Lost Girl Ch. 08

"Eleven? How am I supposed to pick one out of eleven?"

"That's why you need to look through each of the pamphlets. They all give plenty of information about the pros and cons of each method."

"Can't I do this whole birth control thing later on...like once I actually start having sex?"

"I'd really feel better if we did this as soon as possible," Mona said while regarding her daughter with a serious look. "Just to be on the safe side."

A heavy sigh left Claudia's lips as she gazed down at the pamplets, and for a moment she just thought of brushing the whole thing off, but it was pretty apparent that her mother had no intentions of relenting.

"Okay, I'll have a look through them and make a decision in the next couple of days."

Mona smiled, affectionately patted her daughter's leg, then rose to her feet. "You ever need to talk, I'm always available. You know that, right?"

Claudia nodded, watching as her mother headed for the bedroom door, but before she could make it back out into the hall, Claudia called out to her.

"Mom?"

Mona turned to face her daughter.

"I know I'm supposed to be grounded and everything, but there's this party happening tonight..."

Mona said nothing in return, only stood silently as she waited for Claudia to continue.

"And I was wondering if it would be possible for me to go?"

"Why should I let you go?" Mona asked. "You've done nothing to earn back my trust."

"I know," she replied, "and I totally get that I don't deserve to be let off of punishment, but the thing is, I've been really looking forward to it for a couple of days now."

Mona heaved out a sigh.

"And I just sent Kimi a text and she told me that Tristan has agreed to come along, so It's not like we would be hanging out with only strangers."

"I really don't know, Claudia. I mean, it was only last night that you and Kimi snuck out to hang with some boys."

"That wasn't the smartest thing I've done," Claudia said. "And believe it or not, I actually do regret going out." For a fleeting moment, her thoughts turned to Lucas and she recalled the argument they'd had only hours before, but her thoughts were swiftly brought back to the present as she remembered the matter that was at hand. "Anyways, I'll completely understand if you tell me that I can't go. But I you do let me, I promise to be safe and not drink alcohol and not do anything stupid that you wouldn't approve of."

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Mona gave her a daughter a long, thoughtful look

that made Claudia lower her eyes and bite her lip. Some time passed before she finally shifted out of her authoritative stance, and with one hand on the doorknob and the other resting against the doorjamb, she finally responded.

"What time does this party start?"

"Eight."

"And Tristan will be accompanying you and Kimi?

"Yeah."

"Is this for certain?"

"Yes, it is."

"All right, you can attend the party. But only under the following conditions."

Feeling a bit nervous, Claudia waited to hear what they would be.

"At random times throughout the night, I will be calling to receive updates. I expect that you will answer each and every one of my calls."

"Okay."

"And I will be asking to speak with Tristan as well, so if you're thinking of ditching the party and going somewhere else with Kimi, I *will* find out."

"Where else would we go?" Claudia asked. "Everyone will be at the party."

"Just a warning, so you know not to even try."

"Right."

"And under no circumstances do you accept a ride home from anyone else besides Tristan. You arrive with him, you leave with him. Got it?"

Claudia nodded.

"I want you home no later than eleven p.m. And when I say eleven, I mean on the dot. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"No excuses, Claudia. I expect you to follow all of these rules."

"You have my word, mom."

"This is a chance for you to regain my trust. Please don't make me regret that I did this."

"I won't. Hand on my heart, I will follow everything you say."

And with the fullest sincerity, she intended to do just that.

* * * *

"License and registration?"

"Uh, sure," Lucas said while pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, and after handing his license to the fresh faced police officer, he leaned over to retrieve his registration papers from the glove compartment.

"Do you know why I pulled you over today?" The cop's green eyes closely scrutinized Lucas's license, as if trying to discern whether or not it was fake.

"Because I was going really fast?"

"You were doing 70 in a 50 mile per hour zone."

"Yeah, sorry about that..."

"We have speed limits out here in the city. You understand that, right?"

"Yes."

"So why weren't you obeying them?"

"I don't know. Guess you could say my mind is somewhere else."

"So not only were you speeding, but you were also talking on your cell phone."

