One is Rust the Other is Gold

7: The Bet

The front office was empty when Ms. Kujo picked up the nearest phone to call an ambulance for the police station. Nearby, a pair of headphones were unplugged from a radio where I heard a pair of patrolling officers continually asking for updates and gave assurances that they were on their way. We had little time.

I found Officer Abbacchio's desk and grabbed my wallet and phone she confiscated, stuffing them back into my pockets. Luckily, she must have unlocked her computer before rushing back to the cells when she heard the commotion. I found my file and attached police report, half filled out. I hit the delete button with the tip of a nail.

"Do you think that will help?" Joel asked, standing behind me. "That officer might remember your name and come looking for you." He had left his mom to follow me around the room.

"After what happened today, she's going to be too busy to worry about me and my minor attempted theft," I said.

"Well, if she does remember you and comes knocking, I could help you out." He shifted his weight onto one leg and tried to look casual. I noticed his smile was a little too broad. He was nervous.

I paused to look him up and down to pick apart his body language. This seemed to make him even more nervous, which I enjoyed a little too much. "Why the sudden eagerness to help a stranger out, when back in the cells you weren't interested?"

"I told you mom probably wouldn't help you. I still could, though."

"Let's go," Ms. Kujo said with a glare to her son as if she caught him doing something disapproving.

"C'mon," Joel gestured to me before he jogged over to his mother.

Outside, waiting by the curb in the pouring rain, was a black car with an odd emblem on the side that looked like an old-fashioned wheel.

"Jump in," Joel gestured for me to follow into the car after Ms. Kujo.

I paused. Within seconds, I was already drenched from the pouring rain. The skies were dark and it was now late enough for the streetlamps to flicker on, their light reflecting off the wet, splattering streets. I heard sirens in the distance, quickly getting louder.

No. No, no, no. I was a High School girl who weighed little more than 50kg with parents who wouldn't care if I never came home. I had few options to defend myself and I couldn't afford to trust strangers who might be part of something like a sex trafficking ring. And what even happened back there in those cells?? Weren't these dangerous people? Without saying a word, I sprinted in the opposite direction of the sirens.

It was a few blocks before my lungs, sides, and back felt like they were going to split open. The deep bruises my stepfather inflicted on me howled once the adrenaline of my escape started to wear off. I slowed to a jog, every breath sharp and painful. I heard the wheels of a car splashing through the streets behind me. I peered over my shoulder and saw the black car again. Joel was riding in the back seat, his window down and his fringe sticking to his forehead from the rain. "Wanna meet up later?" he called out to me. His mother must have grabbed the back of his shirt because he suddenly fell backwards, and his window rolled up on its own.

I dove into the nearest alleyway and in my haste while blinded by the rain in my eyes, I tripped over the legs of a druggie whose limbs were dangling outside of a makeshift shelter hobbled together from objects people leave on curbs.

"Hey!" the man protested and peered out to see who kicked him. He slapped a soft lump lying on his left, waking up his friend from his stupor. "Hello, little lady, you need some shelter from the rain? I got plenty of room next to me," the first man grinned at me as he stood.