#1 Crush

by T Gephart

  I was just about to ask what for when I heard the siren, the flashing lights quick to follow. His eyes followed the police cruiser as it stopped beside us and two uniformed officers stepped out.

  “Sir, is this the stolen vehicle you reported an hour ago?” Officer One walked toward us while the other looked at the Audi.

  “Yes it is,” he responded emotionless. “It was taken early this morning from my garage.”

  “No, no I didn’t steal anything.” Oh shit. Things had gone from bad to worse. “I borrowed it.” My heart pounding so hard against my chest I was positive everyone could hear. “I didn’t steal it.” I lifted my hand to display the keys.

  “Ma’am, can you keep your hands where we can see them?” They both reached for their guns. “Just keep them right where they are and don’t make any moves.”

  “I was staying here.” I kept my hands visible, hoping that I did nothing that constituted a sudden move. “I just borrowed the car. Look, it’s fine. I brought it right back.”

  They looked at me skeptically, their hands still on their holsters. No doubt in their version of the story I was some psycho who had stolen a car and was stupid and/or crazy enough to come back to the scene of the crime.

  Officer One turned to Eric. “Sir, is this person known to you?”

  “No, she’s not,” he answered coldly, his eyes devoid of any feeling as they made contact with mine.

  “Eric,” I pleaded, confused as to what the fuck was going down.

  “Ma’am, do you have any identification on you?” Officer Two asked.

  “Yes, it’s in my purse in the car.” I motioned with my head, worried pointing might be perceived as hostile. Keep calm, Tia, you’ve done nothing wrong.

  Fine, I’d done stuff wrong but nothing illegal. Nothing I could go to jail for.

  Officer Two went around to the driver’s side door and cracked it open, my purse lying on the passenger side. He pulled out my purse and rested it on the hood of the Audi.

  Officer One moved closer. “Ma’am, do you have any weapons or drugs on you or in this vehicle?”

  “No, no.” I dropped my hands in panic. “Eric. Please.” He could end this, he could end it right now. Why was he doing this?

  “Eric.” It was hard to look at him, to see that look in his eyes. Eyes that had once held nothing but kindness, now held no warmth at all. Did he hate me that much? Able to go from amazing and loving to this . . . whatever this version of him was.

  “Ma’am, I’ll remind you to keep calm and keep your hands where we can see them, okay.” He looked to his partner as he moved in closer. “Now please answer the question. Do you have any weapons or drugs on you or in this vehicle at this time?”

  “No, of course not.” I held as still as I was able, willing myself not to cry.

  “Ma’am, I’m informing you at this time we are searching your bag for your identification and for any concealed weapons or drugs, do you understand?” Officer One nodded to his partner.

  “Search my bag, there’s nothing there.”

  Officer Two dumped out the contents of my purse onto the hood of the Audi. My mascara wand and lipstick rolled onto the ground as everything else spilled out. Officer Two sifted through my belongings until he found my license.

  “No weapons or drugs,” Officer Two reported. “Tia Monroe, New York resident. I’m going to call it in and see if she checks out.”

  “Ma’am, can you please slowly raise your hands to your head and lay with your face against the hood of the car?” His chin tipped toward the Audi. “We need to search you too.”

  “Eric, please.” I was begging, I didn’t even care how desperate I sounded. I was desperate. He knew I hadn’t stolen his car, and if he wanted to hate me then that was fair. But I couldn’t understand how he could do this to me.

  “Ma’am, I’ll ask you again to please comply and raise your hands above your head and lay against the hood of the car.”

  My hands slowly lifted, pressing against the back of my head as I turned and lay on the still-warm hood of the Audi.

  Everything moved into slow motion as I closed my eyes and felt the officer slowly pat me down. He was gentle, which was absurd considering I was supposed to be a criminal, and was mindful not to touch me inappropriately.

