Page 74 of Chubs

“Battery is at 90%. Think that’s enough life to capture whatever Axel’s done now?”

“Never know with him,” I mutter as I park near the police department.

Walking across the lot, I hear my name called. Turning, Candy and I stop and wait for James and Livi to catch up to us.

“What are you doing here?” Livi asks.

“Axel texted saying he needed bail money,” I answer.

“Thought he was spending another day in the hospital,” James says.

“I don’t know the details. Something about bail money and indecent exposure,” I reply with a grin.

“I’m not missing out on this. Let’s go,” Livi states before walking briskly toward the entrance.

I approach the huge raised desk and the police sergeant sitting behind it. When she looks up, I explain why I’m there.

“I’m supposed to be picking up Axel Taylor. He’s a bald, tall—” I start saying when I get interrupted by a loud voice coming from around the corner.

“Beautiful, tatted, muscle-bound biker dude who has been unlawfully detained! I know my rights!”

“Yes, I know exactly who you mean,” the sergeant states, then leans forward and continues in a quiet, amused voice. “He’s not actually been arrested, but we’ve failed to mention that fact to him. He’s loud but amusing as hell. We all need a little laughter in our day. Is he really a biker?”

“Yes, and the VP at that.”

“Didn’t know bikers were such little princesses,” the sergeant mutters while giving James a side-eye look.

“I’m not a princess! Axel owns that title. I’m just a cop and a biker with the gay factor thrown in, but my mama raised no princesses,” James insists indignantly.

“Why is he here and not still in his hospital room?” I ask politely.

“We received a 911 call about a suspicious male walking down the street barefoot and in a hospital gown. The gown wasn’t tied properly, so his backside was clearly visible, even more parts showing when the breeze would blow. The caller was concerned that he may have escaped from the psychiatric wing, so they called it in,” the sergeant explains with a wide smile. “When he refused to identify himself, the responding officers told him they would charge him with indecent exposure if he didn’t cooperate. The officers brought him here until they could find where he came from. Because he isn’t under arrest, he still has his cell phone with him. I’m assuming he contacted you for help.”

“If we told you he did escape from a mental ward, would you find one to put him back in?” I ask.

“You did NOT just say that, Lucy! Pay the woman the bail money so I can get out of here while I still have some dignity left!” Axel shouts.

“Can I speak with him, please?” I question, and the sergeant nods her head toward Livi and James.

“They can take you to him. Just for curiosity’s sake, do you know if they’ve been medicating him?”

“He’s been on pain meds, but I’m thinking they should have increased the dosage,” I mutter before thanking the sergeant and following James around the corner.

We find Axel sitting in a plastic chair, one wrist cuffed to an I-bolt in the wall. His hospital gown is tucked primly between his legs, which are positioned in a way that would make a royal family member proud, and he’s in full-on pout mode. I don’t even question why he’s cuffed if he’s not under arrest. Most likely, it was to help contain his brand of crazy.

“Explain,” I order while waving my hand in a “this” motion in front of him.

“That man-hater at the front desk told me that if my parts made another appearance, accidentally or not, she was going to tuck Big Al between my legs and then super glue my thighs together. Said I’d have to face away from the urinal to piss, and that’s just fucked up. As in, fuuuuckkkkked up!” Axel exclaims and then quickly looks down at said parts and readjusts his gown.

Candy and James both snort then laugh, but Livi goes right into hysterical giggling. Axel tosses an outraged glare at her, but that only makes her brace her hands on her knees and laugh harder.

“I meant, explain why you and your parts aren’t laying in a bed in room #308 at the hospital?” I ask in exasperation.

“I decided I was well enough to leave, so I did.”

“Barefoot, in a hospital gown with no drawers on. Where were you going?” I ask out loud. But silently, I’m seriously questioning his mental stability.

“Drawers? Who calls them drawers?” Axel asks distractedly while again adjusting his gown.

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