Free REBEL, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) by Elle Casey

crack?”
    “What?”
    “Why are you over there?”
    “I was … never mind, I’ll tell you later.   Can you bring the license to me or not?”
    “See you in a few,” he says, before disconnecting the call.
    I try to smile big at the officer, but it feels more like a grimace.   It’s the best I can do.   “My boss is bringing me my license.”   I think.   “If you want, while we wait, I could sing you a song.   I’m pretty good at karaoke.”   Where did that come from?   I don’t know.   Let’s just write it off to stress-induced survival mechanisms and leave it at that.
    He frowns at me, studying my face.   “Are you under the influence too?   Step out of the car.”
    It’s really unfortunate that life doesn’t have a rewind button.   I seriously hate myself right now.   The only silver lining I can come up with is that hopefully this will make Quin laugh when I tell her all about it later.   Hopefully, I’ll be doing that from the Roach Motel and not prison.
    Getting out of the car, I try to smile again.   This time it’s worse; I have a full-on scowl going.   Maybe I’m a little pissed that he turned down my song, and it’s affecting my facial muscles.   It’s true; I can usually get a whole room going with one karaoke selection.
    He moves away from me.   “Put your hands out to your sides and your feet together.”
    I sigh heavily, but follow his instructions.   The people with the paper-bagged party materials are moving out towards the sidewalk to watch.   I can see them, even though they’re over a block away.   I pray that the smoking slug in the office, owner of the Golden Legacy, doesn’t come out and see me too.   She’ll never believe my non-partying stance if she sees me doing a sobriety test on the side of the road right outside her door.
    “Walk towards me toe to heel, toe to heel.”
    “Isn’t it heel-toe-heel-toe?   Toe to heel is walking backwards.”
    He puts his hands on his hips and acts like I didn’t just talk total sense.
    I’m too afraid to move.   If I follow his instruction, I’ll have to either walk backwards or do some kind of hip-hop move I’m woefully under-qualified to do.   There’s a reason Grace is my middle name; it’s the only grace I’ve got.   If I follow what I think his instructions are supposed to be, I could fail this test of following instructions to the letter.   I’m so fucked right now, it’s not even funny.
    The relief that washes through me when I hear the deep rumble of a muscle car pulling up behind the officer and see Rebel getting out is palpable.
    The officer notices I’m looking over his shoulder and turns.   His hand moves to his belt and then falls down to his leg.
    “Rebel! What are you doing out here, man?” the cop asks.   He goes from a-hole law enforcing hip-hop instructor to good old buddy in half a second.
    “Rescue party,” he says, holding up my ID.
    “She works for you?   Why didn’t she say so?”   He turns around and has the balls to frown at me.
    I drop my arms and walk over.
    “She’s new.   Talk to you later?”   Rebel holds up a fist and they bump knuckles.
    “Yeah, sure.   I’ll drop by, tomorrow maybe.   Got anything good you’re working on?”
    “Cherry GTO.   All original.”
    “Nice.   I’ll be there.”
    Rebel doesn’t even say anything to me.   He just gets in his car and drives off.   I watch the rumbling black car disappear after a very illegal u-turn right in front of the cop.
    “What’s up with that?” I ask, pointing to the space where the law was just broken.
    “What’s up with what?” asks the cop, handing me my license.
    I’m aghast.   “What’s up with what?   How about what’s up with that illegal u-turn?”
    “What illegal u-turn?” he asks, walking towards his car.   “Remember to keep your license with you!” he yells over his shoulder.   “The law requires it!”
    I get into my car, grumbling.   “The law requires it.