Purgatory Blues (2013), page 11
“Here”, he said to Jen, “give this to your sister”. The whiskey was dripping down his chin and he thought he’d be sick from drinking that much in one go, but he held himself together. Jen didn’t say a word. She quietly took the bottle from him and walked away. He could only imagine what she must’ve been thinking of him.
When Andy got into his car he could hardly get the key to meet the ignition. Once he finally did, he didn’t have the clutch all the way down and immediately stalled the car. He quickly discovered that he’d need to concentrate on the task at hand with a little more acuity, so that’s what he did. He put on some driving music, hoping it would help. He had an old compact disc with “Soundgarden” rarities. He flipped to a song titled “Kyle Petty (Son of Richard)”. It was slow goings at first, but he managed to pull out of the parking lot without incident.
There was another bar close to his apartment on the way home, so he decided that he’d stop there for a nightcap. He knew he’d need one by the time he made it back all that way. The path he’d be traveling was one of his favorite roads to drive on, especially while intoxicated. It had spacious, wide lanes, was usually unoccupied at that time of night and had enough curvy crests and troughs to make things interesting. It was a fourth gear cruise with no traffic lights.
He hammered his BMW like he was driving the Autobahn. In a little while he found himself in a bit of rainy weather, not a storm, just a mild shower. He was enjoying the drive. The curve coming up was the one he liked the most, down change to third, in to the trough and accelerate out pulling to the left. Change to fourth and crest pulling to the right.
But that was where things went a little wrong. Inertia, working the way it does, meant that most of the force of momentum was carried in the front of the car. However, BMW’s being rear wheel drive and also lighter in the rear, meant that they were prone to oversteer rather than understeer.
Not a problem on most days because car enthusiasts generally favor oversteer, but being intoxicated and in the rain has its disadvantages. The wet road caused the rear wheel to lose traction and with no warning at all the back kicked out to the left while the front of his car glided to the right.
Andy didn’t panic, it was at least three seconds till he realized what was even happening and at that point he just went with it. He made a perfect little donut on the middle of the road, tapped the breaks a little and found himself back in his starting position. He drove on like nothing had even happened.
From that point on there were a couple of routes that he could’ve used to get to where he was going. One was a freeway and the other was a back road. He chose the back road. He hadn’t been down that way in a while and wanted to see if anything had changed. New developments were springing up all the time. He thought that perhaps the distraction was what he needed.
It started to get a little foggy, the heat of the day and the cooling rain were combining to create a light mist. The reduction in visibility was enough to cause concern and anyone else would have thought to slow down, but not Andy. He’d let fate judge the outcome of his journey. In the distance, through the haze, he could see several pairs of blue lights flashing. He surmised that there was likely an accident that the police were attending to. It was none of his business. He’d drive right by. He didn’t even considered detouring.
As he got closer he could see that they had cordoned off the entire road. He didn’t slow down, he looked for a way to squeeze through but there wasn’t one. It was a roadblock. Suddenly several police officers began flagging him down and signaling him to pull over. With his response times being far from perfect, Andy ended up screeching to a halt at the last possible second. The contents of his stomach jostled violently. He tasted a little bit of throw up in his mouth before he slowly maneuvered his car to the side of the road.
His abrupt halt had put all the officers on edge. One of them had even unbuttoned his holster. Andy did nothing. He sat there trying to keep his head from spinning. There were three police cars and two pickups, all of them spread out across the road. One of the police officers that’d flagged him down came up to the car and motioned for him to roll down the window.
Andy took a moment to locate the button for the window and that made the officer even more uneasy. “Hi”, he said brusquely as the glass retracted, still trying to hold down the liquor in his stomach. He made a small belching noise and then looked at the police officer. No “Good evening officer, what seems to be the problem’, just a blank stare.
“May I see your drivers license sir?” The policeman asked officiously.
Andy said nothing. He fumbled around in annoyance for several seconds, checking his pockets until he finally produced his drivers license. He inconspicuously wiped the edge clean of white powder before handing it over to the policeman.
“Have you been drinking this evening Sir?” he asked.
Andy knew what the right answer was, but he couldn’t help himself, things were just going from bad to worse. After the night that he’d had, he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he spilled out whatever was on his mind, raving like a drunken lunatic. “Of course I’ve been drinking, the real question is, why aren’t you? Huh? Life fucking sucks man. Life fucking sucks! I’ve been in a bike accident, two fights, slept with my ex-girlfriend and I’ve just come from ruining what might’ve been the only good relationship left in my life. And that’s just in the last two days! So, yeah, I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking a fucking shit load! So what? What’s it gonna be? You gonna do something about it?”
He stopped talking when the mixture of fluids in his gut started to rebel against him. He felt that a coup was on the way as his head began to swim.
“I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle sir”, the policeman said as he stepped back.
“I don’t think you want me to do that”, Andy slurred, feeling the full brunt of the whiskey in his system. He kept his head down, swaying back and forth. He couldn’t even make eye contact.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist sir”, the policeman said, trying to be as polite as he could.
