“That’s rough. Do you want to talk about it?”
A quick headshake. “So, me knowing about you and my dad didn’t turn out so bad. You sure you can’t tell me about who Uncle Grant’s working with?”
“The truth shall set you free, huh?” She turned to the stove. “They’re all the way over in West Town, so it shouldn’t affect us much.” Garlic sizzled in olive oil. “Don’t worry about it. Grant assured me he’d be okay.”
“Why does he have to do this?” His voice trembled.
She sighed. “I asked him the same thing. He said he’s got to make up for what his family has done, for the hurt they’ve caused. I don’t really get it, but Hunter told me to get on board because I can’t change Grant.”
“That sucks.”
She nodded.
He was quiet for a moment as she sautéed some fresh spinach in the oil. “Too bad Grant didn’t get to see our race. You better tell him the truth about your epic fail.”
“Of course I’ll tell the truth.”
“And I’ll have to let Dr. Hunter know his strategy worked.”
She spun around from the stove. “What do you mean?”
He smirked. “Hunter told me you were nervous, and he said to act super-confident to try to psych you out.”
A rosy blush heated her face.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“That’s it. We’re definitely having a rematch.”
***
Ricker Mullens watched Tank from across the changing room adjoining the showers. Despite the other cons milling about in various states of undress, his gaze zeroed in on Tank’s massive chest as he toweled off, then moved to his crotch as the tall hunk of meat pulled on his worn, navy blue prison pants. Tank seemed on edge—his eyes darted around the changing room—and his vulnerability made Ricker want him even more. The only block to taking Tank right there was the stern CO leaning against the wall.
One of his blond minions, Steven, sidled up and followed his gaze to Tank’s chiseled body.
“Whatcha waiting for, sir?”
“For the fucking CO to leave,” he growled. “Don’t want to screw up anything with my exit from this hellhole.”
Steven grinned. “How many more days you got in here?”
He glared at him, stepping closer. “None of your business.”
Steven dropped his head, turned, and crept away.
Ricker’s eyes tapered into slits. He’d punish the boy for his insolence later. For now, he had to figure out how to tap Tank’s bulbous, muscular ass in the next two weeks, before the DOC gave him his sweet release.
The CO stared at a part of the room blocked from Ricker’s view and gave a curt nod, seeming to communicate with somebody hidden behind the wall. “Move it, girls!” he bellowed.
Ricker cocked his head as Tank’s frantic fingers laced up his work boots. The thrill of violence electrified the steamy air. Something is off. When the CO barked at Ricker to get moving, he stepped into the flow of inmates following the CO toward the cellblock. And when the CO looked away, he left the procession of cons and crouched in a dark corner, hidden from Tank by a table holding towels.
Hustling to join the cattle call, Tank grabbed his thermal shirt and drew it over his head just as Enzo Barberi rounded the corner holding a homemade shank. Ricker’s mouth dropped open as Barberi plunged the knife into Tank’s chest while he was still blinded by his shirt. A smothered cry leaked out from beneath the material.
One of Barberi’s goons—he didn’t know his name—pulled Tank’s arm behind his back while Jewels Monroe yanked the shirt off Tank’s head and brought him face-to-face with Barberi. He felt the heat of fury tighten in his chest as he watched the breach of his territory. Tank was his, damn it! But he’d never openly challenge Enzo Barberi. And he couldn’t leave the scene now…The smell of fresh blood pleased him too much.
Tank looked down and must have seen the shank under his collarbone, its handle clutched by Barberi. Now both goons gripped Tank’s shoulders, twisting his wrists behind his back. Tank gasped and fell to his knees, and Ricker guessed Barberi had shoved him with the shank, forcing the behemoth down. He watched Tank struggle, but every thrashing move seemed to get him another inch of blade in his shoulder. He finally stilled.
“Don’t bother to yell,” Barberi hissed, leaning in. “CO’s gone. No one to hear me cut you.”
Oooh. Ricker grinned and wished he had some popcorn for the “Shank Tank” show.
Serene coldness settled across Barberi’s face. “You think you could get away with killing my son?”
