by Danika Stone
‘Away…’
The truth was, she didn’t want to arrive at all.
Ava gasped, coming abruptly awake. She was someplace different… someplace foreign. ‘Not my bedroom…’ Her body was still groggy, her mind struggling with remembered images of a boat on water. A bird flying overhead. Running a trembling hand through her hair, she glanced around, regaining her bearings. It was nine-thirty in the morning – she could see the wire-covered clock on the cinder block wall – and she was in a cell at the police station.
Nothing had changed.
She frowned, moving back against the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees. She’d never spent the night in jail before. She smiled bitterly, dropping her chin down to her knees. ‘I owe Chim fifty bucks,’ she realized. He’d been teasing her about getting caught for years. He was never going to let her live this down.
An hour passed, then two. She was just starting to worry about being forgotten when the door swung open and Cole walked in, wearing a shirt, tie, and black slacks. He looked like a waiter (or a very young lawyer). She glanced at him warily. She hadn’t even made a statement yet, so she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his arrival.
He walked up to the bars, pausing. His gaze moved through, gathering it all in, then back to her face. There was something unsettled about his expression, sad and somewhat disappointed.
He looked, Ava decided, like her father.
Chapter 33: The Next Banksy
Cole waited by the bars of the jail cell, his face still poised in hesitant concern. Ava was nervous after the late call she'd made to him last night. Not sure where they stood anymore. With this in mind, she walked toward him, hands pressed deep in the pockets of her jacket. Six hours ago she’d been furious at him for yelling, but she’d had time to cool since then. To ponder what she’d be thinking if he’d been the one out with someone like Morag and had needed to call her in the middle of the night from the police station.
She dropped his eyes, guilt rising in place of rage.
“Sorry it took so long to get here,” Cole murmured. “It just… took a bit of doing.” Ava's chest contracted at his words.
“Cole... I’m sorry I didn’t call before I went out,” she said anxiously, glancing up to see him watching her. His face was remote and distant, not angry. It gave her hope. “I was painting at the studio... and I thought you were going to stop by... so I left the back door open, and then Chambers came up...” Cole’s face twitched, as if he was smelling something distasteful, but he said nothing, so she continued. “He was there to check on the collaboration piece we’re doing... the painting Chim thought looked like Lego blocks. But Kip kind of freaked out when he saw them and—”
“He what?” Cole interrupted, stepping closer, grey eyes troubled.
“He just...” Ava sighed, closing her eyes as she tried to explain it. “He just panicked when he saw the panels... the same way I did after seeing that Bacon painting in class.”
“But why?”
“God, Cole, I have no fucking idea why... He went on and on about some dream he used to have as a kid...”
Cole blanched, stepping closer, one hand coming up to rest on the bars. There was a line jumping in his cheek. ‘He shaved before he came,’ Ava noticed absently.
“…I just... I needed to get him out of the studio, you know?” Ava continued. “So he could calm down... and he said he wanted to see my real work... and so...”
She let her words trickle away, and Cole finished for her.
“And so you took him out to the train yards.”
Ava nodded, pulling her hand from her pocket and placing it on the bar directly under his. Close, but not touching. They were on rocky ground here. She could feel it. She was immensely glad he hadn’t come to pick her up right away, when her temper was still running full force. She might have said something she’d regret.
‘Would definitely have said something you’d regret...’ her mind prompted helpfully. She frowned. That was for damn sure.
“It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing...” Ava added, trying to keep her tone even. “We just went to look, that’s all... I should’ve called you, but it was already late... and you hadn’t come by the studio so I figured you were asleep...”
Her words disappeared. She wished she could read people the way Oliver could, gleaning meaning from the shadows; but that was his gift, not hers.
“When the police took you in, did they talk to you about the charges?” Cole asked. He sounded tired.
