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“I told you it would only be one date. For my friend.”
“Then make the second date for me, and the third one can be for you. And I know enough people after that to ensure at least a hundred more dates, probably more.”
“You’re relentless.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t necessarily a compliment.”
“It is to me.”
She continued to stare at me; her face blank, and for the first time, I realized I was going to lose this bet.
“I agreed to one date. Now, please take me home.”
The air whooshed out of my lungs and I felt deflated. But I would respect her wishes. I squeezed her hand and nodded. “Of course.”
8
Laura
The next Saturday night, my finger scrolled up my phone as I searched for graduate programs. Except, this time, I wasn’t searching for a master’s in social work as I’d planned when I first started my undergrad. I couldn’t get the conversation with the mayor out of my head.
I wanted the system to change and I wanted to help people—kids especially—going through the system. I thought the best way to do so was by working with the kids one-on-one, but maybe there was a better way. Maybe working to change the system would help more kids at once rather than one at a time. So, I was searching for political science programs on my phone while waiting in the staff room for my shift to begin.
“Do you finally have a social media account and have joined the rest of the world?”
My head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and my heart leaped out of my chest. “Sam!” I shouted and vaulted off the armrest of the brown velour couch.
She stood at the entrance of the staffroom wearing a black halter top and tight jeans and a shit-eating grin. I threw myself into her open arms.
Squeezing her to my chest, I rubbed her bare back, her skin cool to my touch. “How… When…”
Sam saved me from my stammering mess. “I got out earlier today. Mr. Crawford posted bail for me.”
“Mr. Crawford? When did you start calling people ‘mister’?”
“Girl, I’ll call that man whatever he wants me to. I’m so thankful.” She laughed, but her eyes remained serious.
“Was it awful inside?” I asked.
“It wasn’t maximum security, but I hated that someone else told me when I could eat and when I had to sleep and I couldn’t leave. I don’t think I can do two months in prison.” Her voice cracked and I pulled her back to me. “It’s just awful,” I whispered. I knew all too well what it was like but I didn’t say that to her.
“Are you working tonight?” I asked.
Pulling back and wiping her hands across her cheeks, she smiled. “Nope. No one even knows I’m out yet. I wanted you to be the first.”
“Well, let me be the first to buy you a drink.”
We walked to the bar and she took a seat in front of the counter. “Thank you, by the way,” she said, grabbing my hands across the bar.
“For what?”
“Ryan told me what you did. That you went to his office and asked for advice on my case. I’d still be in there if it wasn’t for you.”
“Well, let’s just hope I didn’t ask the wrong lawyer and he does his job right.”
I poured the vodka halfway into the glass and topped it up with soda.