Tank’s eyes widened. “I didn’t kill Logan!”
Who’s Logan? That’s not a nickname for Grant, right? Wait, Grant wasn’t killed, was he? His heart hammered.
“Sure you didn’t.” Jewels grinned as he held Tank down. “And I’ll be innocent of your murder too.”
Tank’s voice shook. “I’m no different from Jewels in this scenario. I was just holding him down. Carlo had the knife. I was just following orders!”
Barberi breathed out of his nose, sounding disgusted. “The only orders you follow are mine. And I order you to go to hell.” He thrust the knife in deeper.
Tank groaned. “Grant told you I held down Logan, didn’t he?”
His ears perked up, and he felt a stirring below his belt. Baby boy Grant was still alive.
“Why the fuck would you say that?” Barberi demanded. “Grant’s got nothing to do with this. He botched that exchange just as bad as you and Meat did.”
Ricker wondered who this “Meat” person was. He liked his name. But hearing Madsen’s name was what really got his cock talking.
Tank panted.
“Now,” Barberi said. “You tell me where the feds put Meat.”
“Don’t know,” Tank gasped. “I think he sang. Witness protection?”
Tank cried out. Barberi must have twisted the knife. Ricker wondered if the blade had nicked Tank’s heart.
“Meat wouldn’t say a word. Grant’s the one who sang—I know it.” Barberi leaned in closer. “Fucking tell me now where they put Meat. No way the feds put Grant and Mario under protection. And my contacts can’t find either in the system.”
“Don’t think Grant ever went down for this. Only me and Meat. Never saw Grant after the bust.”
Barberi seemed to loosen his pressure on the knife, and Tank slumped.
“Grant wasn’t arrested?” Barberi looked up at Jewels, ignoring Tank’s squirms. “Why wouldn’t he be arrested?”
Ricker strained to hear the exchange. He didn’t exactly follow what was going on, but there was a thrumming tension in the air.
“He was in on it!” Tank suddenly blurted. He nodded with the excitement of discovery. “Grant was working with the feds.”
Barberi jammed the knife in further, and Tank’s complexion went the color of the peeling white paint on the wall behind him. “You’re accusing my son of double crossing me?”
“The numbers,” Tank panted. “Grant called out the apartment numbers we passed in Marina City.” His voice faded. “I wondered why he said the numbers out loud. I bet he was wired.”
Barberi froze for a moment, then began nodding. “Son of a bitch. Grant’s the one who led the feds to Jovanovich.”
He yanked the blade out, unleashing a torrent of blood. The shank clattered to the concrete floor. “Take care of this,” Barberi spat as he looked around the room.
Time to go. As Ricker stole away, his mind whirred with images of Madsen walking around as a free man—his graceful, loping stride and crystal blue, vulnerable eyes…Barberi’s son…Barberi’s betrayer? This information had to be of some use when he got to the outside.
He hustled to catch up to the other cons marching back to their cells and looked down to see his cock straining against his pants. A smile spread across his lips. “Release is coming,” he whispered. “Soon.”
7. Pro/Con
“SO, FOR HER PRACTICE START, Sophie dives waaay down, like,
scraping the bottom.” Ben snickered, remembering her amateur form.
Dr. Hunter smiled. “Hey, cut her some slack. She’s out of shape, right?”
“Whatever.” He held up his hand. “Her dad started the race for us. I was a little nervous when she kept up with me at first, but then the piano dropped.”
“The piano?” Dr. Hunter asked.
“It’s a piano swim when it feels like you’re carrying a baby grand on your back. Believe me, I’ve had a few of those, especially my first meet. She barely finished the race.”
“Sounds like you managed your anxiety well.”
“Yeah. I kept telling myself ‘She’s old and out of shape,’ like you said I should.”
Dr. Hunter laughed. “Please don’t tell her I said that. I’ll be in a lot of trouble.”
“Why do girls care about getting older?” Ben wondered. “I can’t wait till I’m older.”
“It’s not only women who worry about aging.” Dr. Hunter crossed his legs.
