“You live around here?” the chubby cop asked. He was looking at Paul as if he were trying to decide whether to hit him in the face first or the gut.

“Nah, I was visiting my son,” Paul said, trying to keep at least a few feet between himself and the cops.

“Let’s see some ID,” the thin cop demanded, looking Paul up and down. Paul slowly reached into his pocket and handed his license over. They studied it as if it might’ve been written in a foreign language. “Where’re you coming from?”

“I told you I was visiting my son, he lives in that building right over there.” He nodded toward the building.

The chubby cop clicked his walkie-talkie. “Central, can we get a location and name of the perp on that disturbance.” The walkie-talkie squawked something in response that caused the officers to share a suspicious look. Paul suddenly felt very queasy.

“Sir, can you please place your hands on the car?” the thin cop asked in a demanding tone.

“What’s the problem?” Paul backed up.

The chubby cop drew his weapon and trained it on Paul. “Sir, if you run, I’ll be forced to fire.”

Paul’s hands shot straight up. “Hey, man, ain’t nobody running, be the fuck cool.”

“Stop resisting!” the thin cop barked, twisting Paul’s arm roughly behind his back.

“Yeah, that’s him!” Rhonda shouted, coming out of the building. She was holding an ice pack on her jaw and had a small gathering of people behind her for dramatic effect. “Lock that nigga the fuck up.”

“Please step back, ma’am,” the chubby cop said, blocking her path, but he still kept his gun pointed in Paul’s direction.

“Rhonda, you called the fucking police on me?” Paul asked in disbelief.

“You’re damn right. I told you I was gonna fix your ass for putting your hands on me,” she said smugly.

“This is some bullshit! Rhonda, you know I was just defending myself, your little boo tried to get at me,” Paul declared.

Rhonda shot Paul and evil glare and smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is you came into my house and started swinging on me, and I’ve got a bunch of witnesses to vouch for that.” She motioned to the people behind her.

“You lying little bitch!” Paul struggled. “That’s a fucking lie,” he addressed the thin cop. “Rhonda, tell them what really happened!”

“That’s the story as I know it,” she said coolly.

“You lying little bitch!” Paul tried to wild out, but the cop prevented him from getting to Rhonda. “Someone tell them this bitch is lying.” Paul spoke to the crowd, but no one came to his defense. “I can’t go to jail, I’ve got an art exhibit tomorrow night.”