Broken

by Sandy Kline

  Yeah I don’t know what jump off means but it can’t be very good. I allow myself to be led back to the apartment and am actually glad to see that two armed guards will be posted at my door and one in the kitchen. He’ll be in position to defend both the front and back doors should something happen to the guards outside. I am also told there is a guard at the back door as well. I don’t think I have ever been this protected in my life. If I wasn’t so worried about something actually happening I’d be happy about all the attention. At least there’s no way Officer Mark Brown will be able to get at me; not in here at any rate.

  I give Blade a long hug and kiss before allowing myself to be led away. I glance back once at the man who gave Blade the orders for the meeting. He is a menacing figure of a man. He’s not any bigger than Blade who is about six foot two or so, but he’s just so much more imposing. He radiates violence. That’s it. The man does not have a softer side to him like Blade. I truly believe that guy is all outlaw through and through and he’s probably the best one for leading his club in the war against the other clubs. For the first time I think I actually believe what I have been told, that having feelings and a softer side to your personality is a definite liability when it comes to the men in criminal organizations. As much as I hate to admit it, this is a criminal organization and Sean is a criminal. So what does that make me then? I’m not into the whole Bonnie and Clyde thing and I’ll never fight for the club. Wait a second. Not thirty minutes ago I was pointing a pistol at passing bikers perfectly willing to pull the trigger if the approaching motorist turned out to be a Sleazebag or a Devil’s Advocate. I already am the Bonnie to his Clyde whether I like it or not.

  Chapter Eight

  The Traffic Stop

  Back in the apartment I dig out my phone and find I have missed seven calls. Two are from Alex and the remaining five are all from numbers I have seen before and I’m sure they’re from Mark and his cop friends. I decide not to listen to those messages and just delete them. Listening to them will only increase my stress level and it’s high enough as it is. Next I listen to the first of the two from Alex. She is talking so fast I can barely understand her. What I am able to pick up is something about her dog being dead and what I thought is about his head gone or something. Immediately I feel the icy grip of fear in my stomach. It has to be Mark. If her dog is dead by unnatural causes then its Mark or one of his cop friends. I have to go there and do what I can to comfort her. She’s had that dog for almost a dozen years and loves it dearly. For Alex it’s like losing a member of her family.

  I grab my keys and charge down the hallway to the front door catching the guard there by surprise.

  “Where you going Ma’am?” He asks.

  “To my friend’s house.” I reply opening the front door.

  The two outside guards jump to their feet as I rush past them. Seconds later I’m grabbing the door handle to my car. I jump in and start the engine. I don’t know if they’re supposed to follow me if I leave the compound but I’m about to find out. I hit the gas and head towards the gate praying that they’ll open it for me. I pull up to the front gate and smile at the guards as I wait for them to let me out. They do nothing for a long uncomfortable minute before they put their heads together and confer with one another. After a minute one gets on his phone while the other holds up his finger like he’s saying ‘wait a moment please’ and smiles before taking his seat again. I start revving my engine to get their attention. After a couple minutes of burning through my gas my two prison guards arrive at a decision. The one guard hangs up his phone and approaches my window.

  “Sorry for the delay ma’am. We’ll let you out in a second.”

  “Thank you.”

  The man goes back over to his buddy and they confer for a moment then the same guy comes back to my window. They better be letting me out.

  “Sorry ma’am we were just working out the details.”

  “What details.”

  “We just had to figure out who would be free to escort you that’s all.”

  “Are you kidding me? That’s like painting a bull’s eye on my back. No thanks, I don’t need any escort. Now please, I’m beginning to think I’m a prisoner here and not Blade’s guest.”

  “Of course you can come and go as you please Ma’am. We just nee-”

  “Forget it. Just send your escort then.” I reply as I roll up my window.

  I’ve already decided to just lose my escort on the first opportunity so they can send whoever they like. I only have to wait another minute of two before they finally slide open the gate. I slip out waving to the other guard. It’s not till we’re downtown when I finally have my chance. There’s a sobriety checkpoint up ahead. When they stop me to check I point to the motorcycle behind me.

  “That dude on the bike behind me. He’s been weaving in and out of the lane and it’s making me nervous. I think the guy’s drunk.”

  The officer thanks me and waves me through. As I speed off I watch as my escort stops. They’re all over him immediately. As I round the corner I see him blowing in one of those breathalyzer. It’s given me just enough time to slip out of sight. No way is he going to catch me now. I’m just congratulating myself on my cleverness when I look up in my review mirror and see a patrol car behind me.

  “Dammit!”

  He hasn’t lit me up yet but it’s a matter of time. I try my best to keep within the speed limit and straight. If I start weaving out of nerves he’ll for sure pull me over. Just when I think I’ve gotten away from it he lights me up and bleeps me with his siren for a single revolution. I pull over gradually while at the same time pressing record on my phone. You won’t be able to see anything but at least it’ll be recording our conversation from its place in my purse. If this is a bogus traffic stop I’ll have much needed proof if I need to go to court over the matter.

  I roll down my window and kill the engine as he walks up. Automatically I reach into my glove compartment for my insurance information and registration card.

