68 - The Consequences of Being Good People

Ten minutes into the second half, the score was tied at zero and, while the rest of the crowd leapt to their feet over another “almost” goal, Jon frowned at his phone screen.  David had some family function today and should not be calling him.

“Yeah?”

“Dude!  You couldn’t fucking tell me the police were after her?  Seriously?!”

Oh, Jesus.

His buddy got wound up on a regular basis, but it was always in a lame-ass funny way.  David Bryan wasn’t laughing and he sure as hell wasn’t being funny.  Jon pushed to his feet, using a hand gesture to tell the boys they should stay there while he went to find a quiet place for this call. 

“What happened, Lema?”

“What happened?” he barked.  “Well, let’s see…  The Sheriff of Bumfucked Georgia just waltzed into Lily’s birthday party so he could cuff and stuff Glory Star Cassidy.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jon swallowed a groan.  This was always a remote possibility in the back of his mind, but he would’ve laid good money that Cassidy was safe in New Jersey.  Finding out that the sanctuary he’d secured her proved to be as safe as the Black Plague had him feeling six inches tall.  He hadn’t been able to protect her.

“Where are they taking her?”

“I don’t know!  Georgia, I assume.”

At least her crazy-ass uncle won’t wave a gun in her face while she’s in police custody.

He hoped.  God only knew what kind of “special” laws they had on the books in rural Georgia.  That might be perfectly acceptable in some parts of the state. 

“Tell me everything that happened,” Jon ordered, the smell of hot dogs and popcorn making him nauseous as he paced the concourse.

“I told you already.  Sheriff.  Handcuffs.  Gone.  It was that fast.  She barely had time to give me messages for you before he bum-rushed her outta here.”

“Well, what the hell did she say?”  Yes, his tone was a little sharp, but if David would just spit it out rather than milking it for theatrical value, Jon might not have gotten this torqued in the first place.

“’Call Jon’, ‘ask him to call my sister’, ‘tell Jon not to go to Georgia’.”

Her sister.  That was a call he didn’t want to make.  She was going to be more wound up than Lema had ever been in his life.  There was no avoiding it, but he was damn sure going to call a lawyer first.  At least he’d have something positive to offer along with the news that her sister was en route to prison.

“Okay.  Thanks, Dave.”

“Whoa, ho, ho!  You’re not hanging up until you tell me what she’s guilty of and, before you ask, I assume she’s guilty because she didn’t want me to fight it.”

The crowd roared and Jon glanced down to find the boys on their feet with everyone else.  Apparently, somebody had finally made a goal and he rubbed his head, choosing the path of least words.  “Arson and grand theft auto, which will disappear if we can find the Beasley guy.  We hope.”

“What the hell did she go all Firestarter on?”

Her grandmother’s house, which technically belonged to her except for the fact that the courts thought her uncle owned it.  So she burned down her own house, in essence.  Yeah, that didn’t rankle of crazy.

“It’s a long story, man and I need to get legal representation on the way to Georgia.  Come to the studio tonight and I’ll tell you the whole thing.”

“I’ll be there at eight.” 

That was the abrupt end to their conversation and Jon immediately scrolled through his contact list to locate his lawyer’s phone number.   Ten minutes later, he had relayed all the information he had, along with Libby’s contact information since she was the only person Cassidy had down there, and that pissed him off.  He wanted to be on-site breathing down somebody’s neck, but there was no way he could chance being spotted and recognized in her little town.  Dorothea would wrap his dick around his neck and hang him with it. 

Being a celebrity could be a monumental pain in the ass sometimes.

In lieu of hopping a charter flight, Jon did as Cassidy asked and called Libby.

“Hello?”

“Libby, it’s Jon.  We have a little bit of a problem.”

Cassidy might not be fond of swearing like a sailor, but her sister had no qualms about it, as evidenced by the blue streak that came spewing from his phone’s speaker. 

“Calm down,” he instructed evenly, having learned during their last conversation that Libby responded well to authority.  “Some sheriff just arrested Glory and I assume they’re on the way back to Georgia.”

“Billy Jack, that rat bastard sonofoabitch,” was her snarling acknowledgment of Jon’s bombshell.

“Good.  You know who it is, so you know where he’s going to take her.  I need that information for my lawyers.  I also gave them your number, so you might hear from them when they get to town.”

“Alright,” she sighed and he could practically hear the wind leaking from her sails.  “He’ll be takin’ her to Coweta County Jail.”

Kawheata?  What the hell kind of name was that?  And people thought Monmouth County was strange.

“I’m not familiar with that name, Libby.  You’re gonna have to spell it for me.”

She did so and added, “It’s in Newnan, about half hour away from here.  Are you comin’ too, or just the lawyers?”

“She didn’t want me to come.”  It was simplest to leave it at that.  “Will you see her?”

“Yeah.  I’ll go first thing in the mornin’, since I expect she won’t arrive until late tonight.  If she isn’t there when I get there, I’ll wait until she is.”

“Good.  Let me know how she’s doing, please, and tell her this is only temporary.  A couple days at most.”

“Alright,” she agreed easily.  “Anything else?”

