16.

Jail is temporary, but memories are forever, so go ahead and throw that punch so we can all look back and smile.

Text from Emerald to Amethyst

T AMA'I

I looked down at my socks and wondered how in the hell this day had gone so awry. My relaxing ride had turned into a nightmare for me and for that poor officer who had been so gravely injured.

In a way, considering my appearance and history, I could understand why they assumed I was involved. But then again, as far as I was concerned, the evidence spoke for itself. One would think that everything would work itself out, and they would release me from the cell where they had locked me up in the false hope of getting retribution for the fallen officer.

However, before I got out of prison, I read my release agreement repeatedly, and it specifically listed "arrest for any crime" or "commission of a violent act" as two reasons to revoke my parole and send me back to prison for the remainder of my sentence. As I rubbed my wrists, sore from the tight handcuffs, I tried to imagine how I could get out of this. I knew how the contract was worded, and it very specifically said that even if I was not convicted of a crime, I could still be sent back if I was arrested. I knew my parole officer wouldn't hesitate to take this to a judge just to ship me off again.

There was no crime for me to be convicted of today, and I knew it was all a misunderstanding. But in reality, I had been arrested. They'd read me my rights twice to make sure I understood them and then took my mugshot before they made me remove my cut, my clothes, and my boots for evidence since they were covered in blood.

Unfortunately, I hadn't been allowed to wash up, so my hands still had blood on them from the officer who I had tried my best to save. I had no idea if I was even successful because when I asked the jailer how she was doing, he'd only growled at me. I hoped that the medics were able to stabilize her on the flight and that she was getting the best care.

And almost as fervently, I hoped that the two men who had attacked her were either rotting in hell or on their way. I didn't even care that I was the one who introduced them to their fate. I knew that someday I'd appreciate the irony that I served time in prison for almost killing a man on purpose, but killing one or two men in the act of helping someone else was what was going to send me back.

I knew the second the first man's body dropped that he was dead - his eyes open and staring at nothing as he slid down the side of that car. I wasn't sure if the man I kicked was alive or not since the last thing I saw before the angry police officer slammed me face down onto the hood of his car was medics feeling for his pulse.

The booking officer sneered at me as he watched me take off my cut and gently fold it before I handed it to him. It took everything I had to keep my mouth shut when he tossed it toward a chair and let it fall to the floor. My cut was the least of my worries, though.

I didn't want to think of what this would do to Tutu and the rest of my family. Bart would be home soon, and not long after, Kiki would be here, but Tutu would be alone with the kids until then - and they'd all be dealing with the shame I'd brought to our family. Again.

But the kicker of it all was that I wasn't ashamed of whatever crime they were trying to throw at me just like I wasn't ashamed of the one that sent me to prison in the first place. Any man who put his hands on a woman or child didn't deserve to live. If I happened to be the one to dole out their punishment, I was more than willing to do so and pay the consequences.

But my family would have to pay, too, because this would cause ripples in the town until the truth came out that I wasn't in league with those thugs and that I didn't attack the officer - I helped her.

"Get up," the officer who appeared outside the cell ordered as he glared at me. "You get a phone call. Make it count."

As he cuffed me to take me out of the cell, I scrambled to think of who I could call. Unfortunately, I didn't have any phone numbers memorized other than my own, so I was shit out of luck unless they let me look at my contacts. I could tell by the jailer's demeanor that wasn't going to happen, so I hoped that he'd let me access a phone book to call a place where I knew they'd answer. Grudgingly, he looked up the number for me and dialed the phone before he thrust the receiver my way. Since my hands were cuffed behind my back, I almost lost the phone when he let it go but managed to squeeze it against my shoulder with my head.

"Tempest Tattoos," I heard Pearl say when she picked up.

"Pearl, it's Tiny. I've been arrested, and I need you to get in touch with Tutu and tell her she's on her own until I get out." I ignored the snort of the cop who was still glaring at me and continued. "My bike is out on the loop near where an officer was attacked. If you could find someone to go pick it up, I'll be forever grateful."

"What happened?" Pearl asked.

"Two men overpowered a police officer during a traffic stop. I stopped to help but . . . Well, they think I was involved."

"Oh, fuck no!" Pearl snapped. "You're at RPD?"

