I’ve always felt there was something intimidating about interacting with law enforcement. People would tell me that as long as I haven’t done anything wrong, I have no reason to be uncomfortable around them. But it doesn’t stop me from trying to avoid eye contact with them while walking past cops on the street, or changing lanes to keep one from driving right behind me on the highway.

  Maybe it’s just my natural discomfort around authority figures. I’ve had similar problems with teachers and bosses in the past. Or perhaps it is the fact they carry lethal weapons and can legally use them on me if they want. Probably the latter.

  Needless to say, I wasn’t too stoked when I arrived at the jail and found it was attached to the back of a police station. To get to where Derek was being held, I needed to go through the station and interact with the officers inside. A pit was already forming in my stomach as I pulled into one of the parking spaces.

  “Are you alright, Kit?” Melanie, the lawyer who had strong-armed her way into coming along with me, asked.

  “Yeah. Just want to get this over with.”

  I got out of the car and started walking towards the entrance of the station when Melanie called out to me.

  “Oh! You should probably get a parking pass,” she said. “You need one to park here, otherwise you could get a ticket.”

  Somehow, I had completely missed all the signage in front of every one of the parking spaces. Which was impressive, given the bright red lettering explaining, in no uncertain terms, the $500 penalty and possibility of towing for parking without a permit. I was letting my nerves seriously distract me.

  I glanced around and saw the machine that distributed the parking passes a short walk away. “Right. I’ll go grab a pass. Be right back.”

  The pass dispensing machine had one of those poorly calibrated touchscreens that didn’t always register every button press. After several taps on the start screen, I was finally greeted with a surprisingly cheery chime. Text appeared on the screen in a playful font.

  Welcome to the police station / jailhouse! Thank you for choosing us for your crime reporting / incarceration needs. We will give you your parking pass in just a moment, but first, we need a little information.

  First, are you here to turn yourself in for a violent crime? Select ‘yes’ to receive a discount on your parking fee!

  I didn’t think it was worth it to lie here just to save a few bucks, so I pushed the button for ‘no.’ The screen disagreed with me.

  You have selected ‘yes.’ Thank you for your cooperation! As a reward for your honesty, your parking will be discounted by 50%.

  Now, what was the nature of your violent crime?

  Grumbling at the frustrating nature of shitty touchscreens, I pressed the ‘back’ button.

  You have selected ‘arson.’ You must have a fiery personality! Please note: all lighters, matches, and accelerants will be removed from your person when you turn yourself in. Be sure to store anything you wish to keep in your trunk before entering the station.

  Do you have any other crimes you would like to confess to?

  My sense of annoyance was quickly replaced with a growing sense of dread. I looked around, as if afraid police officers would appear behind me and tackle me to the ground. Could they arrest me for confessing to a crime I didn’t commit because of a poorly calibrated touchscreen?

  I desperately tried to push the ‘back’ button again. And again.

  You have selected ‘armed robbery.’ Fortunately, you will receive a steal for your parking pass!

  You have selected ‘assault and battery.’ Couldn’t just settle for one or the other, could you?

  “Oh, come on…” I begged the machine.

  Thank you for confirming your crimes! Please wait one moment while I process your selections and forward them to the officers on duty.

  “No!” I shouted. “No-no-no-no!”

  Error! Our apologies, but due to a communication error, we are unable to process your crimes at this time. Your request has been cancelled and you will be charged full price for your parking. Please see the officer in charge when you turn yourself in to receive a refund for half the price of the parking pass.

  I let out a sigh of relief. A technical error had nearly caused me to be arrested, but then another technical error saved me. I guess that’s the way life balances out sometimes.

  Parking turned out to cost twenty dollars. So much for my gas money.

  The machine finally spit out my parking pass, and I turned to return to my car –

  And found an officer already standing beside it, in the process of writing a ticket. I rushed over as quickly as I could.

  “Excuse me, officer,” I said between panted breaths. “This is my car. I just got here, and was getting the parking pass –“

  “If the pass isn’t prominently displayed on the windshield when I check it, I got to write a ticket,” the officer interrupted me by declaring.

