Sasha thought about the best way to respond to this apparently very tough question and I ordered a bourbon from the waitress as she came by.
“Well, I really want to do modeling, but mostly right now I just work in a clothing store that my daddy owns.”
I nodded and tried not to zone out. I’d always been annoyed at grown women who referred to their fathers as “daddy”. If you aren’t eight years old, then it’s just weird.
As I sat there listening to her my mind drifted to thoughts of Jane. Now that was a woman… I just wished she’d quit giving me the cold shoulder. The past few days, ever since the night in the billiards room when I’d made another move towards her, the personality that I was used to just wasn’t there. She acted professional and courteous of course, but the personal touch that I’d been enjoying and the long conversations were kept to a minimum.
It was ok, though. I figured she just needed more time. After all, I was sure that she couldn’t resist me forever. Maybe she was just playing hard to get to see if I would back down or continue. Was she trying to see how confident in myself I really was? Oh, the lovely games women played. They were maddening but oh so fun. That was fine; I had plenty of other women who could keep me company in the meantime. Besides I had too much work to focus on.
I just hoped that I didn’t go too far and have her end up quitting. She was too great with the kids and she was amazing at everything else.
I continued to party until almost midnight. I would have stayed later, but I was actually getting bored. Maybe I was getting too old to go out and party all night at clubs. Or I was just tired from working so hard. At any rate, I decided about eleven-thirty to call it a night. Sasha was so blitzed I don’t think she even realized when I left.
On the way home I drove the Lamborghini with the top down. It was a beautiful night and I was feeling rather warm from all the alcohol I’d consumed. I probably shouldn’t have been behind the wheel, and normally I didn’t drive inebriated if I could help it, but I just didn’t feel like going through the hassle of ordering a different ride and then having someone else bring my car home.
I was cruising along just fine with my music cranked when I saw the flashing lights behind me. My first instinct was to floor it and show these cops what my sports car could really do. But that wouldn’t have worked out well for me. It was most likely that he’d already gotten my license plate before he announced his presence. I would have gotten a lengthy stay in jail. I decided to take my chances.
“What’s the problem officer?” I asked when he approached the vehicle a few moments later.
“License, registration, and proof of insurance.”
The cop was not in a good mood. Fine. I would play along. I procured the proper documentation from my glove compartment and wallet.
“Wait here,” the cop said. He took my information back to his car and most likely did a check on who I was and to make sure I was the owner of the car I was driving. So far business as usual.
When he came back a few minutes later he handed me back my information and stood there looking in the window. He had a small flashlight and he shone it in the backseat and then in my face for a moment.
“Where are you headed?” The officer asked.
“You been doing some drinking?”
“I had a few, but I didn’t overdo it if that’s what you are asking.”
“Go ahead and step out of the car.”
Shit. I knew what was coming next.
The cop ran me through a field sobriety checklist. He had me walk a straight line, touch my finger to my nose, touch my finger to his finger that he kept moving around, and then he gave me the breathalyzer test. I’d passed the field tests, but the breathalyzer came back over the legal limit.
“Put your hands on the car and spread your legs,” The cop said.
“Officer is that necessary? It’s just a few points over. I live two miles from here. You know who I am right?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I sighed and did as I was told. There was no way of getting out of this. I was on the dashboard camera and he’d already called in my information. I was taking a trip downtown.
The cop took me in and booked me at the local jail. I was going to spend the night there until I sobered up and my bond was posted. With my one phone call I phoned Jane and told her what happened. She said it was no problem for her to spend the night with the kids and that she could come and post bail for me in the morning at seven. I gave her my bank info so that she could withdrawal the money from my account. I knew she didn’t have that kind of money on hand.