My plan was awesome; I could have kissed myself. I would have to obey my boss’s orders but I’d earn as much as, if not more than, him. In the art of making the most of a situation, I was a fabulous artist. If anyone had loved me, they’d have been proud of me.
* * *
The passing days were as boring as fake boobs. I played the quiet soldier, trying to avoid attracting attention, staying chilled out and refining my plan. I read stacks of books, especially graphic novels. I have a soft spot for superheroes, they remind me of myself. I’d have liked a laser beam to melt Edith’s heart, but she was maintaining the status quo. A passionate platonic relationship.
Our meetings were littered with ambiguous signals, but she never let down her guard. I had to do violence to myself to avoid revealing my plans to her, luring her with the promise of our future. Pretty soon she wouldn’t have to act anymore or pretend to be professional. As the responsible man, I would free us both with my escape. But I had to keep the project secret to assure its success. It was hard. Secrets are like shameful illnesses: the challenge is keeping them to yourself. I was sealed off from the world, all alone in monastic silence. I bathed in the sweats of an endless summer, but I didn’t let a single drop fall.
One day at a time. One week at a time. The prison routine: wheeling and dealing, jerking off, television. The heat wave was dragging on, getting everything bogged down in boredom. Until the nineteenth of August.
* * *
One of the only people who didn’t know the score was scoring a whuppin’ for himself. When I came out of my cell for breakfast, Colossus was huffing and puffing at Pedo and whacking him on the head with a newspaper. Tony was ignoring the whole thing with incredible fortitude, and he was even positioned in front of the observation box to block the view.
You know I’m first to get the paper, you jerk! You think it’s yours, you think you have rights? I’m gonna shove it up your ass! Then you’ll know what pain is, asshole!
What a prince! I found out more information while I was buttering my bread. Gilbert told me that Pedo was the first to touch the newspaper that morning. Colossus wanted news on the previous night’s shooting in Old Montreal. His brother had been at one end of the gun—but it wasn’t clear which end. In gangs, there’s always weapons to spare, but never enough information. So Colossus had gone into Pedo’s cell to get the paper, but the article he wanted had been torn out.
I don’t get it, why didn’t Pedo juft give him back the pave he’d ripped out?
Right then, Colossus was gripping Pedo’s head and making him a lot of promises. And he intended to keep them. Gilbert continued, That’s the problem, he did give it back to him, but he’d torn it out for the other side of the page. It was a back-to-school ad, with lots of pretty photos of fresh kiddies. He raised his eyebrows to underline the point.
Right, I get it!
The eyebrows went down. So he gave him the page back, but it was all crumpled up and, uh, soiled.
And boom! Colossus finished off his argument with a vigorous elbow blow to Pedo’s nose. The nose burst open like a tap, bleeding like crazy, which earned him from that moment the nickname Pedo the Clown.
By the time Tony finally separated the two enemies, Paul, the other guard on duty, had come running back from the showers to lend a hand. He was followed by two naked guys who didn’t want to miss a thing. In a battle, it’s the first blow that counts. Especially if there’s only one.
Paul was yelling at Tony now, saying he should have called for him sooner or radioed for reinforcements from the next wing. Tony was saying that everything had kicked off too fast, but Paul wasn’t buying it. Their bickering worried me. If the betrayal of our corrupt guard was revealed, my mission could be compromised. Those pigs seemed to suspect him already. It was hard having to trust other people—other people are never reliable.
Colossus’s elbow had managed to settle the disagreement, he no longer had an argument with Pedo the Clown. But he refused to let himself be taken to isolation. While the guards were struggling to drag him down to the hole for a rest, I noticed that all the other guys in the wing were gathered around the toaster. They were cursing Pedo the Clown and cheering Colossus. It was a noisy scrum.
