Death Grips On Guns And Goodbye Kisses

"Sir, I was only doing my job, I swear!" Four officers escorted Ronnie out of the building with his hands above his head in cuffs. They pushed him into the car with flashing lights and began to question him. I watched the situation in curiosity.

Pacing back and forth, the man with the brightest badge read from a paper. "If I'm not mistaken, it says here that you, Mr. Ronald Joseph Radke, are on parole until Sunday. Is that correct?"

In the car, he appeared ticked off and replied with a huff, "Yes."

"It also says that you were to stay distant from any form of bar or club in risk of being accused of violating your parole. That would be because there is a variety of drugs and alcohol lurking around these places. Were you aware of that?"

"Yes, I am aware of that, officer." Through gritted teeth he spoke. Ronnie squirmed on the seat.

"If you knew that then why were you there? Did you want to return to prison?" The man seemed to enjoy pushing Ronnie's buttons, intentionally or not.

The veins on Ronnie's forehead were ready to burst, his eyes narrowed. "No! I work there part time cleaning the bathrooms! Is that such a crime?!"

"For you, sir, it is!"

Ronnie remained silent, staring at the man who was shaking his head. The policemen chatted among themselves, I could hear them discussing what they should do under these circumstances. When they came to a decision, one strutted forward and leaned down to tell Ronnie.

"I'm going to go check with the owner. If he confirms that you do work there and that's all, you'll be released. If not, this will be further examined at the prison."

They brought what I took as the owner outside for confirmation. Ronnie was telling the truth and was left with a piece of advice to find a different job. The cop cars left and Ronnie and the owner disputed, the owner knowing that Ronnie's parole would become an issue at some point.

Ronnie wiped his face with his shirt shortly after the owner turned away from him, on his way into the building. He stared harshly at me. "Get your scrawny, filthy ass and your whore's son away from my building!" He stomped into the place.

"Hey, you need a ride somewhere, or... something?" I pulled Jace close to me, shaking my head no. Even knowing this guy could be trusted, it didn't take the paranoia from my mind.

"Come on, let me help you somehow. Anything you need, anything at all?" I could list a thousand things, a life, a home, a bed, a family, a husband, a friend, decent clothing, a better job. Hell, even a shower would do. I still refused.

"Look... This is something I really want to do. No one helped me when I needed it, let me do better for you and your kid. At least let me give you some food or money." The mention of substance that was meant to be eaten gave my stomach something to growl at.

I stood, contemplating the idea to ask for a shower. I gave in to my own selfish wants and did to which he gave a toothy grin. When I slid into the passenger seat of his car with Jace on my lap, he started to ask a question, but didn't finish. "So, what's the ki- You look familiar..."

I shrugged. He didn't take the conversation any further.