Rules of the Game

by Bruce Fitzpatrick

  *********

  After two five-day stints in the hole and five weeks of extra duty, Adrian had just begun to settle back into a regular night's sleep. The marijuana incident had occurred midway through his fourteenth month, after he had finally settled into his prison term. This was the first trouble he'd seen in almost a year. He'd not been involved in an altercation with a guard or an inmate, not even Benton Fulmer. Now this.

  He tried unsuccessfully to convince himself that it was an isolated incident. Even after official confirmation of his sentence reduction, Billings and Atkins had convinced the BOP that he was something of an incorrigible, and convinced them to keep him where he was as opposed to transferring him to a lesser secure institution. Since then, he'd had nothing to do with them.

  This, however, had refreshed their memories and he hoped it wouldn’t instigate a new round of bullshit. Thanks to Bumps - and his own indiscretions - this one incident had jeopardized months of hard work at maintaining a low profile. Not only that, but it came just weeks before Jennifer and Andy were due to visit him. However, it had also demonstrated something else: he had changed. A year earlier, he would have been discouraged by this turn of events; now, however, he acknowledged his responsibility in the matter and accepted it. He wouldn't wage war with them over it and make matters worse. He'd quietly go with the flow, and try not to bring any additional unwanted attention to himself. It was still their ballpark, and he was at their mercy. Their rules boiled down to them being able to do whatever they wanted, when they wanted. For now, he could only tread water and hope that nothing else went wrong.

  Had he owned a crystal ball, he might have spent the next two days in bed.

  *********

  Tiny had been locked in solitary for five days and had completed his own extra duty. Upon coming out of the hole he'd gone back to working out with a vengeance. But when Tiny met them for their workout on that particular day, Adrian noticed something unusual. Tucked under Tiny's arm was a carton of cigarettes, something he had openly disdained. Second, and more significant, was his ominous silence. It was uncharacteristic of him; he was usually outgoing and gregarious. This day he seemed like a man with a purpose.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  "Sure," said Adrian, nodding toward the carton of smokes. "What's with the butts? Don't tell me you finally gave in to 'em?"

  "Nah, they're for a special friend o' mine, guy by the name of Bumps."

  Warning lights went off in Adrian's mind. "You planning on making your peace with him?"

  "Yep."

  "You being straight up or what?"

  "Just go with the flow, an' leave the rest to me."

  Down in the exercise area, it was business as usual. Weights clanged, men grunted, bodies glistened, loud music and shouts of encouragement were constant. As usual, the man with the biggest audience was the man with the biggest physique...and the biggest mouth -- Bumps. He was surrounded by a group of men, watching him reel off repetitions of bench presses with what seemed like most of the iron in the yard.

  Ignoring him, Tiny led his own entourage of Adrian, Woodstock, and Warren to a nearby bench. He then quietly began loading the bar with forty-five-pound plates until there were five hundred and fifty pounds on it, including the locks.

  Satisfied, and seemingly oblivious to the curious stares from his companions, Tiny stretched his massive frame, and lay down on the bench. He lifted the bar from its rack, and pressed it several times. On his fifth attempt, he grunted; on the final try, he groaned loudly trying to get the bar back up again. This last attempt drew the attention of everyone around him, including Bumps.

  Bumps interrupted his workout to strut arrogantly over to Tiny, who seemingly was exhausted.

  "What’s the matter, ‘my brotha’, a little honest weight too much for you?"

  Tiny looked up at him. "Man, shit. I just knew you’d come around runnin' your mouth. That’s why I brought a little something to wager, just between you and me. You know, like men."

  Bumps shook his head. “What do you know about being a man?”

  Ignoring the dig, Tiny picked up the carton of cigarettes. "We can do this provided you ain't gonna run your whiny, snitching ass down to the man and dime me out for gamblin'. I’m saying I can get it up ten times an' you can't."

  "Shit," said Bumps. "Maybe I'll just take your box of cigarettes and step off with ‘em."

  "Not man enough to win 'em fair and square?"

  "Hey, I'll do whatever I feel like."

  "Then put your money where your mouth is, or shut up."

