Page 11 of Paved Paradise
I smile as I sing along to the radio and drive along the coastline. The windows are rolled down, and the sun is shining. These are the days. I can't seem to get the goofy grin off my face after spending the last few weeks with Beck. He’s been absolutely amazing, and this time with him has really shown me true happiness. It’s been freeing, to say the least. Every minute I don't spend with him is time spent making and designing new clothes.
Alina even cleaned up the huge extra storage unit in the back of the garage where I have been keeping my van; now, half is her office, and the other half is my new design room. She set me up with a desk an old sewing machine desk that was going unused in the shop. She took many of the things that had been there for years, cleaned them up, repaired them, gave them a new coat of paint, and if they didn't fit into our offices, they went back onto the floor. She’s been making a decent amount from her restorations, and I haven't been doing too shabby with my clothes. Apparently, word has spread about my designs, and it’s been growing like wildfire.
I’m so lost in my happy thoughts that I don’t see the cop car behind me until I hear the sirens wailing.
“You have got to be kidding me. I know I wasn't speeding,” I whisper to myself, making my way to the side of the road. I’m rolling down the window when I hear the yelling start.
“Put your hands out the window and slowly get out of the car,” I hear demanded behind me. What the hell? Turning to look at the patrol car behind me, I notice the cop standing behind his open door and pointing a gun my way. This can't be happening right now.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don't know…”
“I said put your hands in the air and get out of the vehicle.” Is yelled once again, and I feel my heart start to race. Doing as he says, I put my hands out the window, using the outside handle to open the van door. When I jump out of the van, I start to speak again but am cut off.
“On the ground. Hands behind your head.”
“Can you please tell me what I’ve done wrong?” I plead, trying to keep the tears from falling down my cheek. These bastards won't see my weakness. I know I haven't done anything wrong, so all I keep telling myself, through them reading me my rights to putting me in the back of the car, is everything is going to be okay. I’ll call Beck, my knight in shining armor, and he will figure out what the hell is going on.
I try to ask again on the way to the station what exactly I’ve done wrong and why the hell they have me in cuffs, but the asshat behind the wheel just tries to intimidate me the whole time. Once he mumbles, “stupid bitch upset she got caught,” I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere with this one. So I sit back and try everything in my power to hold in my tears and panic. When we finally get to the station, they take me back for my fingerprints and my mug shot. That is the point where I break.
I don’t know what all this is about, and I don’t know how I’m going to get out of here. I just know I want to be in Beck's arms, safe and sound, but these fuckers won’t even answer my questions, much less let me call someone. I know they have to let me call soon, and I know once Beck hears what happened, he’ll be turning this town over. I have every faith in that. I have to. Without that hope, there is nothing and, more importantly, no one else I have. I’m placed in an interrogation room, and the same cop who arrested me walks in.
“We have your vehicle on camera, here, here, and here,” he says, placing three pictures that look almost identical to my van on the table in front of me. Before I can even look at them, he pulls them back, “at the scene of the crime.”
“Crime! What crime?” I screech, trying to stand from the chair, but quickly pushed back down.
“There was an armed robbery three towns over two nights ago. Cameras and witnesses place you there. Thought you could get away, did you?” he says cockily.
“What in the actual hell are you talking about? My van has been parked behind Sirens Hideaway for almost a month. Not to mention, two nights ago, I was with my boyfriend in this town, and who the hell tries to get away with a Volkswagen Van?” I ask incredulously. That apparently wasn’t the right answer because the next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by the arm and walking me out of the room and down the hall. Aren't I supposed to have the right to an attorney or something? I can tell he’s taking me back to the cells, and I know I will actually freak the fuck out if I am locked inside a cage with no way out. Too many bad memories come from that.
“Wait! What about my phone call?” I ask, trying to dig my heels in. The fucker rolls his eyes like I’m the one inconveniencing him, and it takes everything in me not to let all the anger and fear loose on him in that moment.
“Fine, you get one phone call. Make it count.” He shoves me toward the pay phones set on the wall. I rush to it, knowing it’s my only lifeline. It's pure luck that I memorized Beck's number. I was staring at a picture of the two of us for longer than I care to admit a few weeks ago before I saved his number in my phone. Well correction, before he saved his number in my phone. Either way, I remember seeing his number a few times, and now I can see it in my head.
Dialing the number, I can't help but whisper, “Come on, come on, answer.”
The first time I try, it rings over and over with no answer; I hang it up and quickly dial the number again. Luckily it doesn't seem the asshat is paying too close attention to me at the moment. He’s too busy talking shit with his buddy to know I’ve already dialed Becks' number three times now. When he finally catches on, I wince at the anger in his voice.
“I said one phone call,” he growls, making his way over to me.
“Please, just one more. No one is answering, so please let me try it again.” I don't know if it’s the pleading in my voice or the devastation on my face, but he nods before letting me dial one more time. This time, it goes straight to voicemail, and I close my eyes in defeat. He’s not answering. He's not coming to save me. This time I decide to leave a voicemail. Maybe eventually he’ll get it.
“Beck,” My voice breaks on his name, and I have to clear my voice before I continue, “Hey, u-um I’m in a bit of trouble, and I don't know what to do. I was a-ares…” I sob on the word, but know I need to get this out before they cut me off. So I take a deep breath and pull my shoulders back before continuing, “I was arrested, and I need you to come get me.” I stay strong but still have to whisper the next pleas or risk my voice breaking again. “Please come get me. I’m so scared. This would be the best of all your times to save me. I need the white knight routine now more than ever.”
“Did you say Beck? I know him. We went to school together. My guess is if you can't get ahold of him, he’s with Grace. They are basically connected at the hip.” At the words from the cop behind me, my world drops out from beneath me, Grace? Who's Grace? I guess I stood there without answering for too long because I hear him clear his throat before softly grabbing my arm. All my thoughts are of Beck and some faceless girl named Grace. How could I fall so easily? How could I be so stupid?
“Alright, miss. Time to go,” Sgt. Lawrence or Louis says, hell, I couldn't care less what he told me his name was.
He’s been a douche this whole time up until now, and I’ve done nothing wrong. I get he thinks he’s dealing with a criminal and one that apparently really hurt a couple of people during the robbery attempt. Still, what happened to innocent until proven guilty? They lead me down the cement halls, and I shiver as I’m led to an empty cell with only a bed and toilet. It's so cold in this place, and I can't keep my body from shaking any longer. As I’m pushed into the cell and hear the clink of the bars behind me, my brain finally shuts down.
Walking to the bed, I crawl into the corner and huddle there with my knees to my chest. I feel like I’m in a fog. It’s like I’m surrounded by nothing and no one. I knew not to let myself get close to anyone. I knew it was only going to get my heart broken. Now, here I sit cold, alone, and accused of a crime I didn't commit. I have no one else to call even if I could because I don't even know Alina's last name, much less her number.
Still, I hoped Beck was different. He would always be there. That he wasn't just another summer playboy. Then, I got too comfortable with his saving me. I forgot it would always be me having to take care of myself. In the words of Mrs. Swift, you're on your own kid. You always have been.
Still, it was beautiful while it lasted. The thought of always having that other person there to lean on. The time and touches I’ve experienced with Beck have been something beyond fantasy. Beyond fairytales, but not every story ends with a happily ever after, and time after time, life has shown me it's just not in the cards for me. My thoughts keep spiraling; they keep getting worse, more dark, more dangerous, but there's only one steady string that plays continuously, which keeps me grounded.
Never again will I let anyone close. Never again will I give my heart so freely away. I forgot the first cardinal rule: you can only ever rely on yourself.
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