Chapter Twenty-Three
The cop crossed his arms, looking down at the kid. "She's my niece." He raised a brow at the kid that he still believed to be a drug addict. "Are you trying to sell her something?" He asked, opening the bulletproof door.
John's lip curled, lifting his gaze to show the clearness in his eyes and prove that he was sober. "I've never been a dealer, and I'm almost four months clean." He tapped the badge on the officer's chest. "And even if I was high off my ass, I would know better than to tell a cop that I'm trying to sell drugs to his niece."
Peter stepped up to the two, afraid that John might be getting too worked up and might have another seizure. "Mr. Jenkins, I can vouge for John's sobriety, the last time he used was right before school ended in Shermer."
John whirled on the jock, anger in his movements. "I didn't use!" He shouted, tired of everyone thinking that it was his choice. "I was drugged! The media got it wrong!" He felt his stomach give a painful twist, and he started for the bathroom as fast as he could, just falling short and having to opt for the trashcan to empty his stomach into.
Peter looked up at the older man, remembering the few good rumors he'd heard about how John had gotten the meth into his system. "I think that he's telling the truth." He tried to ignore John's retching, knowing that it had to be embarrassing for him to be seen this way. "I think he can explain what happened better than I can, Sir." He prayed that John wouldn't hold a grudge about knocking him out, he really didn't want to spend any time in jail over that.
He flinched as a particularly loud noise escaped John as he emptied the last of whatever was in his stomach into the trash. "Fuck…" John gasped, gulping down air like he hadn't had a breath in days. "This is not a good night." He wiped his chin on the back of his hand, knowing that the vomiting wasn't helping his case. "Your niece, kidnapped me from a Disney Land trip with my family." He stated, clearing his throat and spitting the last of the vomit that had gotten caught in the back of his throat into the trash. "But I'm not going to say anymore until I can call my family and tell them where I am, so that they know where to come and get me."
The cop nodded, clearing the way for John to get to the phone. "Alright, but I want the full story."
John nodded, digging his change out and feeding it into the pay phone, before dialing the number for his home.
"Hello?" Clarissa answered after the first ring, and John knew she must've been waiting by the phone.
"Hey Mom." He smiled, knowing that she loved it when he called her that. "I'm at the police station in Fountain Valley."
"Are you okay?" She asked, worried that John could be hurt. She could tell that he wasn't intoxicated, his voice to strong and his words too clear, but she still knew he could be in real trouble. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"
John shook his head, rolling his eyes at her mothering. "I'm fine Mom, I just need you to come get me, so that we can work everything out with this cop."
"We'll be there in a little bit. Stay put."
"Don't bring the whole-" John was cut off by the click of her hanging up the line, grimacing at the knowledge that there would probably be over twenty people in this room in a little bit. "Oh shit."
"What?" Peter asked, watching John as his head thumped into the cinderblock wall.
"Clarissa's bringing the whole family…"
The cop looked at the young man, wondering what drug addicted blood could be coming to get him. "I would like to hear the rest of what you're blaming my niece for."
"I'm not saying shit until my family comes." John stated, turning his dark eyes on the man, knowing that they'd most likely turned from brown to black. "When they get here, then I will tell you the whole story." He looked the cop over, knowing that this guy wasn't going to believe anything he said. "And can you get someone who isn't bias toward little miss perfect for me to talk to? Cause I'm not talking to a crooked cop. Lord knows I've dealt with enough of your kind."