Page 92 of The Play

“Oh really?”

“Really. I dropped my phone.”

“Still your fault.”

“Oh shut up.”

“You shut up.” I scoot closer to her, until we’re sitting about a foot apart. “How’s your ear?” I ask gruffly.

From what I can see, it’s still pink and swollen, but it doesn’tseem to be bleeding anymore. The dried blood caked onto the lobe triggers a pang of guilt, because I’m the one who talked her into wearing those earrings tonight.

“It’s sore,” she admits. “But at least it’s still attached to my head.”

“At least that,” I agree. “I’m sorry I made you wear the big hoops.”

“It’s all right. Now you know.” She releases a bleak sigh. “Sometimes you must witness the tragedy firsthand in order to understand it.”

“Yes,” I said gravely.

My lips twitch until finally a laugh slips out. She joins in, stretching out her legs and tapping her suede boots on the linoleum.

“I wish I had a lollipop,” she says.

“I wish I had my freedom.”

That summons another laugh from her. “God. I can’t believe we’re in jail. For lewd behavior, of all things.”

“And my dick wasn’t even out!”

“I know, right?”

The lone deputy in the holding area glances in our direction, and I glimpse a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He’s been at his desk for the past hour, typing on a computer.

I have no idea where the arresting officer disappeared to, although we weren’t technically arrested. Nobody read me my Miranda rights, anyway. No Miranda rights? Ha! I’ve seen enoughLaw and Orderreruns to know that any judge in his right mind would dismiss this case in a heartbeat. Unless the judge is having a bad day.

Personally, I think Officer Cranky was having a shitty night. Demi and I didn’t do anything wrong and he knows it. Our breathalyzers barely registered a thing.

“What’s the punishment for lewd behavior?” she asks curiously.

“No clue.”

“Excuse me—sir?” She hops up and approaches the bars. “What’s the punishment for lewd behavior? Is it death?”

Once again, he seems to be fighting a smile. “For first-time offenders, usually a fine.”

“Perfect,” she chirps. “My co-conspirator is filthy rich. He can write you a check.”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” the desk jockey says with a grin. “Wait until Officer Jenk returns—he’s the one you need to talk to.”

“Officer Jerk, more like it,” Demi grumbles.

I snicker. “Nice.”

She addresses the deputy again. “Aren’t we supposed to get a phone call?” she challenges.

“She’s right,” I say, sauntering up to the bars. “I’d like my phone call, please.”

“Sure. Whatever.” The young cop walks over and unlocks the cell door. He gestures for me to step out before sliding the bars back into place with a sharp click.

---