Wreck the Halls(57)
“What the hell are you doing?” Beat demanded, pulling a bound Melody up against him. “Why are you arresting her?”
“She just assaulted the man on his own property.”
“He was attacking her mother!”
“He has a reasonable right to defend his own property and her mother started the damn thing by clocking him with the drum, in case you missed it.”
“I’m bleeding!” Santa #1 added.
This wasn’t happening. No way. Melody couldn’t be arrested.
It vaguely occurred to Beat that all this was being fed out into a live stream, but honestly, that was the last goddamn thing on his mind. “Can you take me instead of her?”
“Ain’t that sweet,” crooned the officer, his lips flattening. “No.”
Beat dropped the broken stick in his hand and plowed five fingers through his hair. The thought of Melody being taken into jail alone was causing an acid storm in his gut. “Should I get arrested, too?”
The police officer looked at Beat over the top of his aviators. “I wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you, son.”
“Beat. Do not get arrested.” Melody went up on her toes and pressed their cheeks together, making him feel like he’d swallowed a starfish. “We’re going to need you to get us out.”
With those words ringing in his head, Beat watched helplessly as the officers loaded his Melody—and her spitting mad mother—into the back of a patrol car. “Please,” he rasped to no one in particular. “Please.”
Danielle and Joseph flanked him, Joseph filming, Danielle punching madly at the screen of her phone. “I’m already searching for the closest bail bondsman.” She squeezed Beat’s shoulder. “We’ll get her out. As soon as I get some release forms signed.”
The hippie in the purple bandanna blocked his view of Melody, his teeth exposed in a broad grin. “Welcome to a typical afternoon with the Free Loving Adventure Club, man.”
Chapter Eighteen
Apparently, no warnings are given before the police snap one’s mug shot.
There was barely time to register that she was standing in front of the height chart, when a camera flash blinded Melody. With the starburst still blooming in her eyes, a female officer shuffled Melody along a few feet to the right where they flipped open an inkpad and asked for her full name. This was really happening. She’d been arrested for kicking someone in the junk. “Is this something I will have to report to potential future employers?”
“That’s a question for the judge.” The officer waited for Melody’s escort to uncuff her. “Thumb, please.”
Melody barely had time to hold out the requested digit when Trina was ushered into the processing room behind her daughter, with the air of a middle schooler who had been sent to the principal’s office. Again. “Well, I’m back, Officers! How many of you are secretly going to ask for an autograph this time?” Trina singsonged to the room, in general, her bare feet slapping on the floor with every step. “Guess I can’t really fault you for taking Santa’s side this close to Christmas. If you piss him off, he might not bring you a life—and you all desperately need one. Something to occupy your time besides arresting the local legend.”
“You were a legend when you moved here. Now you’re just annoying,” drawled the officer holding her cuffed wrists behind her back. “Look straight at the camera.”
She batted her eyelashes as the flash went off. “Pretend all you want. I see your Steel Birds tattoo peeking out.”
The officer cleared his throat hard and yanked on the sleeve of his uniform, covering up a few ink spikes. “Team Octavia,” he muttered.
“Yeah, that tracks.” Trina rolled her eyes. “A couple of serial killers of joy. She’d probably love you.”
“Really?”
Trina’s head fell back on a groan. “For the love of God, put me in a cell. I’d rather be locked up than have this conversation.”
“Mom,” Melody ventured. “Let’s just get through this without them adding any charges, okay? I’m sure Beat is already working on having us released.”
“Oh. Yeah. Speaking of Octavia fangirls.” Uncuffed now, Trina averted her gaze and slapped her thumb down into the inkpad, but not before Melody saw a trace of hurt. “My own kid. Unbelievable.”
“I’m not a fangirl.” Melody would have failed a lie detector test on that one, but Trina didn’t need to know that. “I’ve only met her once.”
“Is she still a petty bitch?”
“Mom.”
The officer stepped into Melody’s line of vision. “I watched the whole meeting live, if you don’t mind me saying so. My wife and I agreed that you really impressed her. And I can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to do. I mean, she really seemed just taken with you, Mel.”
“Mel?” Trina kicked—kicked—the officer in the back of the leg. “You are not on a shortened-name basis with my daughter.”
Instead of outraged, the man merely seemed smug. “That’s what everyone’s calling her, Trina. Magnificent Mel.”
What?
Trina sputtered. “Who the hell is everyone?”