I took advantage of the chaos to execute the first step of my plan. Nimbly, stealthily, I rushed into Colossus’s cell, ran over to the sink, picked up the object I desired, stuffed it back down my pants, and went back to the group, which was gradually dispersing, without anyone noticing me. Like a ninja. Or a poet.
* * *
Edith liked flowers, especially mine. I’d noticed that when I gave her my paper rose. Her face got all flustered, split between a questioning look and what I read as a grimace to hide her all-consuming passion. I was going to spoil her this time. In preparation for our follow-up meeting, I spent all morning making her a bouquet.
When I arrived at the office, I held it out to her and said Ta-daaaa!
There was an emotional silence. I don’t know what to say.
I like taking women’s breath away. She held the seventeen paper flowers, filled with love, by their stems. Her insatiable virgin face was sending me a desperate message. We could no longer continue to keep our love secret.
We have to put our cards on the table now, I’ve talked to Antoine.
My doubtful look caused her to clarify. With Tony.
Right, the corrupt little piggy who’s trying to play in my sandbox.
I can assure you, we absolutely do not have any emotional relationship.
Poor thing, she’s worried I’ll leave her, that I’m angry that Tony’s sniffing around her.
I know. It’f not your fault.
She seemed even more beautiful. I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it’s really not what you think, our relationship is entirely professional. She put the flowers down on the desk but stayed standing. If you think we can’t have a professional relationship, without expecting something else, they’ll put a stop to these meetings. They’ll find another officer to take your case on until you’re released.
No, it’f fine, don’t worry. Wow, Edith was reacting strongly. Even if I was kinda jealous, I didn’t want to end things just because of that. I reassured her. I believe you. You juft have a profeffional relationfip.
She laid it on even thicker. Us! The two of us only have a professional relationship.
I didn’t get why she was going on about it so much. It worried me; if she needed to make such a big deal about it, then maybe there really was something between the two of them. Probably it had just been some flirtation before our trust relationship. She wouldn’t dare cheat on me. It’f fine, relacf, I get it!
Okay, if we’re all clear, let’s get on with it.
I was expecting a first kiss on the lips for the flowers. But I understood that danger was all around. If someone came into the office, or was filming her without her knowledge, her career would be in jeopardy. My entire being was vibrating with the idea of telling her that we would be outside soon, that nothing would be impossible anymore, that our bodies would caress, feel, mingle, and intertwine with each other until we were satiated.
Are you listening to me?
Forry, I wav juft thinking of fomething important. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even noticed that she’d sat down.
The thing that worries me is that there are a lot of major things going on in your life right now. You’re showering and eating with the big man. You do realize this will hurt your chances of early parole when the time comes?
Now I understood why she was so tense! You think I might not get out af foon af I thought? Don’t worry, my sweet boo, we’ll be together in a few days at most.
You have a long sentence to serve, a long sentence during which you’re supposed to work on yourself rather than on “new relationships.”
Right, I get it now. She’s jealous of my friends, but I can’t
say a word about her little flirtation with Tony. To avoid pouring oil on the fire, I didn’t push it further.
I am working on myfelf! I’m trying to ekfpreff my emoftionf… I let the last words slip out in a sugary voice, glancing meaningfully at her bouquet of roses.
Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean your new friendships won’t hurt you, both in the short term and the long term.
Her training as a guard dog in the justice system had brainwashed her so that she could no longer see the big truth. Whether in public or in private, crime’s the only thing that pays.
I didn’t worry too much about her naive illusions around the whole concept of justice. When she saw me at the wheel of my big chrome pickup, my body covered with ink and bling, she’d understand that some values are more valuable than others.
* * *
At dinner, surrounded by the usual silence, I scarfed down my hash browns with ketchup. I was used to the funereal atmosphere at my table, but I envied the others. Philippe was playing cards with Gilbert the moonshiner, who cursed as he threw a match down onto the table. At ten dollars a match, the debts were spiralling fast.
