by Davida Lynn
Gerry was throwing blind fists, connecting, but only hitting Kitt against his thick arms or the top of his skull. When Kitt was tackled, he and Earl fell on top of Gerry, only serving to kick up more dust. He knew the fight was lost when he felt a boot against his nose. The snap was like a pencil broken at the center, and before he tasted it, Gerry could smell the scent of coppery blood. He was already coughing because of the dust, and adding blood running from his nose killed any last pride that Gerry had.
Colton grabbed Kitt under the arm and hoisted him up just in time to see the flashing reds and blues reflect off the worn wood exterior of the bar. “Fuckin’ great.”
“…Do you understand these rights as I have explained them?”
Of course he did. Colton knew the Miranda backwards and forwards. He’d been taken into custody more times than he could count. Nine times out of ten, he walked. The other ten percent? Suspended sentence, hearty fines, public apology. Moonshine Records was very good to their artists, and Colton Wade wasn’t a bad man; just a bad boy. None of that was in Colton’s head as the officer escorted him to her black and white. She was fuckin’ gorgeous.
Officer Harbaugh was a tall drink of water, just like Colton liked them. Her uniform showed off a strong, but still feminine form, and, of course, there was the whole power play aspect. If he hadn’t been so winded from the fight, his fast tongue probably could’ve gotten a few charges added on to disorderly conduct.
The bright LEDs of her cop car kept him from getting a good look at her eyes. Even still, he could read her body language when she cocked her head to the side and asked, “Mind telling me why you’re so smiley?” She was still using her cop voice, but no cop used the word smiley when talking to a wanton criminal.
Colton gave her something that was almost a wink. His adrenaline was still pumping, and his mind shifted from fighting to fucking. “Oh nothin’, I just don’t think I’ve ever been arrested by someone quite as gorgeous as you.”
The escort to the Crown Vic turned into a shove. With his hands cuffed behind his back, Colton had nothing to stop himself from slamming into the door. It wasn’t a hard hit, but stunned him. Pain radiated from his back with a skinny fucker had gotten in that one good shot. Colton held back a biting laugh. It was worth it. The cop was just too hot for Colton to keep his mouth shut.
Colton turned, leaning against the cop car, the arrogant but pained smile still on his face, “Didn’t mean to offend, Ma’am. Just paying a compliment, didn’t mean nothin’ by it, honest.” With the lights behind him and bathing her, he got a good look at her for the first time. The uniform fit her well and in all the right places. Her hair was tucked with great care up and under her cap. He squinted, trying to see what color it was. Blonde. He could have sworn it was blonde. She radioed back to the police station, and Colton noticed she had very well-kept fingernails. He would have given anything to see her in street clothes at one of his concerts.
Kitt shook his head as he watched his brother bang into the side of the car. “I coulda seen that coming. My apologies, officer. Colton might have one too many to drink, and that tends to lower inhibitions when it comes to authority figures and beautiful women alike. He don’t mean no harm, I promise.” The left side of Kitt’s mouth curled up into a smile. His right cheek was swollen from a fist, or an elbow, or a knee. The smile hurt, but after shitting all over the locals, it was time to play nice and try to clear things up before management and law got involved. Roger wouldn’t be happy about another dent in the tour. The record company wouldn’t be happy about more negative press and court fees.
“Quiet down.” The officer turned and shot the words back to Kitt, widening his eyes. Cold shoulder. They really don’t like us in this town…
Kitt was eager to get back to the civilized parts of the country. The county fairs were great shows for building up the fan base, but there was trouble at every stop. Kitt did his best to keep Colton on a leash, but the leash never seemed to be short enough. Austin City Limits could be the break they needed. A new record was due out before the holidays, and ACL could be the thing that pushed them from hard-charging tourers to respected and well-received musicians.
Half of the group had left once the fight ended, but Kitt looked around to the crowd watching their arrest. Ain’t nothin’ well-received about this.
