I'm Not Dead

[ C H . 1 ]

Pro tip: When a girl too drunk to remember her name offers you a bag of white powder, don't take it, especially if you don't know her.

In fact, don't ever take white powder from someone, unless you want to get yourself into yet another awkward position. Starting out, it's angsty. You grab a straw or roll up a shred of paper, then stab it in your nose. Deeply, you inhale the white powder, before realizing it's not cocaine, but powdered sugar. Then, once you conclude a legendary coughing fit, you hear chairs falling over. It's the drunk girl's drug dealer boyfriend, cursing at her for giving away his product.

Laughing, you toss the bag she gave you at him and tell him his product was shit and he's lucky you didn't pay for it.

That's when your night really goes south.

First, he looks around in shock that you dare challenge his scrawny ass. Then, before your intoxicated mind has time to react, his knuckles are buried in the skin of your cheek. Of course, you hit him back, easily knocking him out. Then, the drunk girl starts screaming at you and hitting you, but you don't hit her back, because she's a girl. Shortly, the bar windows are tinted with red and blue and before you can apologize to the bartender, you find yourself in handcuffs headed down to the station.

Like every other Saturday night.

The cool part is, I get to spend Sunday in a cell, sleeping off my hangover, instead of being home with my ear-splitting family.

"Welcome back Rocco! I almost thought we weren't going to see you tonight," the man at the front desk, Gabe, called out as the officers dragged me in.

Grinning, I nodded at him. "I want jelly-filled donuts tomorrow Gabe, don't get cheap on me!" I called out before they took me into the backroom to process me. I'd been here so many times, they didn't bother taking my mugshot anymore--so you could imagine my contempt when they did. "Come on fellas, I'm not wearing my nice drinking shirt tonight. Can't you just send me to bed?" I asked, my words slurring together as I tried to stand up straight. I was still absurdly drunk though, and couldn't keep myself from stumbling forward.

Frustrated, one of the cops pressed a hand on my stomach to keep my back against the wall. "Get over it Maneli, you were seen using drugs tonight. Next time, stick to the alcohol," he scolded, as the other officer handed me a plaque. 

Giving the camera my widest grin, I ran a hand through my knotted brown hair and held up the sign like it was an achievement as the camera flashed. Once they took my picture, I was then dragged into an interrogation room. 

So much for curling up in a cell until Gabe brought me donuts.

Tonight really wasn't my night.

Then again, when was it ever?

"Come on boys, I just want to get some shut-eye. I'll be less trouble if I'm asleep." I grumbled, wishing they'd be gentler. I may be poisoned with hard liquor, but I could still feel pain. "Why are we being mean to Rocco tonight? We like Rocco, he's our favorite weekend guest." I protested, leaning heavily against one of the cops holding me upright. Instead of responding, they sat me down in a cold metal chair and cuffed me to the metal bar on the table.

"The doctor will be here soon, until then try not to puke on the table," one of the younger officers said, making me chuckle. She was pretty. I liked pretty people. They were great distractions.

"Why throw my puke on the table," I hiccuped, "when I can just throw you?" I asked, my ill attempt at flirting ignored, as the officers left me to my own devices. 

Exhaling heavily, I leaned back in the chair and looked over at the double-sided window. I guess tonight wasn't a good night to try illicit drugs. I hated getting in trouble for things I didn't get a chance to do, it took the fun out of it. I'd be happier if I was high, instead, I'm drunk and irritatingly tired. 

Yawning, I leaned forward and pressed my cheek against the cold table. My face was hot from the liquor, while my body ached from the fight. I just wanted to go to sleep, and I almost did, but a woman barged in with a leather bag and determination.

"Hello Mr. Maneli, I need you to sit up," she said, grabbing my shoulder and pushing me upright as the cops poured back into the room with their guns drawn. 

Weird. 

I guess my criminal status was promoted or something. 

Once the lady had me in an upright position, she clicked on her flashlight and shone it against my eye. "What drugs did you take tonight Mr. Maneli? If you cooperate, it'll make things easier for you,"

My blue iris burned from the light. "I told them, I inhaled powdered sugar thinking it was cocaine," I muttered, as the woman took the light away from my eyes and stuck a thermometer in my mouth. The tip tasted bitter under my dry tongue.

"How long ago did you pick him up?" She asked, pulling the stick from my mouth after it beeped. She wrote down my temperature then put it away before changing her pair of gloves.

"About an hour ago. He wasn't showing any symptoms, but we wanted to make sure," one of the officers, the older one, replied as he kept his hand on the handle of his gun. Why were they on edge tonight? They should know I was harmless. In all the times I've come in here, I've never once physically or verbally attacked them. I respected them and their authority.

I also liked the free food they gave me for behaving.

The presumable doctor then hooked her thumb on my cheek and pulled it out as she shone her flashlight in. The smell of alcohol on my breath didn't seem to phase her. She must do this often. After poking around in my mouth for a moment, she pulled away from me and took off her gloves. "He's clean. He would've been showing symptoms by now. Send him home, and tell whoever picks him up to give him some water. He's dehydrated," she said, then gathering up her things and leaving as quickly as she came.

Once she left, I was uncuffed from the table and carried out to the lobby where they shoved a phone in my hand. One of those old fashion landlines. "I prefer texting to calling friends." I sighed, typing in my brother's number and pressing the phone to my ear. His cell rang, but Lorenzo didn't answer. Instead it went to voicemail. Exhaling sharply, I waited for the beep as I leaned against the wall. "Hey Enzoooooo, it's your favorite, Rocco. I'm drunk and I need a ride home from the police station. I tried drugs, but they weren't real drugs and now the cops want me to go home and I'm sad because I wanted jelly donuts," I slurred into the phone, giving him a paragraph of unnecessary information until his voicemail cut me off.

After I hanging up, the cops dragged me into one of the holding cells in the front room, tossed me in and closed the door behind me. When they had, I stumbled over to the nearest bench to lay down. In no time, I was asleep, snoring absurdly loud. I was only out for a short while though, before I felt a hand shake my shoulder. Fluttering my eyes open, I saw Lorenzo hovering over me. He looked pissed. 

"Get up Rocco, let's go. It's late." He grumbled, grabbing my elbow.

I blinked hard as I let him pull me up. "Sorry for being late, I just needed a nap," I murmured, to which Lorenzo rolled his eyes.

"Save the drunken apologies for tomorrow. Mom is going to be pissed. We're tired of taking turns getting you, next time I'm leaving your ass here," he scolded, but the words didn't resonate with me. I heard them, but I was too drunk to process them as he helped me out of the cell to the front desk, so he could get my things. While he signed for them, I heard a commotion coming from the entrance of the police station. 

Two officers were dragging in a sickly looking dude, who appeared less than pleased about being here. He was growling incoherently and desperately snapping at them. His skin was sheet white and distorted with cuts, his eyes were bloodshot to hell, and I could see dark veins protruding from inside his red-stained mouth. 

It looks like I wasn't the only one having a bad night.

Noticing the man also, Gabe shook his head as he passed Lorenzo a plastic bag of my stuff. "Chief thinks there's a new drug on the market, we've been getting a lot of guys like that. Violent as violent can be." He laughed as he looked over at me. "Good thing you choked on powdered sugar Rocco, that could've been you," he said, clearly amused. 

Rather than respond though, I continued looking at the deranged man as Lorenzo grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the police station.

Tonight had been a wild night indeed, and odds were, I probably wasn't going to remember most of it.