B.
Taking the memory chip out of my pocket, I cram it into Roman's hand. "Look at it when you get a chance. It's from John—with love. And do me a favor? Fight for your Madison gig. If she means so much to you, you should fight for it."
His lips curve down into a scowl. "You don't know anything about it."
"You're right," I reply, pulling off my shirt and tossing it aside. "But I know what I'd do." He stares, flustered, as I wiggle out of my shorts. Thank God, I have on matching underwear today. When I pop back up, he's staring, startled, at my chest. "Yes, they're real. Go through the hole in the wall, and do me a favor—don't get caught, got it, RoMo?"
"You're not seriously..." he starts, choked, but I start running back toward the policemen, waving my hands in the air to flag their attention.
"HEY!" I shout, jumping up onto a marble bench. I reach back to unclasp my bra. Out of the corner of my eye, Roman gapes. A grin breaks out over my face. "FEAST YOUR EYES..." I sling off my bra and throw it at the nearest policeman as I jump off the bench and dodge through a row of tombstones.
"BOOB-A-BUNGA!" Maggie howls, slinging her bra up in the air like a lasso. "LONG LIVE ROMAN HOLIDAY!"
The policemen turn to follow us, and the second they do, Roman ducks down behind a gravestone, memory card in hand, and makes a break for the crack in the wall. I give the police the middle finger and hurtle over a gravestone, and Maggie rings her double D bra on a weeping angel. We grab each other's hand and streak through the cemetery screaming Maggie's favorite song, "Crush on You."
Halfway through the crowd, our Roman Holiday underwear go sailing into the air.
I hope Roman enjoys the irony.
Chapter Twenty-Five
You know how in every cop drama the police station is always busy no matter what hour of the day? Yeah, they all lie. As we're processed into the system—mug shots, fingerprints, the whole nine yards—I can count the number of officers in the building on one hand. One hand.
"It's a Thursday night," our police officer, a guy named NESKY with a handlebar mustache, shrugs off. "We got public drunks to apprehend."
"It's six-thirty," I say.
"It's the beach."
Maggie nods in agreement. "He's got a point, bb. I mean, they probably do more than chase beautiful half-naked women around cemeteries." She bats her eyelashes at Officer Nesky who isn't swayed in the slightest. He tells Maggie to face the other direction and takes her last photo. "This is my best side, anyway. I'd look better in chartreuse, though. You got any chartreuse shirts back where you pulled these hid-vicious gray things from?"
The officer rolls his eyes. "No."
"Do get a lot of people like us?"
"Streakers?" he clarifies, filling in the rest of the paperwork, before motioning for us to follow him through the door to the holding cells. "Yeah, we get a few. You're in luck. There aren't many felons here yet. Later tonight though, mind your elbows."
He opens the cell door for us and takes our handcuffs off as we go inside. I rub my wrists where the metal indented into my skin, hoping it won't leave any bruises. Officer Nesky nods to the guard on duty by the desk, and I begin to ask him when we're getting our clothes back when he shuts the door behind him, leaving us with the guard.
Maggie sits down on one of the benches. "You know, I didn't think I'd be free-tittin' it either, bb. I hope RoMo and Boaz are halfway to China by now." She gives two men on the opposite side of our cell a sharp glare. She snaps her fingers towards them. "Hey—Hey, my face is up here. Creep."
Our guard has his back turned to us. He has a box of pizza open, but only the crusts are left, as he watches the small TV up in the corner of the room. Of course, it's turned to the live coverage from the cemetery. The candle lighting is supposed to commence any moment now, but they keep replaying the moment a particularly burly policeman grabs me by the shoulder just after we've surrendered at front gate and pushes me to the ground. There's a scrape on my knee from that.
"At least they're classy enough to blur us out," I comment, leaning back against the cold wall.
Maggie groans. "Yeah, but it makes