Did he dare pass this message through the high-strung woman who was Cassidy’s only family?  Fuck it.  She’d find out soon enough anyway. 

“Yeah.  Tell her I love her.”

“Uhh… Just so there’s no misunderstandin’ on my part, is this the first time she’ll be hearin’ that?”

Libby’s voice was markedly different that her sister’s, but when she brought up misunderstandings in that same Georgia drawl, the similarity was enough to make Jon ache just a little bit

This is temp-o-fucking-rary.  She’s not going away for life.

“No, it’s not the first time.”

“Okay, good,” she said with obvious relief.  “Because I really hated to tell a man of your status what a dickweed move that is, but I wouldn’t have held my tongue.”

The laughter bubbled unexpectedly from Jon and he wondered if everyone in Moreland, Georgia was as charmingly outspoken as the Cassidy sisters.  If so, he was going to have to visit just for the experience. 

“Being famous doesn’t make me smart,” he told her, still chuckling.  “I can always use that kind of help, so don’t hold back.”

“Oh, honey,” she drawled, once again sounding remarkably like Cassidy.  “Holdin’ back ain’t really in my repertoire, which is why I’m gonna go out on a limb and tell you what Glory’s always told me.  Good things happen to good people, and there ain’t nobody better'n my sister.  This’ll all work out for the best.  Eventually.”

“Yeah, it will.  Text me as soon as you see her, okay?  I’ve gotta run.”

Sliding his phone back in his pocket, Jon thought just how right Libby was.  He knew a lot of good people, but nobody was any better than Cassidy.

###

“Your grandmother was a fine woman, Glory.  She’d be disappointed in you.”

Cassidy cut a glance in Billy Jack’s direction as the headlights from oncoming traffic illuminated his features. 

It was the first time he’d actually talked to her since marching her out of David’s house about nine hours ago.  Even while he was handcuffed to her in the airport, he didn’t speak to her beyond asking if she was hungry.  Now that it was one o’clock in the morning and they were in the final thirty minutes of the trip, he wanted to pass judgment on her?

“You’re showin’ your ignorance, Billy Jack.  Don’t bring up subjects you know nothin’ about.”

Because her grandmother would most assuredly not be disappointed.  The woman who had taught her to have a backbone and stand up for the right thing would be proud that Cassidy was carrying out her final wishes.  The person she would be disappointed in was her son.

“You burned down her house.  It don’t take a genius to know she wouldn’t be happy.”

“There’s a lot of things in this world that would make her unhappy,” she spoke to the passenger’s side window, watching the blackness race by in immeasurable increments.  If he was angling for a confession, he was about to be the disappointed one.  Cassidy wasn’t admitting to any wrongdoing. 

“You do realize you’ll sit in jail for a good long while over this?”

She impassively slid her eyes back toward the man behind the wheel.  “Is there a point you’re tryin’ to make?  If so, I’d appreciate you gettin’ to it.  If not, shut up.  I lost all my inclination to be sociable when you slapped these damn handcuffs on me.” 

“Don’t you be gettin’ all snappy with me,” he commanded sternly.  “This’ll go a whole lot smoother if you’d just admit you done wrong and accept the consequences.”

To her, it sounded like he needed a confession.  Knowing the nature of rural police work in Coweta County, Cassidy would wager to say that he had no evidence tying her to the fire.  It was just assumed she set the fire because of her departure from town that same night.  The “stolen” car was another matter.  Maybe.  If they’d even found it in Atlanta.  One could never tell if the sheriff’s office would hit or miss.

“I didn’t do a damn thing wrong.  Now leave me be.”

The corners of his mouth tightened with anger.  “You’re gonna regret this, girl.”

“Doubt it.”

Cassidy determined in her mind that those would be the last words she would speak to “Sheriff Matthews”.   It was her “right to remain silent”, after all, and she would be taking full advantage of it for the rest of this trip.

Talking to herself was more intellectually stimulating, anyway.  Or better yet…

Lord, it’s me again.  I have a feelin’ we’re gonna be talkin’ a lot these next few days.  I’m not too worried about this arrest deal.  It will work out with a little time and patience, which I will try and show.  My other problem is the one I’m frettin’ over. 

Two days after tellin’ a man I’ll prob’ly love him the rest of my life, exactly how is it that I’m supposed to convince that same man I don’t give a rat’s fanny about him?  Lord, it hurts to even think of it, but I surely can’t see a way around breakin’ both our hearts.  If I don’t, his wife is gonna do somethin’ to fribberty-jibbert his NFL deal and that would be a far worse heartbreak for him.  You and I both know how badly he wants this team.

Billy Jack flicked the turn signal on and Cassidy saw that they had reached the Newnan exit, where the county jail was.  Jail or not, it would be good to just lie down and go to sleep.  Time would move by more quickly if she could manage to be unconscious for a good portion of it.

One last thing, Lord.  I know I’m harpin’ on this Beauregard Beasley thing, but could we get that done and over with?  Honestly, when all is said and done, I’ll be in church every Sunday singin’ in the choir.  If I can just make it through to the other side of this…  In Jesus’s name, Amen.

Next post: Sunday, August 6