Looking past the officer, Colton met eyes with the blonde who was glued at the hip to the local yokel. There was sadness in those pretty eyes until she looked up. A sparkle came to them when he smiled at her. Colton thought he caught a little hint of pride in her eyes. She was on the Wade brothers’ side, but she was stuck in the shit-kicker town, anyway. The boyfriend squeezed her arm, but the cute blonde pulled herself free. She didn’t want to watch Colton get hauled away, and she didn’t want to spend another minute next to her dumb boyfriend.
Colton smiled at her defiance. Good girl. Get yourself free. Officer Harbaugh pulled open the back passenger door, put a firm hand at Colton’s neck, and dropped him down into the seat. “Easy now, watch the hair.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but she didn’t laugh. Kitt was fed in beside him, and the two were on their way to lockup.
The roads were bumpier than Colton remembered on the way in. The county fair had been well attended, but the town wasn’t nothin’. The lady cop seemed to be giving them the scenic route to the police station. Hell, the town wasn’t big enough for a police station. It would be one of those combo police, fire, and post offices. His fantasy of kicking the locals’ asses and skittering off to the motel with that quiet little blonde was nothin’ but dust kicked up by the Crown Vic’s tires.
Colton leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the metal grating that separated the front and back seats. Taking in a deep breath, he thought he smelled the hint of perfume on Officer Harbaugh. It might just as well have been her shampoo, but it was mighty fine either way. “Mind if I ask why we the only two bein’ hauled in? Was the ringleader of that ass whoopin’ also the mayor? Sounds about right to me.”
“The two of you were the perpetrators. I had a dozen witnesses sayin’ y’all attacked Gerry and his friends while they were on their way to head on home.”
“Bullshit.” Colton brought a long leg up and kicked at the grate between the Wade brothers and Officer Harbaugh. “Bullshit.”
Kitt leaned over, “Let it go, brother. You really think kickin’ up a fuss like this is gonna get us sprung?”
Colton’s eyes went wide. “It’s the principle, Kitt. It’s the fuckin’ principle of it.”
Turning forward, again, Colton softened his approach. Logic and anger hadn’t done anything. The two brothers swayed left as Officer Harbaugh made a right turn and bounced over some loose gravel. “I hate to play this card, but I’m actually a musician. We played at the fairgrounds a few miles from here.”
“I know who you are.” She didn’t turn to him. Her head stayed forward, staring down the narrow, weather-beaten road.
“Well, now we’re talkin’,” Colton’s voice got cheerier on the spot. “In that case, you understand just how important it is that my brother and I get back to the tour bus. Austin is a long way off, and we gotta be there by the afternoon.”
The officer didn’t turn back. “Y’all two ain’t goin’ nowhere tonight.” Her voice was steady and unmoving as the rusty railroad tracks she drove over.
Kitt sighed and leaned back. The cuffs dug into his wrists, so he adjusted as best as he could. Ain’t no damn way to sit comfortable back here, but I guess that’s the idea. Roger would be pissed, but they’d still make it to the show in Texas. There was no way in hell the record company would let Colton Wade and The Guilty Party miss their first appearance on Austin City Limits. It was too damn big.
He looked forward, trying to see if they were headed anywhere close to civilization, and in the dim light of the cop’s laptop and various radios, he caught her eyes in the rearview. They hung on him, reading and studying his own. Kitt couldn’t s
ee the woman’s mouth, but he could tell that her lips were curled up. Was she enjoying her little game of toying with the Wade brothers?
Moving his gaze anywhere but in the mirror, Kitt knew the night was just getting started. He stared into the blackness and wondered if they’d be anywhere near Austin by the time the horizon began to glow.
Roger was on the phone. He was always on the phone with someone when they were on tour. The phone calls were never good. “Then when was the last time you saw them, Kevin?”
He nodded, already flipping up his laptop screen. Roger wanted to know how many bars were in the area, and the number for the local law enforcement. That's it. Those fucking boys are getting a curfew.
