Teenage Groupie XXII

Instantly, I ran after Lance heading to the doorway. I looked out the door; Lance had cornered to the left. I ran onwards through the narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor, by the elevator, I saw him standing in front of the elevator, anxiously waiting on the door. I stopped running, panting profusely, and I urged him to listen to me. “Lance, it’s not what you think…please listen to me Lance. He’s just my friend. I was having a bad time, and he came to talk to me…” the words gushed out like a fountain. Lance didn’t cast as much as a glance. “Please Lance, you have to trust me, you can ask him, it had nothing to do with what you think. I’ve known him for like forever.”

The elevator doors opened up and two hefty men stepped out from it: a tall African American man with a long black jacket and dark glasses, that made him resemble Shaft, and a Caucasian male in a brown suit and a somewhat ruthless demeanor from the scowl on his face. The Caucasian male spoke first, “That’s her. I swear it’s her.” Before, I could blink he yanked my hand and pulled me towards him. “Nikki Sawyer. You’re under arrest. For aiding and abetting the murder of one Victor Sawyer.” Shaft began to read my rights immediately.

Lance was puzzled by the exchange. He looked from my face to the two-hardnosed policemen. “Nikki, what is this? Who are these men?”

“It’s not your business young man, unless she’s a friend of yours.” The Shaft look alike replied, his husky voice threatening.

The other one was still yanking me into the elevator, and I forced myself free from his hurting grip. “I want to tell him something, I want to speak to my friend, please.” I pleaded. I needed Lance to understand this was not what he thought it was. In the far distance, I saw Nick walking down to the elevator, when he saw the policemen, he ran faster towards us.

“Nikki, who’s Victor Sawyer? What are these men talking about? You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” Lance’s voice held so much sorrow that I couldn’t help but cry. “Who is he? TELL ME,” he demanded.

“He’s my father Lance. He’s my father,” I replied, looking away from him. This statement dropped like a bomb, exploding into the already tense atmosphere, bringing with it a deafening silence.
Lance’s face filled red in horror. “You killed your father, Nikki?”
My eyes met Nick’s, and I could tell he had faint tears in them.
Shaft spoke again, “You want to accompany your friend to the police station?” He asked Lance.

Lance, horrified, just barely shook his head. I heard myself screaming in bitterness and writhing to break free of the large man’s grip, but I couldn’t, his grip was too tight, and his hands dug into my skin. “Lance, it’s not what you think, please, please, it’s not what you think,” I said in one breath, but he was not listening. He had already made up his mind and I knew that I had disappointed the one person who cared for me. I had disappointed him. I watched him walk back to his room as the elevator door closed. Nick mouthed the words, “See you soon.” And then he made a fist signifying, “Be strong.” I shut my eyes in pain.