by S. W. Lauden
CHAPTER TWENTY- FIVE
The steel door slammed shut behind Greg. The guard escorted him through a metal detector and down a long hallway. He was trying to make small talk as they walked, but Greg was too deep in his own thoughts to do more than nod. Try as he might to distance himself from being a cop, he always ended up among them. At least I’m still on this side of the bars.
They reached the visiting room and Greg stepped inside. Sunlight poked through a small window high up on a cinder block wall. Everything in the room was painted battleship grey. He sat down on a cold aluminum picnic bench, shifting nervously from side to side.
Two guards walked in through a thick door in the opposite wall a few minutes later. A skinny kid was between them, his eyes fixed on Greg’s. He had a shaved head and a freshly tattooed neck. Greg couldn’t quite make out the design, and didn’t want to get caught staring. The guards sat him down across from Greg and cuffed his hands in front of him.
“We’ll be right outside.”
Greg and the kid both stayed silent until the guards were gone. The kid smiled and shook his head the minute they were alone. Greg noticed the acne on his chin. He couldn’t help thinking of Chris and wondering if this is where he would end up too. Or some place worse, if there was such a thing.
“You’re the pig who shot me?”
The kid seemed skeptical. Maybe even disappointed. Greg could think of a million ways to respond, but only one seemed appropriate. It was short and sweet, just like his old Police Chief had told him to keep it. The old man even offered to come along for support, but Greg declined. He had learned that there were some things in life that you needed to do alone.
“Yes.”
“Damn. You were a lot bigger and scarier in my head. Younger too.”
Greg thought the kid looked like his older brother Manny when he laughed. Manny was an adult when the VHPD took his gang down, so he was doing a three-year sentence at a prison in Northern California. His kid brother was underage and ended up at this youth correctional facility in Oxnard. He wouldn’t be eligible for release until his eighteenth birthday, a little less than a year away. Greg could only imagine what kind of animal he would be by then.
“Why did you want to see me?”
“Serious? You shoot my ass and that’s the first thing wanna ask me?”
“I was doing my job. I hope you weren’t expecting an apology.”
“Shit. You ain’t even a pig any more.”
“Glad you did your homework. But I was when we met. That’s all that matters.”
“Whatever, man. I only made you come here to deliver a message for my brother.”
Greg squeezed his hands into fists under the table. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from this meeting, but that wasn’t it. His teeth were clamped when he responded.
“Still doing his dirty work? He could have just called me.”
The kid leaned forward across the table.
“Manny wanted me to look you in the eyes when I told you.”
“Tell me what?”
“This ain’t over, pig.”
Acknowledgments
Publishing this book was definitely a team effort. First I’d like to thank my supportive wife, Heather, and our two amazing kids. It should come as no surprise that I’m not much fun to be around when I’m writing; even less so when I’m editing. Heather has also become a valuable member of my inner circle of readers, which includes merciless feedback from the likes of Scott Ross and Paul Covington. I’d also like to thank my insightful editor, Elaine Ash, and talented lawyer, Kim Thigpen. And, of course, high fives all around to Tyson Cornell, Julia Callahan, Alice Marsh-Elmer, Winona Leon, and Navid Saedi at Rare Bird Books.
If you like this book, you can join the team, too. Please tell your friends, recommend it for a book club, request it at your local library or give it an honest review on your favorite online platform. Every little bit of support is greatly appreciated.