Some Brand New Soles

[Dylan Graves]

Corrections Officer: Graves! Dylan Graves! You’ve made bail, on your feet.

 

The cold, hard cement of a jailhouse floor has never been much in the way of comfort. Of course, an unexpected incarceration wasn’t great for Dylan’s anxiety either. He had been sitting with his back to a corner, resting uncomfortably in an overcrowded jail cell. With that announcement from the guard, Graves jumped to his feet and scurried across the floor, approaching the door, eager to dodge the cast of characters he’s spend the last 32 hours locked up with.

 

Corrections Officer: Stand back! Toes on the yellow line. Now turn around, facing away from the door and back to the door slowly.

 

Dylan followed the instructions to perfection.

 

Corrections Officer: Good. Now place the palms of your hand together behind your back and back towards my voice slowly. Central, open C-32.

 

A brief alarm sounded, the door released it’s magnetic hold and the officer entered the cell and secured Dylan’s hands behind his back with cuffs. He cinched the steel cuffs a few extra links for good measure, whispering in Dylan’s ear:

 

Corrections Officer: Enjoy the feel of that steel, boy. I don’t think pieces of shit like you who beat their partner should even get bail. You’re lucky I’m no judge.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, laughing at the officer’s arrogance, his mouth unloaded:

 

Dylan: I’m sure there are a lot of people who are lucky you’re not a judge…just like you’re lucky all the guys in here have to wear cuffs when you talk big and bad to th…

 

WHACK! The officer elbowed Dylan in the kidney. Graves grunted in pain as he struggled to catch his breathe. He remembered where he was. He remembered the importance of silence.

 

Corrections Officer: Follow the yellow line, asshole.

 

Dylan began slowly and peacefully leading the trailing officer down a long corridor, following the yellow line as instructed. Finally, they arrived at the out-processing desk. The female officer behind the desk took lead. She was much kinder, an aging & experienced guard with a smile on her face and a pleasant attitude. She spoke with the sweetest voice.

 

Female Corrections Officer: All right, Mr. Graves. Let’s get those cuffs off of you.

 

She removed the cuffs without any of the formality it took to apply them. She was gentle and swift. When the buckles released, Dylan instinctively began clinching and relaxing his fists, a calculated move to reestablish circulation.

 

Female Corrections Officer: Mr. Graves, I need you to sign this form in three places. Each place is marked on this form. Then step right over here to receive your possessions.

 

Dylan scribbled his name carelessly on the form in all three places, then stepped to his left to gather his things at a long metal table. The guard handed him a brown paper bag, stapled and sealed with a sticker. His name was written on a line at the top.

 

Female Corrections Officer: Mr. Graves, inside the bag you’ll find your things. These are the possessions you had on you at the time of your arrest that haven’t been classified and held as evidence in your case. You’ll also find an inventory sheet. Please check your things, make sure the inventory sheet is accurate. Then you’ll need to sign it, give it to me, and we’ll move forward in the process.

 

Dylan: Yes, ma’am.

 

He pulled the top of the paper bag free of the binding staples and peeked inside the bag. Inside he found his cashless wallet and his dead cellphone. After checking the inventory sheet, he found it accurate. He signed the form and returned it to the officer.

 

Dylan: Here you go, ma’am.

 

Female Corrections Officer: Thank you, Mr. Graves. Now, if you’ll follow me it’s time for your final stage. Please turn to your right. When the door opens, you’ll be released to your public defender and to the gentleman who posted the money for your bond. You’re free to leave after the terms of your release have been reviewed. Do you have any questions?

 

Dylan: No, ma’am, I don’t think so.

 

Female Corrections Officer: Good, I expect I won’t be seeing you here again.

 

The door buzzed loudly and the latch released, opening the door only an inch or two. Dylan pushed the door open and immediately saw a familiar face sitting at the narrow end of a metal conference table…Bill Ding was there, slurping on a chili dog and visibly practicing his pencil drumming technique.

 

Dylan: Bill! Where have you been?

 

Bill Ding: Dylan, baby! How are ya? You know your buddy Bill Ding’s gotcha covered…I’m not gonna let you rot in here!

 

Dylan: I appreciate that, Bill. But, couldn’t you have say…I don’t know…stopped me from being arrested to begin with?

 

Bill Ding: No, I couldn’t have gotten to you any sooner. I was busy with Angela!

 

Dylan looked over to the muscular woman sitting to Bill’s right side. He extended his hand, struggling to smile.

 

Dylan: …and you must be Angela. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

 

Sue Yurassov: I’m sorry to disappoint. That’s incorrect, Mr. Graves. My name is Sue Yurassov. I am the public defender that has been assigned to represent your interests in this case.

 

Dylan: Oh! I’m terribly sorry for the confusion. Of course, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well! So, Bill…who is Angela.