"Yeah. Just call Tutu, and let her know. She's got access to my accounts, so she can get me a lawyer. If she doesn't know a good one, do you think someone in your family can . . . Hawk's a lawyer! Will you call Hawk?"

"Sit tight and keep your mouth shut, Tiny. I'll have someone there within the hour."

"Call Tutu and . . ."

"There's no sense in calling her and worrying her about nothing. I'll take care of this."

"And my bike?"

"I'll take care of that too. Sit tight, Tiny. I've got you, buddy."

"Thanks, Pearl."

Without warning, the officer reached out and took the phone away before he slammed it down to hang up. He sneered at me and said, "Get up."

I stood up and looked down at him. He took a step back, and I wasn't shocked. My size had always been a factor - either in my favor for intimidation or against me when a smaller man felt less than and tried to prove he was more powerful. This guy was obviously one of the latter. I'd heard my sister refer to it as "little man syndrome," and I completely agreed. He puffed up like a rooster as he jerked me by my arm and led me back down the long hall to my holding cell.

All I could think was that I hoped Pearl didn't tell Amethyst what was going on until I could see her face while I explained exactly what happened. Just like Tutu and the kids, I didn't want Amethyst to think badly of me, but right now, it looked like that was more than likely to happen.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting there staring at my feet and worrying about what was going on outside before I heard a woman's voice say my name. I looked up and saw a gorgeous Hispanic woman standing just outside my cell smiling at me.

"Hello, Tama'i. I'm Esme Cardenas."

"Hello."

"I just wanted you to know that you handled yourself very well on the radio this afternoon and thank you for your help."

"You know I helped her? Can you tell the cops that?"

She gave me a mysterious smile before she said, "I've already put the bug in the chief's ear, and you're about to witness some heads roll. You've got visitors on their way back. They're signing in right now, but I wanted to reassure you that you won't be here for much longer."

"That's all well and good, but the fact that I'm in here right now is a violation of my parole."

"I know a guy who can pull some strings," she said with a wink. "Amethyst is a lucky woman because you're a good man, Tama'i."

"Call me Tiny."

"I'll call you anything you want as long as I can also call you my friend."

"I'd like that."

"I'm about to get off duty and . . ."

"How's the officer? Is she doing okay? I had no idea what I could do to help her, so I just blocked the sun and let her know I was there for her in case she could hear me."

"Last I heard, Zoey was on her way to surgery. You can go see for yourself when you leave here."

"I'll have to find my bike and talk to my family and my . . . my girlfriend," I stammered. This was the first time I'd ever referred to Amethyst that way, and I wondered if that would still apply after today.

"Your motorcycle is on its way here, so it will be waiting for you when you're released."

"You're awfully sure that's gonna happen."

"Like I said, I know people."

"Is Hawk one of the people coming to see me?" I asked.

"No. Hawk wasn't available, so Pearl upgraded."

"What does that mean?"

Esme actually giggled like a kid before she said, "You'll find out."

She turned to look down the hall right before I heard a woman say, "If there's a mark on him, I'll have you flying a cargo plane full of rubber dog shit out of Tokyo by tomorrow!"

"I think it's supposed to be Hong Kong, Petra, but I get where you're coming from, and I completely agree," a man said cheerfully. "Although, I doubt the little man has his pilot's license."

"Probably not. I'm sure there's a height restriction for things like that," she replied.

"Here comes the cavalry," Esme said with a grin. "I'll talk to you soon, Tiny. Thanks again for helping Zoey. We'll forever be in your debt."

"No debt. It was the right thing to do."

As my new friend walked off, I heard the people in the hall greet her and then a beautiful white woman appeared next to an older Black man who looked familiar somehow even though I knew I'd never seen him before. Out of respect, I stood and nodded at the newcomers and got a smile from the woman in return.

The man's face was blank, but I could see his eyes glittering with anger as he stared menacingly at the jailer. "Open the fucking door, and let him out."

"I can't do that."

"Then let us in," the woman ordered.

"I'll have to process him through and get you a conference room."

The powerful looking man leaned a fraction closer to the jailer and said, "You realize you're skating on ice so thin I can see the words of your termination letter through it. I can also read the words on the paperwork I'm going to file for the lawsuit on my client's behalf. Unlock. The fucking. Door."