Pedo the Clown’s gang no longer had a leader since the episode with Colossus. Ever since Colossus had come back from the hole, Pedo had holed himself up. He no longer left his cell. This didn’t stop his peers from mumbling in a brotherly fashion, wiping the spit from the corners of their mouths.
The black guys laughed as they mocked Xavier Dolan on the screen. The film director was posing in his usual chilled-out fashion, the victim of an interview by an overexcited little beauty at the red carpet. I couldn’t figure out what the black guys thought was so funny. Life must be pretty great when you’re young, rich, and famous like Xavier. He must fuck a lot of girls, get all the pussy he wants. All over the world. He probably films himself too, the fucker. With his gorgeous signorinas and fraüleins and kobietas and chiquitas and chicks, all around the world! I bet he has miles of film of crouching babes and hidden smokin’-hot mamas!
Denis was getting impatient. Do you have the piece?
I was so unused to him talking to me that I jumped. No, I don’t have the piece! I was picking my teeth worriedly when he clarified.
The blade, do you have something to make a shiv?
With all the nicknames for people and objects there are in prison, you can sometimes lose the thread.
Oh, right, yef, I have fomething, don’t worry.
Big Dick clicked his tongue and spat out a chunk of chicken bone. We’re not worried, you’re the one who should be worried. This is the chance of a lifetime, kid, the only one you’ll get!
They left me with the crazies and Xavier Dolan, who was still going on about how original he was. I reckoned he was going to fuck the interviewer the second the cameras stopped rolling. Lucky bastard! When I turned around, I was smack in front of Louis-Honoré’s face, which was twisted with hostility. You’d almost have thought he wanted to hurt me. He’s a good actor. Ever since I’d found out that the whole thing was a front, I’d appreciated their acting work. Those guys were seriously talented. The guards were completely oblivious.
* * *
My doves were waiting for me, surrounded by half a dozen fucking pigeons on the make. I went up to them slowly and almost managed to kick one. But I also frightened my friends. Don’t worry, it’f juft the pigeonv I don’t like. Rhoo hoo hooo. Come to Daddy. I knelt down by the fence. Pitipitipiti. Rhoo hoo hoo. I had to wait almost five minutes, but they did come back. And for the first time, they both came to eat out of my hand. Sometimes the male, sometimes the female. I made a little hollow in my palms to force them to climb on my fingers and my arms. It tickled, I imagine it felt even nicer than a caress.
Everyone makes a big deal about human contact, but animals just do it without making a fuss.
15
Indulgence
With sweat dripping off me, I tried to catch my breath. I was afraid, but most of all I was disturbed. I had a solid erection in my right hand and was wiping my forehead with the left. I didn’t have a hand spare to take my pulse, but it must have been galloping. I was coming around from an erotic nightmare. Under orders—and a leather whip—from Edith, my mother was straddling me as if I were a little animal ride in a mall. She was fucking me.
Mama wouldn’t stop scratching my body and hissing obscenities. Do you like that, my little kitty, tell me you like it! But I was gagged. I couldn’t yell at her to stop or tell her I liked it. And Edith was cackling away, stroking herself with the handle of the whip.
I could feel my mother’s hot vagina sliding obstinately away on my penis. I was worried about getting her pregnant. You should always wear protection during incest. But no, it was too late, my mother was screwing me with great skill, and I was going to come inside her, fertilize her—and then I was saved by the wake-up bell. I groped for meaning in vain but couldn’t even catch my breath.
I had to face up to the evidence. From a dream standpoint, I was a motherfucker.
* * *
It took me a good half-hour to get over it. Fucking your mother is fucking disgusting, even in a dream. Luckily I had a lot on my plate with the escape preparations. It helped me focus.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I kept an eye out for Philippe or a guard coming in. I didn’t have any reason to be afraid of Philippe, he was in the same gang as me, after all. Anyway, Big Dick had explained to me that everyone knew what they needed to know, and nobody else knew what I knew. I’d figured out that, as a member of the select inner circle of the top ranks of the wing, and employed as a Mafia hit man, I had secrets to keep. Including those of Operation Escape. Denis had forbidden me to use that name and ordered me to stop making names up, but I like naming operations. It makes me happy. So in my head I was getting ready for Operation Escape.
