Daniel’s studio is radiating a digital blue glow when the four of us-Daniel, Lina, Marcus and I-enter the room.
“Shit, I forgot to turn off the TV when I left last night. See how much I love you?” Daniel winks at me, the corner of his lips pulling up to a grin as I roll my eyes like usual. Flipping on the switch, he motions us to sit, only to realize there aren’t enough chairs to sit on for a proper group chat.
“Make yourself comfortable.” he says with a sheepish smile, pointing to the beat-up single sofa, the second hand rocker gaming chair facing the flat screen TV, and the thin carpet in between. Then he dashes to the storage shelf that houses his massive collection of video games and fires up the laptop, not even bothering to take it off the shelf as he strikes the keyboard furiously like he’s in a boss battle.
Lina excuses herself to go to the bathroom while Marcus and I stand awkwardly looking at each other, unsure of what to do or where to sit. A timely ping sounds from his pocket, signaling an incoming text. He takes a quick peek at his phone, and slips into the bathroom Lina has vacated.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. Thank God! Maybe I am just paranoid, but the way this guy looks at me makes me uncomfortable for some reason. Hopefully he’s not interested in me like that freaking Steve. Daniel and I are both single childs and he’s like the brother I never have, but no friendship is indestructible. Another one of those stupid heartbreaks may just take away the last person I consider family.
I adjust the gaming chair to sit across from Lina. She settles on the sofa, takes a pen and a small writing pad out of her purse, and scribles something on it before she fixes a critical gaze on me. Her lips are flattened into a thin red line like she’s about to strike through my statement.
Maybe it’s the stay behind the bars, or the whirlwind of events that have transpired in 24 hours, I am getting fucking nervous. Logically, it doesn’t make sense to worry about the drug charge more than the child porn charge because of the potential rape implication from the latter. But unlike the child porn charge that involves others, the drug charge is all on me. At this point, I am not sure if Lina can offer much help once she hears the mess I am getting into.
Lina doesn’t rush me, but her silence makes the air between us even heavier than the weight of a millions questions. After organizing my thoughts for a couple more moments, I clear my throat and begins with a “Ahem.” Just as I am about to retrace the steps leading to this fucked-up situation, the mumble of a low voice gives me a jolt that almost makes me jump out of the chair. I turn my head. It is Marcus.
“Holy shit! You scared the crap out of me!” I yell.
He stutters, “uh, sorry. I’ll...I’ll grab the log.”
“The backpack’s in my room upstairs.” Daniel tells him, his eyes still on the screen as he speaks.
Marcus doesn’t need any further instructions. He gives us a quick glance, then disappears into the stairs.
Okay, here we go. I suck in a deep breath, and start over. It actually only takes less than five minutes, not counting the pauses and occasional stammer. The sad part, I now realize, is that it doesn’t take much to steer the life of an ordinary person off his straight course to a god damn ditch. What I need now, is someone, or something, to pull me out of this fucking deep shit.
Lina quietly puts her pen down after I finish the story, including the part where I took some edibles from J for taste test as an alternative treatment for Abby’s depressed mental state. She hands me the notepad and says in a calm voice, “Tell me what you think we can do.”
Now I am confused. Why the hell is she asking for my input? It’s not that I don’t trust Daniel’s recommendation, or his assurance of her competency. Well, actually I can’t afford the luxury of shopping for another lawyer even if I didn’t. But the point is, I am fucking paying her to give me advice! I bite my lip to keep myself from saying something offensive that I’ll regret later, as I flip to the first page of the notepad. Listed in bullet points are the following four items:
• Offense: Possession of marijuana over 28.5 grams by people under 21
• Penalty: Misdemeanor
• Max. Fine: $500
• Incarceration: 6 months
My eyes almost pop out of my head. “Six fucking months?” I shout in disbelief.
“What?” Daniel asks from five feet away.
“They can send me for serious time, up to six fucking months!”
“What for?”
“Possession, because of that shit Sherman planted in my jacket!”
“What shit? Who’s Sherman?” Daniel comes to my side in a second, his voice full of concern.