  “Ma’am put both hands on the steering wheel.”

  Thinking I didn’t hear right I just continued to dig around for my registration card.

  “I said put your hands on the steering wheel now!”

  That gets my attention. What the hell is going on? Now I’m nervous. I place my hands on the wheel praying he won’t see them shaking.

  “Is there something wrong Sir?” I ask.

  For an answer he just opens my door, reaches in and snaps a cuff on my wrist. Using that for leverage he peels my hands off the wheel causing me to cringe with pain as the metal bracelet digs into the nerves in my wrist. He pretends to not notice as he claps the other cuff on my right wrist.

  “Come out of the car ma’am.”

  You’d be surprised just how awkward it is to get out of your car with no hands. Twice I just about fall on my face and I’m sure that makes him think I’m drunk. I decide to ask why he stopped me.

  “A concerned citizen noticed you driving at a high rate of speed for the area and weaving in and out of your lane.”

  OMG! That freaking dirt bag. He called the cops on me because I gave him the slip. What he doesn’t know is just how much trouble I can get into even with a routine traffic stop. With me there’s no such thing as a routine stop.

  The officer stands me up against my car and produces an instrument that measures your blood alcohol level. Good thing I didn’t end up drinking more than a glass full on our picnic. He holds the instrument for me and I blow; not nearly hard enough apparently so he instructs me to do it again. This time I take a deep breath and blow like crazy. It works. He takes it and studies the results and frowns.

  “What was it?” I ask. I’m curious as to how much a glass of red wine has affected me. A glass that I drank a couple hours ago.

  “You blew a zero point oh four.”

  He seems disappointed. Almost like he doesn’t believe the instrument. Then after a minute he seems to arrive at a decision.

  “I’m
going to have to ask you to come to me to one of our mobile labs so we can draw your blood. Have you taken any illicit drugs in the last 24 hours?”

  “No.”

  “What about prescription drugs containing any kind of narcotics like Oxycodone, Norco, Vicodin, etc…”

  “Not at all. What’s this all about officer?”

  “I told you. A concerned citizen reported seeing you driving fast and weaving in and out of your lane. They were concerned you might cause an accident and I have to say I am not liking your attitude. I don’t know what you have been taking but we’ll soon find out.”

  “Oh my god, I don’t take drugs; illicit, prescription, or over-the-counter. Furthermore I drink very little socially so you won’t find any alcohol in my system ever.”

  “Well we know that’s not true ma’am. You blew a zero point oh four. That’s far from ‘no alcohol’. What about marijuana? Just about everyone lights up once in a while.”

  “Really? When was the last time you got stoned officer?”

  He’s finally had enough. He grabs my hands, unlocks one cuff and before I know what he’s doing he spins me around and suddenly my hands are being secured painfully behind my back. He leads me back to his patrol car and half pushes me into the back seat. He slams the door with unnecessary gusto and gets into the front. We head back the way we came and to the mobile lab he was talking about. Once there he pulls me out and walks me over to a table where a phlebotomist is seated. The officer unhooks me and brings my left hand out in front of me while securing my right hand to the chair I’m sitting on. I have to say this is about the most humiliating experience I have ever had as an adult. All around me are people who are obviously either high or drunk and I’m being lumped in with them because I broke up with psycho Officer Mark Brown.

  Not surprising my results are negative much to the disappointment of my officer caretaker.

  “I don’t know how you’ve managed to fool both the breath test and the blood test but you have so…”

  “You’re kidding me right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t fool your stupid tests. They’re accurate. You’re the only one that’s the fool. You jus-”

  Oh fuck! The instant I said that I know I have crossed way over the line. No, I have taken a superhuman leap over the line. The officer is furious!

  “Did you just call me a fool? You, the one in the handcuffs are calling the lawman a fool? You’ve just crossed the wrong cop missy!”

  He stops chewing me out and gets a nasty look on his face. He turns to another officer who is standing by watching the show.

  “Officer Coggins, I wonder if you might do me a solid and go to the young lady’s automobile and check it for illegal substances. I thought I smelled something odd when I pulled her out of her car.”

  “I would be happy to assist and I am sure K-9 Officer Barney will sniff out whatever she’s hidden in there.”

  “I appreciate this. When you’re finished with your search just radio back and tell me what you found so I can begin booking her.”

  “Absolutely Sir!”

  Now it’s my turn to be furious. I know for a fact that they’re not going to find what they’re looking for but in the process, between that damn German shepherd and Officer Coggins they’re going to completely trash my brand new car. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m sitting in a hard metal chair and my shoulders are beginning to ache from my arms being behind my back for so long. Not to mention my wrists and the metal cuffs biting into my flesh and bone. I’m here for another ten minutes when my phone starts ringing. It’s in my back pocket but I’m not in a position where I can get it out so it just sits there buzzing against my ass cheek. Seven calls later and two hours past and still my captor has yet to receive an update.

  I decide to ask a passing officer what time it is.

  “8:47.” He replies.