The jailer swallowed hard and then hurriedly unlocked the cell door. As he slid it aside, the man pushed his way past him, and the woman followed close behind. I was shocked when she veered around the man and barreled into me, wrapping her arms around me tightly as the jailer slammed the cell door shut.

"Thank you," she whispered, and I could hear the tears in her voice.

"You're scaring him, Petra," the man said as he broke into a smile. "Tiny, this is your lawyer, Petra Parker, and I'm your other lawyer, Marcus Hamilton."

"Hamilton?" I asked, unable to extend my hand to shake his because the woman still had my arms pinned to my sides with her tight hug.

"Amethyst is my niece."

"You're her dad's brother. I see the resemblance."

"We've already got everything in the works to get you out of here, and I can assure you that there will be no charges filed," Marcus said firmly. He pulled Petra a few steps back so she was standing beside him and then put his arm over her shoulder to comfort her as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I know you're upset, sweetheart, but you need to put your game face on."

"I'm trying, but he's covered in Zoey's blood, Marcus."

"Is the officer a friend of yours?"

"Yes, and she's one of Amy's best friends. They grew up together. My brother and I have been close friends with her parents since before she was born and consider them part of our family."

"How is she doing? That other woman, Esme, said she's going into surgery."

"She's stable, but she has a severe head injury along with other injuries from the beating she took before you rescued her."

"And those other men?"

"One is dead and the other one insists on trying to live, although I don't know why because once he recovers, I'm going to make sure that he wishes he was dead with every breath he takes."

"Okay, here's the deal, we're waiting on Nick to get here and start swinging. Then we'll spring you so you can go get cleaned up. Amy is at the hospital with the rest of the family, and I'm sure she'd like to talk to you as soon as possible," Petra explained.

"Who is Nick?"

"That's Esme's father. He's. . ."

Footsteps in the hall interrupted Petra's explanation, and an older Hispanic man appeared with a furious scowl. He used his key to open the cell door and then motioned for Marcus and Petra to come forward. They walked out into the hallway, and he stared at me with raised eyebrows before he said, "You're free to go, Mr. Fuamautu."

"I am?" I asked in shock.

"Your belongings have been delivered to my office, and my wife is on her way with another pair of boots for you."

I looked down at my feet and then back up at the man before I said, "I'm not sure how she knows my size but . . ."

"She went to your house and explained the situation to your grandmother who gave her a pair of your boots. I'll need the ones you were wearing today as evidence, but I'll return them to you as soon as they're processed."

"Evidence against me?" I sighed before I said, "I guess I should call my parole officer and let her know . . ."

"She's waiting for us in my office. I'm sure they've already processed your hands. You'll be able to wash up once we get there."

"Is she going to revoke me?" I asked.

"Only if she wants to start a war," the man in charge said angrily.

Petra gave me a blinding smile before she said, "Come on, Tiny. Let's get you out of here."

I didn't realize who I was walking with until we arrived at the door of his office and I saw the etching on the window that said he was the RPD chief. I knew he must be beside himself at the thought of his officer in trouble and hoped he understood how much I wanted to help her even though I had no idea how to do that.

Before I could figure out how to say that, he opened another door and motioned for me to go inside.

"Take your time - there are clean washcloths and towels in the cabinet above the toilet. I don't have a scrub brush for your nails, but I can find one."

"I'm sure it will be okay," I said as I walked into the simple but clean bathroom. Once again, I thought of how much I needed to pee, so I asked, "Do you mind if I shut the door for a second?"

"You're not under arrest, Mr. Fuamatu. You're here as my honored guest. Take as long as you need."

"Thank you." I shut the door before I turned to look at my reflection in the mirror. There were specks of blood on my face. I had no idea where they'd come from, but the streaks of blood across my shirt were from wiping my own hands after I checked her pulse before I kneeled next to the police officer to shield her injured face from the harsh sun.

I wondered if there was a dark spirit over my shoulder watching me, laughing about the shitstorm he'd stirred up in my life, and then shook the thought off. For once, my luck seemed to be holding if the fact that I was in the chief's office as a guest rather than a prisoner meant anything at all.

Now I'd have to see what my visit to the police station had done to my family. I could imagine the kids were in an uproar and Tutu was beside herself. As much as I wanted to go check on Amethyst and make sure she was holding up okay while her friend was fighting for her life, I needed to take care of my family first. At least I could be sure that Amethyst's family was taking care of her.