“Okay, so a bar. Great. If they come back to the motel, let me know. Otherwise be ready to head to Texas without them in the morning. the itinerary hasn’t changed.” He hung up. The next number that Roger dialed was the local sheriff's office.
There wasn’t all that much in the area, so Colton and Kitt couldn’t have gotten into that much trouble. Better than downtown Nashville or some other city where everyone has their cell phones out and recording the Wade brothers’ shenanigans. ACL was a big step on the ladder, and Roger would be hung out to dry if they didn’t show. He leaned back in his rental car. It was cheap and uncomfortable, no matter how much he adjusted the seat.
Roger steeled himself to the fact that until he found Kitt and Colton, there’d be no relief of a comfortable bed. Another sleepless night on the road with Colton Wade and the Guilty Party.
After a six rings, Roger gave up. He could forgive no one being there to answer. There was probably one sheriff and a few deputies to be called on during an emergency, but to not have a voicemail? Come on. It’s fucking 2015. Bar or behind bars? With Colton it was the flip of a coin. Roger checked the dashboard, the digital display reading 3:47 in the morning. The odds significantly swung in favor of the drunk tank. With a shake of his head, Roger pulled up the address and headed towards the county seat.
Managing a bull in a china shop wasn’t what Roger had dreamed of when he signed on with Colton. He believed in the kid with every fiber of his being, but he missed the quiet, although unsuccessful, partnership he had with Raylene Evans. She was a future songwriting queen, but fate stepped in and cut her career short. He liked the simple naivety that the two of them shared. He and Raylene just wanted to put out a great album that would be considered a classic in time.
Colton didn’t want that future classic album. He wanted to rule the world. Roger laughed the first time he heard Colton say that. Rule the world. Roger didn’t even know what the first step would be. When Colton told him about Kitt, Rog knew that Colton’s older brother was the key. Once Kitt was clean and out of rehab, he should join the band. Even if he couldn’t play a lick, the way that Colt brightened up when talking about Kitt was enough for Roger.
Kitt was the spark that The Guilty Party needed, and Roger was proven right the first time the band played together with the additional guitarist. Roger leaned against the doorframe and smiled. It was elevating.
He tried to think of those great moments during the shit moments at four in the morning in bum fuck Egypt. Kitt and Colton, country outlaws. The Wade brothers never backed down from a fight, even if that fight was against the law.
Cursing the lack of Starbucks’ in the area, Roger followed the navigation instruction towards the county jail.
Kitt couldn’t remember a more uncomfortable bed. Colton had pulled him down with him on many occasions in many cities, but this jail had to rank towards the bottom. Maybe the plywood had warped over time, or maybe it was the all the bruises from the fight making themselves known. Kitt leaned over and looked up at the cot hanging above him. Colton’s arm dangled over the side. “You think this place’s got a Yelp? If she do, I’m gonna lay into ‘em.”
Colton’s only reaction as snort followed by a long snore.
“”Really? Little brother, you can sleep anywhere.” Kitt twisted around, trying to find the same magic position that Colton had found. It didn’t exist for him. He’d continue to drown in the stillness of the snore-filled jail cell. He put both hands behind his head and tried to focus on anything but his little brother’s sleep sounds.
Voices stirred him from his daze. They were muffled, but he could recognize Roger talking with the lady cop. Bringing a foot up, he kicked the underside of Colton’s bare wood cot. “Yo, bail money just arrived. Get yourself right.”
A grunt was Colton’s reply, but after a second kick, Colt woke, “Fuckin’ easy, man. We was just in a fight, you know.”
“I’m more than aware, you dumb shit. Roger’s here. Time to go.” Kitt remained lying down, but watched as Colton’s long legs swung over the side. Dropping to the concrete floor, Colton stretched, his right hand finding the spot where one of the brawlers had gotten his one good punch in. “Fuck, man.”
Kitt got himself vertical, stretching and feeling every punch that had connected on his own body. “Maybe next time, you let local color be. That big motherfucker might have broken one of my ribs when he tackled me.” The voices in another room got louder.
