Page 5 of His Favorite Felon

Next stop was my big sister Jamie’s house. She came out styling a black sweatpants-and-hoodie set from Ed Hardy.

The ride to the airport was loud and lit.

“Here, share this cookie with me,” Sage offered as she damn near shoved the cookie down Jamie’s and my throats.

“Absolutely not,” Jamie said. “Why would you even want to be high? What if a flight emergency happens and you’re too high to focus?”

“Bitch, that’s the whole point. If the plane is going down, I don’t want to feel my face.”

I laughed and broke off a piece of the cookie she was still holding. I popped my piece into my mouth. Even though she had an attitude, Jamie followed suit and took a piece. Sage stuffed the rest into her mouth.

When we got to the airport, I parked, and we caught the shuttle to check in. As we took turns at the kiosk to print our boarding passes, my phone vibrated.

Daddy.

I shot a quick text.

At the airport. Call you after TSA.

Daddy: Hurry

Daddy: Call

What?

I placed my phone back in my bag and resumed printing my boarding pass. Sage had two bags. She checked one and carried the other along with Jamie and my carry-ons. After standing in line for about thirty minutes, we reached the TSA gates, and it was our turn to put our belongings on the conveyor. I took off my jewelry and shoes and put my purse on the belt. A TSA agent frowned at me as my bag went through the scanner, then gestured, and another TSA agent on the other side of the metal detector told me to walk through. The alarm didn’t sound, but they still searched me and asked me to step aside.

My stomach tightened.

“Excuse me, Ma’am? Can you follow me, please?” Another agent demanded.

I laughed nervously as I looked back at my sis. I shrugged my shoulders, and she mouthed, “What the fuck?”

As we entered a small, windowless, box-shaped room, I noticed my suitcase on the table and began to sweat profusely, feeling extremely nervous, like what I’d imagine a hooker felt in church.

“Wh- What’s going on? Why is my luggage in here?” I asked hesitantly.

“So, you confirm this is yours?” asked a female agent.

“Yeah. I mean… I think. It looks like mine.”

As soon as I said those words, I regretted it, because when they unzipped my suitcase, I knew it was a mistake.

“No fuckin’ way!” I shouted. “That’s not mine! What the fuck is going on?”

The TSA officer in the chair leaned back, with a look that told me he wasn’t buying my outburst.

“You really expect us to believe that?” he asked.

“Yes!” I shouted. “Because it’s the truth.”

“Ms. Kingsley, we have retraced your steps and can confirm that this bag has been in your possession since you entered the airport.”

“I… I know, but I didn’t. Someone must’ve…”

I was suddenly spun around and pushed against the table by another guard, who then handcuffed me. As they pushed me down, my phone fell from my purse, showing twenty-two missed calls and nine texts from my dad. Everything else blurred as they moved me through different rooms. I don’t even remember seeing Jamie and Sage. Once in another interrogation room, they questioned me repeatedly. I kept insisting I was innocent until I grew tired of repeating myself. They pressed for answers. When I said the suitcase wasn’t mine, they asked where I got it. I had no idea how that stuff ended up in my suitcase, but I wasn’t about to tell them I got it from my dad. I thought he’d be just as clueless as I was. My dad has worked in construction for as long as I remember, and I’ve never seen him involved in drug activity.

I mean, for God’s sake, my mom OD’d. There was no way he would mess with stuff like this.