  “I understand that,” I tried. “But I was trying to get the pass as quickly as possible, and the machine–“

  “If the pass isn’t prominently displayed on the windshield when I check it, I got to write a ticket,” the officer repeated. He was like a robot, programmed to only say one thing. And unlike the parking pass machine, he was not prone to having an error that would get me out of this.

  The weight of a $500 ticket loomed over me. I had barely any income these days, and I certainly didn’t have that kind of money sitting in a drawer like Derek did. If I didn’t pay the ticket, my license could get suspended, and that would make things very difficult.

  I looked over towards Melanie. “You’re a lawyer! Do something!”

  She didn’t seem to hear me, as she was in the process of ‘adjusting’ her breasts, just as she had been when I first saw her. Pushing those behemoths up until it was all the eye could be drawn to.

  “Huh?” was the only response I received from her.

  The officer heard me a little better. “Lawyer?” he repeated, looking up from his ticket book.

  And his eyes instantly became locked onto the titanic twins. I couldn’t blame him. But I could take advantage of this opportunity. While he was distracted, I slipped past him and stuck my parking pass on my windshield.

  “Ahem,” Melanie said. “It’s not polite to stare, officer.”

  The officer’s neck snapped up so quickly I thought I heard a pop. “Oh! I wasn’t staring. It’s just – my eyes, you see – and my eyesight …” He struggled with whatever lie he was thinking up.

  “Your eyes could use a checkup,” I agreed. “You completely missed my parking pass.”

  He looked back towards the windshield, where the pass I had placed, unnoticed, now proudly stood in defiance.

  Caught between admitting he had been ogling so fixatedly that he hadn’t seen me place the pass down, or pretending like he could have just overlooked the pass this entire time, he chose the least embarrassing option.

  “Oh – uh- yeah, sorry, I must have missed that.” He tore up the ticket he was writing. “You folks have a good day now.”

  He speed-walked away so fast he was practically a blur. I couldn’t help but crack a smile at my small victory over the system.

  “Thanks, Melanie,” I said with a sly wink. “I owe you one.”

  “For what?”

  I paused. “For the – wasn’t that on purpose?”

  “Was what on purpose?”

  I shook my head. “Never mind. Let’s go bail out my landlord.”

  The inside of the station was busy. There were officers in uniform walking back and forth, others in regular clothes sitting at desks, pushing papers or answering phones, and more people whose clothing was more worn down – some of whom where handcuffed to chairs. It occurred to me that it wasn’t just the officers who I needed to be wary about here.

  Without it being really clear where I should go, I walked up to the closest desk – which I hoped was some kind of reception -to ask how I could reach the jail to pay a bail.

  “Excuse me, officer,” I said to the uniformed man behind the desk. “I need to –“

  “Hold on, don’t tell me,” the officer cut in. “Oh, yeah. You’re a dead ringer for the sketch. You’re the Ropebinder, aren’t you?”

  “The Ropebinder?” I repeated. It had been a while since I had turned off the notifications for my morning news app, but the name still sounded familiar.

  The officer turned to Melanie. “You should be careful with this guy, hear? He’s probably got a trunk full of rope and he’s just itching to tie you up.”

  “Oh, no!” Melanie gave me a troubled look. “That’s third date kind of stuff, Kit.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I put my hands up defensively. “No, wait, I’m not …” I trailed off. “Third date? No – that’s not important! I’m not that guy!”

  “Don’t try to weasel out of it now,” the officer said as he leaned in close. “We got you now, you sick freak. You’re going away for a long, long –“

  The officer suddenly burst into laughter. I was halfway to fainting, my free life flashing before my eyes, so I didn’t even realize what was happening.

  “Ah, you should see the look on your face!” He patted me on the shoulder. “I’m just busting your chops, kid. I know you’re not the Ropebinder. He’s like, Mexican or something. But your reaction is priceless! Your chops were totally busted!”

  I slowly started to regain my senses. “Wh- What?”

  “Hey, Mendez!” the officer called into the room behind him. “I just totally busted this kid’s chops! He thought he was going to be arrested for the Ropebinder case!”

