Loser || WlW

Thirty-Five

 I've been sitting in a holding cell for three hours. My shoulders ache. My tongue feels thick and dry and Kyle left the handcuffs on, so I've been sitting with my arms wrenched behind my back the whole time. God, I would give anything for some water. I'm about to lie down on my side when I hear a familiar click of heels on tile.

The guard on duty strolls into view along with Brittany and another woman I've never met before. She's got short brown hair and a skirt suit. Attorney is written all over her face.

"And we'll be in contact regarding her unjust arrest," she says as the guard unlocks my cell.

I stand from the metal seat, almost falling over.

"Brittany." I smile.

She smiles back and practically pushes the chubby guard out of her way once the bars slide open. "Why are the handcuffs still on? Take these off," she orders.

The guy sighs but he's obedient.

I can feel the tension release from my muscles as the cuffs click and he removes them from my wrists. My muscles twitch as I pull my hands in front of me.

"Jesus Christ," Brittany traces the bruise around my eye with her fingertips. "Just let me handle it next time, will you?"

I smile and shake my head.

She nudges me with her shoulder. "You're never going to let me get laid again, huh?" she asks and we both laugh.

"Not unless you're," I rub my head, "how did you phrase it?" I ask.

She shoves me instead of answering.

"Right. Not unless you're more than willing," I finish.

She lets out a long breath. "Let me take you to lunch." She nods toward the door. "I'll even let you drive." She pushes her keys into my hand and faces the other woman. "Jordan, this is Mary. She'll be representing you from here on out."

"Nice to meet you, Jordan," she says and shakes my hand. "You guys can go. I'll clean up here and be in touch."

"Thanks," Brittany says, leading the way out.

The sun is blinding as we push through the glass door and make our way to her sparkly Mercedes. We slide into the car without saying anything.

"I'm so sorry." The words escape her lips like they've been fighting to get out for hours. "He would have left you alone if I kept my mouth shut. Are you mad?"

My neck pulses as I check my blind spot and back the car out. "Not at all."

She directs me to one of her favorite cafés down the street while rephrasing her apology in between every lane change or turn.

"Brittany," I say once we're parked. "I've made it my personal goal to make sure you're never abused for your body again. You didn't make Kyle take me to jail. I did."

"It's just one blow job."

I blush. "It's your self-respect."

She flashes a playful eye roll and we make our way out into the café. I can tell the food is out of my price range by the granite countertops and black steel chairs lining the white-tiled walls.

"Britt, I can't." I stop and shake my head. The sandwiches are twelve dollars apiece.

"It's my treat," she says. "Go relax. I'll get you something good."

I do because the lack of sleep and water has made it impossible to stand for too long without feeling my body start to sway from exhaustion.

I grab a booth in the back and slump into one of the seats, resting my head against my elbows when I hear a familiar laugh. My head snaps in the direction of the voice.