Home for the Holidays by Ros Baxter Read Free Book Online Page A

predicted. 
    And as it happened, the worst did not come to pass either. 
    Strip search was apparently reserved for people going to actual prison, and nerdy girls in dresses borrowed from strippers just get taken to the holding cells to cool down. 
    ***
    You know, jail’s not at all like you imagine. You know how it goes, in your head. Long, hard benches. Steel bars running the length of one wall through which you look out at cops eating doughnuts and reading dirty magazines. Or strapping pistols to their groins while placing pins into maps of the city. In imaginary jail, the cell is occupied by three other inmates — maybe one scowling, ratty type wreathed in tattoos of skulls and dragons; one washed up looking prostitute; one (insert ethnic minority of choice) drug-dealer-looking type (hard to describe, but we all know what he’s meant to be when we see him on CSI). 
    Too much TV, that’s the problem.
    The reality was different. Bit disappointing really. More like a dentist waiting room.  I was alone and there was lots of white; a bed, a chair. My cell even had a little TV where I could watch cop shows explaining how prison is really supposed to look. And I was alone.  No hookers, dealers or low-grade muscle. 
    No-one to distract you from the inevitable march of your thoughts.  
    ***
    ‘How do you spell protest?’ I could see Baby Cop, crunched over a desk.
    The cop who’d been driving belched and I swear I could smell gingivitis.
    ‘Forget it, Linus. I’m not doing paperwork for this shee-yit.’
    Baby Cop flicked his pencil. ‘Oh, that’s awlright, Kevin. I’ve already started it now.’
    ‘Sorry Linus,’  the Leprechaun belched again,  ‘but that girly’ll be dead before you get the charge sheet completed. Tell you what, she’s gotta see the public defender before she goes, right? Let’s call her folks. We’ll scare the shit out of ‘em, they’ll give her the third degree and we’ve done the city a service.’
    Scare the shit out of my parents? I mentally clapped my hands as I settled back to wait.
    An hour later, sudden noise alerted me as an ashen-faced Leprechaun ushered in my mother and father. His voice had completely changed. It was soft and oily.
    ‘Um, look we don’t usually let visitors here in the cells, but I think in this case we can make an exception. She’ll have a bit of a wait for the duty lawyer anyway.’
    The Leprechaun motioned toward a room down the end of the corridor where I could see the back of a harassed looking young guy guiding a middle-aged black woman into a meeting room. He was incredibly blonde, like a Northern European, and she was screeching, ‘Was a fuckin’ set-up! Fuckin’ sting! Fuckin’ assholes!’ 
    I couldn’t hear what the young lawyer was saying but I could see him lay a hand on her back and I swear I could see her shoulders lift a little as she turned towards him. Like the lawyer could feel me watching, he turned around, and smiled and shrugged. Like, sorry about the bad language, I’ll be with you soon.
    He was tall with floppy hair. Sort of like a blond Hugh Grant before the whole blowjob-in-the-car thing made him look seedy and kind of corpulent.
    Huh. Interesting. The Public Defender has a cute ass.
    I dragged myself back to the moment, and the Leprechaun. What was he gibbering? 
    ‘Erh, so, anyway, take your time. Like I said, we might have a bit of a wait.’
    I was immediately suspicious. ‘What’s happened?’
    Mom pulled at a thread on Dad’s sleeve. ‘What do you mean?’ 
    ‘I can tell you’ve upset the Leprechaun. What have you done?’
    Dad sighed, rubbing my shoulder as he pulled out a chair. ‘Oh dear. Well, the...Leprechaun was playing bad cop, sweetheart. Suggesting they might be pressing charges. Your Mom may have sort of intimated we had…mob connections.’
    Mom looked mutinous. ‘I did no such thing,’ she dismissed with a sniff.
    ‘Yes honey, you did. And you were good. He was scared. Actually, I was