“Trespassing and public mischief,” Ava answered. “We didn’t have any spray cans with us, thank god. The last time I got charged was when I was a minor, but Kip has a prior. There’d be serious consequences if we’d been painting.”
“Right.”
Cole’s voice had gone frigid once more, unimpressed. She could see it in the taut lines of muscle under his shirt, his white knuckles holding the bar, his narrowed gaze. Her fingers slid up the bar, almost touching, her eyes pleading.
“I’m serious, Cole... there wasn’t anything to it. I was just showing him my work. It wasn’t a date or something.”
Cole’s mouth twisted as she said the word ‘date.’ For a moment he stared down the corridor before turning back to her. The silence spread between them like a chasm. Ava waited for him to react... terrified, but still needing to know.
“I know it wasn’t a date,” he muttered, dropping his hand down the bar, settling lightly on top of hers. “I never thought that.”
“Thanks,” she said, throat tight.
“I trust you, Ava. I do,” Cole said, the line between his eyebrows deepening, “but it still pissed me off, finding out about it like that.” His voice went hard and she flinched. “God, you could have just called me! You can’t just...” He shook his head, irritated. “Look, it’s not you. You gotta understand that I don’t trust Chambers...”
For a moment, Ava remembered the two men at the gallery, ready to attack, though in her memory it seemed like they were fighting. She could imagine it perfectly, the two of them throwing punches, attacking one another with venom. As quickly as it arrived, the not-memory faded. Her eyes went to their joined hands and she felt that pull of connection, the same as when they met, when Cole had shaken her hand for the first time.
It was there again now. It was always there...
“Sorry,” she whispered. “It was a bad idea... I should have called first and let you know...”
Cole smiled, his free hand reaching through the bars to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek and she leaned into the gesture, the balance resettling, the tide shifting back the other way.
“It’s okay.” He answered, his eyes lingering on her face. His hand dropped away from her cheek but the one on her fingers stayed, squeezing hers now, warm. “Are you willing to call it even?” he asked.
“What...?”
“The dysfunctional Thomas Family Christmas for a two a.m. phone call from my girlfriend getting busted for trespassing with a known criminal.”
Cole’s face split in a wide grin, and the tension was broken.
“My god, Cole,” she said with a giggle, “it sounds really fucking bad when you put it that way. It wasn’t—”
Her words were interrupted by a metal door clanging open. An officer came forward with a black-suited woman with short dark hair and almond-shaped eyes.
“Miss Brooks,” she said, waiting for the officer to unlock the cell door. “I’m Mrs. Quan, your lawyer.”
“Suzanne’s mom,” Ava gasped, eyes flaring wide.
Cole hadn’t called Alexander Munroe... which meant her father wasn’t currently ditching his last two performances to come home a day early, disappointed and angry with her.
“Yes,” the woman said with a warm smile. “I’d like to be able to say ‘it’ll be good to work with you,' Ava, but it turns out you aren’t going to need me after all.”
Ava glanced over to Cole, then back to Mrs. Quan.
> “What? Why?”
“I just talked to the district attorney.” she answered, “I apologize for the delay, I had to wait until regular office hours to have it officiated. The charges for you are being dropped altogether,” the older woman explained. “The fines for trespassing are being covered by a third party.”
The door of the cell finally squealed open and the officer motioned Ava forward.
“Why were they dropped?” Ava asked as she walked through the doorway.
Suzanne’s mother smiled at the police officer.
“Let’s head into the meeting room first,” she said gently. “You need to make some sort of statement to the police in any case, and before that occurs, I want to go over exactly what happened. I’ll fill you in on what I know.”
Ava nodded, looking back at Cole.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done,” he said with a crooked smile. Ava paused and Mrs. Quan did the same.
“Thank you, Cole,” she said quietly.
He nodded.
“Anytime you need to be busted out of jail...” he said with a smirk. “I’m totally your guy.”
The officer scowled and Ava giggled. She and Mrs. Quan headed out, Ava’s steps lighter than they’d been in hours.