“You really don’t want me to do this”, Andy forced out through his shallow breathing, knowing exactly what would happen if he obeyed the officer.
“Sir, please step out of the vehicle”, the officer repeated, this time more forcefully.
With extreme reluctance, Andy opened the door and placed one foot on the ground, the movement felt unnatural, his brain was rejecting his blood and he couldn’t focus on anything.
“Sir, I need you all the way out of the vehicle”.
“Okay…okay”, Andy said slowly, gesturing to the police office with his hand to calm down. He knew what would happen next, but the cop had asked for it. As soon as he stood straight up, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. A river of puke spewed forth from him. The projectile vomit sprayed all over the cop’s pants and shoes.
“AH! Motherfucker!” The cop exclaimed as he jumped away.
“I told you!” Andy said in between heaving.
The next hour went by in a blur, more so than the rest of the day. He wasn’t in any condition to pay attention to what was going on, so he relied on the officers to take the lead.
Luckily, they were picking him up for a DUI charge, they had no right to search him and they didn’t. They put him in the back of one of the cars and took him over to the police station. Somehow they’d managed to get a ten card done, it took two of them to do it, one to hold him upright and one to apply the ink and control his hands. They wrote out the formal charges and he signed them.
Along the way he made small talk with the officers that he spent time with. They enquired about his line of work and he told them about the book that he’d written. It turned out that some of them had even read his material.
At one point he told the entire story of his weekend to one of the officers who’d driven him to the hospital to get his blood drawn. It was a long drive and they’d had to kill the time somehow. Andy made sure to leave out the more colorful parts of the tale though.
The staff at the hospital enjoyed his company so much that the attending even gave him a free physical. Andy could be quite personable when he wanted to be and often found himself doing so in the company of strangers. It was only because they didn’t know him. With people who knew him there were always expectations. With strangers he could be a nobody. The doctor pointed out that Andy’s blood pressure was especially high and that his pulse was also severely elevated. They were being so nice to him that Andy didn’t have the heart to tell everyone that he was on copious amounts of narcotics and that was the reason for the raised levels.
He didn’t fight anybody at any step of the way, they were all good, ordinary citizens and they were just doing their jobs. They hadn’t cuffed him and they’d given him enough free reign that he could have left their company at any time he wanted to. He just didn’t feel like it. He was made to feel at home and enjoyed the respite. Andy thought back to the drive that had landed him in their care and remembered the donut in the middle of the road.
He wondered what might have happened if there had been other cars on the road just then. It wouldn’t have been just his life at stake, but others as well. He knew that he had no right to take chances with other peoples lives, yet he did, time and time again. They eventually returned to the station and it was then that they placed him in a holding cell. They were kind enough to leave him with all of his possessions, everything from his phone to his cigarettes, they asked for nothing.
It had been a tiring night and the wooden benches were very uncomfortable. He knew he’d be there all night until he could post bail in the morning so he asked for a nicer chair and they obliged with one of their own soft office chairs. Andy put his feet up on the bench, leaned back into the chair and finally let sleep claim him.
When it eventually rolled around to six “o clock the next morning, Andy was woken with a light tapping on the bars of the holding cell. One of the arresting police officers was trying to wake him up. ‘Andy’ he said softly.
“Yeah”, Andy answered groggily, “I’m up”.
“How about some coffee?” he asked casually. Andy wondered if it was standard practice to offer people in holding cells their morning cup “o joe.
“Sure”, Andy said, standing and stretching out the night’s aches and cramps. It wasn’t the ideal spot for a good rest but he’d done the best that he could, waking often during the night to change positions. It certainly hadn’t helped that his body was mapped with all manner of injuries that had yet to heal.
The officer passed him a mug through the bars, “you want us to give anybody a call to post your bail? You can’t bail yourself out you know”.
“That’s okay, I’ve got my cell”, Andy said as he took a sip, “good coffee”.
“Yeah, I know, took a lot of complaining to get the upgrade”, the officer said as he got comfy behind his desk.
Andy pulled out his phone and wondered whom he should call. Dennis was probably the only person that he’d want knowing that he’d been picked up by the cops. Anyone else would likely make too big of a deal out of it. He dialed.
It took five rings till Dennis answered with a scratchy, just woken up voice. “Hey, what’s up?”
“You’re not going to believe this”, Andy began, “but I’m at Stockton station in a holding cell for a DUI”.
“What the fuck?!” Dennis exclaimed, suddenly awake, “how’d you pull that off?”
“It’s kind of a long story, a lot happened last night. Could you come post my bail?”
“Yeah sure”, Dennis said without thinking, “oh fuck no, my bike is still at the Firk. Don’t worry though, I’ll call the clubhouse and see who’s there”.
“Well don’t tell EVERYONE about it!” Andy yelled. He hated other people knowing his business and he was sure that If Dennis called the clubhouse it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew that he’d been picked up.
“Don’t worry man, I’ll take care of it, just sit tight. Someone will be there in thirty minutes. I’ll tell whoever comes to keep it on the down low”. Dennis hung up the phone and that was that.
