Make Me Bad(4)

Downtown is beautiful even at this time. It looks like something straight out of a Disney theme park. All the shops are styled in a similar way: shutters, flower boxes, and striped awnings. Each is painted in a coordinating bright shade that pops in contrast to their white front doors. The cobblestone street is lined with antique lamps that dimly light my way from one to another. I pass the candy shop and the post office, a fancy butcher shop I’ve never been into, and a toy store. All of them are closed at this hour, but I almost prefer it that way—no having to contend with milling tourists licking ice cream cones and posing for photos. I have the street to myself.

Another car passes and the wind picks up. My teeth chatter and a strange feeling winds its way up my spine. It almost feels as if I’m being followed. I glance over my shoulder, but the sidewalk is empty. Then I face forward once again and emit an ear-splitting scream as a man dressed in all black blocks my path. I have no time to react before he shoves me hard against the wall. Everything in my arms clatters to the ground. My early edition of Pride and Prejudice falls out of its gift bag and lands smack dab in a mud puddle. I guess I’m truly a book lover because that’s the thing that is most concerning to me, not the fact that I’m now being held up at gunpoint.

“Turn around,” the man growls gruffly before taking my arm and twisting it at a painful angle. I have no choice but to turn toward the toy store and let him crush my face against the pastel pink shutter. A teddy bear stares back at me through the window.

“Please let me go!” I scream in a panic.

“Scream again and I’ll pull the trigger.”

I know it’s absolutely insane, but the thought that hits me right then is that I should have been much more specific with my birthday wish. Because, okay, yes, while this is technically “exciting”, I was sort of hoping for something a little less dangerous. Oh, wait! I kick myself. I see what’s happening now. This man isn’t going to kill me. No, this is all a misunderstanding. Perhaps he’s struggling to make ends meet and he needs money to buy food for his puppy or beloved box turtle. He only wants a few dollars, I’m sure.

“If you look in my wallet—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, twisting my arm so hard I wince.

In the romance novels I read, this guy would be handsome. I’d convince him to leave his life of crime behind and we’d live together in perfect harmony. I chance a quick glance over my shoulder and see he’s wearing a ski mask. The bone structure underneath doesn’t look all that promising. Also, his black attire—which should be slimming—doesn’t conceal the hefty paunch jutting out over his jeans. Oh dear. I really don’t think he’s a hunky criminal I’ll be able to sway toward living a life of honor and integrity. This isn’t going to turn out the way I want it to. As such, I have no choice but to try a different tactic.

“I have a lot of money in my purse. You can have it all! Also, that book on the ground is a priceless early edition of one of Jane Austen’s most famous works. I think you’ll really enjoy it. It’s a little muddy now, but I can clean it for you and—”

He steps closer, and his breath is really atrocious as he spits out his next words. “I don’t want your goddamn money or your book. Now shut up.”

The only thing I can focus on now is the cold sharp pain from his gun digging into the side of my head.





3





Ben





The cop hands me back my phone and wallet, my watch, and my suit jacket. He’s looking at me with annoyance and disdain, but I plaster on a fuck-you smile and make sure to thank him.

I’ve never been handcuffed before tonight. I’ve never sat in the back of a police cruiser and had my Miranda rights read to me. I’ve never stepped into a police station and been stripped of my belongings, shoved in front of a camera, and told to look up for a mug shot.

It’s been an interesting evening to say the least.

Out of everyone involved in the fight, I was the only one to get arrested. Apparently, there were quite a few witnesses in the bar who claimed I was the only one to throw a punch, and while that technically isn’t true seeing as I have the black eye to show for it, I was the first one to make a move by kicking that chair.

Andy tried to talk reason into the cops, but the moment they pulled up and saw me there in the middle of the chaos, I knew I was getting dragged down to the station. Just like with Mac, I’d handed the cops a gift by stepping out of line. The chief of police in Clifton Cove and my father don’t get along. They haven’t for years. It’s more of the blue collar, white collar bullshit that divides our town. That’s what happens when there’s a wealth gap so wide there’s no real middle ground between the haves and the have-nots. I don’t even think there was an inciting incident, just years and years of prejudice on both sides muddying the waters.

I could have stopped the whole charade from the very beginning, but I went through the motions of letting them jerk me around. I didn’t put up a fight when they shoved me into the back of the cruiser. I waited until they gave me my one phone call and instead of calling my dad, I called Judge Mathers. He was in bed, close to nodding off, but within the hour, I was a free man. Well, almost—I still have a shiny new misdemeanor on my record thanks to my plea of guilty.

That surprised everyone, including the judge. I could have easily had the charges dropped. My specialty might not be criminal law, but there is no way the assault charges against me would hold up in court.