  A voice yelled back at him, “Was he even Mexican?”

  “No! But he let his chops get busted anyway!”

  “You the man, Jameson!”

  For the second time in far too short a span, I processed that I wasn’t about to be arrested for some heinous crime I hadn’t committed. My heart hadn’t yet caught up and was still thudding like crazy. I needed to get out of here before I had a heart attack.

  “Tha-that’s – that’s v-very funny,” I stammered. “I – I need b-bail … ” I couldn’t calm myself down enough to speak clearly.

  “Bail?” Officer Jameson repeated. “I told you I was just playing with you, kid. You’re not in any trouble. Or did you come here to confess to a different crime?”

  Before I could reply, there was another voice from directly behind me. “Hey, I know you.”

  I spun, and came face-to-face with an older, serious-looking officer with a familiar, commanding mustache.

  “Officer Mustache,” I said before I could catch myself.

  I froze as I realized I had accidentally said aloud the nickname that Kara the car thief had given the officer. A none-too-flattering one at that.

  “It’s pronounced Moustash,” the officer corrected.

  “Oh – uh – sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. A lot of people make that mistake. No sure why.” The reason why twitched on his lip as he spoke. “And I recognize you as well. You’re the pool fetishist, right?”

  “Uh … yeah, I guess so.” If I denied it now, I’d have to explain why I lied to him back then. “Technically, pool supplies.”

  Melanie gasped. “Pool supplies, huh? I’m learning so much about you today, Kit.”

  I was starting to think it might have been better if I had been thrown in jail.

  “Ah yeah, that’s right,” Moustash replied. “And you own that shitty ol’ Honda that’s currently out in the parking lot?”

  “Yes. But I got a parking pass for it!” I insisted.

  “Oh, I’m not concerned about that. But I did see something interesting while I was out there. On the back of your car, there’s a sticker featuring a cartoon stork that I’ve come to associate with the gang of car thieves that I’ve been tracking. Do you got an explanation on how that got on there?”

  My poor heart. “Uh – I – I’m not sure myself. It just appeared one day, and I’ve not been able to remove it. Do you think my car is a target to be stolen?”

  Moustash raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That hunk of junk?”

  “It’s actually a classic,” I tried. Kara had said something to that effect before disappearing, and while I didn’t quite believe it myself, maybe I could convince him.

  Before Moustash could respond and confirm whether he bought my deception or not, Officer Jameson interrupted.

  “Moustash! How the heck you been!” Jameson patted the other officer on the shoulder. “You still chasing those cartoon birds?”

  “I’m not chasing the birds. They’re a symbol of the criminal enterprise I’m pursuing,” Moustash corrected.

  Jameson laughed. “This guy! Been chasing the same supposed crime ring for over a year, and nothing to show for it but some cartoon birds. Ah, I’m just busting your chops, Moustash! I know you’re doing good work out there. Someone’s got to keep Tweety and the Roadrunner in check. Hah, I’m just busting your chops again! It’s a joke, pal!”

  I felt a little bad for Moustash, who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Even his usually commanding mustache seemed to droop under the weight of Jameson’s ‘jokes.’ But he was also distracted, which gave me a good chance to back away and disappear into the crowd of people moving about the station.

  “Where are we going?” Melanie asked. “Don’t we still need to be pointed to the jail and the bail official?”

  “They seem busy. I’m going to go ask someone else.”

  To my surprise, it did not take long before I stumbled upon another familiar face in the crowd.

  “Bob-Jim?”

  The elderly handyman broke away from the conversation he was having with a pair of uniformed officers to greet me. “Well, if it ain’t the apartment manager. Fancy running into you here.”

  “You as well. Do you do repairs for the station?”

  “Nah, I’m just here visiting some old friends. I spent a couple years working as a private detective. Got to know a few of the officers here pretty well when my cases intersected with the police. I like to check up on how they’re doing every now and again. Friendships don’t fade with age if you make the effort, son. And what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve got to bail Derek out of jail,” I explained. “Do you happen to know which way to go? It’s been hard to get directions.”

