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Post by holly madeleine cummings on Oct 23, 2012 15:57:56 GMT -5
outfit!
The law was wrong. Anyone who had any sort of brain could see that Holly was the victim in this situation, despite the fact that it was she who had bashed in the windows and taillights on her now-ex-boyfriend's Mustang GT convertible. She'd have stopped at the windows, but since it was a convertible, she wasn't sure how inconvenient that would really be, so she'd also gone around with her golf club to the back end and smashed all the lights out. She had stalked him all morning until she was sure he was in the shower, so she'd have gotten away with it if his nosy neighbors hadn't seen and called the police. Neighbors were always getting in the way of a hasty retreat.
This was the only part of the story in which the police had been interested and she was sure that this was because men were sexist. If her arresting officer had been a woman, she'd have understood that Holly was just doing what any other woman would have done, understood that cheating hobags deserved to have their precious windows broken. Instead, she could see the officer actively holding back the words "crazy bitch" as he wrote down what had happened, cuffed her, and led her to the back of his car.
They weren't telling her whether or not her ex was planning on pressing charges. She was locked in a holding cell and made to wait until they allowed her the one phone call, which she used to call her parents. They hadn't answered, so she left a message, hoping that one of them would get it before tomorrow and actually come get her. Until then, she was left sitting in her cell, trying to avoid the man in the adjoining cell who smelled like pot and old cheese. Jail was so gross.
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Post by william dane baxter on Nov 2, 2012 14:48:41 GMT -5
Will had been hanging out at the station, bugging his dear Bestie as usual. Drake had been working extra hours and being extra boring, and even Will's incredible patience with his best friend had run thin and he had moved on to more exciting prospects.
After being threatened with obstruction of justice and a few other charges Bestie was clearly making up the existence of, Will had decided it was probably best to wander away and find somewhere new to hang out. His favorite receptionist wasn't in, so he couldn't get the latest office gossip.
He had decided to make his way down to the holding cells to visit the locals. He had received a call about a job checking on a "crazy" ex-girlfriend, but his interest hadn't really been in it and he was biding his time on it. Hey, the guy was being billed anyway. What did it matter?
This case came back into the forefront of his mind when he spied a girl in one of the cells, about the age of his "mark". Plastering on his grin, he leaned against her bars. "Fancy meeting a girl like you in a place like this." |
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Post by holly madeleine cummings on Nov 2, 2012 16:54:23 GMT -5
outfit!
Holly was too busy hating men to think that Will was cute, but under normal circumstances, she might have given him more of a once-over. Since he wasn't in uniform, she figured he was there for crime reporting or he had just committed a crime himself and was waiting to be processed. Criminals were volatile--she didn't want to be involved in that sort of thing.
"You mean in the women's cell?" she asked, folding her arms. "Because it's not that unusual for a girl to be there." This wasn't even the first time she'd been in a holding cell--back in Miami, she used to get taken in for being drunk and disorderly half the time when she went out partying. Once, a band member claimed she'd attacked him--which was wrong, but Holly was drunk and so her protests had not been heard by the security and they'd dragged her to the police station, keeping her until the member dropped charges.
"Shouldn't you be over there?" She stuck her hand out of the bar so that she could point to the male cell next to her, where the pot-and-cheese man had taken up playing Cat's Cradle with himself and a piece of string.
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Post by william dane baxter on Nov 2, 2012 17:04:01 GMT -5
Will looked over to where she was pointing and snorted. "You think I'm a criminal?" he asked, looking back at her. "I've been in a cell before, yes, but that was a long time ago and it was also my dad's fault. Nah, I'm just hanging out around the ol' jailhouse."
He pulled over an extra chair and leaned back, resting his feet on the wall near the cell door. "So what did they snap you up for? Shoplifting?" |
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Post by holly madeleine cummings on Nov 2, 2012 17:07:26 GMT -5
"Oh, cool," Holly said, nodding along with him. "So you don't have any friends, then?" She felt a little guilty for her sharp tongue, but she was in jail, after all--they couldn't expect her to be happy and friendly about it, could they?
"Uh, no. I have a job. I make money. I don't have to shoplift." She snorted with offense, though shoplifting was probably a less embarrassing offense than her actual offense. It wasn't like she was going to tell him what it was, though, so it didn't much matter. "It was for possession of a weapon without a permit."
