“Yes, sir,” we answer in unison like a pair of ten-year-olds being reprimanded.
“Have a good night.” With that, he walks back to his car. Once he pulls away, I finally feel like I can breathe.
Gavin cranks the key in the ignition, bringing the rumbling, thunderous engine to life. He’s paled at least two shades since I was sitting on his lap.
“You okay? I’ve never seen you get so twitchy about cops before.”
He nods without looking at me. “I’m fine. He just surprised me is all. You should get some rest. It’s a long drive.”
The roads are rain-slicked as we drive and Gavin keeps his eyes closely on them. I’m sitting silently buckled in tight as he requested and contemplating turning up the Civil Wars song playing on the radio when he breaks the quiet tension blazing between us.
“You look good in my shirt,” I hear him say. His words hang in the air between us until I fall asleep.
Chapter 17
Austin MusicFest—Day 5
“WAKE UP, BLUEBIRD.” I HEAR THE FAMILIAR VOICE COMING FROM far away but I don’t quite recognize it. “Rise and shine. We’re here.”
My head throbs hard and my hand is on it before my eyes open.
“Mmph.”
“Good morning to you, too. Head still hurt?”
Gavin. I’m waking up with a skull-splitting headache and with Gavin. I blink my eyes into focus. Apparently I’m also waking up in a car. My eyes scan our surroundings. A nondescript brown building with American and Texas state flags flying side by side greet me. Gavin hands me a Styrofoam cup of coffee through the open car window.
A black and white sign declares this the Potter County Women’s Detention Center and my memories come rushing back all at once.
“Oh God. Gavin. I slept the whole way.” That’s what a raging orgasm will do to a girl. It’s cloudy and overcast, but still bright enough that I have to squint up at him. “Crap. I am so sorry. I’ll do the driving on the way back to Austin. Promise.”
He opens my door for me. “Not a big deal. Roads were too wet last night for you to drive anyway.”
“What time is it?”
“About five minutes after eight. I was here when they opened.”
“So . . . have you talked to the cops or a bondsman or anyone yet?” I stretch and yawn loudly once I’m out of the car.
“I talked to the magistrate and if there’s only the one charge, her bail isn’t as high as I thought it would be. I can swing it without a bondsman.”
I sip my coffee, black with about a pound of sugar—just how I like it.
“When you say swing it, you mean—”
“It’s all I’ve got, but it’s enough.”
I can’t help but sigh my frustration. Watching him hand over every cent he has to his name for someone who couldn’t honestly give a single shit about him makes my heart sick. “Have you ever considered not bailing her out? Just letting her pay the price and face the consequences of her actions?”
Gavin eyes me over his steaming cup. “Easy, Bluebird. It’s a little too early for this conversation.”
“I’m serious,” I say, taking a step toward where he’s leaning against the hood of the car. “What if you just told her she is a grown woman and that if she is going to break the law, she’ll have to deal with the fallout?”
I’m about to suggest he change his number when he gives me the strangest look. “So you mean I should encourage her to be an honest, upstanding citizen or prepare to deal with the consequences of her actions, whatever they may be?”
“Well . . . yeah. I mean, that’s how life works in the real world. Maybe it’s time she started living in it.” Instead of in her blitzed-out drug bubble, I think, but don’t say out loud.