I didn’t go to my Senior prom. I felt trapped by Mary into going with her and I couldn’t make myself do it. Prom night I spent at Harvard’s house playing Dungeons and Dragons and stick fighting. After the game, we turned off every light in his house and hid. He stayed downstairs with Brett and Glare as Walleye, Jammy, and I moved through the house seeking each other. Harvard’s parents were gone and he didn’t care if we broke anything they owned.
We didn’t. But he didn’t care.
She told me she had bought a dress. Said it was white with four different kinds of fabric. Then she would walk up to me all day during school and whisper, “chiffon.” I had no idea what that even was, and I had decided months before that I was not going to dance a prom floor with that girl. Not again.
I should have asked Draconic. She would have gone with me. She would have been a vision. But she was out of my reach by then. We had had our night of tequila, and she wasn’t talking to me anymore. She just looked at me and smoldered. I looked at her from across the room, or across the school grounds, and steamed and hissed with desire. No, she didn’t seem like an option at all, so I stayed away.
It was two years later when I danced a prom floor.
I was living at my apartment with regular visits from everyone, Burg, Bell, Chanel, Misty, Precious, and Bliss, and they were my entire life. Bliss was a junior and she asked me if I would go with her. She assured me that even though I was going as her date, it was not a date. She needed a warm body to take pictures with and she said she would pay for my tux and everything that went along with it. She said I wouldn’t have to spend a dollar that night, and she promised I would have fun.
See this was Precious’s senior year, and she was squeezing everything she could out of it. Her prom night was going to be epic, goddamn it, and she would not accept anything less. She bought two motel rooms at a motel at the Lake. One would be the party room, the other was strictly for sex. Everyone would take their turns with the sex room so that everyone would have the perfect night.
She was dating Ty at the time and he had buzzed his hair and hit it with peroxide to bleach it blonde. He wore a brilliant tux and looked amazing. Bell was going. Precious had bribed him to take one of her friends, and though he did not like the girl at all, he agreed if she also paid for his tux and his gas.
Bliss and Precious took me tux shopping. I had the idea that I would go in black and royal blue, but Bliss made it very clear that she was paying and so she would pick out my tux. I really didn’t care that much, so I let it happen. I was 21 at the time. No feelings for Bliss at all, and just wanted to hang out with friends.
Precious paid for the booze, but I bought it. She took orders from everyone who was drinking and got everything anyone would want for a night of debauchery and wild hormones.
I’m keeping the sex pairings and inner workings of the things I saw that night out of this story, but it was insane. I was not dating anyone, and I wanted Destiny back, so I kept myself clean. I didn’t drink at all, so I was stone sober the entire night, and it wasn’t as fun as I wanted it to be for me to sit and watch as my friends wallowed in lust and devilry. I mostly sat at the motel kitchen nook and talked to Burg about bullshit while he drank two forties of Old English and slowly, gently, quietly got hammered.
The morning came and everyone was smashed or starting to go home except me, and Bliss decided she needed to get home. Bell wanted a ride, too, and I was asked to drive.
I’m an idiot, so I did it.
Now my grandfather had died almost six months before. I had been in a car with Lioness, Tigress, Grasp, Less, and Aunt’s daughter, whom I have not spent a lot of time talking about in this series, and a few other people. I had Arthur’s car and after dropping off Less, I just wanted to get away. Away from everything, especially the things I was feeling, so I hit the highway on the way home and, in a 70 zone I was clocked at 89. This was right outside of a town called Lebanon, and I got a ticket. I didn’t even tell him that I was blowing off steam from my grandfather’s funeral. Guardian has a thing with honoring cops, and we took our lump and went home. I dropped the ticket on a chair and forgot about it.
I remembered about a week before it was due, and I couldn’t write a check. I bought a money order for the correct amount and gave it to D to take to my house while I finished up work that night. He said he put it under “ass” in my hardback of Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary. When I got home, I checked. It was there.
I had people visit me all the time, and when I went to mail the money order, it was gone. Just disappeared. I blew it off and forgot about it. A few weeks later I got a letter saying I had a suspended license and there was a warrant out for my arrest. I panicked and locked up. This would not be a problem. I didn’t even have a car. How was I supposed to care, or even get caught, unless they came pounding on my door?
Well, the morning after Bliss’s prom, she asked me to drive her home and Bell jumped at the chance to make an escape. Everyone else was still stumbling around looking for clothing and dignity. I just jumped in the car and off I went.
I didn’t know where I was going, but Bell said he could get me home. I wasn’t fantastic at stick shift, but not noticeably bad. Bliss collapsed in the back seat and Bell strapped in the front. He told me to take a turn. It was the wrong turn, and I pulled in a parking lot to u-turn. I didn’t know the streets, and I thought I was pulling out onto a street with two lanes. When I cut off the cop, I realized it was one.
He took my license and walked back to his cruiser. He came back and asked me to step out of the vehicle. I walked to the back and he asked me if I knew there was a warrant out for my arrest.
I didn’t, that is to say that Guardian didn’t. Nervously he started to put his hands in his pockets, forgetting that he had two pocket knives there. The cop put his hand to his side arm.
“Hands where I can see them.”
“Sorry, nervous habit,” Guardian said. He realized he had two knives and he cursed. “In fact, I just remembered that I have two pocket knives in my pockets but I never intended to—”
“Hands on the back of the car.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pulled the knives. He took out some piece of paper that I don’t remember, and he took my wallet. “You have a suspended license, did you know that?”
“I did not.”
“What are you doing driving a vehicle with a suspended license?”
“The two people in the car are drunk and I am driving them home after a party.” Somehow I thought he would see me as some Good Samaritan and let me go with my precious cargo, but he did not.