“He’s the cop at the Tenderloin Police Station...” Before I have the chance to finish, Marcus’s heavy footsteps roll down the stairs.
“I can’t find the log!” He calls out, sounding every bit like a dog barking at its own reflection in the mirror.
All three of us turn in his direction. My eyes follow Marcus to Daniel. He’s frozen in place like an ice statue about to crack. Plastered on his face, is an expression I thought I would never see again, so fucking unforgettable.
When we were in 7th grade, Daniel and I took swimming class together as a stupid high school graduation requirement. One hot summer day, Daniel ate an energy bar hidden at the bottom of his gym bag for god knows how long before heading to class. I remembered running late to join the class because I needed to take a piss. As I was about to jump in the pool, I saw his face go ashy white and he started pushing people away frantically to get out. Unfortunately, the kids playing with giant foam boards got in his way and before he reached the poolside, the clear aqua blue around his bottom changed to a murky brown like an underwater mushroom cloud after an atomic bomb attack. Yes, it was a true “shit face”.
That is exactly how I know Daniel is about to lose his shit again - not literally this time, thank fuck for that. I rise to my feet in front of him and gently squeeze both of his arms. He stays as rigid as a poster board, just like last time, his pupils dilated with little signs of life. About twenty seconds later, a high pitched squeal fill the entire studio as he starts pulling his hair. Lina and Marcus cover their ears and look at each other with matching amusement. If I hadn’t known what misplacing the log means, I may find it entertaining too. Before he plucks out all his hair, I grip both of his wrists and bark at him, “Calm the fuck down, Daniel! Go look again yourself!”
As the last four words register, he loosens his clenched fists, staring at me like I just told him he’s earned an academy award. Then he darts to the stairs in a speed that rivals Usaine Bolt, the laptop he was working on earlier totally abandoned.
Lina jerks her head towards Marcus and orders, “go finish deleting the files, Marcus. And you, Chase,” she tells me flatly, “stop maulling over the six-month incarceration. Worst come to worst, you can plead ‘nolo contendere’ for a shorter term.”
“What the hell is ‘nolo contendere’?”
“It means ‘no contest’. You neither dispute nor admit committing the crime, but the judge usually gives you a lesser punishment.”
“But I didn’t do it! Why the fuck would I NOT dispute the crime?” I snap, glaring down at her like I am ready to bite her head off. This is the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard!
Lina rubs her eye as she explains, her words taking on a condescending tone, “Because the statement says the marijuana they've found in your jacket weights over 28.5 mg.”
“That's fucking bullshit!” Every blood cell in my veins starts to boil in rage, my fists itching to snatch anything within reach to release my anger.
Sensing the venom in my breath, Lina gets to her feet and backs up a couple steps towards Marcus. Her voice drops lower as she cautiously continues, “it’s your words against the officer’s. Combining that fact with the signs of drug intoxication and blood test result as evidence, there’s really not much I can do at this point.”
The steam coming out of my ears liquifies as Lina’s words sink in. If there’s a way to measure the temperature in my blood stream, it must’ve dropped to a goddamn 100 degrees below zero, because I am breaking into a freaking cold sweat. Even my skull feels kind of sweaty.
This is different from stage fright or the feeling before the confession earlier. Those can go both ways after they are over, but right now, all I can see in my future is hell. Sure, it’s not the end of the world, and every positive quote our teachers try to shove down our throat begs me to think happy thoughts, but sappy optimism can kiss my ass. I bet some of those writers never even get a detention at school, let alone going to jail for six fucking months!
Wild footsteps shake the floor as Daniel hurries down the stairs. “I can’t find the log!” He shrieks, repeating Marcus’s finding in full-on panic mode.
My poor heart drops to the bottom of my stomach and shatters into pieces. I tilt my head and look to Lina for confirmation, “does this mean I’ll be convicted of the child porn charge as well?
She sighs apologetically, and looks away.
Double holy shit! Can my life go any shittier?
