting operation.

I push my way through the crowd, and I’m just about at the door when my eyes widen.

A policeman has a hold of Willow by the arm and he’s dragging her towards the door.

What the fuck? I run after them. What in the hell is she doing in here? I told her to wait in the car. They bust through the front door as Willow struggles to break free. “What are you doing?” I call. “She’s with me.”

“Show me your identification?” the policeman says to her.

Oh no.

“I… I haven’t got my wallet on me,” she stammers.

"She's with me, we're leaving now anyway," I say as I grab Willow's arm. My heart is beating wildly.

The policeman jerks her backwards. “Not so fast. Give me your wallet,” he snaps.

Willow slowly retrieves her wallet and passes it over.

The policeman goes through it and reads out her student card.

Willow Masters

Aged 16

“We got one,” the policeman calls to his friend.

I shake my head frantically. “No, no. This is a mistake. She was just picking me up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, lady.” He continues to drag Willow to the police car.

Willow’s eyes are like saucers. She’s petrified.

“W-what are you doing with her?” I stammer.

“Taking her to the police station.” My eyes widen. “What for?”

“She’s under arrest. Her parents will have to come get her.”

I shake my head. “I’m her parent. I’ll take her home now.”

He pushes her into the back of the police car and takes out his cell phone to call the number on Willow’s identification.