: : : : : : : : : :
Cole slumped in an uncomfortable plastic room chair, his eyelids drooping. Ava and Mrs. Quan were still with the police as Ava made her official statement. Cole was banished to the hallway, his head nodding as the minutes ticked by. It was after ten and he’d been awake since Ava had called. He’d woken up Suzanne’s mother on the phone minutes afterward; Mrs. Quan had directed him to shave and dress in his nicest clothing. As Ava's friend, he’d come to the station as a character witness. His statement of her overall behaviour (minus one spray-painted first date to those train yards a few months ago) now sat alongside all of the other evidence in the D.A.’s file.
His eyelids closed once, then again, and again…
He felt like he was standing on the deck of a boat, his eyes moving out over the water to where another ship could be seen. It was tiny in comparison to the ocean that surrounded it. A child’s toy bobbing on an endless—
Cole jerked awake, his foot kicking in panic. The clock on the wall read ten-thirty. He sat up stiffly, rubbing his hand along his neck and shifting. He didn’t think he’d ever been so tired in his life, but he refused to leave. He wanted to be here when Ava came out. On the far side of the room the door opened and Cole glanced up hopefully.
It wasn’t her.
It was a group of people arguing loudly. The trio included Kip Chambers, Raya Simpson, and a bald, grey-suited man who Cole assumed must be Kip’s lawyer. Raya’s thin arms were crossed, her heels clicking in a brisk staccato. Next to her, Kip grumbled, hand on her shoulder. Raya was speaking with a venom that made Cole blink and sat up taller, listening as they approached.
“...it was the BEST opportunity to get that footage, Kip!” she snapped, tearing herself from his grip. “Don’t give me shit now just because you’re feeling guilty about your part it.”
“I NEVER wanted her involved,” he retorted, face hard. “I already have a record – makes no fucking difference to me – but she’s just a kid, Raya, she—”
Simpson spun on her heel.
“She’s no goddamn kid!” she shouted, poking her finger into his chest. “I've seen the looks you give her. God, I’m so fucking mad I could just...”
She left the statement unfinished, breathing hard. No one moved and it was only because they were standing motionless that Cole was able to pick up Kip’s answer.
“You’re jealous,” he said incredulously.
“You’re an asshole!” she barked, spinning on her heel and storming away.
The two men continued forward in Raya’s wake. Cole sat nearby, slumping further, hoping to blend into the chair. He was counting on the uncomfortable suit he wore to camouflage him. It was the only one he owned, the same one he’d worn to his mother’s funeral years earlier. The suit jacket was now too tight, and it sat folded on the seat next to him. As they approached, Cole prayed that the rest of the outfit would help him be inconspicuous.
He wanted to know the rest of the story.
“I needed that footage for my film,” Raya snarled, not looking at Kip walking next to her, his eyes on the grimy marmoleum tiles of the floor. “I didn’t care who was with you, I just needed you there for the arrest. My personal feelings have nothing to do with this!”
Cole focused intently on catching the rest of Kip’s words.
“Listen,” Kip said wearily, “it wasn't like that at all. Her artwork just... it connects with me, you know? I feel like I have some link to her, Raya.”
Cole’s scalp crawled. The panic attack Ava had described was now imprinted with a deeper meaning. None of it was good.
Next to Chambers, Simpson spun again, her hand snaking out to grab his wrist.
“I don’t fucking care if you ‘feel like’ she’s the next Banksy!” she said through clenched teeth. “You and I have a contract and that film will get finished.”
She let go of him, running her hands into her hair in frustration, leaving part of it standing on end. The bald man next to her glanced up, catching Cole’s inquisitive gaze. Cole dropped his eyes down immediately, fiddling with the sharp creases of his pants, heart thudding. He did not want to be noticed right.