Frustrated, I drop my face into my hand and then, out of no where, a strong sense of Deja Vu emerges. It feels kind of important, like one of the essential items on the packing list I miss every time I go on a vacation, no matter how many times I check. Using this strange awareness as a distraction, I give it all the brain power I’ve left, and think hard.
Yes! In this same room, two weeks ago, I had a similar facepalm moment after I told Daniel and Marcus about Abby’s depression. And J, the camera man and Marcus’s cousin, handed me those god damn weed candies and cookies.
That’s it! If that asshole hadn’t given me the edibles, I wouldn’t have gotten so fucking stoned at the police station, and Sherman wouldn’t have even had a chance to set me up this way.
Son of a bitch!
“This whole shit started with the stuff that fucking dickhead gave me, remember?” I shoot Daniel a fierce look like he insulted my parents, although I know damn well it wasn’t his fault. “J was on the crew, right? Fuck the log! Let’s start the search from him.”
Daniel’s eyes go wide, then turn focused at the sound of my command. He squints Marcus’s way, “where’s your cousin?”
Marcus shifts his gaze to his feet, “he...he died.”
“WHAT?” Daniel and I shout.
“Yeah, a week ago.” Marcus’s voice is small, but clear.
“How?”
“OD.” He replies simply.
My mouth hangs open like a fish out of water. He was young, no more than 21 by my guess. But what I’ve learned from personal, painful experience is that life happens, just like mom and dad, and death doesn’t give a shit about age. I could’ve died that day if I had sit in the passenger front seat instead the back seat. I would’ve died on impact like my parents. Come to think of it, that’s exactly how I imagine a guy like J would’ve died. It suits him. I don’t know much about the guy, but this is something he’s brought on himself, as cruel as it sounds. And Marcus’s defensiveness earlier makes total sense. The only problem, is the timing of his death.
I AM OFFICIALLY SCREWED.
Daniel shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat. “No, no, no...” he placed his hands at the side of my shoulders, channeling his optimistic self, “we have like, half a dozen more cameramen to check. It can be anyone of them. Don’t you fucking give up!”
Grabbing the notebook from my hand and the pen from Lina, he jots down a list of names and phone numbers he finds on his phone before he tears the page in half. “Let’s split the work. I call these four guys,” he holds up the notepad in one hand and passes the ripped piece to Marcus with the other, “and you call these four.”
Marcus takes a look at the paper and shakes his head, “they are international students. Most of them already went back to their home country for the summer.”
Daniel stops mid-motion. “Crap! Crap! Crap!” He stomps his foot like a four-year-old throwing a tantrum. I sigh, too numb to feel any disappointment after hitting my personal rock bottom.
Cool, poised, and in control, Lina scans the three of us and gestures everyone to sit down. Daniel and I sink to the floor while Marcus takes the gaming chair.
“So,” She begins, “here’s the situation. The arraignment for both of your charges is set on Monday. You have a chance to enter a plea at that time. There’s no way you can track down the person who took the video before the arraignment, and,” she peers down at me, “you can’t expect the officer to change his own statement, so I suggest you to plea ‘no contest’ like I said before. The longer this case drags on, the higher the chance is for the DA office to start the investigation that may lead to a rape charge. And trust me on this, negotiating for a plea deal on misdemeanor charge is far easier than a felony charge.”
I shut my eyes and drop my head, too fucking tired to think. Everything she’s saying makes sense, but why do the words taste so bitter?
“One thing you should consider, though,” she pauses hesitantly, “is Daniel’s involvement in the video.”
I cock my head with a jolt and blink open my eyes, meeting hers straight on as she elaborates, “you will most likely be convicted of the possession charge, but you may be able to get out of the child porn charge if you tell them the hard drive belongs to Daniel and that you didn’t know the contents of the footage.”
I digest this for a couple moments, my stomach starting to turn and burn like I just chug a whole bottle of the Mao-tai liquor Abby’s dad hid in his closet. From inches away, Daniel’s breaths quicken, but I don’t look at him. I don’t have to. I stand up, grab my things, and leave without another word.
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