"That was a mistake," Lucas said. We don't have that law out on the rez, so I - "

"This Isn't the rez, It's the city of Whitefish. And if you're going to drive around on our roads, you need to follow the rules, understand?"

"Yes, I do."

"What's the purpose of your visit to Whitefish today?"

"Why do you wanna know?" Lucas asked. "It's not against the law for an Indian man to leave the reservation, is it?"

"You getting smart with me, kid?"

"I just don't understand what that has to do with me speeding."

"You don't have to answer the question," the cop said. "But by refusing to cooperate with an officer of the law, you do understand that it will be seen as an obstruction of justice, and I will then have the right to arrest you."

*Bullshit*, Lucas thought as he stared into the cop's eyes, but it seemed that the

baby-faced policeman was just itching for any reason to give Lucas trouble, so instead of refusing, he reluctantly complied.

"I'm going to a friend's."

"And what is the name of this friend?"

"Alissa."

"Last name?"

"Uhh...I don't know her last name."

"You don't know the last name of your friend?"

"Nope. Guess I never thought to ask her."

The cop shook his head and eased out a nasal sigh before poking his head into Lucas's truck.

"What's that smell?"

"What smell?" Lucas asked.

"It smells like marijuana."

"I don't smoke marijuana."

"Sure smells like It's coming from your truck." The policeman took a quick peek in the bed of Lucas's Chevy before resuming his stance next to the driver's side door. "Step out of the vehicle, please."

Lucas cursed quietly beneath his breath, then stepped out of the truck so that the policeman could search the interior. Along with rummaging through the glove compartment, he also slipped his hand into the tight spaces between the center console, as well as checked beneath the driver's and passenger seat.

He even pulled up the floor mats to check beneath them, but after discovering nothing more than a few nickels and dimes, he finally realized that there was nothing to be found. Undeterred, he went on to search the narrow passenger compartment in the back, and that was when he let out a faint noise that Lucas could only describe as poorly concealed triumph.

"You have a permit for this concealed rifle?" He asked while pulling it out of the backseat.

"It wasn't concealed," Lucas said. "It was sitting on the backseat and in full view from the window.

"There were several fishing poles stacked on top of it," the young cop said. "I'd say that's concealed.

"I didn't do it intentionally," Lucas said. "It just sort of happened."

"So do you or don't you have a permit for it?"

"Well I'm not 18 yet, so no, I don't."

"Uh-huh." The cop gave him a long, hard look before sticking his head back into the narrow cab behind the driver's seat.

Narrowing his eyes at the cop's back, Lucas watched on as the policeman continued his search. Clearly hellbent on finding drugs that didn't exist, he continued to root around in the narrow space until finally he ceased his search, then rose to his full height.

It wasn't until he turned around that Lucas realized the policeman was holding his hand drum, and that was when Lucas's eyes went hard and cold. Fashioned from tanned buckskin, the hand drum had been made by his now deceased grandfather, and as such, was Lucas's most prized possession.

"That's my hand drum," he said. "What are you doing with it?"

"This drum smells heavily of marijuana." Positioning his nostrils against the stretched deer hide, he deeply inhaled before asking, "You use it to stash your drugs?"

"I don't do drugs," Lucas firmly said. "And my hand drum is sacred. I use it only to create songs."

"Take a deep sniff and tell me it doesn't smell like weed," the policeman said while holding the drum out."

Lucas did take a sniff, and as his eyes once again met with the cop's, he became more pissed off than ever.

"What you're smelling is sage," he stated. "It's an herb that is used during cleansing and purification ceremonies."

"You got any proof to back that up?"

"Run some tests, and you'll see that I'm telling the truth."

Seemingly caught off guard by the sureness in Lucas's voice, the policeman looked down at the drum, then back at Lucas before finally giving a response.

"All right, I'll do a field test. But I'm going to need to run you through the computer first, so get back in your car and sit tight until I'm finished." The cop turned and started heading back to his cruiser, but the sound of Lucas calling out to him made him halt his steps.

"My drum," Lucas said while stretching out his hand. "I'm going to need it back."

