'Police? POLICE?' Cynthia thought to herself, tensing up.
'Why are the police here?'
Another knock emitted from the door, a bit harder this time.
It gave a warning that whomever lied in the home needed to answer, and answer now.
Chevy, thinking quickly, placed a cool hand on Cynthia's, giving a small squeeze.
Cynthia abandoned her gaze at the menacing door and slowly turned her attention to Chevy.
"Don't worry." Chevy explained.
"I've had my share of college parties to know my way around these things. Act natural." She whispered, getting up from her seat and walking towards the door.
Cynthia almost choked on her words, frantically shaking her head.
Before opening it, Chevy gave a quick look to Cynthia, warning her that her nervous nature would be the death of them both.
"North Charleston police department, I'm officer Kyle. I got a report from the owner down at that 7eleven about a woman by the name of Cynthia Jones. Some sort of assault." The officer handed over a small id card to the woman.
It showed a mugshot photo of Cynthia.
She looked rough and solemn.
She held black numbers that matched the purple-green bruise forming on her cheek.
It definitely looked fresh.
Chevy almost let out a smirk with how different the photo and Cynthia's present self were.
For starters, the photo showed Cynthia with a choppy and poor excuse of a balayage.
Cynthia now had chestnut brown hair.
Cynthia had worn very bright and party-girl cosmetics.
Cynthia now wore more modest and bold makeup.
It was definitely something Chevy would joke about when they weren't in hot water.
Handing back the photo, she gave a puzzled look to the man.
"I am her roommate. Been for 2 years. Can you elaborate on assault?"
Completely ignoring her question, the police had found his lead.
She was her roommate and would know about her whereabouts most likely.
"Is she home by any chance? If you don't mind, I'd like to ask her a few questions." The officer returned his eyes back to the woman painted in orange of the ongoing sunset.
"The owner of the station is also considering pressing charges, so—"
'Some questions. You've already bombarded me with enough, don't you think?' Chevy thought to herself.
She then sucked cold air into her teeth and looked at the officer with angry eyes.
Quickly, her facial expression went from confused and serene to irritated and pissed.
It was like she had put on some sort of mask.
"Oh yeah? Did he also tell you she prostitutes herself? Unbelievable." Chevy snapped back at the officer, placing a hand on her hip and using the other to shield her face from the harsh sunlight.
"I've known Cynthia for 8 years and she's done nothing but be a good friend to me. I came to her hungry, fresh out of high school, and with no real aspiration or hope for myself." Chevy looked into the distance, adding a dramatic tone to her lie.
"She's home, but she's really hurt. That piece of shit assaulted her. She didn't do it. I saw it with my own damn eyes." She spit out, giving a disgusted look.
Behind the scenes, Cynthia's jaw was on the floor.
She couldn't mentally process what was going on.
What made her such a natural liar?
It was..too good.
The officer took in a deep breath and nodded, looking down at his shoes.
He feared meeting the woman's gaze like it would burn him down into his socks.
"Right. Could I possibly come in and ask her a few questions, ma'am? I'd just like to clear up a couple of things before I return the report back to the department.. It won't take a minute."
Chevy almost grinned at how successful her little manipulation charm worked.
It always made her feel better about herself and dissolved any guilt she felt due to it.
She instead gave a displeased sigh and opened the door a bit wider to allow the cop's entrance.
Once stepping inside, the cop scanned the room until he met eyes with the quiet and tense Cynthia.
He also settled to the familiar homely and hypnotic feel to the home, easing his mind after the scary encounter with the woman's 'roommate.'
With a satisfied sigh, he walked over, creating heavy creaking noises against the cold wooden floor.
Chevy could smell the tension in the room.
'Pathetic' she thought to herself.
Eliminating the silence, she let out a deep breath and an aggravated walk to the kitchen, grabbing a few mugs from one of the burgundy cabinets.
"I hope you like tea. We just got home though, so it'll take a minute." Chevy exhaled through her nose, placing a kettle on the stove.
"That's perfect." The cop sat across from Cynthia and the two had a quick stare down.
"Born and raised proud Southcarolinian here. I'm a sucker for a good ol' Island Palmer. Hold the liquor tho, sweetheart." He chuckled.
Chevy returned the chuckle with her own.
His eyes tasted like the color gray and frostbite and Cynthia was eating it up.
She could feel her organs dance with the vibrations of her heartbeat.
She could only hold her hands together under the table and stare back at the officer.
Giving a dry cough, the officer looked down at a notepad and pressed a small button on his collar.
It beamed back red and blinked with Cynthia's rapid heartbeat.
Clinking could be heard from behind them as Chevy got to work preparing drinks for the three of them.
"Miss Jones, I'm officer Kyle. Today is July 23rd and it is currently 5:42pm. I'm here to ask you a few questions about this afternoon around 3:45pm." His voice was thick and full of bass.
"I got a call from Kishor Morell around 4:03pm about you and him getting into a dispute." The officer looked back at Cynthia to confirm, receiving a slight and hesitant nod in response.
"Peachy. He also claims you kicked him in the..the uh.." The officer read the notes over and over.
"P-Pelvic region." He continued, flipping to a new page of notes he messily scribbled upon interviewing Morell.