“Aw,” Colton turned to his brother and smiled, “You’ve taken harder hits, and you know it,”
“Don’t mean I like it any less.” Kitt paused for a moment before doing his best to turn on the family charm. “Make me a deal, Colt. Best behavior in Austin.”
“What do I get out of the deal?”
“I don’t give you a Texas-sized ass whooping myself.”
Colton was considering the proposition, but before he could give a reply, a creaky door opened, and Roger appeared before the cell. For a few moments, the manager just stared at the Wade brothers.
“You know, y’all should write a book on breaking the law.” His New York accent didn’t jive well with the southern slang, but after years with the boys in the band, the lingo was slipping in. “Not on doing it well, obviously.
“Deputy Harbaugh tells me you boys attacked some townspeople unprovoked.”
“Bullshit.” Colton’s plea remained the same.
Roger nodded, “I figured as much. Y’all two never do anything wrong. Maybe you just love touring municipal buildings, I don’t know. I just wish you could do it at a more reasonable hour. I do like sleep, you know. While you two nap it up on the tour bus in the morning, I’ll be on the phone trying to sweep this shit under the rug.”
Kitt leaned against the bars, “I know Colton won’t go into great detail, boss, but I have to side with him. It was four on two, and you don’t see any of them in there beside us, do you?”
With his hands up, Roger said, “Don’t care. Don’t care. I’m gonna talk to the deputy in there and get you guys out. We’re already going to be cutting it close on time. So help me god, if we miss ACL, I’ll be in here for murdering you two. Sit tight.”
As Roger walked away, Colton called to him, “Was gonna go for a jog, but I think I’ll hang out here, boss.”
“I meant what I said.” Kitt pointed a finger at his younger brother. “So help me, I’ll change it to Kitt Wade and The Guilty Party and move right along.”
Colton dropped down onto the cot, feeling that sting at his back, “I wish you all the luck in the world. It might seem like a miracle dealing with all those screaming women, but it can get a bit tiring from time to time. Besides, you can’t remember lyrics to save your life.”
“Not true, just can’t remember shitty lyrics. I can sing any classic tune you wanna hear.”
“The kids and party monsters don’t wanna hear nothin’ by Scruggs, Tubb, or Monroe. Gotta sing about red Solo cups and redneck girls in tight jean shorts.”
Kitt sat beside his brother, “Alright, you win. I’ll stick with the guitar solos. You sing your words, and I’ll burn up the fretboard.”
From around the corner, the Wade brothers heard their manager screaming, “You gotta be kidding me!”
Looking back at Kitt
, Colton raised his eyebrows, “That ain’t good.”
“Sure ain’t.”
When he returned, Roger’s head was down, his arched back over like he’d just lost a major court case. Bringing his head up was a real chore, and Colton wondered if they were actually going to be charged with a crime. He stood up, “Don’t sound like good news, boss.”
“Can’t post bail until eight in the morning. Gotta wait for the secretary at the courthouse. Her name is Denise. Gotta wait for Denise.”
“Ain’t you tried to use any of that Yankee charm, Rog? Get the cutie with the badge to drop any charges, and we’ll just be on our way. No harm, no foul.” Colton had a winning smile on his face.
Roger shook his head, “Apparently you already tried to lay the charm on her, and she wasn’t too happy with your flagrant disrespect.”
“Disrespect!” Colton lowered his voice, “I love women, why would I disrespect them? Pretty sure that’s what started the whole fight to begin with.”
Roger stepped forward, keeping his voice down, as well, “Colton, there’s a difference between thinking a woman is hot and respecting what she does. Just because you love to fuck ‘em doesn’t mean they’re gonna feel respected. It’s seven hours to Austin, so if you get out right at eight, and there’s no traffic, and the gods are smiling, we’ll make it for the dress rehearsal. Get some sleep boys. I’ll be right outside ready to spring you as soon as Denise is ready for me.”
With a wrap of his knuckles on the solid steel, Roger turned and headed back to the rental to grab a few hours of uncomfortable, restless sleep.