  “Ma’am.” He tapped me on the arm, my eyes still tightly shut. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded slowly, unable to speak because if I did, I knew I was going to cry.

  “Sir, are we correct in assuming you are wanting to press charges for the theft of your vehicle?” one of them asked. I stopped caring which, my heart breaking with each passing second.

  “Yes, that would be correct,” Eric answered.

  I didn’t even look at him. Not willing to see the man I thought I loved want to hurt me so damn much. It was better if I just said nothing, did nothing and hoped this was over soon.

  “Tia Monroe. At this time we are placing you under arrest for violation of California penal code 487.” His hand carefully twisted mine from where they were on my head and placed them at base of my back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

  The first cuff went on, the metal pinching against my skin.

  “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

  The second cuff went on.

  “Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”

  “Yes.” It was barely a whisper but loud enough for him to hear.

  After that they could have said anything and I wouldn’t have heard or remembered, everything turning into a blur as I was placed into the back of the police cruiser.

  I think they asked questions but I didn’t respond. Maintaining my right to remain silent as I sat motionless in the car while my purse with my retrieved belongings was placed on the seat opposite.

  It was a bad dream, I kept telling myself. One I was going to wake from at any minute. But no, the more I tried to will myself awake, the more I realized it was real.

  I didn’t look at Eric—I couldn’t—but I felt his eyes on me as we drove away from his house.

  And even with my heart and life in pieces, I couldn’t hate him.

  “MS. MONROE?” ONE OF THE officers called. “The press has been tipped off, so we’re going to take you in through the back of the station. I think it’s better for everyone if all of that is avoided.”

  I nodded, showing them I understood. Not that it was important. Front, back—I was being taken to a police station—it really didn’t matter at this point.

  I had paid no attention to where they’d taken me. My eyes had been closed for most of the drive, with my head resting against the headrest trying to block it all out. My hands were killing me, but really that was the least of my problems.

  We pulled into the parking lot of a white building. There was a sign warning unauthorized cars would be towed and that the main entrance was around the front.

  The car stopped next to a thick security door with both the officers getting out of the car and walking around to the back.

  “Ms. Monroe, watch your head.” One of them put their hand on my head as I shuffled my butt to the edge of my seat and tried to stand up. Incidentally harder than it looked when your hands were handcuffed behind your back.

  Standing up as best I could, Officer Two grabbed my bag from the backseat while Officer One led me to the door. He kept one hand on me as he fished out his keys, unlocking the security door and gently guiding me through into a narrow corridor.

  The noise from the station carried up the hall, voices and phones ringing intermingled, as I kept my focus straight ahead. I couldn’t see anyone but I guessed they were too busy doing important stuff to worry about me. We stopped in front of a door, Officer One nodding to Officer Two.

  “Ms. Monroe, we’re going to take you into an interrogation room where you will be able to make a call. There are recording devic
es in the room but that equipment will not be active until we question you.” Officer Two opened the door and I was led into the room.

  It wasn’t what I expected. The room was small with dirty white walls and a regular looking table and metal chairs in the middle. A large wall-mounted clock ticked but otherwise it was all so unremarkable, and not as scary as I anticipated. There was a microphone set up on the table and what looked to be cameras set up in two corners of the room, but I was oddly disappointed to see there wasn’t a double-sided mirror. Huh. Who knew? I guess some of that stuff was really just in the movies.

  “Ms. Monroe.” I turned as Officer One said my name. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “I can make a call and it won’t be recorded,” I responded, making sure I didn’t say anything that could be seen as incriminating.

  “Yes, but I also asked if we removed the handcuffs if we can trust you to keep calm?” His chin jerked to my hands still cuffed around my back.

  “Yes, yes. I’ll keep calm.”

  I mean, what did they think I was going to do? I was in a fucking police station and the most deadly weapon in my purse was a credit card. And while I prayed like hell this would all turn into a big misunderstanding, the last thing I wanted was to give them extra charges to add to my rap sheet.

