Playing Patience

Page 10

Instead of answering, I nodded to Finn. I spun on my heels and headed for the front door. There was no need to try and ask for help or ask someone to call an ambulance. No one would hear me or care, and I would be hated for calling the police or any form of authorities to The Pit. Half the people there were underage and there were enough drugs floating around the place to put us all in prison.
So I just ran to my car holding the girl in my arms. I pulled open my rusted passenger-side door and set her onto the seat. She slumped in the seat. I ran around my car and jumped in. I’d been drinking so things were a little fuzzy, but fuck it, the chick was dying and for some stupid reason I was lucky enough to give a shit.
I squealed out of the parking lot and made it to the nearest hospital in minutes. With the unconscious girl in my arms, I ran to the counter in the ER. The older lady behind the counter looked at me like I was a monster. I’m sure it didn’t look good for me, a tatted-up, pierced guy, to be holding a half-dead khaki queen.
“She needs help. I found her on the side of the road. She was conscious at first and said someone drugged her. She passed out so I brought her here.”
There was a flurry of nurses and doctors and then the girl was rushed away on a gurney. Having done my job, I turned to walk away.
“Excuse me, son. We need to you stick around to talk to the police,” the older lady behind the counter said.
I could see in her eyes she was disgusted by me.
“No offense, ma’am, but I don’t talk to cops. Sorry.”
I turned and walked away. I could hear her behind me calling out something and then I saw the cop cars parked outside the ER doors, blue lights shining.
“Great,” I muttered to myself as the sliding doors came open and I was met by three police officers.
Needless to say, I was questioned until my eyes were rolling back in my head.
“Why the hell would I drug a chick, then bring her to the hospital? What kind of sense does that make?” I said as I leaned back in the plastic hospital chair and spun my lip ring.
I didn’t go to the jail for drugging the girl, but the police couldn’t seem to look past the drugs in my car. You’d think they’d turn their heads since I was being all hero-like, but it wasn’t in the cards for me.
The springs in the dirty bunk dug into my back as I waited to get bailed out. I could already imagine the beating coming my way from my dad. I guess I was due for one; it had been a week since my last. At least this one was for a good cause. I’d heard before I was handcuffed and taken away that the girl was okay. I felt pretty good about the fact that I’d saved her. Finally, I’d done something decent in my life.
Three hours later they released me. I didn’t ask any questions. I grabbed my shit and headed for the door.
“Hold up a minute, Tattoo. Someone wants to speak with you before you leave.” A young cop caught me before I made my break.
I was ushered into a dim room furnished with nothing but a table and two chairs and left alone. I sat down and stared into the dark glass on the other side of the room, a two-way mirror, no doubt. I wasn’t there long when the door opened and a tall, finely dressed man came through the door. He unbuttoned the bottom button on his expensive suit, then sat across from me. His alert brown eyes took me in as he ran his long fingers through his graying hair. His receding hairline topped a wrinkled forehead, but other than that, he looked like a fit man in his early fifties.
“Zeke Mitchell. That’s an interesting name. It suits you.” He tapped his fingers against the tabletop.
“Thanks. Look, man, I didn’t do anything wrong.” I immediately went on the defensive. “I was just trying the help the girl out and now I’m going to get my ass handed to me by my dad, and the cops took my stash.”
He adjusted his suit once more, then chuckled to himself.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked. His brows puckered in confusion as if he were some famous star and I should be star struck.
“Can’t say I do.” I leaned my chair back on two legs and crossed my arms.
I matched his pointed stare until he looked away.
“My name’s Charles Phillips.” He waited for my reaction. When I didn’t react, he continued.” As in Governor Phillips.”
I’d never heard of him, but why the hell would the governor take the time to talk to me.
“I’m in deep shit, aren’t I?”
“No. I just wanted to shake the hand of the man who saved my daughter’s life.” His smile was the smile of a dirty politician, all big, white teeth and no warmth.