The phone rings loudly by my bed, awakening me from a very pleasant dream. My hand snakes out from under the covers and clutches the receiver. I pull it under the blanket and press it against my ear. "Kingsley."
"Oh thank God, you’re home!" Kels gushes.
"Kels?" I manage, pushing myself up on my bed, turning to look at the clock. The LED readout tells me it is after midnight. "What’s going on? Why are you calling me?"
"I need your help, Harper."
I stop moving, stop breathing. With my free hand, I pinch my other arm. Yup. I’m awake. "Come again?"
"I. Need. Your. Help."
I am awake now. It has to be important for Kelsey to want my help. "What’s wrong?"
"I need you to …" her voice breaks. I can’t tell if she’s crying or not. She takes a deep breath and exhales, the air whistling into my ear. "Come bail me out of jail."
I can’t help it. I lose it. Involuntarily, I convulse with laughter, dropping the handset and guffawing loudly.
When my laughter subsides, I grope for the phone and pick it up again. Only to be overtaken by another laughing fit. "I’m sorry, Kels …" I manage. "I just … wasn’t expecting that." Snort. "Uh … which precinct?"
"The Fifteenth."
"What’s the charge?"
She starts to reply but stops herself. "You’ll have to find out when you get here, Tabloid. Now hurry up. I need identification."
I’m barely listening as she tells me where it is and how to get to the hotel, I’m still so in shock that she would actually call me. "Okay, okay … I’m on my way."
Oh, this is gonna be fun! I get out of bed and dress quickly, whistling a happy tune.
After trying the hotel and asking for Elizabeth for what seems like an hour, I give up on their lame computer system and decide to get Kelsey’s media credentials from the station instead. She keeps her credentials in her desk drawer, always prepared. She must have been a Girl Scout. (I was a Girl Scout who got thrown out for eating a Brownie. Or so goes the old joke.) I hope that her station identification will be good enough. I can talk my way out of or into anything, so I’m certain those skills will come in handy.
The Fifteenth is in downtown, and I notice that the station seems quiet and somewhat lazy as I make my way inside. Los Angeles’ downtown at night is desolate. Anyone with any good sense got out during rush hour. Only a few hotels catering to business travelers are here. Wonder what Kels was doing in this part of town to get herself arrested.
It takes only a few questions until I’m being led back towards holding. When I glance inside the cells, it seems that most of the women occupying them are gorgeous, well dressed and appear harmless; unless you consider long fingernails raking across your back in the moment of ecstasy harmful. I don’t. I arch my eyebrow at my young escort and the cop grins.
"High class prostitution ring," he offers without my asking. I don’t often have to ask a lot of questions, people seem to volunteer information to me. Must be my baby blues.
"You’re kidding," I reply dryly, trying to hold in the guffaw that threatens. Oh, Kels, this is priceless.
"Nope. That your friend?" he stops in front of a cell and motions with his arm. Sure enough, Kelsey is sitting on a bench against the back wall. She’s in a corner and appears to be asleep so I take a moment to look her over. She’s dressed classily and obviously had plans for this evening. Even slightly rumpled, her ivory skirt suit and white blouse are showing off the best of her attributes. Her blonde hair is plaited away from her face, highlighting the delicate bone structure to good effect. She is beautiful.
"Yeah," I nod, smiling. "Wake up, Sunshine," I call across the distance between us.
She stirs and blinks open those emerald eyes and actually smiles when she sees me. Then the look is hidden by her mask of indifference. "About time," she grumbles, rising to her feet and smoothing her clothes.
"Careful," I warn, smirking. " I could leave."
She looks worried for a moment that I might do just that so I wink at her. I’m here now. Unless there’s a reason I can’t get her out, I don’t plan to leave her here. She seems to relax as she comes forward to the cell door, clutching the bars like all the women in prison movies do.
"Did you get my purse?"
"Stupid hotel computer was still down, Kels," I say by way of apology. "But I stopped by the station."
She nods her understanding and turns her eyes to the cop who has been watching us. "Well?" She obviously expects him to be doing something helpful and not just gawking.
"Let me get someone who can help you," he stammers and trots away, leaving us alone. Well, mostly alone. There are the other women milling around in various cells.
"So," I say, unable to wait for her. "Please, tell me you aren’t in here on prostitution charges."
She looks away for a moment and then glances back, already blushing. "Don’t laugh at me, Harper," she says softly.
She looks tired and strung out, more than a little embarrassed, and I manage to find some sympathy for her. It’s not easy. I tend to live my life as I see best with little regard for how that might impact others or their opinions of me. Something about Kelsey appears to curb that tendency. "I’m done laughing," I tell her, realizing I mean it.
"I was meeting a friend at the hotel. We were going to go out. I guess these sluts were working-"
"Hey!" one of the women glares to Kelsey. "Watch it, pretty girl."
I shake my head as Kelsey turns to the lady and gives her the bird.
"Anyway," I prompt.
"Anyway, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Without my purse."
"What about this friend?"
"She’d gone up to her room to make a phone call and the stupid hotel computers ..." her voice trails off and I nod.
"Suck," I finish for her.
"Hmmm," she agrees. "Do you think they’ll drop the charges?"
I look over my shoulder where a uniformed cop is approaching and I glance back to Kelsey. "Leave that to me." I walk after the cop with a swagger in my step.
***
"Did you bring some identification?" Officer Crane looks to me over the report in his hands. He’s moved me to his desk across the room, leaving Kelsey in the cell.
"Mine or hers?" I ask with a smile.
He smiles back and I’m relieved. "Both."
I pull out my own driver’s license and put it on his desk. Then I place Kelsey’s credentials there as well. He eyes them slowly.
"Don’t you have her driver’s license or something?"
"Her purse is at the hotel with a friend and the hotel computers have been down. This is the best I could do."
He looks them over carefully and eventually nods. "She told us she was an anchor. Wanted to believe her. She’s different from the others."
"Yeah," I agree, glancing back across the room and winking at a very relieved Kelsey. "What about her record?"
"Record?" he was already pulling together her personal items and stops to look up at me. "Oh. No record. I didn’t book her. Like I said, I wanted to believe her. None of this will be official. As long as she doesn’t press charges. If she does, then I’ll have to let the whole story out." It’s a barely concealed threat but I don’t care.
"Not a chance. I’ll take care of that."
I’m grinning as we head back to the cell. Kels will think I worked wonders to get her off. She doesn’t need to know the whole truth.
It’s only a few hours before dawn when we leave the precinct and arrive at my Harley. Kelsey’s footsteps are slowing until she stops. When I turn to look at her, her head is cocked and she’s eyeing my bike.
"I can’t ride on that," she announces.