The Day Of The Night Essay
Flipping over on my back, but with no desire whatsoever to get out of bed, I check the time on the nightstand. 2:42 PM. I’ve slept through damn near half the day.
As the events of the night before come surfing in, I throw an arm across my eyes.
Last night, after I came to, I was taken to the hospital where I was cleaned up and treated for minor injuries. During which time, two officers came and took my statement. Noah, Muscles, and Qwesie’s pilot gave theirs, too. My ribs were bruised but not fractured, and my right forearm that I’d fallen on was scraped raw.
Andrew was charged with first-degree kidnapping and false imprisonment, his men with aiding and abetting. They also contacted the department in San Francisco, had two-faced Mike picked up from the hotel. He, too, would receive aiding and abetting charges. I was, however, advised to take out a restraining order, as it is likely Andrew will get out on bail with a few phone calls. Next, I am to get a lawyer and gear up for trials.
Wasting no more time, we then boarded the jet back to San Francisco, where the men filled me in on Qwesie’s mind-blowing connection to Andrew—or Drew James, which I’m told is his real name—while Noah babied me, sulked, growled at no one in particular, and then babied me some more.
Hearing Qwesie’s side filled in the blanks on what Andrew told me about his mother in the car. They also explained the pilot’s…