“Really? You care about getting old?”
Dr. Hunter shrugged. “There’s a lot of pressure to look young in our society. A lot of ageism out there. My partner’s a plastic surgeon, I should know.”
“That’s cool. Your…partner? He’s a dude, right?”
“Yes, he is.” Dr. Hunter’s smirk faded. “How do you feel about that?”
“Hey, man, it’s cool. There’re some guys at school who are gay. Some chicks too. No biggie. Uh, the dude—your partner—he must be pretty rich, huh?”
“He does pull in a nice salary, yes. But he went to school for a long time to get it.”
Ben tapped his fingers on the worn knee of his jeans. “You must make a lot of cashish too. Sophie said she went to grad school for forever.”
“Well, psychologists certainly make less money than surgeons.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed?”
“I don’t know. I thought it’d be kind of a cool job.” He looked around the office, stopping at the large aquarium. “But I couldn’t listen to people bitch about their problems all day long. How do you do it?”
“When you know venting helps people feel better, it’s not so bad. There’s a lot more to it than that too. It can be very rewarding.”
“Maybe. Or I could go into construction, like Sophie’s dad. He’s loaded.”
“The sky’s the limit, Ben. Your future career is out there, just waiting for you to seize it. You’re smart, and you’re responsible.”
Ben felt his cheeks warm, and he focused even more intently on the clownfish darting around the anemone.
“Do you believe that about yourself, Ben? That you’re smart and capable?”
Yeah, right. “How can I be smart? My dad was just a dumb criminal. And my mom’s not so bright either. There was way too much chlorine in her gene pool.”
“Swimmer humor.” Dr. Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know your mom well, but your dad’s side of the family seems quite intelligent. Look at the plan Enzo cooked up to get out of prison, and look how Grant figured it all out. He kept one step ahead of your grandfather. That definitely took some smarts.”
“I guess. All I know is I sure don’t want to work in some stupid restaurant, like my mom does.”
Dr. Hunter nodded. “You said she has to work a lot of evenings?”
“Yeah. I keep asking her to get a dog to keep me company, but she won’t. She says she’ll end up taking care of the dog, even though I promise I’ll do it.”
“It would probably be hard to keep a dog in your apartment too.”
He sighed. “It’d have to be some lame-ass small dog, but at least it’d be a dog.”
“Hmm.” Dr. Hunter paused. “What if you tried to negotiate with your mom? Maybe the dog could be a reward for a job well done. Say you keep up the negative drug screens for the next three months, and then she gets you a dog.”
“Three months? How ’bout one month?”
“You’re the one negotiating this deal, kid.”
“Sweet.”
Dr. Hunter smiled. “But you’ll have to get your mom to go for it. And I bet you’ll find she’s smarter than you think.”
“She’s not a few fries short of a Happy Meal?”
“Correct. And I bet she wouldn’t lose a debate with a doorknob either.”
Ben shook his head. “You’re bad!”
“You started it.” After a moment Dr. Hunter offered, “The way I see it, your marijuana pro/con list just got a bit longer.”
“Huh?”
Dr. Hunter leaned forward. “Remember when I had you write down the pros and cons of smoking pot? We just talked about a few more cons today. One, pot can slow you down in the pool. I bet you swam faster and beat Sophie partly because you haven’t been smoking.”
He shook his head. “Pot doesn’t affect swimming.”
“Really?” Dr. Hunter cocked his eyebrow. “Show me some research attesting to that, and I’ll consider it. Otherwise I’ll assume your stoner friends tried to convince you to believe that.”
Ben smirked.
“Two, pot can interfere with your career plans. If you smoke, you have to worry about testing positive at work. And you won’t do as well in school, which will limit your career opportunities.”
Ben laced his arms across his chest.
“And three, smoking prevents you from negotiating a deal with your mom to get that dog you want.” Dr. Hunter paused. “Now, tell me what pros you’d add to the list. Are you craving marijuana?”
Unfolding his arms, he stared at Dr. Hunter. Could he be trusted? Finally, he admitted, “Sometimes.”