“On the down low?” Andy thought to himself. “Who talks like that?”
Just then the police officer who’d given Andy the coffee came up to the cell, “I’m heading out Andy, good luck, try to stay off the bottle huh?” he said and shook Andy’s hand.
“Thanks for the coffee”, Andy replied with a nod.
Someone else would be on shift now. Andy hoped he wasn’t a dick. Everybody had been really nice up till then.
A minute later the door to the adjoining building opened and three rough looking guys were pushed in to the cell. A towering guard holding a Kalashnikov escorted them in.
Andy had watched enough prison movies to know that it wasn’t a moment to show any weakness. His film experience had taught him that whenever you were in a cell with other people, they had to know that you were the baddest motherfucker in the room or they’d try to take advantage of you. He’d only be inside for another thirty minutes so he was confident that he wouldn’t have to fight anyone. He reminded himself that all he’d need to do is play it cool. He didn’t say a word to anyone. He lit up a smoke.
The guard turned to Andy, “there’s no smoking allowed in here”, he said sternly.
“I’m already in the cell champ, why don’t you just go ahead and add smoking to the list of charges, or you do want to arrest me twice?” Andy replied flippantly.
The guard flicked the cigarette out of Andy’s mouth. He didn’t react. He turned to look at the guard with a raised eyebrow, then calmly pulled out another cigarette and lit up.
The officer who’d given Andy the coffee was just about to leave when he caught site of the guard. He gave him a wink. It was a signal that meant “leave him be, he’s alright”. The guard looked at Andy, “wise ass”, he said under his breath before he turned and left.
Andy put his feet up on the bench and relaxed with his cigarette. The three men were staring at him. He turned and made eye contact, putting on a Clint Eastwood voice as he asked, “so, what’re you boys in here for?”
The one in the middle spoke for all three. “Car jacking”, he said, “we’ve been in main holding for two weeks, they’re taking us to court today to be charged”. He spoke like he was proud of the achievement. They hadn’t seen Andy in the main block, so the assumption was that if he hadn’t been inside, then they were tougher than he was.
Andy appeared stoic, betraying little emotion. He took another drag of his cigarette, turned back to them and said, “that long huh? I killed a man last night…my ride is coming to pick me up in a few minutes”. The Clint Eastwood voice never failed.
He didn’t explain further, knowing that they’d be wondering how it was even possible to be let out that fast. The average criminal wasn’t all that smart. He knew that they’d concoct a fantastic story in their own minds and it would work to his advantage.
Andy sat there paying attention to his smoke and nothing else. The three prisoners began talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. Occasionally looking at Andy and then turning away when they thought he might look back. Over the course of the next few minutes they had slowly moved to the farthest end of the room away from Andy. They did it in stages, almost like they didn’t want him to notice.
Andy continued to wait in silence, only his cigarettes kept him company, but he had everyone in his peripheral vision.
Eventually the guy on the extreme right crept up to Andy’s chair. He did it in a kind of respectfully penitent way, no sudden movements or threatening gestures. He spoke very softly, “you’re like an undercover government agent or something right?”
Andy stayed in character, half turned to him, exhaled a lung full of smoke and said, “or something”. He turned back to enjoy his cigarette and the guy scurried back to report to his friends.
“Mr. Maureau”, someone called from beyond the cell.
“Yeah?” Andy called back.
“Someone’s here for you”, the voice said.
Andy stood and looked through the bars behind him expectantly, only to see none other than Melissa waiting for him. She gave him a big smile and a wave. She was excited to see him. It was the kind of thing you do when you pick up someone from the airport.
“Ah fuck, why’d it have to be you!” Andy said out loud.
She raised her eyebrows questioningly, then her smile turned toward mischievous intent, “well you could always stay and wait for someone else if you like”, she said with her arms outstretched.
“Just do the thing and let’s go”, Andy’s irritation peppered every word. After the rocky start to their reunion he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about driving safety from Melissa. He wanted a friend he could drink with to take the edge off.
He went back to his seat while she filled out the forms for his release and a few minutes later an officer came to let Andy out of the cell. Before he passed through the door he turned back to the three guys in the corner and just for kicks, he gave them a harsh glare, watching as they shuffled uncomfortably on the bench.
Andy said his goodbyes to the few officers who were left from the night before and exited the station with Melissa in tow. As they passed through the doors he saw Sergeant Lee in conversation with another officer and he remembered the kids from Sharon’s bar. “Wait here”, he said to Melissa.
Andy walked towards them and called out, “Lee”.
Lee was the epitome of physical fitness and carried himself impeccably. He even shaved his head so as to be a more efficient soldier. He was dressed in his tactical gear. The sergeant saw him and decided to get rid of the other officer. Lee quickly tapped him on the shoulder and said “I’ll talk to you later”, before turning him and guiding him away. He looked to Andy as he approached and nodded, “Maureau”.
Andy pulled out the little bag with the brownish powder and held it up to the Sergeant’s face, “you seen this stuff before?”
