her head from my shoulder. Her own drunken brain must have recognized the Ides of March line from Shakespeare. "Oooh, were you an English major in college? I'm going to be an English major!"
"At this rate," the cop said, "you're not majoring in anything."
It was all I could do to stop myself from screaming at the cop. Surely he could see how freaked out Tiffany was already. If she thought her college English degree was threatened, she was liable to melt into a pool of tears and beer right here on his torn vinyl police car seat. And it would serve him right to have to clean it up.
"Everybody reads Julius Caesar in high school," I told her, loudly enough for the cop to hear. "You don't need a college education to be a cop. What for? You just need to be able to drive. Read. Write." I watched him X through another section of the form. "Or not."
"Don't," she warned faintly.
I put my arm around her again and asked the cop, "Can you take her cuffs off? I'll vouch for her."
His eyes finally flicked up to mine. Probably because everything was a bit blurry to me, I hadn't registered his face at all before. I don't know if it was the alcohol or the adrenaline draining away, but I noticed his eyes for the first time now, framed perfectly in the rectangle of the rearview mirror. They were a strangely dark brown in his light face. He looked down at his form.
"Why not?" I asked. "Do you feel threatened? Big strong guy like you?"
He actually turned around in his seat and glared at me through the metal grid between us. One of the taunts I'd flung at him had hit home. He did feel threatened. What in the world for?
" Yow!" I yelped as Tiffany reached behind me with her cuffed hands and pinched a big hunk of my butt.
The cop was out of the car. He opened Tiffany's door. She scooted backward toward him across the seat, and he knelt to unlock the cuffs.
"Those boys just want to get in your pants," he said. "You know that, right?" I guessed he was talking to Tiffany. He wasn't looking over her shoulder at me.
Then his eyes met mine, and returned to Tiffany's cuffs.
"That's not true," Tiffany said.
Well, of course it was true. But if Tiffany didn't know this, now was not the time to clue her in.
"How do you know we weren't trying to get in their pants?" I asked.
The cop stopped fiddling with his key in the cuffs, sat back on his haunches, and stared at me.
Tiffany's chant of "Oh my God oh my God" morphed into "Shut up shut up."
The cop said, "You've got such a mouth that you'd get yourself and your friend in worse trouble just to have the last word."
"Some people just don't know when to shut up," I said. "Shut up!" Tiffany wailed.
I began to think this was good advice. The cop gave Tiffany's cuffs just a few more seconds of attention. She pulled her arms free with a sob and rubbed her wrists. Then he slammed her door, rounded the back of the car, and opened my door. "Get out."
I climbed out and stood against the car, trying not to flinch when he slammed the door again. He stood directly in front of me and looked way down at me. I was about to get it like Eric and Brian.
Maybe not. His glance traveled briefly down to my Peer Pressure T-shirt. Or the absence of said T-shirt over my cleave. Theoretically this could have worked to my advantage. But I was unwilling or unable to Work It under the intensity of those deep brown eyes. Despite myself, I looked around to make sure the old cop's car was still a few yards away and he had not abandoned me to this cop and the forest and an unrequested sexcapade.
Now the cop managed to collect himself. He pulled his gaze from my shirt up to my eyes. Probably he was checking whether my pupils were dilated. All I could do was hope the pot had worn off enough by then to make my pupils normal size. I gazed right back into his dark eyes as if I had nothing to hide.
He nodded toward Tiffany in the car. "How much has she had to drink?"
"Give her a break, would you? I know she's blotto, but this is
"At this rate," the cop said, "you're not majoring in anything."
It was all I could do to stop myself from screaming at the cop. Surely he could see how freaked out Tiffany was already. If she thought her college English degree was threatened, she was liable to melt into a pool of tears and beer right here on his torn vinyl police car seat. And it would serve him right to have to clean it up.
"Everybody reads Julius Caesar in high school," I told her, loudly enough for the cop to hear. "You don't need a college education to be a cop. What for? You just need to be able to drive. Read. Write." I watched him X through another section of the form. "Or not."
"Don't," she warned faintly.
I put my arm around her again and asked the cop, "Can you take her cuffs off? I'll vouch for her."
His eyes finally flicked up to mine. Probably because everything was a bit blurry to me, I hadn't registered his face at all before. I don't know if it was the alcohol or the adrenaline draining away, but I noticed his eyes for the first time now, framed perfectly in the rectangle of the rearview mirror. They were a strangely dark brown in his light face. He looked down at his form.
"Why not?" I asked. "Do you feel threatened? Big strong guy like you?"
He actually turned around in his seat and glared at me through the metal grid between us. One of the taunts I'd flung at him had hit home. He did feel threatened. What in the world for?
" Yow!" I yelped as Tiffany reached behind me with her cuffed hands and pinched a big hunk of my butt.
The cop was out of the car. He opened Tiffany's door. She scooted backward toward him across the seat, and he knelt to unlock the cuffs.
"Those boys just want to get in your pants," he said. "You know that, right?" I guessed he was talking to Tiffany. He wasn't looking over her shoulder at me.
Then his eyes met mine, and returned to Tiffany's cuffs.
"That's not true," Tiffany said.
Well, of course it was true. But if Tiffany didn't know this, now was not the time to clue her in.
"How do you know we weren't trying to get in their pants?" I asked.
The cop stopped fiddling with his key in the cuffs, sat back on his haunches, and stared at me.
Tiffany's chant of "Oh my God oh my God" morphed into "Shut up shut up."
The cop said, "You've got such a mouth that you'd get yourself and your friend in worse trouble just to have the last word."
"Some people just don't know when to shut up," I said. "Shut up!" Tiffany wailed.
I began to think this was good advice. The cop gave Tiffany's cuffs just a few more seconds of attention. She pulled her arms free with a sob and rubbed her wrists. Then he slammed her door, rounded the back of the car, and opened my door. "Get out."
I climbed out and stood against the car, trying not to flinch when he slammed the door again. He stood directly in front of me and looked way down at me. I was about to get it like Eric and Brian.
Maybe not. His glance traveled briefly down to my Peer Pressure T-shirt. Or the absence of said T-shirt over my cleave. Theoretically this could have worked to my advantage. But I was unwilling or unable to Work It under the intensity of those deep brown eyes. Despite myself, I looked around to make sure the old cop's car was still a few yards away and he had not abandoned me to this cop and the forest and an unrequested sexcapade.
Now the cop managed to collect himself. He pulled his gaze from my shirt up to my eyes. Probably he was checking whether my pupils were dilated. All I could do was hope the pot had worn off enough by then to make my pupils normal size. I gazed right back into his dark eyes as if I had nothing to hide.
He nodded toward Tiffany in the car. "How much has she had to drink?"
"Give her a break, would you? I know she's blotto, but this is
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