  Wow. What a fucking debacle. I’m sure Blade has been notified of my being detained and if my being here is because of the biker I lost a while back, someone’s head is bound to roll. I notice my babysitter has drifted off somewhere as well. I guess I’m destined to spend the night here at this parking lot drug lab. Since it’s the weekend I’m sure this whole operation will be running all night long. The later it gets the busier this place gets and the more obnoxious people get; the suspects and the cops.

  After what I’m guessing is another hour, my babysitter finally shows up and I really do not like the expression on his face. If I had to guess I’d say it’s a look of triumph. Suddenly a cold chill hits me and I break out in sweat. They planted drugs in my car and he’s come to arrest me. Oh shit! I can’t believe this night. I’m going to prison for something I didn’t even do.

  Without saying a word he comes around behind me and removes the cuffs that are binding me to the chair then puts them on again with my hands still behind my back. My shoulders are on fire but that’s the least of my problems now. He leads me back to his patrol car and stows me in the back once more. I am trying my best not to completely lose it but as the seconds fly by it’s getting harder and harder.

  “Where are you taking me?” I finally get the courage to ask.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” He replies with an evil smile.

  After a while I begin to recognize where we are and I get a glimmer of hope. I think he’s actually taking me back to my car. Not only did they not find anything but they didn’t plant anything either. Holy crap! I may just escape this after all. Suddenly I’m feeling one hundred percent better. The asshole tried his best and he lost so he’s finally bringing be back to my…Oh shit!

  That’s my car alright, but it’s barely recognizable. They took the damn thing apart and it’s sitting up on blocks without the wheels. Officer idiot looks back in his rearview mirror, catches my horrified expression and actually apologizes to me.

  “Oh yeah…about the wheels. Sorry about that. Guess your car sat here so long unattended that it got vandalized. You have insurance right?”

  I feel like screaming! My freakin’ car is ruined. They literally took apart the insides and someone not only stole my tires but painted bitch in bright pink on both sides of my car. Just about every part of my car that can be pried open or apart has been done so. Somehow they managed to disassemble my seats, remove the door to my glove compartment, take out my stereo and all eight speakers. The tire from my spare tire has been removed from the rim as well. Then I decide to look under my car. Somehow the fuckers have removed my oil pan, my gas tank, and several other things whose names I do not know. Basically it’s a loss. It’s totaled.

  Finally Officer Dickhead unhooks me then hands me a ticket for leaving my car unattended on the side of the road where there is no emergency lane. It’s a traffic hazard he explains. I will also be getting a bill for the time officers had to spend searching my car for illicit drugs. I don’t dare ask how much that’ll be. Without further ado my babysitter leaves me standing on the side of the road at 10:45 at night; a female by herself in a town that’s in the middle of a biker war. Where is the justice in that? I fish my phone from my pocket and am just dialing Alex when I notice something I hadn’t seen before. Sitting on the passenger seat cushion is a small plastic Peanut’s character from the old Charles Shultz comics. The character is of course Charlie Brown, which is the name I playfully used to call my ex, Officer Mark Brown. Now I know who is responsible for trashing my car and I feel violated all over again. I had some personal things in my glove compartment. There were some letters, bills, and other miscellaneous things that I do not want a stranger getting his hands on and especially not Mark. I had also just gotten an old roll of film developed that had been sitting around the house in my old Minolta. There were pictures of me and Alex from the last weekend of summer when we went to the beach. We were standing there in our bikinis with Corona’s in our hands and laughing it up. I also had pictures of me and Blade that one of his friends had taken as well as some pictures of me and Mark
that hadn’t found the trash yet. They are the last pictures from my Minolta that I just don’t use anymore. I wanted to finish up the roll of film in it so I just started taking pictures. Those are the ones I really did not want to fall in the wrong hands. I was meaning to take these things out and put them on my fridge but now Mark’s probably got them on his fridge by now.

  My stomach is starting to feel queasy and I’m pretty sure I’m going to toss my cookies. The thought of Mark looking at me and Alex in our bikinis is the thought that pushes me over the edge. I turn and vomit in the grass at the edge of the road.

  “Jen? Jen, is that you?”

  Shit, I forgot I called her. I wipe my mouth on the bottom of my shirt and answer.

  “It’s me.” I croak.

  “You sound sick. Are you sick honey?”

  And my stomach starts rumbling again.

  “Wait a second.”

  I hold my phone at arms-length as I dry heave and croak and heave and gag all over again. I swear to god if this all happened because that biker called the cops on me I’m gonna kill him. No, I’ll have Blade kill him.

  “Jen are you okay? I’m coming over, you sound bad.”

  “Wait!” I croak again. “Not home.”

  “Are you at the Blue Moon?” She asks.

  Blue Moon is a trendy club over on 21st and Howard Streets and it’s difficult to get into unless you’re a pretty girl. They try to keep the girl to guy ratio at 2:1 most nights.

  “No I’m on Baker Street not far from Target.”

  “What the hell are you doing there at this time of night? Are you okay? You don’t sound too good.”

  “No I’m not…wait a second, I gotta get this. Hang on.”

  I have another call coming through and I’m pretty sure it’s Blade.

  “Hello?”

  “Tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you now.” Blade yells into my ear.