Free Drunk and Disorderly (Love in the City Short) by Liv Morris Page B

can resume.
    Mr. Reynolds finishes his secret conversation and moves to the side leaving the officer alone in front of us.
    “Right now, I’m more worried about the display I just saw between these two than the gambling permit.” I watch the officer pull a lone pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. “I think it’s best to take them in, Mr. Reynolds. Let them cool down for a bit. Don’t you?”
    Mr. Reynolds looks between Coop and me. There’s the oddest half-smile on his face. It surprises me, as I would’ve thought he’d be furious with our outburst and my drunken behavior.
    “Yes, I agree. Some time cooling off is a good idea,” Mr. Reynolds agrees with the cop. Wait a second. I’m going to jail for this? A silly quarrel. What universe am I living in anyway?
    “Give me your hand, Miss.” I extend my arm, and feel the cold metal as it encompasses my wrist, hearing the simple click securing the cuff. Damn, I used to think handcuffs were sexy. Not anymore.
    “And now yours.” He points to Coop’s arm and repeats the same process. One handcuff and both of us bound together. Would someone please wake me up now? Surely, I’m dreaming and this is an awful nightmare.
    The officer takes my arm gently and leads me off the platform. Coop has no choice but to follow. I walk through the room with my head down in shame until I hear Priscilla speaking somewhere to my left side.
    “Don’t worry, Millie. I’ll call my cousin. He’s an attorney.” I look up and see her, and realize I’m crying, tears streaming down my face. I nod at her and mouth the words, “Thanks.”
    But I’ll need more than an attorney. There’s a good chance that I’ll need another art teacher winning the lottery. This job, my dream one, is probably over before it really began. More angry tears follow. I’m frustrated, mad at Coop and myself.
    I want to kick him in the shins. Take out all my frustrations on something, anything. I’m afraid to even look his way. If he returns my gaze with anger in his eyes, it could get ugly fast. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been this upset. Steam might even be coming out of my ears.
    Keeping my eyes trained on the ground, I see that we’re in the lobby as the flooring changes to marble tiles. Shit, next up is the patrol car. Then the police station. After that the unemployment line. What a clusterfuck of a night.
    The warm evening air hits me as the officer leads us outside. My skin is overheated and I wish there was a cool breeze blowing. Between all the alcohol and getting cuffed, I’m feeling feverish. Flush, too.
    Now that we’re outside, I peek up just enough to see the officer’s awaiting patrol car in the distance, lights off, thankfully. Any more drama and I’d be screaming. As we approach the car, Coop finally speaks. He’s been oddly silent the entire time.
    “Officer, there really isn’t a need to take us to the station. Surely, we can work this out here.”
    “Forget the speeches, hotshot. I’m not listening. You can tell your story to the precinct captain. He loves to be entertained.” For the first time the police officer shows some emotion and laughs. At us. In Coop’s face. We are so going down for the count now. I can almost hear the jail cell’s door slamming shut.
    Coop sighs in frustration. I look up at him and I swear he looks a little scared, uneasy. His record as the perfect celebrity is about to be tarnished. The press will have a field day when they get ahold of this. I’m a nothing. I’ll go back to Augusta where I belong and find a job cat sitting or something. No one will care.
    But he’s going to have to answer for this one. The reporters will likely grill him and sensationalize the whole ordeal. And as Coop looks into my eyes, registering some feeling that I’d never seen on his face, a little sympathy pushes past my anger, making me just a little bit sorry. Dare I say remorseful?
    “Hey.” Talking just above a whisper, I pull on the handcuff