Page 38 of Bad Reputation

“Get the fuck off her!” Jameson howls, tackling Rich from the side. “Motherfucker—”

“Fuck you!” Rich says, falling over. He pulls Jameson down and tries to punch him. He only manages to land one blow, but it’s a pretty good one, damaging Jameson’s nose.

Jameson starts to bleed really heavily. That seems to make Jameson really mad.

“I’ll fucking end you,” Jameson promises, something triggered in him.

He starts whaling on Rich, his fists hitting the guy’s face with a series of muffled thuds. The two men are locked together, grunting and cursing. Rich struggles to fight back a little.

“Jameson, no!” I cry out, helpless. People begin to file out of the restaurant, and Forest tries to get between them. He fails, though.

Across the street, a police cruiser turns the corner, sees the people crowded around the fight, and turns on its lights. Forest comes over to me, grabbing me and pushing himself between me and the crowd. In a few seconds, the cops are jumping out of the car, pulling Jameson off of Rich.

“Wait, officer, it wasn’t his fault!” I yell when one of the cops hauls Jameson up off the ground and slams him against the patrol car. The other officer is doing the same thing to Rich.

I am suddenly aware that I am crying, and I feel deeply ashamed.

“Ma’am, please get back,” the officer says to me. “All of you need to get back, right now.”

Forest pulls me away, watching the cop’s every movement like a hawk. “It’s okay,” he murmurs to me, but I can tell that he doesn’t mean it.

“Please, no—” I try again to intervene, but the cops are already cuffing and searching both of the men. Forest wraps his arms around me and carries me back a few feet.

Jameson makes eye contact with me, and I dissolve into a mess of tears in Forest’s arms. As Jameson is put into the back of the patrol car, I turn in Forest’s arms, crying into his neck.

14

Jameson

I’m lying down on a cot in the jail cell the cops stuck me in, staring at the ceiling. It’s stiflingly hot in this cell, and the walls are just plain cinder blocks. I’ve been here for six hours, long enough for the cops to have booked me into the system. My fingertips are still black with the now-dry ink.

I haven’t been in here long enough to be wearing anything other than my blood stained shirt and jeans, though. I reflexively touch my face, thinking of the source of most of the blood.

My nose is swollen, sensitive to my touch. I try to ignore that. It’s not hard, because I keep replaying in my mind what happened.

I open the door of the restaurant. I look to my right, and there is pretty little Emma, being slammed up against the building by that douchebag.

Then I lose control.

I rewind it in my head a little, coming back again and again to look at one particular thing. The terrified look in Emma’s eyes, the way he had his hands on her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh…

No one touches Emma like that, ever. I would be upset over any woman getting hurt in front of me, but that stupid idiot touched her. A girl that a part of me still thought of asmine.

It’s no surprise that I saw red.

There was no doubt in my mind, then or now, that I did the right thing. As soon as the cops rolled up, I shut my mouth, refusing to say anything. I have heard stories about people that talk without a lawyer present, and they’re not pretty. So I asked for a lawyer as soon as I was arrested, and the police haven’t pushed me on that yet.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to wind up in court for defending a woman from an abuser. So I’ve been biding my time, trying not to get too worked up over the fact that I am trapped in this brick room with absolutely no view outside.

I adjust the flimsy pillow that’s under my head. With no phone and nothing else to distract me, I find myself focusing on Emma. Replaying the whole night, again and again, almost like meditating.

Seeing her enter the restaurant with that ridiculous man child. Feeling my chest tighten every time she leaned over and glanced at me around Forest’s head. Watching as she fled the restaurant.

Flinging the front door open to find her pinned against the wall, helpless and afraid.

If I could go back in time and do it all again, I would do it the same damn way. Even though it landed me here, I would rather be in here and know that my girl is safe.

My girl. My mouth twists at that. All I can say right now is fuck Asher for making that stupid rule, and fuck me too for following it.

---