“Alexandra.” He buried himself further. His beautiful, soft, black pubes ticked my nostrils. Ford’s body trembled. He thrust once. He pumped twice, and then on third and final impalement, he snarled, “Hold it. Right there! That’s it, birthday girl. Now stick out your tongue.”
I tried as best I could to do what he wanted.
“Touch my balls.”
Buried in a sea of musky darkness, I sensed he was about to come…
“Wake up, Easton!” A voice shouted. It wasn’t Ford’s.
Dang.
“You’re being released.”
My eyes snapped open.
A guard stood over me. Officer Gotti was nowhere in sight.
“What did you say?”
“Get up. Get out.”
“Did Vive pay my bail?” I asked, feeling slightly confused.
“No. Mrs. Easton dropped the charges, claiming she set the fire herself and that you and your friends had nothing to do with it.” The guard glared at me the same way Ford had when he’d asked a second time for my admission of guilt. His deep-set eyes said, “LIAR!”
“What?”
“It’s been on the TV all morning. Your mother held a press conference at the hospital with Eddie Easton.”
“Daddy came?” I stood up and rushed to edge of the cell. There on the screen were my parents.
Dad wore a Tokyo promo jacket for his tour. It seemed as if he’d gone straight from the plane to be at Birdie’s side. The headline read “Birdie Sobers & Tells All.”
Odd thing was, it was all a lie drummed up to keep me and the girls out of jail.
Well, happy flippin’ birthday to me. In my head, I started to sing the birthday song. Not like Marilyn Monroe did to JFK, hells no—more in the tune of Destiny’s Child. After last night’s dream, I felt a new melody with my Lady V.
“There is a Blake Morgan waiting for you outside. He’s been here since late last night.”
My body sang with relief when I grabbed my purse and other belongings from the claims area. A few minutes ago, I’d been allowed to change back into my clothes. I never wanted to see neon nectarine again.
Looking at the time, the clock read 10:25 am. I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to get out of jail.
Blake waited for me. Dark circles evident, his tired, yet still handsome face stood on the other side of the Plexiglas.
I was released.
The police told me I could claim Vamp at Impound Lot Pier 76. The thought of my scooter parked out by the docks overnight pissed me off. Crap on a stick, that’s all I needed was for Vamp to get rusty.
“Happy birthday!” Blake shouted across the lobby. “Did they serve you cake for breakfast?”
“I’m starving.”
“Gurl, you owe me, big time.” Blake’s arms came wide.
“Oh…Blake.” A soft gasp escaped me. Standing in the jailhouse lobby, I buried myself in his tall, lanky frame. He was the closest thing I had to a brother, a sassy one at that. I collapsed, only on the inside, and just a little. It was from all the stress of the whole ordeal.
“Lex, Love. Don’t get all emotional on me,” He whispered in my ear, trying to be funny.
“No, I’m not.” I shrugged to hide my emotions and wiped my eyes. “Things could always be worse, right?”
“Everything’s fine. Birdie took the blame. She’s going to get fined but it’s all good, boo. I’ll explain all of it when we get in the limo. First things first, let’s get you changed.” Making a crinkly noise, he held up a large brown bag.
I recognized what was inside immediately.
My escape!
“Mr. Morgan, you are—amazing.”
“In this bag you’ll find a gift from the Raquel Welch wig collection, clothes and sneakers. There’s also a fuck-it bucket for you in the limo.”
Wow, now that was effin’ love. “How did you know to do all of that?”
“Taddy told me. If it wasn’t for Vive having another one of her episodes, she’d be here too.”
“I was afraid of that.” Yesterday in jail trigged a dark storm in her head and heart.
We made our way down the narrow hall toward the public restrooms. They were located right past the “Most Wanted” wall and payphones.
In order to get to Vive’s place safely, I’d have to disguise myself.
“How bad it is out there?” I bit my lip and glanced toward the front doors but couldn’t see much.
“Horrible. Every TV station is lined up on the sidewalk.” He scratched his chin and continued, “Let’s see, there are all the local and national stations, Germany and Italy. The Soho arsonist is popular in Japan too. Apparently, there’s some Japanese horror movie where a girl goes around blowing stuff up when she gets pissed off. That’s what they’re associating you with.”
“It’s an American book made into a movie you goof. And you’re thinking of Carrie by Stephen King.”
“No. That ain’t it.” He knocked on the handicap bathroom door.
“Out in a second,” someone shouted.
We waited.
“Firestarter, same author though. Drew Barrymore starred in the movie adaption?”
He nodded a confirmation. “That’s some scary shit, boo.”
“Forget the press. What about Mom’s groupies?” I asked uneasily.
“Birdie’s fan club camped outside overnight. I slept in here, on the lobby floor.” Blake put his hand on his hip as if his back hurt him. “I wasn’t sure when they’d let me see you. Anyways, those groupies kept holding up the nastiest signs about you too.”
“What’d they say?” This was a new low in my life, for sure.
“Not worth repeating. Besides I took pictures. Don’t worry the fans are all gone. Once Birdie held her press conference, their tunes changed. They fled when they realized you are innocence.”
“Thank god. I thought for sure I’d be lynched. Then I don’t need the bag.”
“Yeah, gurl, you do. The fans are gone. But, like I said, every journalist in the world is waiting on the steps.”
“Why?” Shock flew through me.
“To ask you if you really tried to kill your mother.”
“They don’t believe Birdie?” I leaned up against the wall feeling faint.