 

Bill was finishing his chili dog, opening the wrapper on a honeybun, and sipping down a Mountain Dew. Predictably, with his mouth full…he began to speak.

 

Bill Ding: Well, you remember that…

 

Sue Yurassov: Gentlemen, I don’t know about you two…but I have other things to be doing and other clients awaiting my attention. This is a routine release counseling. If we can just move on with this business, we’ll be finished soon and you can spend the rest of the day sorting out Angela?

 

Bill and Dylan looked at each other silently, then back at Sue. They were intimidated. It had been ages since a confident, powerful women had ordered either of them around like that. Silently, they continued giving her their full attention.

 

Sue Yurassov: Both of you have very important roles in Dylan’s release. Naturally, Dylan…you’re the accused. Bill has posted your bond in the amount of $5000. As I’m sure you recall from your arraignment yesterday morning, your next court appearance is on March 30th. You are legally required to attend that hearing. You are also legally bound to Bill Ding until that date has passed. If you fail to appear at that hearing, a “failure to appear” warrant will be issued and you’ll be arrested. Bill, if this happens…you will also forfeit your $5000 bond to the court. As long as Dylan appears at his hearing on the 30th, all should be fine.

 

Dylan looked over at Bill, as if to assure him that he won’t lose his money. Bill, still chewing, stared back at him as if he already knew his money was safe.

 

Sue Yurassov: Typically, a charge like this is accompanied by a legal requirement to not leave the state. However, due to your line of work…and the fact that you’re so broke you’re bumming a ride in late model work vans…I managed to get that waived for you. But, you must remain clean of any and all drugs or alcohol during this time. You may be subjected to random toxicology screenings. If you fail one, it's the slammer for you until the hearing.

 

Dylan: Oh, that won’t be a problem at all!

 

Sue Yurassov: Good. Do either of you have any questions?

 

Dylan: Well, I have a lot of them. But, perhaps this one can clear up the rest. It’s clear that all of this is a huge misunderstanding! First of all, I hit Bill with that pipe to stop him from choking! I probably saved his life. Second, they charged me with Criminal Domestic Violence (CDV)! There’s nothing domestic about this partnership…we are tag team partners. Why can’t Bill just tell them he doesn’t want to press charges?

 

Bill Ding: I did tell them that, baby. I told ‘em it wasn’t domestic…hell, Bill Ding can’t even be domesticated…many have tried and many have failed! I’m an animal, not to be tamed!

 

Sue smiled at Bill coyly. She bit her lip playfully and drew a deep sigh. After a brief moment she came to, and shook her head slightly to compose herself. Bill hadn’t seen her blush.

 

Sue Yurassov: It’s not quite that simple, Dylan. Since Bill currently has no official address, the Castle Doctrine applies to his automobile. As his new passenger, you were cohabitating that space with Bill at the time of the crime…so legally you can be charged with CDV. Also, in this state, CDV is a crime against the public. Meaning, even if the alleged victim wanted to drop those charges…they have no authority to do so.

 

Dylan’s jaw remained extended downward, where it had been trending since Ms. Yurassov’s episode moments earlier. He hadn’t thought it could be this serious, not in a million years.

 

Sue Yurassov: But, it’s ok…don’t panic. Bill is going to testify that you were acting to save his life. With that testimony, the hearing is basically a formality. They’ll read the charges, I’ll open with a statement…Bill will testify and we’ll be out of there in time for Ellen.

 

You’ll be found not guilty, the charges expunged from your record…everything will be back to normal. Just make sure you’re here on March 30th.

 

Now, if you guys don’t mind…I really do have to get to another meeting. I’m sure you’re both ready to get on the road as well. You’ve got 200 more miles to go if you plan on making your TV show tonight. I’ll be in touch, Bill!

 

Ms. Yurassov stood up from the table and walked turned toward a door that had been on the wall behind Bill in the room. She pressed the bar in the center of the door and it opened without a buzzer. Dylan realized he was finally free to go as well. He and Bill stood and moved toward the door, Bill significantly slower than the excited Dylan. Dylan looked back over his shoulder and spoke, intiating a conversation as they exited the building, and mounted up in Bill's van.

 

Dylan: So, who is this girl you were talking about?

 

Bill Ding: Which one was it? Tiffany or Angela?

 

Dylan: There’s two?

 

Dylan hid the dismayed look on his face as he internally pondered “How does Bill do that? Will he teach me?”

 

Bill Ding: Two? Yeah, two since you were locked up. Could’ve had more if I’d had a proper wingman! Anyways, you know Angela! She was that smokin’ cop from the other night…the one with the legs, baby…the legs. Homerun, baby!

