Sex, Lies, and Beauty Aides (24 page)

She pressed the folded wad of bills into Xanadu’s hand and opened her mouth to start the interview. A hand clamped down on her wrist. “Wait a minute, what’s going on?” Her arms were pulled tight behind her. The cuffs pinched when cold metal snapped shut.

Xanadu was right beside her in her own set of police authorized bracelets rolling her eyes, bored silly. “Come on guys, really. She’s a chick. I’m not into broads.”

“You’re both under arrest.”

“Arrest? For what?” She stiffened then zinged as if she’d been lambasted with a sledgehammer.

“Solicitation.”

All eyes were on her. A chill ran down her spine. She started shaking. Oh God, she was going to jail.

“Please listen.” She tried to face the woman only to be yanked back around.

“Stand still,” the officer said.

“Officer, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m here to do an interview. I hired Xanadu to interview her not to have sex with her.”

“Tell it to the judge.”

The officer holding her read her rights and showed a badge. Another officer was pushing Xanadu towards the door.

“Honestly, Xanadu, tell them I just called you. I got your number from the manager of The Satin Slipper. I’m a writer and we’re doing an interview. Officer, my credentials are in my purse. I only wanted to ask questions from someone with experience, you know, for the article I’m writing.” She tried to turn to face the officer.

“Honey, you can ask all the questions you want for all I care. You’re still under arrest for soliciting a prostitute. Now stand still.”

“But, I’m trying to tell you it’s a big mistake.” Patrons pointed at her. Whispered. She wasn’t a criminal.

“Talk’s over, I’m running you in.”

She leaned closer and whispered to Xanadu. “But I didn’t want sex. I wanted to talk about what men want, you know, how to please them, stuff like that.”

“Honey, I don’t give lessons.” That brought snickers from the male patrons at the bar. Her face was on fire.

“Please officer. It’s the truth. Call Travis Wellington at
Skin Deep
Magazine. I’ll give you the number and he’ll explain everything. I promise.” She begged for all she was worth, humiliated beyond anything imaginable. She’d lose her job over this if Travis didn’t fix this mess.

A crowd stared as she was shoved in the back of a squad car and Xanadu in another for the ride downtown. Only to be dragged into booking where she was fingerprinted and photographed. All the while, pleading her innocence.

When they arrived at central booking, she saw the officer helping Xanadu out of the car and up the stairs, talking amicably.

Inside, the officer removed Xanadu’s cuff. She rubbing her wrists, then removed her fur coat, then her wig, and plopped them on the counter, while several of the officers behind the counter whistled. What was going on?

Xanadu went behind the counter and plopped herself behind a desk as if it were hers. She pulled a form from the bottom drawer, and Sabrina was shoved into the seat beside the desk where Xanadu sat. Oh crap, Xanadu was an undercover cop.

“Name?” Xanadu asked.

“Sabrina Thompson.”

“Occupation?”

“Writer for
Skin Deep
Magazine.”

“You’re really a writer?”

“Check my wallet, please. This really is a mistake.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Date of birth?”

Regardless of the contents of her purse, they processed her. She was sure her mug shot showed tear stained raccoon eyes. Oh God, now she’d have a mug shot on file.

The most degrading part was the strip search. She’s been frightened, in tears, and pleaded for someone to listen to her. No one did.

The female officers’ response was, “Sure sweetie, that’s what they all say. Now drop your drawers.”

The experience left her feeling violated, legally. Then once she’d showered they’d given her a bright orange jumpsuit to put on, she huddled in the corner of the cell and cried.

Then they put her in a holding cell filled with every shape and size of colorful hookers. Every last one of them stared at her. They slowly moved closer, sized her up, glaring as if she had invaded their territory. They laughed at her, taunted her about her clothes and make-up. They closed in on her until she cowered in a corner.

A male guard banged on the cell doors with his Billy club, “Break it up.”

Those women and one man, if eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, were the real criminals.

Why then did she feel guilty? Sabrina had never been so frightened in her life.

The transvestite said, “If you’re willing to expand your wardrobe I’m sure I can get you a job with me.”

“Thank you, no.” Lovely, just what she needed.

“You know sweetie, a good push-up bra, a bit more make-up, sexier clothes and you’d make a mint. You’ve got a great body, why hide it? Flaunt it baby.”

A guard opened the door. “Thompson, come with me.”

Sabrina made her way to the opened cell door, hoping someone finally realized their mistake.

He escorted her to an empty desk. “Time to make your call.” Then took two steps away, presumably to give her privacy.

“Oh God,” She cried out with relief and picked up the phone. Her hands shaking so hard she smacked the side of her head with the receiver.

She dialed Kat’s phone. It went to voice mail. She hung up afraid it she left a message the officer would consider that her one call.

Jill had already left town.

That left one person.

Travis.

He was the only person able to corroborate her story. Not that it was a story because they’d talked about her plan to do interviews today.

Sabrina dialed his number. Her hands shook so much she had to redial the number twice, only to get his voicemail. She cried in the receiver, heaving and sobbing. “Travis, it’s Sabrina. I’m in jail. Arrested. Help me.” She hung up.