A noise made me sit bolt upright. It was just Tony, that loser, pretending to do a round of checks. I concentrated on making my weapon. I was rubbing my toothbrush on the cement floor, in a triangle of around four square inches where I’d scratched the paint off. Or I should say Colossus’s toothbrush. Or really I should say Colossus’s toothbrush handle, which was looking more and more like a knife, straight and nice and sharp.
Colossus hadn’t mentioned the loss of this hygiene implement. He must have wanted to avoid a search. Maybe Big Dick had guessed what I’d done and had ordered him to keep his trap shut and let me work in peace. Anyway, when they showed him afterwards that it was his toothbrush that had been used in the spectacular double escape, I’d be long gone. And promoted above him in the hierarchy. The black guys stay at the bottom of the ladder in the Mafia. It’s a Sicilian tradition.
After nearly an hour of artisanship, I had a plastic blade that could cut leather. It was a beautiful weapon, thank you, Colossus. I could have used my own toothbrush, sure. But just like James Bond, I wanted to be well armed and have clean teeth. Not forgetting, too, that Jocelyn had his eye on me, and I was already suspected of being implicated in the attack on Butterfly. I was a professional now; I had to cover my tracks.
I’d have to cover them even better once I was out of my cage. I’d have all the pigs and their dogs on my tail. Journalists too. But I’d like that part. Today, thanks to media attention, crime is finally getting its fair shake. It was well-deserved recognition. Gangsters are the last wild mustangs, the last rebels in this orderly world.
Any imbecile can write a novel, drag their ass around the four corners of the globe, or nail their ass to the seat until someone gives them a degree. But having enough balls in their heart to kill another human, well, that’s not something just anyone can do.
The average citizen, ugly and illiterate, wouldn’t even be able to name three Canadian presidents or four Indigenous nations. Yet he knows Ted Bundy, Charles Manson, and Karla Homolka. We’re all fascinated by criminals, especially by murderers.
When you’re a nothing, becoming
less than nothing gives you a sense of worth. It’s hard being an unknown in a world built on recognition. So all methods are good, even the bad ones. Never underestimate the power of negative reinforcement. And that makes for good news, a good editorial, high emotions among the population. Everyone’s a winner.
* * *
On Thursday afternoon I gathered up my pile of books to renew them and consult the Sage. Paul escorted me. Paul was a big, dull, skinny guy who rarely spoke. He must have been thinking about digestion problems or marital frigidity. I told him I’d guessed what was on his mind. He retorted that my diagnosis wasn’t worth shit and that his private life was absolutely none of my business.
He steered the conversation toward reading. He was a fan of Norwegian crime. Boooooring! He wouldn’t drop it, he thought they had a unique style and original prose. I pointed out you always had to put up with the same atmosphere and the same riddles, and anyway, if he wanted stories about murderers all he needed to do was take a quick tour of the cells.
No, the thing I like about Scandi noir is how everything fits together. You don’t have all the gratuitous violence of psychos who just kill for fun or to make a name for themselves, so it’s a change from what I see all round me.
I felt my identity, my deepest values, attacked. It’f the fame for uf, it’f juft that there’f no narrator to cook it all up and pop it in your mouth. I bet every fingle one of uf haf a ftory, and probably even a hiftory. I was getting carried away and my voice was louder than our steps echoing in the corridor. All the inmates are overflowing with extenuating circumstances, but they don’t all express themselves as well as I do. You can reproach us for being egocentric and shutting ourselves away, but tell me one single animal that doesn’t want to be alone and roll up in a ball when it’s injured to lick its wounds. We needed to be tamed.
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