Fuck it all.
I stared at the ceiling of my cell. Beyond the wall, I could hear my neighbors talking about their visitors. Kilroy had a little girl who’d just turned three. She was still innocent enough to love her father despite his crimes.
Make that his alleged crimes.
Because who knew what really happened?
The American justice system is flawed, I tell you. Deeply flawed. Look at me, for example. Already here for a year, and looking at one more.
Fuck that.
But even my lawyer ditched me this week. Usually, he gave some half-assed excuse about Visitors Day, but I didn’t even get a phone call this time around.
Fuck him.
The moment I got out of this shit hole, shit was gonna change. People were gonna pay, and they knew who they were. Unfortunately, I’m not a man of mercy.
Slowly, I got to my feet, stretching to full height. God, I missed my penthouse back home. You would think this place was made for goddamn midgets, my head almost brushing the ceiling.
“Hey!”
A loud, flamboyant voice sounded behind me.
I turned around to see Red Eye standing there, smirking and winking.
Leaning against the sink, I raised an eyebrow in his direction, arms crossed over my chest. Red Eye was the closest thing I had to a friend around here, but right now, I wasn’t at all in the mood for his happy-go-lucky attitude.
“Why the long face?” Red asked, waltzing into my cell and plopping onto my mattress. I cringed. Generally, I don’t like other dudes touching my stuff. Especially where I sleep.
But Red was clueless. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back to make himself comfortable. God, why the hell did I tolerate him? On the outside, we never would have met. Here, however, things were different. Here, I associated with all sorts of folks that would have been scum in my old life.
But you know what? Given that my old buddies hadn’t so much as written a letter, I wasn’t sure who my allies were anymore.
Maybe Red was as good as anyone from before.
Probably better, to tell the truth. So I tolerated him, propping my bulk against the wall while eyeing him coolly.
“I’m fine,” were my casual words. “Why?”
Red leered.
“Oh, come on now, you can tell Ol’ Red Eye. I’m here for you, honey.”
I shook my head exasperated. His ladyboy ways were annoying. You don’t have me fooled. I know you’re not a woman, Red. Not even close.
“I’m fine,” I repeated patiently. “Nuthin’ goin’ on.”
The inmate waved his hand airily.
“Okay, have it your way then. Oh! I just remembered why I came in here. It’s a social call.”
He smiled a big, toothy grin, relaxed and happy.
“Go on,” came my uncharitable grunt.
“I managed to get my hands on what you wanted. Maxie helped me. He’s a real doll. Knows how to sweet talk himself into anything.”
Red smacked his lips together, almost moaning with ecstasy. Ugh. That was a sight I didn’t want to see. But you know what? Prison opens your horizons. Before, I never would have noticed Red. He would have been persona non grata, way below my level. But now, this man was sitting on my bed like we were BFFs sharing secrets at a fifth grade birthday party.
“Here it is!” he squealed. “Take a look!”
Quickly, he fished in his pocket before pulling out a watch.
“I know it’s nothing like the Rolexes you used to wear on the outside, but I did my best.”
I laughed, holding the pathetic thing in my palm. The strap was a putrid green leather that was worn and cracked with use. The glass was cloudy and thick. But inside, the second hand twitched with every tick.
“Is it accurate?” I asked, holding the implement up to my ear.
“Yessir! I made sure of it. I know it doesn’t look like much, but it won’t fail you. I even put in new batteries. Should last a while.”
I grunted.
“Excellent. I’ll remember this.”
“In that case,” Red ventured, voice musical. “I do have a tiny favor to ask ….”
I nodded absentmindedly, still looking at the watch. Red took a deep breath.
“Well, you see I wanted to cook Maxie a nice meal but you know that I’m a horrible chef. I can bake anything, but as soon as I step away from the oven, everything seems to go to hell.”
He was fidgeting with the edge of my sheets, looking nervous.
“Do you think you could cook a meal for us so that I can pass it off as mine?” came his blurt. “You’re real good in the kitchen Mason, everyone knows. Do you think you could do that for me?”
And prison changes you in ways that you never expect. Because before, this would have been ludicrous. Me, cooking? Much less cooking for a gay inmate and his boyfriend?
But things have changed. I’m not the old Mason anymore. Happiness is important, I don’t begrudge Red and his boyfriend their relationship. so I shrugged.