Page 98 of Shallow

“Shiloh,” he groans, and I can imagine him searching his desk for the cigarettes he gave up months ago. “I don’t have jurisdiction outside of California. My hands aretied.”

“Well, untie them. I can’t do this again. I swear to God, Barry, I’ll lose myshit!”

I’ve held it together until now. Barry is supposed to be the glue that keeps my cracks from breaking wide open. If his hands are tied, mine arecuffed.

“Okay, calm down. A buddy of mine from law school has a practice in South Carolina. Let me make a few calls and see what I cando.”

Deep breathing doesn’t help, but I do it anyway. “Yeah, you dothat.”

“Shiloh?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re telling me the truth,right?”

I’m tired of answering this question. Besides, my words will never be enough. Hanging up the phone, I nod to the waiting officer and let him lead meaway.

I’m so exhausted. I just want to collapse on my piece of shit cot and close my eyes. Unfortunately, that’s not what happens. After ending my call with Barry, I’m taken down two winding hallways to a tiny room that houses a skinny rectangular wooden table, two metal chairs, and one very pissed off probationofficer.

Will looks like he’s been sucking on lemons for the last few hours while having thumb tacks shoved between his fingernails. His blond hair is a mess, and his tie has been pulled loose with three buttons opened on hisshirt.

Flashing him a smile, I slide into the only empty chair and fold my hands on the table. “Badday?”

“Oh, no, it’s been fabulous,” he says, giving me a smirk that haskiss my asswritten all over it. “I love getting a call from the police that one of my probationers has been arrested for felony possession. I live for thiscrap.”

“Can you please calmdown?”

Jumping out of his seat, he kicks the chair out from underneath him and paces the room. “This is calm, Shiloh. You should’ve seen me an hour ago.” He pauses, pressing his fists to his temples. “What the hell were you thinking? All the progress you’ve made? Gone. All of it. And forwhat?”

“It’s going to beokay.”

“No, it’s not. You’ve been booked for felony possession with intent to distribute. This isn’t getting caught smoking a joint in the backseat of your boyfriend’s car. Besides the sentence it carries, you’ve broken the rules of yourprobation.”

Shit. I didn’t even think aboutthat.

“Can’t you stick up for me or something? Maybe call Judge Oliver and tell him it’s just a one-timething?”

Slumping back down into his chair, Will jerks off his tie. “Don’t you get it, Shiloh? When everything processes, you’ll be extradited back to a California state prison to serve your original sentence plus this one. Your life isover.”

Thirty-Two

Cary

I’ve brokenevery traffic law known to man, so by the time Frankie gets into the car, I’m one raw, exposednerve.

“Drive,” he says, collapsing against theseat.

He can suck my dick. I’m not moving until I get answers. I stare through the windshield and take my hands off the wheel. “Tell me what happened and don’t leave anythingout.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “Drive and I’ll tellyou.”

For the next half hour, Frankie recounts the story of Shiloh walking out of the meeting with his backpack, and how the police targeted her right away. I almost ran off the road when he described the huge bag of weed they found and how she refused to let him admit to the backpack beinghis.

I have to ask, although I already know the answer. “Frankie…”

“It’s not mine,” he snaps, his fingers digging into his seat. “I don’t do that shitanymore.”

I nod, letting the conversation die. His word is good enough for me. That’s how we play it in my neighborhood. A man’s word is worth more than any proof. He’ll sacrifice his freedom for hishonor.