  “Dave, bring in the phone.” He nodded to his partner as he removed my cuffs.

  Dave dutifully returned with a phone he plugged into a wall, the cord just stretching enough for it to sit on the table. Both giving each other a look as they moved toward the door.

  “Press one for an outside line. You have ten minutes.”

  They both stepped out and closed the door with a thud.

  One call.

  And who the hell did I call?

  My sister was probably the best option but then I would no doubt have to endure the biggest I-told-you-so known to man. Of course if I bypassed Judith and called my brother-in-law he would just tell her anyway which would lead me back to the first outcome. Lila was my next choice. She would forgo the lecture and rustle up whatever funds she could get her hands on to pay some lawyer to set me free. But I also knew she would be on the first plane over, putting aside whatever was going on in her life to help me straighten out mine. And that wasn’t fair.

  Calling my folks wasn’t an option. I didn’t want to be responsible for sending one of them to the emergency room and my dad already had a weak heart. No, I wouldn’t do that to them. They deserved better.

  So, as I picked up the phone and dialed, I was either making the biggest mistake of my whole entire life or I was finally becoming a grown up. It was coin toss, and either way I just knew there was only one person I wanted to call.

  “Hello?” Eric answered sounding confused.

  “Hey, it’s Tia. Please don’t hang up.” The words rushed out, hoping he had an ounce of compassion left. “I only get one phone call.”

  “You have one phone call and you’re calling me?” I wasn’t sure if he sounded surprised or was marveling at my stupidity.

  “Yes, so please, don’t hang up.” I closed my eyes praying he’d give me a chance. I waited, half expecting to hear the click of the call disconnecting.

  “Okay,” he said, filling the silence.

  “Okay.” A deep breath pushed out against my lips. “I’m not calling to excuse what I did. I should never have lied to you, even though when this all started I’d just assumed I’d never have to see you again.”

  “So why are you calling?” he asked, probably wondering why I was wasting my time if not to plead my case.

  “Because regardless of how we met, what happened between us was real. And I know that you probably don’t believe me, but it was real for me, Eric.”

  “Tia,” he sighed.

  “No wait.” I didn’t give him a chance to finish. “I only have a few minutes left so I need to get this out.” I glanced at the clock on the wall, the numbers ticking quicker than minutes ever had. “I don’t know what is going to happen to me after, and I’ll probably never get this chance again. I love you.” I said the words I’d been dying to say. “And the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. And I know I did.” I swallowed, the lump in my throat making it harder. “And I’d rather spend months behind bars than ever do that again.” Don’t cry, I begged. Tell him how you feel but do not cry. “I wish I had told you when I had the chance. I wish I hadn’t been so fucking stupid, but I didn’t trust myself not to fuck it up. I was scared, and I guess in the end I lost you anyway.” My voice hitched, the sob getting caught in my throat.

  “New York,” he breathed out softly and it just about broke me in two.

  Hearing him calling me that was too much, and I knew I had a minute before I completely lost it.

  “I’m sorry.” The tears rolled down my cheek silently. “I’m sorry for not being truthful, I’m sorry about taking the car and I’m sorry for hurting you. I am so so sorry. But I love you and I’m not taking it back.”

  I ended the call before he had a chance to speak. I couldn’t bear to hear what he had to say; scared he would say he didn’t love me, or worse that he didn’t even care. No, I’d rather hear nothing at all than hear that, so instead I wrapped my hands around myself and cried.

  I WASN’T SURE HOW LONG I’d been in there alone. Ten minutes, ten hours, ten days—it didn’t matter, it felt like an eternity to me as I wiped the tears from my eyes.

  “Uh, ma’am.” Officer One poked his head in through the door, his eyes softening as he looked at my tearstained face. “Can we ask you some questions?”

  I cleared my throat, trying to find some composure. “I’m not answering any questions without legal representation. I’d like a lawyer.”