 

Dylan was getting angry now. He took some deep breaths to calm himself a bit before asking, simply:

 

Dylan: …and Tiffany?

 

Bill Ding: Ah, Tasty Tiff! That’s right, you didn’t get to meet her! She’s a smokin’ little blonde number that works at a shoe outlet on the other side of town. I went by there to pick up

 

Dylan interrupted him, abruptly.

Dylan: You let me sit in a jail cell , unnecessarily, for more than 30 hours while you ran about romancing women on the road? What the hell is wrong with you man?

 

Bill Ding: Who? Me? You talking about Bill Ding? Ain’t nothing wrong with Bill Ding…I got mine, baby! And Bill Ding doesn’t romance anyone, you Ding that? You’re just sour you got locked up! Now, here we are…and you want to get sideways with me?

 

It’s not my fault you got in trouble, baby! It’s my fault you’re out of it…and I’m the one on the hook for 5 Grand, because of you!

 

Ding started the van and began driving, destination Turmoil.

 

Dylan: I saved your life Bill. You would have choked to death, right there on the side of the road!

 

Bill Ding: You’ve been riding with me for less than a week, kid. Do you have any idea how often the Dinger gets choked up on a tasty treat? I know how to self-rescue…I’m like a walking defibrillator, a real shocker, just ask the ladies! I’ll jump start your heart just like I built this city, baby!

 

You made your own choices.

 

But, I do appreciate you helping. People don’t go out of their way to help me very often. Look behind the seat. I picked up a little surcy for you when I went to see Tiffany, baby!

 

Dylan was frustrated with the events of the past few days. But, there was no reason to ride down the road angry. He sighed and turned to retrieve a large white shoebox.

Dylan: You picked up the shoes for me? Awesome! I was thinking about getting the right shoes the whole time I was in jail. I didn’t think we’d have time.

 

He removed the lid from the box, folding back the red tissue paper. These new shoes were incredible, and far less bulky. They were over ankle, black patent leather mat shoes with white soles. The shoes of a real winner.

 

Dylan: Bill, these are great! I’m going to wear them tonight! I’ll bet I win in these bad boys! Thank you, I mean it.

 

Bill Ding: Don’t thank me. Next time we come through town, thank Tiffany…she earned ‘em, baby!

[Jacob Trance]

Is C-32 the final form of B-17?

[B-17]

Is C-32 the final form of B-17?

 

Dude. Not even my final form.

[Tank]

Mother fuckers stole my jail gimmick.

[Dennis Black]

I think Dylan did...minus the unfortunate anal.

[Nathan Carter]

I think Dylan did...minus the unfortunate anal.

 

 

It's NEVER unfortunate...

[Dylan Graves]

Tank, Champ...sir....you can have your jail back. I never want to go there again, I assure you. Straight and narrow for Dylan Graves!

[Jackson Montgomery]

Tank is the only one that can go to jail? DOES THAT MEAN EVERYTHING IS LEGAL?!?!?!

 

*Lights joint. Grabs hooker. Snorts blow. Watches "Best of Sensation" VHS*

[Joe Zhivago]

Corrections officer: OK, Dylan Graves: One blue crushed-velvet suit. One frilly lace cravat. One gold medallion with peace symbol. One pair of Italian shoes. One pair of tie-dyed socks, purple. One vinyl recording album: Tom Jones, Live at Las Vegas. One Swedish-made penis enlarger pump.

 

Dylan: That's not mine!

CO: One credit card receipt for Swedish-made penis enlarger pump, signed Dylan Graves.

 

Dylan: I'm telling you, baby, that's not mine.

 

CO: One warranty card for Swedish-made penis enlarger pump, filled out by Dylan Graves.

 

Dylan: I don't even know what this is. This sort of thing ain't my bag, baby.

 

CO: One book: Swedish-Made Penis Enlarger Pumps and Me: This Sort of Thing Is My Bag, Baby, by Dylan Graves

[Jacob Trance]

Corrections officer: OK, Dylan Graves: One blue crushed-velvet suit. One frilly lace cravat. One gold medallion with peace symbol. One pair of Italian shoes. One pair of tie-dyed socks, purple. One vinyl recording album: Tom Jones, Live at Las Vegas. One Swedish-made penis enlarger pump.

 

Dylan: That's not mine!

CO: One credit card receipt for Swedish-made penis enlarger pump, signed Dylan Graves.

 

Dylan: I'm telling you, baby, that's not mine.

 

CO: One warranty card for Swedish-made penis enlarger pump, filled out by Dylan Graves.

 

Dylan: I don't even know what this is. This sort of thing ain't my bag, baby.

 

CO: One book: Swedish-Made Penis Enlarger Pumps and Me: This Sort of Thing Is My Bag, Baby, by Dylan Graves

 

 

Looks familiar...