“I don’t know what kind of hero you thought you were by taking all the blame,” Simpson began, and Cole looked up surreptitiously. “But because of your stupidity back there,” she snarled, “we now have a shitload of bad PR to deal with and a massive fine to boot. That is NOT coming out of my budget, Kip Chambers.”
Cole saw the moment Kip’s face changed. He stepped closer to Simpson, face flushed, his voice suddenly a roar.
“I couldn’t let Ava take the fucking BLAME for something YOUR production team caused!” he shouted. “If the trespassing fines come out of MY paycheque, it’s fine with me!”
With that, Kip stormed out of the police station, leaving Simpson and the lawyer behind. The bald man cleared his throat and both Cole and Raya looked at him.
“You know, Ms. Simpson,” he said smoothly. “You might want to remind Mr. Chambers to get legal representation before making statements.”
“Fuck off!” Raya snapped, stomping out the door without another word.
Chapter 34: Corporate Corruption
Ava sat at the desk, waiting while the paperwork was completed. She knew Cole was in the room beyond; the dark-headed officer sitting across from her at the desk casually mentioned it a few minutes before. She had winked as she said it, leaving Ava feeling awkward and embarrassed, Cole’s continued presence pushing at her senses.
He was still waiting for her.
She stared down at her hands in her lap, tapping together her ink-stained fingertips. Things had changed drastically since she’d been brought in wearing handcuffs late last night. The charges had been dropped, the trespassing fines paid, and there was nothing more to do except go back to her regular life. It would have been overwhelming if she hadn’t been so concerned about the latest development: that the whole arrest had been orchestrated by someone.
It appeared to have been Raya Simpson.
Ava closed her eyes, recalling the conversation with Mrs. Quan in the minutes before she’d made her official statement...
“Well, first of all, Mr. Chambers is claiming that the two of you took a wrong turn from the river bottom. He said he knew where he was leading you because he’d painted there before, but that you didn’t know. He said you were innocent.”
“Why would he say that?”
“I have no idea why, but it changes the situation,” Mrs. Quan had explained matter-of-factly. “What it comes down to is the fact that he took the blame, which is why you’re now free to go. Same thing with the fines. But there’s another thing I need to mention. It turns out someone called your visit to the train yards in to the po
lice last night. You were set up, Ava. You were SUPPOSED to get caught. A film crew was discovered by the police, waiting on the access road, taking footage.”
“Raya Simpson,” Ava had breathed.
Mrs. Quan had laughed coldly.
“The police didn’t take kindly to being set up like that. By all accounts, the fines for THAT part of the whole thing are going to be quite hefty.”
Across from her, the woman at the desk cleared her throat and looked up from the paperwork. Ava blinked herself back to the present, watching as the officer pulled out a stamp and banged it against the bottom of the sheet.
“All finished,” the officer said with a grin, “just sign here, Miss Brooks.”
Ava gave a weak smile, signing the papers before pushing them back across the desk.
“Next time you’re going on a midnight walk with a known graffiti artist,” the woman said, “you might want to watch where you’re going. You could get in trouble, you know.”
Ava nodded, a hot wave of embarrassment rising up her cheeks.
“I will... sorry,” she said, offering her hand, “thank you, Officer, for all the help.”
The woman smiled, giving Ava’s hand a firm shake and grinning.
“Alvarez. Liz Alvarez,” she said with a wink. “Morag’s my cousin.”
: : : : : : : : : :
They walked side-by-side out to Cole’s bike, both of them blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight. Ava was exhausted from lack of sleep and stress; her mind floated in a half-lucid buzz. She was counting the minutes until she was home. Sleep waited there for her.
“Sorry it took me so long to get here this morning,” Cole said quietly.
“It’s okay,” Ava answered, leaning into his side. “Glad you came.”
She wondered if she should admit she almost didn’t call him. That she didn’t like having to rely on anyone. But she had called, and it meant something important. Ava opened her mouth and closed it again, staying silent. Cole pressed a kiss to her temple.
