He straightened up as abruptly as if someone had shoved a rocket up his ass.
“No! Jesus Christ. I mean… we’re fine. Totally. No need for practice.”
I suppressed a smile, wondering how I could have been so blind. Of course, it was me. Hell, maybe it was me all along. That annoying, confused persona he'd cultivated, which I thought was fake… maybe it wasn't fake at all. Maybe I was the reason behind it from the start, and I had no idea.
“Mr. Smith. Mr. Mayhew.” A bored voice interrupted my fun. “Stand in line, please.”
Things kind of went downhill after that.
“That shit is not allowed!” The guard pointed at the mattresses on the floor. “If I see this one more time, there will be consequences. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Jordan murmured. “We apologize. It will never happen again, sir.”
Like hell. I slept so well last night that I considered tying my annoying partner to me. Okay, that straddled a creepy line, so... maybe not.
After that, our breakfast came, and with it, the rumor that made me lose my appetite. Apparently, the inmate in our cell block committed suicide by swallowing his tongue. It was none other than Crazy Stu, and we learned it when we saw the guardswheeling away his lifeless body on a stretcher. The tragic event made my stomach churn, and judging by Jordan’s expression, he felt the same.
Things went from bad to worse when the new inmates arrived, because one of them was Rio “The Ripper” Mendoza. He was a big-time gun smuggler and an elusive fuck, whom the LD has been trying to catch for years. The last attempt ended with his capture, but he escaped from the detention center soon after that. It was our rotten luck that he resurfaced here for one simple reason—he knew who we were. He saw us, too. While passing our cell, a flicker of recognition crossed his face, followed by a smirk. When he pressed his finger against his lips, motioning for me to remain silent, I realized he wasn’t going to rat us out, but it hardly made me feel better. Mendoza was a cunning bastard, and whatever he had in mind, it couldn’t be good. Jordan gave me an alarmed look before they sent him to the kitchen, and that was that… a shitty start to a shitty day, which I spent shoveling shit.
It was late in the afternoon when they sent me to the yard where, lucky me, we had another incident. This time, one inmate had a knife, and the other a shitload of bad luck. The guards restrained the attacker and carried the wounded man to the infirmary while the other residents watched from the side. I was pondering the odds of surviving this shitty mission when someone behind me spoke.
“It was a drug debt, in case you were wondering.”
At the sound of a familiar voice, I turned and met Santiago’s bemused gaze. His red hair shone in the afternoon sun, but his eyes were dim.
“I guessed as much,” I said, extending my hand. “My name is Mayhew.”
“There’s a rumor we’re in the same line of business,” Santiago said, shaking my hand. “Is it true that you’re working with the Haitians?”
“It’s a recent development,” I replied, confirming the story that the warden had let circulate.
“And a very interesting one,” Santiago continued as we strolled down the yard. “My boss has been considering cooperation with your Haitian friends for a while now. Maybe it’s time to act on it.”
“What do you have in mind?” I asked him.
“You have established trust. We have resources which we would be willing to share with you. How about an introductory meeting on neutral premises? You could act as an intermediary.”
I glanced at him. “You don’t know me. Why would you trust me?”
“Not a lot of people would stand up to Crusher, and I see it as a sign of character. Besides, we’re going to be here for a while. We’ll get to know each other well before we become business partners.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I agreed. “I’ll discuss your proposal with the other side and let you know.”
“Agreed,” Santiago said, sounding satisfied. “As a token of my appreciation, I will arrange a more solitary shower experience for you and your cellmate. Mr. Crusher and his associates usually do their raping in the shower, while the guards miraculously disappear. I, however, despise rapists, and it’s one of many points that Mr. Crusher and I disagree on.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
So, both Crusher and Santiago had guards paid off? It didn’t look good. I was considering all the possible complications when Jordan joined us, appearing out of nowhere.
“Hey,” he muttered, his gaze darting between Santiago and me. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Santiago said with a curt nod. “Mr. Mayhew and I concluded our business. I’ll be seeing you around, gentlemen.”
After he left, I motioned for Jordan to follow me.
“What happened?” Jordan said when we were at a safe distance. “Did he take the bait?”
“It seems so.”
