Chapter FifteenThiago
We were taken to the Carsville police station, where we were fingerprinted and thrown into a cell. Danny was kept in isolation—I don’t know if it was because he was out of control or because they knew who his parents were and wanted to keep him protected. Julian and I were placed in a three-man cell where some guy was already asleep on the grimy bench. It was probably best that way—I might have killed Danny if he had been in there with us, and I let the cops know, even though, as they said, that could be used against me.
Julian barely spoke, which was fine by me. I did apologize for his split lip, but that didn’t mean we were friends. All I could think about was Danny Walker. I prayed we’d get bailed out at the same time so I could finish what I’d started. Maybe I’d get locked up again. Who cares. If what Kam had told me was true, if he had made that video and uploaded it, he had to pay, and there was no way he could hide from me forever.
The dirtbag.
I didn’t regret what I’d done to him, and I doubted I’d regret anything in the future.
“Is it true about the video?” Julian asked.
Sitting on the floor and staring down, I said, “Yeah.”
I didn’t like Julian. I wasn’t sure why. Was I jealous because Kam seemed to like him so much? I don’t know, but I hated him for being so close to her.
“Is there any proof it was Danny, though?”
I looked up and at him. “Kamila said it was him. What more proof do you need?” For the first time in the hour since we’d been in that cell together, I truly paid attention to him. Then something clicked in my head, and the image I had before me suddenly reminded me of something else, something similar. Julian started going on about how he didn’t think Danny was capable of such a thing, even though he was an asshole, and how something was going on at school and it seemed like someone had it out for Kam and he was worried about her. How he’d had an argument with her, and it had hurt his feelings and whatever. He wouldn’t shut the fuck up, and I just kept staring at him because I was starting to realize something.
“You and I, we’ve seen each other before,” I said, standing up.
Julian trailed off. “What?”
“June thirteenth. Williamsburg. Brooklyn, New York. I beat a guy up, bad. My knuckles were bleeding like crazy. And you were in the cell with me. Just like right now.”
I watched Julian closely to see how he reacted.
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” he said, walking to the other side of the room. “I’ve never been locked up in my life.”
Bullshit.
I remembered it like a movie being projected inside my head. I remembered his face, how relaxed he’d been. I remember that because I’d envied him. I had been terrified. I’d beaten a man, and they’d had to take him to the hospital. I’d spoken to a public defender, he’d told me things weren’t looking good, I might get felony assault and do real time.
While I was nervous, frightened, cold—reliving the fight over and over in my head—there he was, completely at home. Like he knew he was going to be all right and he was just in there by mistake.
I remember how the cop had walked over and looked at him with disgust, with rage almost, and said, “You got out of it again this time, Jules. But someday, somebody will wipe that smile off your face, kid. I can only hope it’s me.”
Jules, as he was called then, smiled and stood, dusted off his clothes, and walked out, turning back briefly to wink at me. I’d wanted to jump up and beat his ass, but I didn’t. I couldn’t afford to make things worse for myself. Coming back to reality, I stared at Julian. No, this wasn’t the first time he’d been in jail. Or the second.
“Do I have the wrong guy, Jules?” I asked.
He turned around quickly. I’d caught the fucker. He’d reacted before he could stop himself. And as we stared at each other, I was absolutely certain that out of everyone locked in a cell that day, the only one who should definitely stay there was him.
“My name’s Julian,” he corrected me. But it was too late. I knew his secret. The only questions were why he had changed his name and what he had done to get locked up the last time.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “My mistake.” And I sat back down. No reason to show my hand too soon.
The satisfaction of remembering where I knew him from had almost made me forget how angry I was about Danny Walker, but soon the memory of what he’d done came back, and with it my rage. I needed to get my thoughts in order.
“Thiago Di Bianco,” a cop called out. “Someone’s paid your bail.” He took out a key and opened the cell.
“Who?” I asked as I stood.
“I don’t know. It’s a guy and a girl.”
“There’s no one for me?” Julian asked.
“No, now stand back as I open the cell.”
