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A man with a bald head and thin mustache stood up from behind a cubicle and said, “She called him a lying, shit for brains motherfucker of a boyfriend.”
And they both burst out laughing. I stand there, feeling the blood drain from my face, and wondering how these men could find anything to laugh about.
“Sorry to interrupt your fun, but could you actually help me here?” I ask when they both continue laughing.
“Oh, sorry. Man, it was funny as hell because she’s little and cute, but they said she’d chased someone down in a restaurant with a baseball bat. Took two of us to get her in cuffs.” He wipes his eyes.
“They put her in a cell?” I ask in horror. “With other prisoners?” I imagine Apollo in a cell with a bunch of violent offenders.
“Nah, she’s down by herself. Her lawyer asked us to let her cool down. She’s got a couple of hours before we take everyone who’s being held to central booking.”
The officer named Ochao stands up and says, “Yeah, so you’ve still got time to get out of the city before she’s free.”
Campbell burst out laughing so hard that he has to wipe the tears out of his eyes.
“Okay,” I say, ignoring his laughter. “Can I see her?”
“You wanna die?” He chuckles, and it’s the end of my patience. I put both hands on his desk and lean forward.
“Listen, I get this shit is funny to you. But that woman is my whole life. The entirety of it. And I need to see her,” I teeth out, barely holding to my control. The last thing I need is to get arrested, too.
His laughter subsides, even though he’s still smiling as he picks up the phone.
“Campbell here. Send arrestee M17628 up to conference room four. Her pussy whipped boyfriend’s up here about to cry.”
I groan under my breath, but I don’t even care what he says, as long as he sends her to me.
He hangs up and looks up at me and grins. “Just busting your balls, son. Head down that hallway and let them know you’ve visiting someone in holding. Show your ID and give her name and they’ll take you down. And if you don’t make it, I call dibs on that watch.” He tries to stifle his laughter for all of half a second before he beats his palm on the desk and laughs at his joke.
I walk away, his laughter ringing in my ear. I’ve never been more scared in my entire life as I step into the room and wait for Apollo to be brought in.
Sorry
Apollo
When they tell me Graham is here, I spring to my feet from the cot I’ve been sitting on for the last hour. “Okay, good.”
I have to slip my hands through the rectangular opening in the bars and let them handcuff me. I’m grateful for them because I know that when I see Graham, I might be tempted to pick up the nearest object and stab him to death.
My heart is beating out of my chest by the time we reach the room where Graham is sitting. I see him through the observation glass and stop in my tracks.
His hair is gone. The buzz cut he’s sporting is similar to how he’d worn it the summer I met him.
The officer opens the door, and I hurry to catch up. I step into the room, and Graham stands up, his eyes wide and wild with worry and … fear. Yeah, he should be afraid.
“Sunsh—”
“What the hell did you do to your hair, Graham?” I ask him as I approach the table.
“No touching, please,” the officer says from behind me, and I stop. I huff in frustration and stop.
“Have a seat.” He stands by the chair across the table from Graham and nods his head toward it.
I walk over and comply. They’ve been nice to me, but I’ve also seen what happens when the other people they have in holding don’t listen. I sit sullenly in the chair.
“Put your hands on the table.”
I obey. He takes the cuff off my left wrist and secures it to a small bar that’s welded to the table on my right.