“Where would you get the money to buy pot?”
“Sophie gave me a hundred bucks the other night.”
“I’ll have to tell her to stop doing that.” When Ben’s mouth dropped open in protest, Dr. Hunter laughed. “Relax, I’m just kidding. So, when do you get cravings?”
“Dunno. Just sometimes.”
“You can do better than that.”
Ben glared, tapping his knee again. “There’s…there’s this girl.”
“Ah.” Dr. Hunter sat back in his chair. “Go on.”
“Why? It’s, like, embarrassing.”
“If she’s involved in making you want to use again, I want to hear about her. She sounds important.”
“She’s not so important.” He looked down.
“How’d you meet her?”
“She’s on the girls’ team.”
“A swimmer. Makes sense. You spend a lot of time together. What’s she like?”
“She’s got long, brown hair—it’s really pretty.” He grinned at Dr. Hunter. “And she’s got a nice rack.”
Dr. Hunter rolled his eyes. “What’s her personality like?”
“Nice. She’s really nice. She’s fast, but she doesn’t make fun of people who just started swimming, like me. Her times are way faster than mine, but she still talks to me.”
“She sounds kind-hearted. And you’re attracted to her too. So what’s the problem?”
He squirmed. “My boy Dylan got me to admit I was into her, then he went behind my back and kind of asked her if she liked me. He said she got all nervous, and she told him she liked me as a friend. Then he asked her if she liked me as more than a friend. Like, if we could start talking. But she said she wasn’t interested.”
“How disappointing. Did she say why?”
He stared at the floor. “She said she didn’t want to date a pothead.”
“That sounds very hurtful.” Dr. Hunter’s voice was gentle. “Especially since it’s not true.”
He looked up.
“Just because you smoked pot doesn’t make you a pothead. That’s like calling myself a failure just because I’ve failed a time or two. Slapping a negative label on yourself based on isolated behaviors doesn’t make it true.”
“You’ve failed?”
“Of course. Many times.”
“How?”
D
r. Hunter hesitated. “I made some choices I regret, when I first came out. It was a wild time in my life…I did some dumb things. Even now, when I argue with Bradley—uh, the ‘dude’ as you call him—I have trouble keeping my cool. Sometimes I say mean things.”
“But that’s nothing. Everybody does that.” He fidgeted. “I’ve done much worse.”
“You’re saying your failures are bigger than mine? I don’t believe that.”
“Believe it.” He hated the way his voice shook.
“Ben, I think you have something on your mind…something you want to share, but you’re nervous to tell me. Am I right?”
He squirmed. “I guess.”
“What’s making it hard to tell me?”
He looked at his feet. “You’ll tell my mom.”
“Hmm. Not necessarily.”
“Then you’ll turn me in.”
When Dr. Hunter didn’t respond, Ben peeked up at him.
“This is about a crime?”
“Yeah.” Ben’s head dropped again. “I’m a criminal.”
“I can’t call the police unless you or someone else is in imminent danger.” Dr. Hunter paused. “Sometimes you remind me so much of Grant, the way you get down on yourself. It’s okay, Ben. It’s all right to tell me. I know how frightening it is to talk about some things, but I sense you need to let it out. The truth shall set you free.”
He breathed out through his teeth. “That’s the same thing Sophie said.”
“She’s a smart woman, quoting me.” Dr. Hunter grinned.
He fiddled with the shoelaces on his black sneakers. “You know…you know how you asked me about the last time I saw my dad?”
“At the video game place. Logan showed up unexpectedly.”
“Yeah.” He played with the frayed end of one shoelace, twisting it in his hand. “You asked me what we talked about.”
Dr. Hunter nodded. “I remember you were angry with him because he didn’t bring you a birthday gift.”
“That’s not the real reason I was mad.” He let out a slow breath. “My dad caught me at Aaron Caldwell’s house. He’d seen me there. He must’ve been following me or something.”
“Uh, who’s Aaron?”
His head dipped lower. “A drug dealer.”
“I see. Your dad caught you buying drugs?”
On Best Behavior (C3) Page 8