“We need you to sign for this, Mr. Sloan.” The officer behind the desk stood when I reached him.
My eyebrow raised as I took the pen to sign. “It’s ‘Mr. Sloan’ now? And here I was getting used to being that called ‘that motherfucker.’”
He didn’t say anything as he handed me a plastic bag of the possessions they had taken from me. A Fendi watch, my smartphone, my wallet, an unopened pack of cigarettes, and watermelon-flavored gum.
“What happened?” I asked Henry as I opened the bag, taking my watch out first.
“Amelia,” he answered, and I couldn’t fight the smile spreading across my face. “I have no idea how, but she dropped a nuclear bomb in Mallory’s lap this afternoon.”
Thata girl.
“Where is she?”
“The press are waiting outside, so Austin decided that she would come out the moment you step out and meet you halfway. Apparently we can’t waste this opportunity. Amelia agreed, though.”
I rolled my eyes at that. Leave it to Austin to already have a media plan set in motion. Whatever. At this point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get the hell out of this godforsaken place.
“Shades?” Henry offered. I shook my head, handing him my jacket. The closer I got to the front door, the louder the voices became.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when the doors slid open. The first thing that blinded me was the sunlight. I had gotten so used to the dim lighting in the jail that I actually had to bring my hand over my eyes to see. But when my vision cleared, even in the midst of the vast sea of photographers and cameras, I could spot her perfectly. Beside her were Daniel, Austin, Ollie, and some blonde woman I didn’t know.
She bit her lips as her eyes glazed over with tears she refused to let fall. I made it halfway down the stairs before she ran up and leaped onto me.
“Miss me?” I laughed, wrapping my arms around her. God I missed her. Inhaling deeply, I held on just a little bit tighter, never wanting to let go. She separated from me just enough for me to kiss her, right there on the steps of the police station, with every goddamn person’s eyes on us. It was short-lived when we all heard the sirens of the police cruisers that pulled up right in front the car she came in.
An officer stepped out, this time opening the back of the squad car to reveal none other than Ray Mallory, his hands cuffed behind his back and a scowl glued on his bruised face. His nose was still taped.
Amelia, hopping off of me and back to the ground, stuck to my side as she turned to face him.
There were two officers on either side of him as the press scrambled to rearrange themselves to get his photo, and when he got close enough to us, Amelia stood with her head high.
“Bye-bye, birdie,” she said to him, and they shared a look I didn’t understand.
“Now is your chance to escape,” Ollie said, opening the door to the car as the cameras all focused on Mr. Mallory.
Letting her in first, I slid in behind her, and only after the door closed beside me did I release the deep breath I was holding. I pulled her back into my arms. She sat on my lap, my arms around her waist and her head resting on my chest. Austin sat up front next to Daniel, and I was sure Ollie stayed back to answer any further questions.
“I have so much I want to say,” she whispered to me, but I could tell she wasn’t alright. She looked as though she hadn’t slept or eaten since the night everything happened, and I was certain that was the case.
“Tell me later. Rest now, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You made sure of that.” Words couldn’t even begin convey how grateful I was to her.
“I’m a badass, aren’t I?” she asked.
Snickering, I nodded. “Yes, Amelia London, you are a total badass.”
That smile, the one she had on her face right now, it gave me life. Slowly, her breathing evened out, and she drifted off in my arms, giving in to her exhaustion. I took a small sense of pride in that—she couldn’t rest until she helped me. That was the type of woman I had.
“Sir, you should hear this,” Austin said, turning up the radio.
“Here at MKLM 97.5, we are only humans,” a stern voice spoke out. “And as humans, we make mistakes. All we can do afterward is apologize and hope to make amends. Yesterday on our broadcast, we made a few derogatory remarks about actor Noah Sloan, about which Amelia London rightly called us out on NQB News this afternoon. Both Rachel and I sincerely offer our apologies to both Mr. Sloan and Ms. London. Not only did we rush to judgment, but we may have further added difficulty to your situation. This will serve as a reminder to us, and hopefully to others, not to judge until all the facts are out.”
“I would like to also applaud Mr. Sloan for his quick action and thoroughly stepping up to protect a woman in need, with no concern for himself. And I want to applaud Ms. London as well, for her to get in front of this so publicly so soon after it happened. She’s a really strong woman. Like Riley said, we do apologize for adding fuel to the fire.”
“What did she do?” I asked Austin, knowing at this point a bomb could go off and Amelia would sleep right through it.
“She managed to get tapes of the incident and gave them to NQB News along with doing a sit-down interview. It’s been playing on loop ever since. The governor was the one who called personally to have you released and have all the charges dropped right afterward. I’m not sure how she did it, but she did, and my phone won’t stop ringing.”
As if on cue, his phone rang again, and he smiled at it.
“It’s like Christmas,” he winked, answering the call. “Hello. Yes, this is Noah Sloan’s manager. With whom am I speaking?” He paused. “The Hollywood Chronicle? Catharine, is that you? I see you finally remembered my number.”
At least one of us was enjoying this.
Resting against the seat, I watched her until my eyes grew too heavy to stay open anymore, and I drifted off.
Freedom—you never know how much you love it until someone tries to take it away.
***
Her fever wasn’t budging. Her cheeks were red and her breathing was a lot more staggered than it was in the car. Rolling up my sleeves, I sat up on the edge of the bed, lightly shaking her awake.
“Amelia…Amelia,” I whispered.
“Urgh,” she groaned, her face bunching together, one of her eyes peeking opening. “Noah?”
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Licking her lips, she tried to look around.
“Where are we?”
“Back at the hotel,” I responded. “Can you sit up?”
She nodded, but when she tried, she instantly reached up to touch her forehead. Her body hunched forward.
“Here,” I said, handing her some aspirin along with water.
“Thanks.” She drank deeply. “How long have I been out?”
“Nine hours.”
“Nine hours? What?” She made a move to get up, but I grabbed her arms and held her in place, laying her back against the pillows.
“You need to rest...and eat.” I lifted the tray of food I had left on the bedside table and placed it in front of her. “Tomato soup, a turkey-ham sandwich on white bread with no cheese or crust, with a side of oranges and vanilla caramel tea.”
She looked up at me, her mouth parted slightly.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Eat,” I said, lifting the spoon to her lips. She didn’t look away from me as she opened her mouth and allowed me to feed her.
“You remembered my comfort food,” she said, opening her lips for another bite.
“This is hardly your comfort food. If you weren’t sick, you’d want a bag of chocolate-covered kettle corn with a Sprite and a double hamburger from Uncle Saul’s.”
A wicked grin spread across her lips, her whole face brightening, “That sounds amazing!”
Of course. I snickered, shaking my head at her. “Again, you’re sick—”
“It a small headache. I’ve had worse…”
She looked surprised when I showed her the temperature.