You're Out
Friday
Shane prepared for his day with a bright smile on his face. He had the graveyard shift and decided to use his waking hours to put in some time with Jessie. He learned in their time together that taking her places where they received recognition and attention from the community made the date go better. He retrieved his wallet and grabbed a jacket making his way to the front door when the doorbell rang. Shane reached the door and checked the peephole, "Hey Clyde," he greets while swinging the door open.
"Hey Deputy Walsh, I have a certified letter for ya'. Please sign here," he instructs. Shane signs and returns the card and pen to the mailman. "Enjoy your day," Clyde shouts over his shoulder as he returns to his mail truck.
"You too," Shane responds automatically as he closes the door. He opens the wheat colored 8x14 sized envelope slowly pulling out a stack of official documents. He begins to read the one page letter on top with the Kings' County Sheriff Department official seal:
Deputy Walsh…dereliction of duty…immediate unpaid administrative leave…scheduled hearing…union representation…
Shane falls back against the wall and his hands shake violently. His mind cannot focus and his eyes begin to blur. The world as he knows it is crumbling out from beneath him and he does not understand why.
Rick enters the lobby of Michonne's office building carrying a fruit basket in his left arm with a canvas tote over his right shoulder. "Hey Dale," he greets on his way to the elevators.
"Going to see your lovely lady?" Dale responds.
"You know it," he retorts proudly. Rick sings to himself during the short elevator ride, "…more than a feeling." He exits and strolls down the hallway to her office. Before he turns the knob to enter he hears Carl's raised voice.
"PD Owen, you may leave the discovery documents with me but I will not schedule an appointment for you with ADA Anthony. The standard protocol is for her to review the evidence first to determine when she needs to speak with your office," Carl explains harshly.
"Look kid, do us both a favor and do what you are told," Mike snaps.
Rick swings the door open and steps inside. He gives Carl a nod of respect and glares at Mike anticipating his next statement. Mike glances at Rick. Let's see if I can get him to snap. All I need is one punch for assault.
Mike turns back to Carl, "Fine, I will call her directly. She always appreciates hearing from me," he offers smugly.
Before Carl can open his mouth Rick's menacing voice rings out, "You will follow the standard protocol or suffer the consequences. Are we clear?"
PD Owen involuntarily clenches his ass cheeks, and stares over his shoulder at Rick. He pivots to exit the office but before he crosses the threshold Rick warns him, "That was strike two. You do not want strike three."
The dingy, outdated motel room was littered with empty energy drink cans, fast foods wrappers and bags, cartons of cigarettes and rolling papers. "Dude, we need to get out of here," Cole implores.
"Yeah, they found the bomb and they will come looking for us," Ed offers slightly panicked.
"Plus, we're running out of money," Cole pushes.
"No! We have enough stuff left to make another bomb-maybe not as big but it would definitely get their attention. All we need is a new target. Our dads want us to continue the struggle," Pete shouts.
"Our dads are locked up," Ed deadpanned.
"They are patriots and we should be too," Pete hisses.
Saturday
Michonne pulls the pan of biscuits from the oven and places them in a bread basket next to the platter filled with extra thick and crispy bacon. "Rick…brunch," she calls.
He shuffles into the kitchen barefoot, sweats hanging off his waist and a serious case of post-sex hair. "How are you feeling?" he rasps while taking a seat at the breakfast counter.
"Good…a little lightheaded and some queasiness but nothing major," she reports as she slides onto the adjacent stool.
"No eggs," he questions looking down at his plate.
She shakes her head as her face contorts in disgust. "Ooh, where did you find the Chinese Apple Pears? I ate them all yesterday."
Before he can respond the door rattles. "Carl," they respond in unison. She pulls off his t-shirt, tosses it to him and retreats to the bedroom. Rick pulls the shirt over his head and makes his way to the door raking his hands through his disheveled hair.
He swings the door open and awaits Carl's greeting, "We need to talk about sex," he announces.
Michonne overhears him while tying her robe and decides to remain in the bedroom, "Hey Carl," she shouts.
"What's up Michonne?" he returns.
