I Trust You

Next Stop...The Dog House

"They took my mugshot, Vic." Grace cries, her hands gripping tightly onto the slender and cold jail bars.

"I know, boo. I'm sorry." Vic coos, stroking Grace's hand but quickly flinches back when a police officer ,in a clad blue uniform, walks by.

"I'm going to jail."Grace sniffs, her eyes watering. "It's not my fault, you have to believe me."

Vic tries to muster up a smile.

"Who would have thought the old woman would actually call the cops."

Grace wipes a stray tear from her cheek as she sits in the corner of the large cell, far away from the chubby woman dressed in black leggings and leather jacket, on her arm a large tattoo of a skull.

"I can't do this, Vic." Grace whispers, wringing her hands together.

"I know but I'm doing all I can." Vic glances back to the front desk where 6 armed officers sit, taking statements and forcefully stamping documents. "The people here are ruthless, hun. I called John, he's on the next flight home, okay?"

Grace gently nods, her eyes on her wrinkled yellow summer dress.

After Grace had attacked the old bat, 3 security guards with black glasses stepped out of the shadows and 'escorted' Grace out. If you call grabbing somebody by the neck, feet and arms escorting. The 3 men dumped her outside the Gucci store and minute later Vic came running out, a large, depressed frown on her face. Once she'd checked Grace for any life threatening injuries she uttered the most horrifying thing.

"She called the cops."

Grace snaps out her reverie when a loud clank hits against the metal bars. Blinking back more tears, Grace spots a familiar fur coat and disheveled platinum blonde hair limping into the main office.

"I should have just dissed her and walked away." Grace mumbles, eyeing the hand that had sealed her fate. "I'm an idiot. I beat an old woman for shoes."

Grace eyes dart towards the end of the cell where the tattooed woman shuffles towards the jail door. An officer walks over with large keys and the doors slide open with a bang. The officer glances at Grace and locks the jail doors before throwing her teasing wink.

"They let her out." Grace shoots out her cold seat, her bum numb, and grabs onto the handles. "Vic! Vic! You have to get me out of here. They replaced the big woman with me. I'm the one going to jail."

Vic comes running over, her and Grace's bag tipping over in her hands.

"You have to chill. Screaming and shouting won't get you any sympathy."

Grace forces the bubble of emotions down and nods feeling the cool tears drip onto the grey, dry floor.

"I'm trying. I really am."

"I know." Vic glances behind her before ruffling around in Grace's bag and taking out her iPhone. "Who's D.I.A?"

"What?" Grace murmurs, her face pressed onto the bars.

"D.I.A. They keep calling and texting."

D.I.A? Oh!

"Devil In Armani." Grace whispers. "It's my boss."

"Your boss wears Armani?" Vic asks, her eyes widening. Grace sadly nods. "That's hot!"

Grace shoots her a dirty glare.

"Right now, Vic. You're going to do this right now?"

"Sorry." She mouths. "Well, if it helps he says to meet him at the hotel on Monday."

"Does that information get me out of here?" Grace rants, pushing herself off the bars.

"No..."

"So, that means I don't want to hear it." Grace eyes squint against the bright yellow lights. "Who knows, maybe Monday I'll be sitting in a jail cell with Tate, my jail buddy who stands when using the bathroom."

Vic pulls a face, reaching out to touch Grace but instead she walks to the corner of the cell ,wedging herself deep into the tiny crook, away from Vic and prying, speculative eyes.

I'm going to jail. I'm going to jail.

"You need to calm down, Grace." Vic soothes, trying to stuff her head in-between the bars. "Acting like this only makes you seem guilty."

"I'm scared." Grace moans, walking over to Vic before turning around and squeezing herself back into the corner. "I mustn't drop the soap."

"The soap?" Vic asks, her eyes fazed before they light up again. "Really, drop the soap? Just a second ago you were shouting at me about cracking jokes."

"I'm the one behind the bars. I think I've earned the right."

Vic shakes her head as she removes the light brown leather jacket, her white Tommy Hilfiger shirt exposed.

"Your boss called while you were having a mini panic attack." Vic mutters, sliding down and leaning her head back against the bars.

"Did you answer?"

"Of course. He was starting to bug me."

"What did you say?" Grace slowly draws out, crawling over to Vic.

"That we're waiting for the old lady to finish her interview or screening or whatever."

"You told him!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do. What if...."

"I really go to jail." Grace mumbles, her back against Vic's as she releases a heavy sigh. "I'm never going to forgive you, snitch."

Vic bursts into giggles, poking Grace's back through the bars before she settles her warm hand onto Grace's cold one

"Sure you will." Vic mumbles. "So, how was it like when they took your mugshot?"

"Scary and cold."

"Cold?"

"Ja, they hand the air con on."

"I'm sorry." Vic finally says after a lengthy silence. "This was supposed to be fun not..."

"I land up in jail type of shopping spree?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I was hoping to spend my weekend relaxing and binge watching some shows but stuff happens, its life."

"Oh, c'mon, going to jail isn't part of Life 101. You just have terrible luck and self-control."

"Maybe but what if I'm paying for my sins."

"What sins?" Vic laughs, turning around to face Vic's.

"Remember that carton of milk I stole from that shop in 7th grade."Grace mumbles, playing with her dress.

"Oh just shut up!" Vic wipes her hand across her face. "You're not being punished for doing that dare."

"I never returned it, Vic. We ate Cheerios with it the next day."

"This cell is making you insane."

"What is she charging me with?"Grace finally asks the question that's been swirling in her mind the moment the police had cuffed her at the mall.

"Assault and battery."

Grace lets out a sob.

"But I didn't..."

"You slapped the old witch, hun."

"Slapped is too violent." Grace mumbles, her voice thick and heavy. "More like gently tapped."

"Well, you're 'gentle tap' left a pretty red mark or 'evidence' as they call it around here."

"I'm screwed."

"No, you're not. Just hold on and have faith."

I'll try but no promises.