“Back to the cell. You’re done.” The officer returned her to the cell, cold as can be. The click of the lock jolted her, sending a chill through her body.

During her night court arraignment, she continued to shake and shiver, emotions running the gambit from shame at the realization she’d have a police record, to worrying about her folks reaction when they found out, to the fear Travis might not come.

At the same time relief flooded her, grateful to be out of the cell away from the other prisoners. Prisoners. Oh God, she was a prisoner too.

How could she have been so stupid? Talk about looking for love in all the wrong places. And look what it got her. Sitting there in the gawd-awful, two sizes too big bodysuit with the legs rolled up, matching institutional orange tennis shoes and handcuffs. Yup, she’d never be able to top this one. Would this day ever end?

Everyone in the courtroom appeared bored like this was an everyday occurrence. She took in the facial features and behavior of the others in the room. It probably was for the majority, considering the room was filled with drunks, prostitutes, and drug addicts.

She kept watch over her shoulder willing Travis to walk through the double doors. Surely he received her message by now. Where was he?

The lawyers spoke softly to their clients.

“Oh no.” She covered her mouth. She didn’t have a lawyer.

What if she couldn’t convince the judge this was a simple mistake? Who would be assigned to her case? Were they qualified? Did she have enough money to pay for a competent one or be stuck with some kid straight out of law school?

A hinge squeaked. As if he didn’t know her, Travis walked past her to the bailiff. He spoke to the bailiff, who pointed at her.

He walked toward her.

She stood up to reach for him, but a guard shoved back to her seat.

“Miss Thompson.”

Oh lovely, he couldn’t even call her Sabrina. Why did he have to be so formal? Devastated and utterly hurt beyond belief, screw him. “Yes, Mr. Wellington.”

His eyebrows shot up like a sonic missile, too bad she couldn’t launch him into space as well. She hoped he pick up on her sarcasm? Did the court room scare him? She hoped so, because she’d never been so frightened. And, technically, she was here because of him and the magazine.

He stood still as a statue, cold and stern. “I received your voicemail, well what I understood of it, and your request that I bail you out of jail. I, however, have no intention of doing any such thing. Especially, since I have no idea who you are. You sounded a bit frantic, which compelled me to come in person and let you know you’ll need to find someone else to help you.” He had the nerve to sniff, raising his nose even higher.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She jumped back up, and this time the guard didn’t stop her, but grabbed her arm and said, “Easy lady.”

She ignored his words, jerking her arm free and poked Travis in the chest, handcuffs rattling. “We’ve been dating for the past three weeks. I work for you. I’m in this god-forsaken place because of you. How dare you act like you don’t know me?” If she hadn’t been in handcuffs she’d have slapped the condescending look from his face. How dare he look down his nose at her? “God, I should have known better than to call you. Don’t worry yourself another minute. It was nice knowing you. Now get lost.” Sabrina turned away and sat back down. She didn’t want Travis to see her tears.

The door creaked open and a second Travis entered the courtroom, this one more casually dressed, minus the glasses, more like the one she was used to.

“Holy shit, it can’t be. No.”

Not only had she been arrested for the solicitation of a prostitute, at least in the eyes of the law, but now she was pretty sure she’d be out of a job. And on top of that, the man she fell in love with had turned out to have conned her all along.

“I am so screwed.”

Kat rushed in, knocked Travis and Trent aside and engulfed Sabrina in her arms. She started sobbing, fell back in the chair and covered her face.

“Don’t worry Sabrina, I’ll fix this.”

How could she? Her life was over.

* * * *

Trent wanted to throw up. At Kat’s murderous glare he stepped back out of reach. Kat pinched their arms dragging him and Travis to the outer alcove of the court house.

“Ouch,” they yelped in unison.

“I’m done with these shenanigans. You hurt my best friend. She’s like a sister to me. And while I know she isn’t at the crux of this game, she certainly is the person who has been hurt most. Thank God I finally know the full story. The game ends here. Now.”

He and Travis exchanged looks. His was filled with remorse, and Travis’ was one hundred percent condescending.

“Travis. Trent.” Kat was furious. Her eyes bore holes into them.

Trent opened his mouth to speak but one look at her face was enough to silence him. Kat had always been a force to be reckoned with. She was the only person able to make him feel worse than his mother when she reamed him. She had absolutely no fear of him or Travis.

“I understand how this game of yours came about. Travis, you’re a fucking idiot. What made you think the family wouldn’t understand? What a complete and total moron to think we wouldn’t have done everything in our power to support you.”

Travis raised an arrogant brow.

“Don’t pull that shit on me. It won’t work. Because of you two lunatics the person I care about most in this world, besides you two assholes and even now that’s debatable, is in that court room staring down a possible jail sentence for solicitation.” She poked Travis in the chest.

Travis looked down his nose at her, tried to stare her down. Travis was lucky she hadn’t done worse.

Trent knew better than to interrupt.

“And you, you stupid jerk.” She turned to Trent and shook her head.

He was beside himself and unable to determine where to begin. “This is entirely my fault,” he said. “I need to get her out of there. I have to help her.”

Kat grinned. It was pure evil. “Yes it is and you most certainly do. You better do it fast. And you better do it right or my promise of castration still holds.”