you were mouthing off to him? Or that you were being nasty? Or that by refusing to give him your name, or provide your license, or proof of insurance, that you were being disrespectful? Is that the way you do people, Ms. Lear?”
“No…”
“No?”
“Uh, yes… well, no,” Robin stuttered.
The judge snorted, looked at the bailiff. “Ms. Lear got herself an attitude problem, Mr. Peeples. That superior attitude got her into a little bit of trouble, didn't it?”
“It sure did, Your Honor.”
“I'm surprised Ms. Lear managed to make it this long before someone knocked her down a notch or two.” The judge tossed the file down and bestowed a fierce frown on Robin that sent another shiver down her spine. “Now look here, you need to wake up and smell the coffee, girl! How many of your fine and fancy friends get themselves thrown in jail for talking trash?”
“I… I don't know any,” Robin answered truthfully.
“Maybe that's cause they don't go around thinking they are better than everyone else. If you're gonna walk around thinking you are, you're gonna keep making trouble for yourself, do you understand me?”
“I don't think I'm better—”
“I said, do you understand me?” Judge Jobe demanded.
“Yes, ma'am,” Robin answered softly.
“I'm gonna accept your plea of guilty for driving without a license or insurance and fine you seven hundred fifty dollars for wasting my time.”
Robin blinked, wondered when, exactly, she had pled guilty.
“Now follow the deputy here, and try not to be annoying,” the judge said and handed the deputy a piece of paper. He pointed toward the door; Robin walked, head down.
And found herself waiting in another large room after she had received her personal property, which consisted of a belt, a Cartier watch, an emerald ring, and a half-empty purse, in which, fortunately, there had been a lone credit card in the side pocket. The very helpful deputies also gave her a paper with the location of her car and pointed to the window where she would pay her fine along with everyone else in Houston .
Robin made the mistake of asking the clerk when she could pay, which earned her a reprimand to be seated while the clerk and her friend chatted away as if they had nothing
else to do. Dejected, exhausted, and feeling terribly low, Robin sat, wondering if it were possible to get a bazooka in there to break up their little coffee klatch. Her head ached, her back ached, even her butt ached from sitting for so many hours on rock-hard benches like the one on which she was sitting now. She felt grimey in clothes she had now worn for almost twenty-four hours, her mouth tasted rank, and her stomach was in knots. All she wanted to do was go home and burrow under the covers of her bed for the next five months.
Miserable, feeling sorrier for herself with each passing minute, she waited.
It wasn't until someone sat hard next to her, jostling her almost off the bench, that she realized she must have been drifting on the edge of sleep. With a jump, Robin blinked, looked to her left. A man with impossibly broad shoulders had fallen onto the bench next to her. He was wearing a weathered leather jacket and faded jeans, had a crop of thick dark brown hair, and when he turned to look at Robin, he smiled and said with a wink, “Hey.”
Exhausted, all Robin saw was someone rude enough to knock into her, and seeing as how she had endured enough for one span of twenty-four hours, t hank you very much, she did not appreciate it in the least.
“Get real,” she muttered, shooting him an ice-cold look, and scooched over.
“God, what'd I say?”
“Hey,” she snapped.
“Oh come on, it can't be that bad,” he remarked, as if they were sitting in a park somewhere.
“What would you know?”
“Okay, so I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bump into you. Truce?”
Oh no, oh nononooo. She wasn't about to engage. “Excuse me,” she said coolly, “but I'm really not in the mood to make friends just
“No…”
“No?”
“Uh, yes… well, no,” Robin stuttered.
The judge snorted, looked at the bailiff. “Ms. Lear got herself an attitude problem, Mr. Peeples. That superior attitude got her into a little bit of trouble, didn't it?”
“It sure did, Your Honor.”
“I'm surprised Ms. Lear managed to make it this long before someone knocked her down a notch or two.” The judge tossed the file down and bestowed a fierce frown on Robin that sent another shiver down her spine. “Now look here, you need to wake up and smell the coffee, girl! How many of your fine and fancy friends get themselves thrown in jail for talking trash?”
“I… I don't know any,” Robin answered truthfully.
“Maybe that's cause they don't go around thinking they are better than everyone else. If you're gonna walk around thinking you are, you're gonna keep making trouble for yourself, do you understand me?”
“I don't think I'm better—”
“I said, do you understand me?” Judge Jobe demanded.
“Yes, ma'am,” Robin answered softly.
“I'm gonna accept your plea of guilty for driving without a license or insurance and fine you seven hundred fifty dollars for wasting my time.”
Robin blinked, wondered when, exactly, she had pled guilty.
“Now follow the deputy here, and try not to be annoying,” the judge said and handed the deputy a piece of paper. He pointed toward the door; Robin walked, head down.
And found herself waiting in another large room after she had received her personal property, which consisted of a belt, a Cartier watch, an emerald ring, and a half-empty purse, in which, fortunately, there had been a lone credit card in the side pocket. The very helpful deputies also gave her a paper with the location of her car and pointed to the window where she would pay her fine along with everyone else in Houston .
Robin made the mistake of asking the clerk when she could pay, which earned her a reprimand to be seated while the clerk and her friend chatted away as if they had nothing
else to do. Dejected, exhausted, and feeling terribly low, Robin sat, wondering if it were possible to get a bazooka in there to break up their little coffee klatch. Her head ached, her back ached, even her butt ached from sitting for so many hours on rock-hard benches like the one on which she was sitting now. She felt grimey in clothes she had now worn for almost twenty-four hours, her mouth tasted rank, and her stomach was in knots. All she wanted to do was go home and burrow under the covers of her bed for the next five months.
Miserable, feeling sorrier for herself with each passing minute, she waited.
It wasn't until someone sat hard next to her, jostling her almost off the bench, that she realized she must have been drifting on the edge of sleep. With a jump, Robin blinked, looked to her left. A man with impossibly broad shoulders had fallen onto the bench next to her. He was wearing a weathered leather jacket and faded jeans, had a crop of thick dark brown hair, and when he turned to look at Robin, he smiled and said with a wink, “Hey.”
Exhausted, all Robin saw was someone rude enough to knock into her, and seeing as how she had endured enough for one span of twenty-four hours, t hank you very much, she did not appreciate it in the least.
“Get real,” she muttered, shooting him an ice-cold look, and scooched over.
“God, what'd I say?”
“Hey,” she snapped.
“Oh come on, it can't be that bad,” he remarked, as if they were sitting in a park somewhere.
“What would you know?”
“Okay, so I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bump into you. Truce?”
Oh no, oh nononooo. She wasn't about to engage. “Excuse me,” she said coolly, “but I'm really not in the mood to make friends just
Similar Books