  “That landlord of yours,” Bob-Jim said, shaking his head. “You just go down this hall here, take the first left, and you’ll see a sign. Follow the sign and you’ll be in a waiting room. Whoever is sitting behind the secure glass will be the bail official.”

  “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “You do. Give Derek my regards.”

  Following the handyman’s directions, it wasn’t hard to find where the station turned into the jail. I found myself in a room of plain white tiles, hard blue plastic chairs, and buzzing vending machines. Behind a thick glass window sat a woman with frizzy hair and thick layers of makeup. She was watching something on a small monitor.

  I approached the window. “Excuse me. I need to pay the bail for –“

  She did not even glance away from her monitor as she pointed at a ticket dispenser next to the window. “Take a number, take a seat, I’ll call you when it’s your turn.”

  I took a look around the empty room. “I’m the only one here.”

  “Take a number, take a seat, I’ll call you when it’s your turn.”

  I had a feeling I wasn’t going to make any progress arguing with her, so I defeatedly took a number before sitting down in one of the uncomfortable blue chairs.

  Melanie took a seat next to me, then gave me a weird look. “Are you a car thief?”

  “What?”

  “You ran away from the questions of that mustached officer.”

  “Come on. Do I look like a car thief?”

  “No. But you don’t look like a lot of the things I’ve learned about you today.”

  I put my head in my hands. “You should just forget about all the stuff you heard. None of it’s true.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Her stomach growled and she put a hand on it. “I hope it’s not too much longer. I skipped breakfast and lunch to try and beat Lawrence to potential clients.”

  I realized I hadn’t gotten the chance to eat anything today yet, either. In this kind of scenario, even vending machine fare started to sound good. I got up, pulled out my wallet, and went to see what was in stock.

  There wasn’t much in terms of drink selection – just soda pop and bottled water. But the food was a pleasant surprise. One machine had only the traditional selection of snacks: chips, cookies, and a small assortment of candies. But the other had sandwiches! I wasn’t expecting anything of quality from a vending machine hidden in the waiting room of a jail. I could see the expiration dates through the glass and they had not passed yet, and the machine seemed to be keeping things cold, so I didn’t think it would make us sick, which was good enough for the moment. I grabbed a couple of sandwiches – turkey, since that seemed the least offensive option – two bottles of water, and a couple of bags of chips. Then I returned to my seat and handed off half the food to Melanie.

  “I don’t think it will kill us,” I said. “But if it tastes off … at least we got chips.”

  “Thank you!” She quickly unwrapped the sandwich and bit into it. “Hm. I guess it’s alright. Though usually I’m taken to much nicer restaurants for a first date.”

  I bit into my own sandwich, which was indeed just okay. “This isn’t a date or a restaurant. Remember, you’re the one who insisted on being here.”

  “Oh, I know. But I am kind of glad I did. It’s been interesting.”

  That’s one way to put it.

  We ate. Then we waited. And waited. Fifteen minutes passed. Half an hour. Forty-five. We continued to be the only ones in the waiting room. The only ones with a number waiting to be called. And yet the woman behind the glass continued to ignore us, her attention fixed on her monitor.

  As a non-confrontational person, it probably took me longer than normal to finally get up and try to figure out what’s going on.

  I walked back up to the window. “Excuse me, I’ve been waiting a while and –“

  “Please wait for your number to be called, sir.”

  “It’s just - I’m the only one here, and it’s been nearly an hour.”

  “Please wait for your number to be called, sir.”

  I leaned to the right of the window until I could see what was on the monitor that had been drawing so much of her attention. I don’t know what I was expecting. Perhaps some kind of security feed of the jail, showing a period of intense prisoner activity that she couldn’t afford to turn away from for even a second.

  Instead, it appeared she was watching a soap opera. I wasn’t familiar with the particular show, but the tone was unmistakable.

  “Are you ignoring me to watch TV?” I asked, my non-confrontational nature momentarily overwhelmed by my incredulousness.