  “Sure, it’s going to take some time to organize that for you.” He nodded, whispering something to someone just outside the door. “Can we get you anything to drink?” His eyes moved back to me.

  “No. It’s fine. I don’t need anything.” I shrugged, a drink wasn’t going to change the situation for me.

  “Okay, then sit tight. We’ll get you a public defender.” He tried to smile and then closed the door.

  I’d never been in real trouble before. Not something I needed a lawyer for. If I had called Judith or Will instead of Eric, they would have read me the riot act for being so stupid and then probably would’ve sent someone over. That would have been the smarter choice, but even with hindsight, I didn’t regret my call. I’d deal with the public defender; it couldn’t be any worse than it already was.

  There was another knock at the door, this time it was Officer Two, the one who was called Dave.

  He strode in, taking a seat opposite me and let out a long breath. “Look, Tia. Can I call you Tia?” He waited for me to nod before he went on. “I honestly feel pretty terrible about this situation. I think you are probably a nice girl and you just made a mistake.”

  “Dave.” The door flew open again, Officer One standing in the doorway. “I’ll remind you we have a job to do.” A stern look passing between them.

  “I know, I was just . . . it’s a shitty situation.”

  “Not our call.”

  “Hey.” I carefully waved my hands, not wanting to alarm anyone and keep them cuff-free as long as possible. “You can save the good cop, bad cop routine. I already said I’m not answering anything until I get a lawyer.”

  Perhaps Dave was genuinely sorry, but while my stupidity had been at an all-time high in the past, I wasn’t going to continue to perpetuate it. No, I needed my head in the game.

  After a minute of serious eye ping-pong between them, there was another knock at the door. This time a man wearing a suit appeared in the doorway.

  He was more handsome than I’d expected, my eyes narrowing as I took him in. He was young too, with that just out of law school vibe and I could almost smell the Ivy League degree. If the cocky grin on his face wasn’t enough, the expensive suit and watch on his wrist sure were.

  “Tia Monroe?” he asked, ack
nowledging the two officers in the room with a curt nod.

  “Yep, that’s me. Are you my lawyer?” I asked, hoping maybe he was the intern and the real lawyer was outside. You know, maybe someone who’d won a few cases and hadn’t passed the bar last week.

  “Yes, I am.” He tapped his briefcase striding further into the room before looking at the two officers. “Can you give me some time to confer with my client?”

  Well I guess that solved that, at least he had the jargon part down. I tried not to panic, hoping the Mike Ross from Suits wannabe actually had the skills to get me off the hook, and wasn’t just putting in the hours until he got junior partner at a proper law firm.

  Dave and the other officer—I never got his name—seemed mildly annoyed. “Keep your shirt on, Roman, we were just waiting for someone to show up.” Dave rolled his eyes as he stood up and walked to the door, Officer One following close behind.

  “So Tia, I’m Roman Pierce.” Yep, definitely Ivy League. Harvard would be my guess. He eased into the chair Dave had been sitting in and opened his briefcase. “I’m here to represent you.”

  “Great.” I tried to smile, watching him pull out a laptop and lay it on the table, opening the screen away from me. “I’m innocent.”

  “Yeah, let’s get the details first. I don’t like to open with that right away.” He gave me a cocky grin-wink combo that didn’t immediately put me at ease.

  “Hey, Mr. Pierce.” I resisted the urge to just call the officers and beg them for another phone call. Or maybe I could just represent myself? “Can I ask you a question?”

  “That’s usually my job.” He didn’t look up, powering up his shiny MacBook.

  “I know, but I’m just curious.” I fake laughed, watching him until his eyes came back to me. “And please don’t take this the wrong way, but have you done this before?”

  “Been in an interrogation room with a woman?” His smile got wider, seeming to enjoy it. “Let me guess, you want to know if you’re my first?” He leaned back into his chair, his fingers tenting in front of him.