  Bumps turned red for a minute, and then looked at the growing circle of convicts who had been attracted by the confrontation. Appearing to relax, he smiled sadistically, took the cigarettes, and handed them to Adrian.

  "Here Cabraal, hold these while I teach your punk-ass friend a lesson."

  Turning back to Tiny, he said, "You got a fresh mouth, son. But that's okay, 'cause I'm going to shut it. And after I do, I'm not going to let you come around my yard no more. Now show me what you got."

  By now, everyone in the yard had surrounded them, eager for the show to begin. Even the guards in the tower were watching. With so little distractions from the daily norm, confrontations – especially potentially lethal ones – were a welcome departure.

  Tiny lay on the bench, covered his palms with chalk, slapped them together and took several deep breaths, filling his bloodstream and lungs with oxygen necessary for the lift. Then he began. When he pressed the bar five times before beginning to tire, Adrian knew something was up. Finally, after Tiny appeared to fail on the eighth try, Warren helped him put the bar back on the rack. Bumps looked down at him smugly.

  "Hope you enjoyed that. Now get up off my bench."

  Tiny got up, and Bumps lay down and took his place. He rotated the bar until he had a comfortable grip, breathed deeply several times, then lifted it from the rack and began his routine. He made it look easy until the sixth repetition when he began to tire. The seventh try was a struggle, and the eighth was even harder. His face had turned burgundy, and the veins on his neck and forehead stood out like pipes. The bar was teetering as he made an inhuman effort to get it up one last time.

  In the midst of Bumps’ struggle, Tiny stepped to the head of the bench and straddled it. Looking down at the suddenly confused and frightened Bumps, he said, "Remember what I said about messin’ with a peaceful man?"

  Seemingly from nowhere a homemade shank appeared in Tiny's hand. In one sweeping, downward arc, he slashed Bumps's throat. Everyone within ten feet was sprayed with blood as Bumps suddenly convulsed with a gurgling groan. Caught completely off guard, they stared in disbelief as the heavy bar dropped from his hands, landed on his chest, then rolled onto his neck with a dull, sickening crunch.

  As if by silent command, everyone scattered across the yard. Sirens blared as Tiny stood motionless and alone over Bumps' grotesque form, the knife still in his hand. He didn't care that he had done it in front of a hundred witnesses, many of who were probably on Atkins's list. He had settled his score, and that was that.

  Staring up at the guard tower, he raised the knife over his head, blood streaming down his hand and forearm, and yelled, “Here’s your snitch! What are you gonna do now, put me in jail?” Then, looking down at Bumps’ lifeless body, he said in a subdued tone, “Told you about not messin’ with a peaceful man.” Then, as the knife dropped to the ground, his voice barely above a whisper, he added, “Why do people always have to mess with a peaceful man...?”

  When they cuffed him, he offered no resistance.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The loudspeaker blared in its usual brittle tone. "Adrian Cabraal to the Visiting Room. Cabraal to the Visiting Room."

  Adrian closed the magazine and sat up on his bunk. He hadn't been this excited in the twenty months he'd been here. Other than Russo and Fernandez, this would be the first face-to-face contact he'd had with anyone from back home.

  He got up and went to the show
er room and inspected himself in the mirror, then quickly made his way to the Visiting Room. Even when the guard strip-searched him, which included having to "bend over and spread ‘em," it didn't dampen his excitement. By now, every guard from the mid west to Massachusetts knew what the inside of his behind looked like.

  After dressing, he went inside and feasted his eyes on the most heart warming sight he could remember: Jennifer and Andy. Jennifer, dressed in a bright cotton dress with her silken hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, looked exquisite. Her lean, beautifully proportioned figure filled her dress in a way that tantalized him, and her golden tan was more inviting than anything he could remember. One look at her, and he was trembling.

  As for Andy, he hadn't been hard to find. Upon walking into the Visiting Room, he had heard, "Dad! Over here, dad! We're over here!" The exuberance, the energetic optimism, the natural excitement, and most of all the love, lit up Adrian's world like a neon billboard. Indeed, theirs would be a life long bond...

