Chapter 7 Connection

Rex

As I emerged from the car, my tall frame loomed over her. She stood statue-still, her gaze unwavering.

"Tell me what's going on," I pressed, my deep voice firm but controlled.

Isla's words dripped with disdain. "Must you always resort to cheap shots?"

I raised a brow, "I'm busy, what do you want?" I asked impatiently.

She shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Oh yeah, I totally forgot. Arden has a life too."

"Arden? Who's that?" I asked, genuinely clueless.

Her expression turned cold. "The one your family's influence got arrested."

I finally remembered. "Oh, that guy from the other night."

I shrugged. "Mom made a move already, I've totally forgotten about that twat."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "You're calling him a twat? Really, the only one who is a twat is the one standing in front of me."

I warned, "You don't want to mess with me. Watch your mouth."

She spat, "I'm shaking in fear. You think you're above the law, don't you?"

"You make me sick," she added, her voice venomous. "If you have any dignity, let Arden out. Using your influence to bully others, especially when you're wrong, is despicable." Her blonde ponytail swayed with each gesture.

I scoffed. "You think your words will change anything? I don't have time for this. Tell your friend to enjoy his time in jail."

"Damn you!" she snarled, her small lips pursed in anger. Despite her fury, her beauty remained captivating. I chuckled and slid back into the car, my driver speeding away.

I glanced in the rearview mirror; she still stood there, her eyes fixed on the car and her figure fading into the distance.

Her audacity intrigued me; the contrast between her calm demeanor the other night and today's fiery outburst piqued my interest.

I wondered about her connection to Arden. Isla is really something.

Arden

Nothing had changed, yet I eagerly awaited Isla's visit. The cell felt suffocating. No lawyer would take my case, and the court-appointed public defender was merely a formality. Jail seemed inevitable. Frustration consumed me as I lost myself in thought. I still had so much to achieve, so much to explore.

I heard a familiar voice, "Isla?" I looked up.

"Hey," she said softly. "How are you holding up?" Her eyes showed genuine concern.

"Obviously, it's difficult," I replied.

"Your family must be worried," Isla said. "Are they aware of what's happening?"

"I only have my mom," I said. "She's in the Bahamas, where I grew up. I moved here for work. But she doesn't know... I don't want to trouble her."

"You should tell your mom," Isla suggested gently.

I hesitated. "Nah, it'll break her. My mom's very emotional."

"If she finds out later, it'll hurt even more," Isla countered. "Arden, please, it's the right thing to do."

I thought about it and decided to heed Isla's advice. "You're right," I said.

"Excuse me, officer," I asked, "may I make a call?"

The officer sneered. "No matter how many calls you make, your fate is sealed."

I persisted ignoring his remark, "Please, I need to speak to my mother. She should know what's happening."

He grunted, handing me a phone. "Use this one. You can't have your personal phone anymore."

I dialed my mom's number, anxiety growing with each ring.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Mom!" I exclaimed, relief washing over me.

"Arden? Arden! I've been worried sick! Why haven't you been answering my calls?" she asked, concern etching her voice.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I haven't been able to."

" Is this your new number? You got promoted, and now you're too busy for your mother?" she teased, though a hint of hurt lingered.

"No, Mom, it's not that. Listen... I need to tell you something."

"What is it, Arden? Are you alright?"

I took a deep breath. "Mom, I'm in police custody."

The line fell silent, unusual for my normally effusive mother.

"Arden, what's going on? You're pranking me, right?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

I rushed to explain. "It's complicated, Mom. I got into a fight with the Norman's son. Pamela Norman, his mother has influence got me arrested, and now no lawyer will take my case. I'm sorry, Mom. I don't know what to do."

The silence that followed was oppressive.

"Mom?" I ventured, sensing her distraction.

"Am I hearing things? Did you just say Pamela Norman? " she asked, her voice sharp.

"Yes, Mom. You heard me right," I confirmed.

"The police here aren't cooperating," I added, urgency creeping in. "They'll take the phone from me any moment."

"Pamela Norman," she repeated, stressing each syllable with emphasis.

"Do you know her?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

"I'll be taking the next flight to New York," she declared, her tone resolute.

"Mom, I appreciate your concern, but what do you plan to do?" I asked, perplexed.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," she replied, her cryptic response leaving me wondering.