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“Fine.” I should refuse it—crack is way above my speed level when it comes to this shit, but this isn’t exactly like buying something from a store where they have change readily on hand. It’s not like I’ll use it. Besides, I’m already nervous enough, so spending any longer out here than I have to isn’t a bright idea.
He rips the money from my hand and then shoves a couple baggies into it. “If you need more—”
Red-and-blue flashing lights accompanied by the distinct chirp of a police siren cause the guy to take off. A police cruiser skids to a stop and both doors fly open. One cop in a black uniform goes by the passenger side of my truck like a blur, hot on the guy’s heels, while the other cop from the car approaches my truck with his gun drawn.
Oh, shit!
This cannot be fucking happening to me right now.
“Place both hands outside the truck and slowly open the door using the outside handle,” the policeman orders.
The urge to duck out of this truck and run is overwhelming, but I know trying something stupid like that will only cause things to get a whole lot worse.
“All right!” I yell back as I do as he orders—both of my hands shaking uncontrollably when I stick them outside the window. “Don’t shoot!”
The second my door opens, I step out. The bright headlights from the cop car shine directly into my eyes, and I use my hands to shield them. I feel like I’m on a really bad episode of Cops. I’ve always heard the saying “wrong place at the wrong time,” and, shit, it’s never been truer than right now.
“Keep your hands up!” he screams as he rushes over to me and grabs me by the shirt collar, shoving me down to the ground, face-first, not giving me a chance to plead my case at all.
The wind whooshes from my lungs, and the man immediately jumps on my back and shoves his knee against my spine to hold me in place. “Jesus. Do you have to be so rough? I’m fucking cooperating.”
Mouthing off probably isn’t a good idea, but I couldn’t just allow him to treat me like a common criminal and not at least attempt to stand up for myself.
“Shut up!” he orders as he grabs my arms and jerks them behind my back before cuffing them together. The cop begins patting me down. “Do you have any knives, weapons, or needles that can poke me?”
“No, man. Nothing,” I say as the taste of dirt from the ground slips into my mouth from where I’m lying, cheek down.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks after he searches me and finds nothing, but I remain quiet, not wanting to say anything that will get me into any more trouble. “Answer me!”
“Nothing!” I answer after I see that I won’t be able to get away without saying anything at all.
He laughs bitterly, and if I had to guess, I would say he’s rolling his eyes at me. “That’s bullshit. When I search your vehicle, am I going to find anything?”
I pull my lips into a tight line. How in the fuck am I going to get out of this? The best thing I can do in this situation is come clean. Maybe he’ll let me go if he knows what I’ve been through this evening—if he knows that this isn’t an everyday thing for me.
“I’m only going to ask you this one more time. Am I going to find anything?” he asks again with more authority ringing through his voice.
I suck in a breath and then release it through my nose. “Yes, but you have to let me explain. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this.”
“That’s what they all say.” He reaches down and grabs my shoulder and my cuffed wrists and hoists me to my feet.
“You have to believe me, Officer. It’s true,” I plead.
“Why would I?” He walks me toward his squad car.
I close my eyes. I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to admit the truth out loud, because then it makes it real, and I’m not ready to face that. Running away from reality is the exact reason that I’m right here, right now.
The cop opens the door, and when I see the backseat, I panic. I know I have no choice but to tell him if I want any shot of getting out of this situation. “I found out that my dad died, and I was looking for something to take me out of this reality. When the guy came up to me and offered a way to forget about things, I took him up on the offer.”
The officer leans me back against the car. It’s the first time I’m able to get a good look at him. He’s about six inches shorter than me, with a very stocky build, and his gray hair pokes out from under his hat, revealing that he’s got a bit of age on him.
He frowns, and I can read a bit of sympathy in his dark eyes. “I’m really sorry to hear about your dad, but, son, the law is the law, and running to drugs isn’t the way to solve your problems.”
I lick my lips, and it’s not like I don’t already know it. Turning to them was an impulse decision that I wish I could take back. “I realize that, sir, but I obviously have a lot of shit going on right now. If you let me go, I swear to God that you’ll never catch me back on this side of town again.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work that way. If I find drugs in that truck of yours, I have to report you, and you’ll have to face up to having them in your possession.”
My heart races in my chest. “No, please. You don’t understand. If I get caught with drugs, I’ll lose my scholarship. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for my entire life over one stupid, rushed decision.”
