“Please, I don’t want to be rude. I’m just looking at the clock and I have to be somewhere this afternoon and I feel like if we work together we can get through this part fast so I might make my appointment.”
Her face didn’t have to tell me. The generously loud laughter of the man at the next desk didn’t have to tell me. The murmuring of the word “bitch” from the guy chained to the chair behind me didn’t have to tell me. I knew. I knew the minute it came out of my mouth it was the wrong thing to say. But it hung there in the air, and there was no way to take it back.
“Are we messing up your tea party, sweetie?” the booking officer crooned and held a “tea-cup pinky” in the air. “Or do you have some other laws you need to violate before noon.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “That was rude and short sighted, and I really shouldn’t have said—”
“Honey,” the cop put her hand up to let me know she didn’t want to hear an apology, no matter how long. “The only time I look at that clock is seven o’clock, because that’s when my shift is over. So just sit there and hang tight and I’ll get you done when you get done.”
“Yes, Officer,” I mumble. Can I possibly screw up my day even more?
“Hey Ruth,” an officer from the doorway calls. There is some kind of tussle in the hallway and a string of profanity erupts into the otherwise quiet and efficient processing room. Frankly, I’ve never heard that many F words in thirty seconds before.
Four tough, rowdy young men are led into the room chained together by hands and feet. The one on the front kicks the bench in front of him sending it spinning and pulling the legs out from under the others, causing them all to lean to the side.
“Sit your asses down and stop that shit,” an officer calls. The smell of rotten food covered in moldy pasta and over fermented grape juice fills this air. The officer approaches my booking agent.
“Can you book these ass**les and get them into interrogation before they smell up the whole building?” he asks her. I sit up and listen to the conversation, realizing if she decided to book the four of them before me, I’m never getting out of here.
“What the hell?”
“It’s the Arturi brothers from Delancey Street. They were roughing up an elderly street vendor when the staff of La Russo caught them in an alley and treated them to a dumpster beating before the beat cops could get there. Precinct asked to bring them here to get them out of home turf and give them a good long sit before some Capo comes to release them.”
“You bet, but they ain't gonna need no Capo. Their salvation just walked through the door.”
“Oh?” the officer turns to look but shrugs. I’m dying to turn around but I don’t dare.
“Clank and Clack, the bail guys, both just walked through the door,” Ruth explains. “But, they can settle down and wait.”
“Fucking piece of stupid shit!” One of the chained men calls and kicks the desk in front of him sending papers all over the floor.
“Right!” says Ruth. “No time like the present.”
She grabs a pen and begins walking toward them.
“Wait,” I call out. “What about me? I was here first. I should be booked first.”
Ruth runs her fingers through her butch-man hair and sighs again. She places a meaty hand on the desk in front of me and commands my utmost attention.
“Look, Princess Periwinkle,” she says, curling her lips with every word. “If I let that mess sit in here any longer they are going to break up our room and maybe send someone to a hospital. So, yea, I’m taking them first and no, babycakes, it’s not fair. But it’s smart, and that’s what we do here–what’s smart.” She turns her back to me, and then whirls around to tell me one more thing. “Besides, you smell a hell of a lot better than them, so you I can keep around a while.”
I look up at the clock and feel my blood boil. How dare she speak to me like that? She can’t delay me just because someone is smellier than I am or represents more trouble than I do! I have rights. I probably pay more taxes than the four Arturi brother combined. I look up and see the watch commander staring my direction. I make a plan.
I am going to stand up, walk over and tell him that I am an investigative reporter and the Editor-in-Chief of Lynx magazine. It’s true for another thirty minutes or so. I’m going to make him very aware that I am making notes about the inherent unfair booking practices of this station and the delaying tactic that is causing me to lose valuable time. By the time I’m done he will have someone rushing to process me and I won’t have to smell like putrid fruit to do it.
I put my hand on top of the desk and start to rise out of the chair when Mark’s voice rings in my head. Sitting up, I can hear his words with amazing clarity. I almost look to see if he’s in the room but I know that he’s at court waiting on me. Still, he is strong and clear inside my thoughts.
“All you do is push and bully. You don’t use your brain or power to collaborate or negotiate. You just throw your weight around, stomp and threaten. It works for you now, but it won’t always work for you and I’d hate to see the day your strategy lets you down,” he told me early in our journey. He’s right. That’s exactly what I was preparing to do, bully them into speeding me through the system.
But that’s not who I am any more.
I sit back in my chair and stop looking at the clock. If I lose Lynx, I lose it. I can’t swim upstream forever. I can work for another magazine, and someday maybe start something else. I accept the reality that throwing a fit isn’t going to help so I might as well act like I have some dignity while I’m here. Like a lady. Like Mark’s lady.
“Hey Ben,” Ruth calls as she points to the bench and glares the cuffed brothers into their seats. “Can you book that lady right there? She’s a repeat so you just have to confirm and send her down to wait for arraignment.”
Ben nods and takes the seat at her desk, looks at my arrest sheet and starts typing in numbers. I laugh to myself. Even when he isn’t here, Mark is still right. The officer confirms my name and numbers, prints out a stack of notes for me to sign, lines me up for another booking photo (and Valerie thought her photos were bad?) and leaves me on a bench to be taken to the connected series of cells in the hall below. I see Robert Clank walking over to where Ruth has the subdued gang members, but before I can wave or get his attention, I hear my name.