  She lifted a remote and pressed the pause button. “Look, sir, I’ve been trying to catch up for weeks, and I’m right in the middle of an intense storyline. And if you interrupt me one more time before I find out whether Julian and Olivia go through with their marriage, or if Petyr will be able to reveal he is still alive in time to stop the wedding, I will call the officers to come down here. They will pat you down and find five ounces of crystal meth on your person.”

  “What? I’m not carrying any meth.”

  “I didn’t say you were. Just said they would find it on you.”

  My self-preservation instincts overtook whatever momentary bravery I had mustered, and I slowly backed away from the window. The official smirked as I did.

  At some point, Melanie must have come up beside me, because she was also glancing at the monitor through the window.

  “Oh, I love this show!” Melanie said. “I couldn’t believe Petyr’s entire storyline was a dream while he was in a coma! What a twist!”

  The official’s face twisted up like she had just sucked on a lemon. “Are you serious? You’re just going to spoil that for me? Did you not hear what I just told your boyfriend?”

  Melanie smiled sweetly. “Oh, yes, I heard. I guess you could try to get your friends to plant drugs on me, but I’m a lawyer, so … Oh! Wait till you get to the next season. That’s when they reveal that Olivia actually has a sister who –“

  The official put both of her hands over her ears. “La-la-la, I’m not listening, I’m not listening! Look, I’ll take you guys now. Just don’t say any more.”

  I looked wide-eyed at Melanie, impressed. “That was on purpose, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  It didn’t take long for us to pay Derek’s bail after that. I signed a couple of forms, handed over the cash to be counted, and that was it. A short while later, Derek was released out into the waiting room.

  “I was beginning to worry you forgot about me,” he said.

  “Sorry, there were some delays,” I explained. “Hopefully things didn’t get too bad with your cellmate.”

  “Ah, nah, he turned out to be chill. Turns out, my head just reminded him of a vacation he once took to the beach. He spent a lot of time reminiscing. Hope he gets back out there one day. And who’s this? Did you bring a date to jail?”

  “Not a date,” I replied. “This is Melanie. She’s a lawyer.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said.

  “Well, holy shit, Kit,” Derek exclaimed. “No wonder you took so long. I just told you to bring the bail money, but you really went above and beyond and found me a lawyer, too. I don’t know much about lawyers, Ms. Melanie – besides the stuffy suits my parents employ – but if Kit vouches for you, I trust you one-hundred percent. I look forward to having you defend me in my upcoming hearing for ‘disturbing the peace.’ I’m sure you can handle this kind of misdemeanor stuff in your sleep, but I’ll make sure you’re well paid for your time, anyway.”

  “Oh, she’s not – ” I started to say.

  Melanie put a hand over my mouth. “Yep, that’s me! Your defense attorney. I just need to schedule a time to sit down with you and discuss all the details.”

  “Great!” Derek replied, oblivious to my struggle to speak. “We can all head on back to my building right now and have a chat about it. I just got to go pick up my car from the impound real quick first. I’ll regroup with you all in a little bit. Good work again, Kit. I knew I could count on you.”

  As I walked back with Melanie towards my car, I felt uneasy. “Is this really going to be okay? You aren’t a criminal defense lawyer.”

  “I was! Kind of.” She looked away from me. “That was the kind of law I really wanted to do. Why I studied it in the first place. But some stuff happened at my first job … I really don’t want to get into it. Anyway, I kind of just wound up at a big civil firm as a backup. But this is a chance to do something I like – and also make some desperately needed extra cash. I promise, I’ll do a good job defending him. Misdemeanor charges are easy.”

  Well, if Melanie thought she could handle it – and I owed her a little credit after how she helped me out – and Derek was happy, I suppose it was fine. Also, not really my business past this point. I’d already put in more than enough effort for the day. All I wanted to do was sit back down in front of my TV and do nothing for the rest of the day. Or week.

  As I pulled out of the parking lot of the police station / jail, I once again reflected on the relationship with the law my way of life entailed. And I felt I had a much clearer view on it now, after the several close calls today. It left me with a new rule for life after giving up:

  Rule Five: Don’t interact with law enforcement. At all.