She continues ranting all the way out of my office and into the elevator. I swing my chair back towards the desk.
“Jesus, Chloe. I thought we said seven minutes? A second longer and she’d have stripped me.”
“I’m sorry. I got held up. You really need another method for getting rid of her though – she’s gonna figure that parking thing out sooner or later.”
“Short of keeping an ice bucket by my desk I can’t think of anything quicker.”
“Anyway, the reason I was late was that there was a call for you. It sounds really urgent. Someone named ‘Jessie’?”
“Shit. I’ll take it. Thanks.”
Chloe closes the door behind her and I pick up the phone and punch the blinking button.
“Hello?”
“Hello? Nate?”
Relief washes through me at the familiar sound of her voice. “It’s me. What’s up?”
“You’re not with Kyle or anything, right?”
I take a second to think.
“No…he’s in London. Why?”
I hear Jessie’s breathing on the other end of the line, short intakes, long exhales – she’s frustrated and anxious.
“Okay. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m in jail.”
“What?”
“I’m in jail.”
“What the hell did you do to get yourself in jail?”
“Nate…” she says, her voice pleading, “I just need someone to bail me out. I didn’t have anyone else I could call. But if you’re going to sit there and lecture me, can you at least save it for later? My own conscience and the criminal justice system are doing a perfectly good job of making me feel like shit already. Please don’t make me beg.”
Despite her tough-girl tone, I can hear the tremor in her voice beneath the bravado. And just like always, my heart goes a little soft knowing that Jessie’s in trouble.
“Okay, okay. Just hang in there. I’m on my way.”
4
Jessie
Spending seven hours in a police cell with a dreadlocked stoner and a valley girl who got caught drunk driving ought to be a certain kind of hell. But once the anger runs a little dry, the alcohol wears off, and I know for sure that Nate is coming to bail me out, I end up appreciating the fact that I have a little time to myself. I guess it’s true what they say – it’s good to disconnect sometimes.
A big shadow covers the stripes of light on the floor that I’ve been staring at for the past twenty minutes and I look up and squint between the bars at the beefy officer who put me in here in the wee hours of the morning, when I was still drunk and ranting at three AM.
“Jessie Meyer,” he booms, before loudly unlocking the cell door and sliding it aside.
“Bye girls. Good luck,” I say to my new friends. The stoner sprawled on the bench offers a hazy wave, and the crushed teen raises her mascara-streaked face to smile meekly at me.
The police officer leads me down the corridors, stopping briefly at a desk to hand me my phone and purse, and then I follow him out into the reception area where Nate is waiting as casually as if we’re at a bar.
“Are you sure she’s safe for me to be alone with?” Nate jokes to the officer, who rolls his eyes and turns back.
We stand for a second, looking at each other. I’ve known Nate for as long as I can remember, but whenever I go a week or so without seeing him, it still takes me a few minutes to get used to how annoyingly beautiful he is. The sharp lines and rough stubble on his face made you wonder if someone had breathed life into a Greek statue, setting a couple of zircon gems in it for eyes. The sort of face you experience, rather than see. For pretty much all of my teenage years I’d get a static shock whenever Nate looked at me, and I was certain he had superpowers.
But it’s Nate, my brother’s best friend. And I’m too old to have silly crushes anymore.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, refusing to meet his irritatingly gorgeous eyes for even one more second as I head for the exit. “I just want this night to be over.”
“It’s technically daytime now. And while I appreciate having an excuse to leave work, I’m almost tempted…” Nate begins, holding the door open for me.
“Let me guess, you were tempted to leave me there and stew,” I interrupt.
Nate laughs. “Something like that.”
He keeps laughing as we go down the steps of the police station towards his car.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” I say across the roof of his car.
“You gonna tell me why I had to drive across the city to bail you out of a cell?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m sure it’s a good one.”
We get inside the car but Nate doesn’t start it up. Instead, he shifts in his seat and casts the spotlight of his eyes in my direction intently. Even if he hadn’t told me, I can tell he came straight from work— he’s in a soft button-down shirt that fits like it was made for him, sleeves rolled up to show the sinews of his forearms. I take a deep breath.