  He sat down and kissed Jennifer through the glass, not caring who saw. They touched fingertips on the partition and stared deep into each other's eyes, letting their love for each other do the talking. Within seconds, her large brown eyes began to mist. She was so close yet so far from the man she loved. He had all he could do to keep from breaking down himself. But prison had taught him to exercise rigid control. ‘Never show a sign of weakness...never show a sign of weakness...’ What about someone he loved? What about being human? He held firm, refusing to yield to his emotions.

  Her first words to him were, "I love you."

  "I love you, too. God, how I miss you, you look great."

  "How about me, Dad? How do I look?"

  "You look greater than great!" Adrian said, barely able to contain himself. "I'm still the luckiest dad, because I still got the best boy on the first try." The hard part was realizing that Andy had grown nearly six inches during his absence.

  They touched knuckle-to-knuckle through the glass, and winked at each other. Not even prison had been able to sever their lifeline.

  "I'm glad you decided to move out here," he told her.

  She wiped away her tears, and said, "Between Andy pestering me and the University offering the courses I want, I had to at least give it a try."

  "Good for Andy, good for the University," he said with a smile.

  He touched his fingertips to the glass. "I love you."

  "I love you too, baby," she answered, touching her fingertips to the glass, while trying not to weep.

  Perplexed, Andy asked, "Dad, why don't you come out here with us?"

  "I can't, Andy. It's against the rules, but at least I can see you."

  "But I want to hug you."

  "Me too, but we'll have to wait just a little longer."

  Andy's spirit seemed to drop, as he deliberated why he couldn't actually touch his father. He couldn't come up with a reason for not being able to touch someone he loved so much, and hadn't seen for so long.

  Then, as though dismissing the problem, his face brightened, and he said, "Dad, I'm almost five. Can you at least come to my birthday party?"

  That drove another stake through Adrian's heart. Andy couldn't understand, and he couldn't explain. It was yet another one of the things he'd have to help his son sort out some day.

  "Maybe next year."

  Andy seemed to lapse into confusion again.

  Jennifer asked, "Speaking of next year, how much longer?"

  "I'm scheduled to see the Board next month. I'll find out then."

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  He winked. "Not in front of all these people."

  She returned his smile, then gently admonished him, "Don't talk like that, I already feel like climbing over the glass."

  "Better watch out, they put people in jail for stuff like that."

  "Does that mean I'd get to stay here with you?"

  "It means you'd be in some heavy-duty women's joint. I don't think you'd like that too much."

  "I'll pass. But it was a nice idea."

  "Our time will come," he said. "And you're gonna be in serious trouble when it does. It's going on two years now."

  "You mean you haven't been dating your friend Kristen?" she asked, innocently.

  "Nah, she’s a different kind of blonde."

  Just then, Jimmy Atkins walked into the visiting room. He was about to pass through when he spotted Adrian talking with Jennifer and Andy. Hitching up his pants, he walked over to them, gave Jennifer a leering once-over, and smiled smugly.

  "These your people?" he asked.

  "That's right," Jennifer said before Adrian could answer. She had taken an instant dislike to him, even though she had never even heard about him.

  "You're a fine looking woman, darlin'. It'd be a shame to waste the rest of your life waiting for this guy."

  Andy was snatched out of his lethargy by the unexpected exchange between his mother and Jimmy Atkins. He sensed an unmistakable tension, and was suddenly paying close attention.

  "It might not be so long," she answered in defense. "Besides, how long I wait is my business."

  "It's mine, too," said Atkins, "especially since I know all the board members scheduled to hold his hearing. You could say that your husband's future depends on what I say."

  She forced herself to remain pleasant. "Then maybe you could put in a good word for him."

  "All depends," said Atkins, giving her another lingering look. "Could depend on you, too," he concluded, then walked off.

  "Who was that cretin?" she asked.

  Adrian gave Jennifer a calming look. "No one. Just another dickhead doing time."

  "He's disgusting," she said, appearing repulsed.

  Adrian looked at Andy, nearing five, and hoped he hadn't grasped too much of what had just occurred. If he had, he didn't show it. But that was because his attention had been diverted to someone or something behind Adrian.

