Tonight (Sequel to All I Want to be is Somebody to You (A Brad Simpson Fanfic))

Chapter 12: I'm Giving Up

"What's your name?" Asked the burly police officer.

"Tammy Natalia Scaletta- Simpson." I replied.

"Is it Scaletta space Simpson or Scaletta hyphen Simpson?"

"Hyphen Simpson."

"Alright." He looked at the computer screen. He turned the computer towards me. "Is that you?" He asked. I looked at the information. It had everything about me; my address, my Illinois address, my education, marriage, kids, birth, birthdate, and all sorts of other categories.

"Yes."

"You are charge with assault. You have a £14,800 bail or a few months in jail."

"How many months?" I asked, trying to be wise.

"Six months in the Feminine Penitentiary." The office phone began to ring. "Alright. I'll let her know." He looked at me. "Your husband, Bradley Will Simpson, wishes to bail you out."

"Tell him I decline. I wish to go to prison."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard. I also want to call my lawyer. I want to get divorced."

"It takes guts to go to prison, kid. How old are you?"

"Today is my birthday. I am turning twenty-seven."

"Wow. Young. Happy birthday."

"It was happy."

"Why did you assault, Abigail Merida?"

"That slut went up and kissed my husband! How would you like it if your wife was kissing some random guy off the streets who looked like trash?"

"I wouldn't like it."

"Me either."

"Your children were watching."

"I know."

His phone began to ring again. "Aha. Yes. I understand. I'll ask her. Yes. Thank you." He looked at me again. "Your daughter, Brenda Wilma Simpson, wishes to see you. Do you accept?"

"No."

"You don't want to see your daughter?"

"I wish to waste my call on my lawyer."

"Alright." He picked up the phone and dialed a number. "I'm sorry but the defendant does not wish to speak to her daughter." He hung up. I died inside. Brenda was going to hate me. Brenda is a smart girl but she is to stubborn. She's infatuated with her father.

"May I call my lawyer?"

"Yes." He pushed the phone towards me. The only lawyer I could trust was Julie. Yeah she's twenty-two, but she is technically my soon-to-be-sister-in-law.

"Hello?" I heard Julie.

"Julie?"

"Ah, Tammy. What happened? I'm outside with the rest."

"You are the only lawyer I know and I need your help. I need your extra discretion, please."

"Why?"

"I am staying six months in prison."

"What!?!"

"Yes. I don't want Brad's help."

"But it's your birthday!"

"I don't care."

"So you want me to help you get out?"

"No. I want you to help me with my divorce." She was quiet.

"Alright. I won't tell Brad or your kids, or your family. It'll be a secret between you and I."

"Amazing. Thanks Julie."

"Your welcome. I'll come in now." She didn't hang up yet. "Brad is leaving. He looks upset. Brenda is crying buckets."

"I'll tell you what happened. Are you with Toni?"

"No. He is talking with Austin and Tallia."

"Alright. Run in as fast as you can." She hung up.

I waited a few minutes. I was already in a cell. My heels sat beside me. I saw Julie come from the corridor.

"Hello Tammy. I will be defending you in your divorce. It's a pretty complicated case though. You have kids, very good jobs. It's hard to keep discretion because you're both celebrities so this will probably be on the news and every celeb gossip magazine."

"I don't care. The decision of getting divorced from Bradley Will Simpson is a definite."

"I like your moxy,"

"Thanks. Let's do this."

"I need your declaration."

Julie and I sat for an hour.

"Misses Tammy Natalia Scaletta-Simpson, you are now being translated to the London Feminine Penitentiary." The burly police officer from earlier said.

"Alright. I take all charges." I stood and gave Julie a hug. "Ultimate discretion, please."

"I promise." She whispered.

I got up, and noticed my dress had blood at the bottom of it. Am I on my period or was that that slut's blood? Well, it's a red dress, no one is going to notice and I am not going to be wearing dresses or shirts or real world clothes because I'll be wearing prison orange.

"Put this on." Said a guard. I grabbed the orange lump of clothing. Stitched on the right pocket said Scaletta-Simpson. I wanted to erase Simpson but I can't. I can dream but it can't become my reality. Why does Brad have to fuck everything up and be a dick! I'm never like this. I don't curse like this. What's happening to me?

I put on the clothes and held my dress and my heels. My makeup was gone. I looked so pale. I put my hair in a simple ponytail, trying to show as much abnegation as possible.

I can survive six months in prison, right?