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Post by william dane baxter on Nov 2, 2012 17:11:12 GMT -5
"I do have friends, but they are being lame and responsible and boring." He tucked his hands behind his head, deciding not to elaborate. This jail sparrow was pretty, but she looked sort of young and Will was not going to hit on someone that little. He had a moral conscience.
Sort of.
He snorted when she named her offense. "I find that very hard to believe," he smirked. "Unless the weapon was a nail file. Fighting cuticles without a permit again, are we?" |
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Post by holly madeleine cummings on Nov 2, 2012 17:23:43 GMT -5
Which meant that he was a bum or a really old college student--neither of which sounded like good potential mates. "Excuse me. As a beautician, I can vouch for nail files being extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. I've been stabbed one or two times." She raised her hand and pointed to a barely-visible healing tick mark between the lines on her palm. "This is from last week."
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Post by william dane baxter on Nov 2, 2012 19:48:28 GMT -5
He smirked. "I wasn't arguing about the lethal properties of nail files. They can be deadly. Almost as terrible as ingrown nails."
He started rocking in his chair, watching the man playing cats cradle. "So, come here often?" he asked, looking back at her. "I feel like I should ask you your name, but you'll probably make one up just to be difficult. Or you think that I'm some sort of psycho stalker." |
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Post by holly madeleine cummings on Nov 2, 2012 19:52:53 GMT -5
"Don't make light of ingrown nails. As a nail professional, again, I can vouch that they are horrifying." She shook her head at him, grinning just a little bit.
"My name's public record. It's Holly." She would never give her last name unless it was necessary and it had nothing to do with being stalked or recognized and everything to do with the fact that it was 'Cummings.' "And if you are a psycho stalker, just know that I'm from Miami, so you don't stand a chance."
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Post by william dane baxter on Nov 2, 2012 19:59:53 GMT -5
He smirked. "If I were a stalker, you'd be no match for me. It's sort of my job. And I was given an advantage from a young age. But, in the act of solidarity..." He stuck his hand through the bars. "Will Baxter. Originally from Santa Barbara. Only child, college graduate, blah blah blah. Feel free to stalk away." |
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Post by holly madeleine cummings on Nov 2, 2012 20:05:19 GMT -5
She shook his hand, considering that she had never really shaken anyone's hand between prison bars before. "I meant that I would beat you down, you know, street-style." She dropped his hand and folded hers. It was sort of chilly in the police station for her outfit, but she wasn't about to show this. "Also an only child. College student, though. But I am a beauty school graduate?" she offered.
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Post by william dane baxter on Nov 2, 2012 20:11:15 GMT -5
"Beauty school, mm?" he asked, grinning. "What, medical school too difficult?" He laughed at his own joke and leaned back in his chair again. "You probably hate me now because of that comment. It wasn't meant to be insulting. My wit is a bit run out today...Bestie didn't give me much material to work with." |
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Post by holly madeleine cummings on Nov 2, 2012 21:34:51 GMT -5
"It's okay." She'd have patted him on the hand, but she felt like reaching through the bars unprompted was probably a bad idea, so she tried to just look sympathetic. "I wasn't expecting much from your wit anyway."
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Post by william dane baxter on Nov 3, 2012 12:43:27 GMT -5
"Oh you should. I'm like a wit-flinging Bruce Lee on most days. Minus the whole dying thing. I'm not a huge fan of that."
After nodding to the few cops that wandered by, he turned his attention back to Holly. "So, what are you really in here for? It won't matter if you don't tell me now...I can just go look at your record upstairs. Sonya is one of my homies. Did you know her son just had another daughter? Cute little thing...named her Riley." |
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Post by holly madeleine cummings on Nov 5, 2012 20:18:05 GMT -5
Holly couldn't tell if she should be suspicious or just think this guy was an idiot. He didn't sound like an idiot, so the way he was meandering made her think that she should tread carefully.
"I told you, I'm here for possession." She folded her arms. "The weapon was a golf club. Apparently, it's viewed as a weapon if you're not a golfer, especially if it's known fact that your dad keeps his clubs locked in a safe so that his daughter won't take one and put it in her trunk."
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