  "What's the matter, big guy?" Adrian asked.

  "Dad, is that man mad at you?"

  Puzzled, Adrian looked over his shoulder. Standing near the doorway, he saw Benton Fulmer, transfixed. Fulmer's eyes were hard and piercing, as though Adrian's meeting with his family had somehow touched a deep wound or hate buried within him. This surprised Adrian, because there had been no words of any kind between them in a long while. At the same time, Adrian had been locked down long enough to have learned a few things about bitterness and long festering resentments.

  Upon seeing Adrian's glance, Fulmer started toward him. "You staring at me, Cabraal? Huh? You think I'm some kind of freak?"

  Adrian stood and faced the oncoming Fulmer. "Another time, Fulmer. I'm with my family..."

  Benton Fulmer lunged past Adrian, pressed himself against the glass, and stared down at Andy. Slamming the glass with his palms, he screamed, "Hey kid, is this your old man? Well take a good look at him because he ain't gonna be around no more. I'm gonna kill him! You hear that? I'm gonna kill your old man!"

  Andy started to scream. "No! Don't kill my dad! Don't kill my dad!"

  Adrian, seeing Andy like that, grabbed Fulmer, lifted him off his feet, slammed him hard in the solar plexus, and then manhandled him toward the door while pounding on his face in a berzerk rage. In the background all he could hear was his son screaming. He opened the door, and glanced over his shoulder at Andy, who - along with Jennifer – was hastily being ushered from the Visiting Room by two guards.

  Enraged, Adrian turned back to Benton Fulmer, intent on hammering him again for what he'd done. Were it not for his quick reflexes, he would have been hammered himself. Fulmer's punch glanced off the side of Adrian's head as he sidestepped it. Even so, it drove him backward. As he was about to engage Fulmer again, both men were surrounded and forcibly subdued by the squad of guards who poured into the room.

  "You just bought it, Fulmer!"

  "Come big or stay home!" he retorted. "And grow eyes in the back of your head, 'cause you're gonna need 'em!"

&nb
sp; Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jennifer and Andy had just reached their rented Camaro when Atkins caught up with them. She tensed when she realized he wanted to speak with her.

  "Bit of excitement inside?" he asked, seeming to enjoy what had happened. "It's a dangerous world in there, very dangerous."

  "What can I do for you?" she asked, making sure Andy had buckled his seatbelt. He was already reeling; now this. She also wanted to get rid of this fat troll as fast as she could, then get Andy someplace where she could calm him.

  "It's more a case of what you can do for your husband," said Atkins.

  "Who are you and what are you getting at?" she asked, rounding the car to the driver's side.

  "I’m Jimmy Atkins, Chief of Security. That makes me a very powerful man in there. As for what I'm getting at, Miss..."

  "Mrs. Cabraal," she answered, opening the car door.

  "It's real simple, Mrs. Cabraal. I have a lot to say about what happens to your man at the parole hearings. Problem is I don't much care for him. Course, I could be persuaded to change my mind if certain things were to happen..."

  "...like us playing house some night?"

  "Well, I didn't want to put it quite like that, but you are a fine looking lady, the kind who could change any man's mind."

  "I suggest you go change your mind in the Men’s room, Mr. Atkins. I wouldn't play house with you on a bet."

  Atkins flushed. He felt like snatching this high-strung Yankee bitch by the throat and taking her right there in front of her kid. "You obviously don't know what's good for your man," he said, forcing a tight smile. "I've tried to do it the easy way. Maybe after a while you'll come around to my way of thinking.” As an afterthought, he added, “Nice looking boy you got there."

  She looked at him as he sauntered off, wondering how this had happened so suddenly. She was stunned, frightened, and enraged all at once. She got into her car and started the motor. As she was about to drive off, she pulled along side him, rolled down the window and said, "Adrian is spending time here for some very dangerous people. Pray that he does well at the hearings, Mr. Atkins, or I'll assume you're the reason he didn't. If that happens, I'll call those people and give them your name." She then drove off before matters got any worse.