"O-kay…I need to take care of Michonne," he replies slightly in shock. Rick picks up her plate and delivers it to her in the bedroom. Rick returns and finds Carl devouring bacon and biscuits at a rapid pace. "Start at the beginning," he directs.
"I get this text from Justice that says: We need to talk."
Rick winces, "That is never a good sign."
Carl nods in agreement. "So I wait until the end of the day to ask why. She replies with three letters: S-E-X."
"Are you ready for sex? Not just the physical aspect but the emotional component. You care about this girl and the experience can be overwhelming."
Carl shrugs but does not look up or make eye contact. "You know it is more than okay not to be ready. A lot of the guys talking and bragging are exaggerating or flat out lying," Rick offers. He can feel the relief radiating off of his table mate.
"We make out a little but I don't want things to get out of control. I would never disrespect her and I don't want to embarrass myself," he explains shyly.
"Talk to her and be honest. Listen carefully and figure out what works for both of you."
"I can do that-thanks. What if I have technical questions," Carl's face and neck burn crimson.
Rick nods his head in the affirmative and gulps, "Sure…I can do that…over Sports Center," he suggests.
"Deal," Carl releases a heavy, relieved sigh.
"Now, I have to go over the basics. Make sure you have condoms that have not expired. Remember they can break." He chuckles to himself. "Finally Life Lesson #3: I do not care how far thangs go. If she says no or stop or wait," Rick trails off waiting for Carl to finish the statement.
Carl responds quickly, "Stop all action and tell her you respect her choice."
Rick raises his fist to Carl, "That's what I am talking about." Carl returns the fist bump.
Jake's court appointed attorney attempted to broker a deal but he could not deliver. In order for the federal prosecution team to even consider immunity, witness protection or a lighter sentence he needed to produce either the bomb maker(s) or Dwight. Jake only had burner phone numbers and bank routing information-none of which produced solid enough results.
The harsh, heavy metal sound of bars opening and closing along with his fellow inmates offering graphic, violent greetings sharpened his mind to his new incarcerated reality. "You have ten minutes to shower-don't waste it," the guard instructed before taking post outside the door. Jake stripped quickly and moved to the automatic showers.
He was lathered completely when he heard the voice, "So you are the ass wipe that likes to snitch on the Brotherhood," the muscle-bound, tattooed leader announces surrounded by a large group.
Jake turns slowly desperately trying not to show the fear pumping through his veins, "I do not know what you mean?" his voice quivers.
"Sure you do…you like to make deals right?" the leader offers.
Jake nods his head.
"Cool, mouth or hand?"
"Excuse me?" Jake's voice is high pitched at this point.
"You are our personal ass wipe. Do you want to use your snitching mouth or your double dealing hand?"
"Hand," he whispers faintly.
"Good choice…now get to work. Did everyone take a fresh dump?" the leader speaks over his shoulder to the group.
The men turn their backs to Jake and bend over. The stench is overwhelming and the lurching from the back of his throat is painful. This is how I will spend the next ten years of my life.
Carl pushes Justice in a swing at the playground. The sound of children's delighted squeals and parent's encouragement or reprimands filled the air. "You ready to talk," he asks slowing the momentum of the swing.
"Yeah, where do you want to start?" she responds dragging her feet through the sand.
"Batting cages," he suggests.
Justice turns slightly in the swing to look up into his face, "I am really sorry…I don't know what came over me." Yes you do. The bat in his pants pressed against your ass when he corrected your swing.
"I don't remember complaining. I have to admit you are stronger than you look," he laughs. Hell, she felt damn good pressed up against me.
"I pinned you to the fence and climbed you like a tree," she shakes her head.
"Am I…are we moving too slow for you?" he asks with trepidation.
"I'm not sure…do you want to do more?"
"Sometimes, but I don't want to disrespect you in any way," he offers sincerely.
Justice climbs out of the swing and faces him, "Carl, you always ask my opinion, you treat me as an equal and you always consider my feelings. It isn't in you to be disrespectful," she states emphatically.
"Fine, I'll start grabbing your ass." He leans down and kisses her eagerly pulling her against him by the ass. She squeaks in delight.