"Sir, I will return your drum if the field test comes back negative. Now go wait in your car."

Rather than heed the cop's words, Lucas found himself wishing that he could instead whoop the fresh-faced cop's ass. He didn't have to have X-ray vision to know that the policeman's body was more soft than it was toned, which was a dead giveaway that the cop didn't exercise much, if at all.

*I could lay him out on the ground with just a few punches*, Lucas thought. *It wouldn't be hard at all to do.*

But as soon that thought passed through his head, he pushed it back out, because he valued his freedom far too much to give into violent desires. He could feel the cop's eyes watching as he turned and walked back to his truck, but it wasn't until he had slid behind the wheel and closed the door behind him that the officer finally headed back to his cruiser, which was parked only a few paces behind Lucas's Chevy.

Several minutes passed, then finally half an hour before Lucas lost the last few shreds of his patience. Yet beneath the annoyance and irritation that he felt, there was also a knot forming in his stomach, which signaled to him that something was not quite right.

He was seriously preparing himself for the possibility of being arrested when the policeman finally got out of his car, and with a slow, casual saunter that made Lucas more suspicious than ever, the peace officer approached the Chevy pickup. By the time he arrived at the driver's side door, Lucas was more than a little nervous, but he met the cop's eyes with a firm, unwavering gaze that completely belied the unease that he felt.

"Turns out I can't get a team out here to help me administer the field test, but since I didn't find any drugs in your car, I will allow you to go on your way." In one smooth, fluid movement, the policeman unclipped a citation book from his duty belt, then retrieved a pen from his pocket so that he could make out some tickets. "I will, however, be ticketing you for speeding, as well as talking on your cell phone while driving." His pen moved quickly across the pad as he wrote out the citations. "And then there's the concealed rifle..."

"Speaking of my rifle, where is it?"

"It's being confiscated," the cop said. "You don't have a permit, so It's illegal for you to carry it around concealed in your car."

"But I only use it for hunting," Lucas stated. "Couldn't you let me off with a warning?"

"No, I cannot."

"All right, well what about my hand drum?" Lucas asked. "You told me you would give it back to me."

"Yes I did, but that was only on the condition that the field test came back negative."

"But didn't you just say that you couldn't run a field test because there was nobody available to help you carry it out?"

"Uh-huh." The cop's pen moved quicker across the citation pad.

"So how am I supposed to get my drum back if you won't even administer the field test?" Lucas asked.

"You can't. And that's precisely the point."

"Come on..." Lucas's voice had deepened, brows lowering as he stared down the cop. "That drum is my property, and I want it back now."

"Is that a threat?" No longer scribbling on the pad, the policeman's mouth had set into a straight, grim line.

"No, it is not," Lucas said. "But that drum belongs to me. You have no legal right to confiscate it."

"Not only am I perfectly within my rights," the cop said, "but I also have the power to arrest you on suspicion of possessing drugs. I'm trying to be nice here, but you're making it very difficult for me."

"You call this being nice?"

"I'm warning you, sir. I can and will arrest you if you refuse to cooperate."

Lucas's eyes flashed with an alarming anger, but his lips remained tightly pulled together, as if sealed by an invisible thread. At this point, he could have cared less about the numerous citations he was receiving, because his hand drum was far more important than any amount of green paper that he possessed.

The drum wasn't just an object to Lucas, it was a piece of his heart; a sacred instrument that had been lovingly crafted by his ~aahsa~. It felt wrong, sinful even, that he was being forced to leave it behind, but he would be damned if the beautiful drum was going to collect dust in some police evidence room.

"You're lucky I'm letting you off with a warning, kid," the cop said as he tore the three citations from his ticket book. "Most cops would haul your smartass into jail and let you cool off overnight."

Lucas accepted the tickets, but didn't say a word in response.

"Make sure you do the speed limit from here on out, understand?"

Again he gave no reply, nor did he nod. But he did turn the key in the ignition, and as soon as the cop walked away from the Chevy, Lucas took off down the street.

He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so utterly disgusted, nor could he ever remember feeling so lost. But it was the hole in his heart that really bothered him the most.