“You are under arrest.” He stepped behind me, pulled my hands behind my back, and cuffed me. Took me to the wildly uncomfortable back seat of his cruiser and shut the door. Bell said the cop showed up on the passenger side and told him I was under arrest and he needed to drive.
“I am drunk, officer. I think that is a bad idea.”
The cop looked at him and said, “You are driving this car.”
Bell slipped to the driver’s seat and looked back at the snarling cop, who was back in the car. Bell thought it was a trap. Thought that as soon as he pulled away, he would be arrested, but he left and the cop let him go. He drove terrified and overly cautious back to the motel, where he told everyone.
The cop and I drove to the station in silence. When we got there, I was printed and a mug shot was taken. I was pulled to a desk and talked to. But they were talking to Guardian, who again apologized for the hands in the pockets thing and answered every question “yes, sir” and “no, sir.” Even asked about the pictures of the boat on the desk. The entire time the cop looked at me as if waiting for something he was not getting.
“You seem pretty calm. You’re treating me kind. As you can expect, I don’t usually get that,” the cop said. “What’s going on?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one that messed up. Why would I be rude and disrespectful to you? You did nothing wrong. I should be apologizing to you,” Guardian said.
He put me in a room that was about five-by-five, with a tiny built-in table and a chair, and he slammed and locked a door behind me, telling me I would be transported as soon as he could arrange it. I was going back to Lebanon, where my crime had been committed, to face my fate.
I was moved to another cop car. The officer let me sit in the front of the car with no handcuffs on.
“I’m not trying to be an ass, but no one read me my rights or anything,” Guardian said.
“It’s not really necessary. We don’t do that unless we are going to question a suspect about something. But here.” He pulled out his wallet, slipped a small laminated card out and handed it to me. “These are your rights. We have to carry a card in case.”
“In case?” Guardian said.
“In case we are in an altercation and blank on what we are to say when we make the arrest.”
“I get it. This is not the easiest job, is it?”
He looked at me for a moment before swinging his eyes back to the road. “No, it really isn’t.”
“Thanks for doing it, though.”
“You’re welcome,” the cop said. He shook his head in disbelief and we talked. We talked about my life and his, about his dog and his son and his ex-wife. We talked about my two jobs, and when we arrived at the Lebanon police department, he opened the door for me and had a pair of handcuffs in his hands. “Look, I know you are not going to attack me, but out of courtesy to the cops in there, I have to cuff you. I’m sorry.”
“I get it.”
“Who are you?”
“No one really,” I said. “I won’t be a problem for you.”
“I can see that.”
He took me in and stopped me at booking. “I have a prisoner transfer for you. His name is Teller, Jesse.”
“You’re Jesse Teller?” the cop behind the grate asked.
“I am, sir.”
He looked me up and down, and then back to his colleague. “He for real?”
“Look, this guy has been nothing but respectful and courteous to all of us the entire time he has been with us. It’s like he has done this before.”
“I assure you, gentlemen, I have not.”
“Well Mr. Teller…” He looked behind me, where a cage with about six men sat in orange jump uits and growls in their throats. “You will not be here long.”
“Please do good by him if you can,” the cop that had transported me said.
“Jesse, I have already gotten three calls from people begging to bail you out.” Both cops looked at me. “He got a record?”
“No, he is clean.”
“Jesse,” the cop behind the grate said. “Are you a connected guy?”
I chuckled and looked at him. I looked at myself, just then realizing I was still wearing a tuxedo with a bowtie hanging around my throat.
Shadow popped out at the question and shook his head. “Depends on what you mean.”
They put me in a hallway, refusing to lock me up with the other convicts, and I sat there for about half an hour before Mumble and Rose showed up to bail me out. On my way out the door, I thanked the cop for his kindness and told him it would not be forgotten.
He paled and nodded and I left.
Rose and Mumble took me to lunch and explained what had happened.
Bell had gone directly back to the motel and, as he pressed his back against the door and slowly lowered himself to the floor, he covered his head and moaned out, “Jesse’s been arrested, man. The cop just fucking drove away with him. I have no idea why.”
Ty immediately called my mother. Before he could even set the phone down, Precious was calling D.
See, she knew that if she heard this information and didn’t call my best friend, her brother, that he would beat her to death slowly.
Rose told Mumble what was going on and, before they could do anything, D called.
“Look, Jesse was arrested and is being moved to Lebanon. I have the bail money and am out the door to go pick him up,” D said. “I don’t want you to worry. I got it covered. I’ll have him home safe in no time.”
“We heard, D, and though that is very sweet, I want you to know that I will go pick him up,” she said. “Do you know what he was charged with?”
“No idea. The bail is 250.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Rose hung up and called Uncle Wrath. She did not have cash laying around, and after she called the jail in Lebanon asking about Jesse Teller, she was told she would need cash. Saturday was Prom, so today was Sunday, and all the banks were closed. They wouldn’t accept a credit card. She needed someone who would have that kind of cash on hand.
Uncle Wrath, not trusting Rose to tie her shoes, let alone get something this important right, called the station to ask about bail. When he found out that indeed it was 250 dollars, he told the police officer he would be around to collect me fast.
Rose insisted that her and Mumble would do it, and Wrath finally agreed and handed her the money.
When I got home, the parking lot outside my apartment was full of cars. I walked into my house to find everyone crashed out everywhere. Chairs, every inch of floor, my bed. Everyone was there. They all wanted to know what had happened, and they all wanted to make sure I was okay.
Never saw the inside of a jail cell.
Lebanon was sure they had caught a mobster that day. A mobster with slick back hair and a tuxedo who knew they had nothing real on him. And was a smooth talker.
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Jesse Teller 
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