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Character intro
This is one of the many openings I had for introducing this character into my teen sci-fi
The buzz of the artificial lights irritated Tristan’s ears as much as the sight did his eyes. He perched himself up on the cell bed, taking care not to move his head much; it thumped and niggled in irregular patterns. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself back in Paris; no one knew him there. He could pretend Tristan Stevens was some unknown deviant.
The clinking of keys roused his attention and, more out of habit than respect, Tristan stood to attention as he saw the familiar bulk of Sam James block his view of the prison reception area.
“Only back in the country two days kitten and already you wreaked havoc amongst the city pigeons.” P.C James jibed swinging the cell door open and jerking his head towards the reception point. “What will the army make of you, son? Oh yeah, you got kicked out didn’t you? Now why was that again…” He pulled a thoughtful face and rubbed his chin. “You’re just a regular down-and-out aren’t you? – too stoopid for university, too cowardly for her majesty’s service…what you gonna do now? I hear the university’s looking for a toilet scrubber.”
Tristan ignored him and headed over to sign his release papers. He was in no mood to re-live his past – that was what got him into this mess in the first place.
“Well that would have been one more drunk and disorderly added to your record. Ain’t you lucky your daddy’s friendly with the local authorities. You can thank me later” He winked. “Personally, I would have hauled your ass into a cell and given you a beating if you were mine; but these modern parenting methods are lost on me…” He trailed off as he tried to find Tristan’s belongings under the desk.
Tristan couldn’t help but smirk; James had to be the regions most crooked pig on the force. He was known to sell stolen goods, his wife left him because of his gambling problem and his son, Michael, was constantly sick from school only to appear a few days later when his bruises had faded. He reminded Tristan of Popeye with his bulging arms and anchor tattoo but the beer gut and double chin made him look distorted. It must have been like looking in a fair-ground mirror for James to check out his reflection. He wouldn’t last ten minutes in the army – they worked out more than their biceps.
James slammed down Tristan’s wallet on the counter. “You travel light. We’ll call it Seventy sheets and no one will know you were ever in here.” Tristan snatched the wallet up and signed his release.
“We’ll call it nothing and you’ll like it”. He pushed through the front door not bothering to look back. He had to see his cousin and nothing was going to stop him now.
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