by Nesly Clerge
“Yeah,” Stinky said. “With some of these guys, it doesn’t matter what you do. They wanna go after you, almost nothing stops them. Sorry to say it, but I think Stutter Man is as good as dead, and sooner than later.”
“Don’t call him that,” Starks said.
“Huh?”
Starks faced Stinky. “It’s an affliction, not a lifestyle choice.” He glanced at the faces watching him. “Anyone in this crew makes fun of someone because of an obvious physical or mental abnormality is out. Understood?” Several of the men wore surprised expressions, but heads nodded in response.
The inmate being picked on shouted, “L-l-leave m-m-me a-l-l-lone.”
The two inmates heckling him laughed. One of them said, “Or w-w-w-what?”
Inmates at that table and near the young man rapped and got up with their trays. Conversations began to die out as inmates realized something was going on. One guard on duty meandered in the direction of the potential altercation.
The two bullies took seats together at the table behind the stuttering inmate, with their backs to him. Starks kept his gaze fixed on the young man. Anger fluttered in his gut about what some people believed they were entitled to do to those weaker than or just different enough from themselves.
The guard, satisfied, walked on. Conversation volume picked up. Starks watched as the picked-on inmate put a hand under the table and scratched his leg. Saw the flicker of a smile on the young man’s face that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The young man kept his composure as he glanced around the room, unobtrusively marking where the guards were. Then he rapped lightly on the table. In one fluid motion, he swung around on the bench and used both hands to jab something into the backs of the two men. He picked up his tray. Whatever he’d used was hidden, one in each hand, and positioned under the tray, out of sight.
Both inmates who’d been attacked had done nothing more than reach a hand around to rub the area before continuing their conversation, as though bitten by an insect and choosing to ignore it after the initial sting. Neither of them noticed their mirrored gestures. There was no shouting, screaming, moaning, or writhing going on. No attention had been drawn to the impressive silent attack.
The young man emptied his tray and added it to the stack. He glanced back at the table; his shoulders shook in silent laughter. Then, as though becoming aware he was being watched, he ran his gaze around the room, until it landed on Starks.
Starks’s nod was slight, so that only the young man saw it. He fashioned his expression into one that he hoped conveyed the message intended: Good for you. What was the trauma that had caused the young man to stutter, and how young he had been when it happened? Maybe the guy was slow-witted, or maybe he was cagey as hell. Maybe some of each. Whatever was going on, Starks wanted to know for sure. He never liked to bet on anything without knowing something about the odds.
The young man had done something to the two inmates who were intent on tormenting him. It was akin to and far less incident-provoking than his retribution had been on Big Bo Jones.
Starks kept what he’d observed to himself.
CHAPTER 63
STARKS FIRST STOP was at the infirmary. He stayed silent as Dr. Stewart cleaned and re-bandaged the wound on his wrist while chewing him out for not coming in sooner. His next stop was to tell Felipe that Stewart had put an, at most, three-pound limit on what he could lift, along with no repetitive or strenuous motions. Felipe stated flatly there would be no training until Starks was given clearance by the doctor.
There was one thing more he needed to do: find out where he stood with Gabe.
It took three hard knocks with his left hand before the door opened. Gabe’s eyes locked with Starks’s then traveled to the bandaged wrist. He shook his head and motioned for Starks to enter.
Starks didn’t wait for an invitation to sit.
Gabe took the chair across from him. Silence for several moments was followed by, “Why should I waste my breath on you?”
“I know. I—”
“You act like you don’t know dick. Is anything I’ve been saying making a dent anywhere in your rock head?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut cheese.”
“Maybe I should leave.” Starks started to get up.
“Keep your ass in that chair.” Gabe rubbed his face hard, until his scowl was gone. “Only a schmuck goes on the attack in front of guards and witnesses. Took two fucking Taser hits to get you to stop.” His expression shifted. “What’s it like… getting Tasered? I’ve only been on the trigger end.”
“I don’t recommend it.”
Gabe laughed and slapped his thigh. “I like you, Starks, but you’re a buffoon.”
“At least you’re still talking to me. I wasn’t sure you would.”
Gabe shrugged. “How’s the wrist?”
“Healing. Frustrating. I’m limited for a while. I don’t like how that puts me at risk.”
“That’s why you should think ahead. You did this to yourself.”
“How’s it my goddamned fault?” When Gabe glared at him and didn’t answer, he said, “I shouldn’t have been in the Hole in the first place.”
Gabe pointed at him. “Exactly. At least, not for the reason you were.” He rested back in the chair. “Is your friend Jeffrey out of the picture now?”
“It was a mistake. He was set up. I confirmed it with the guy who lied. Then I apologized to Jeffrey. He was the friend he’s always been about the matter.” Starks smiled. “Said there was no problem between us as long as I let my hair grow out.”
“I’m with him about that.” Gabe ran a hand over his thinning hair. “If you got it, wear it.” He gestured at Starks’s wrist. “Speaking of set-ups, who do you think sent you the warning? You do realize that’s what it was.”
Starks nodded. “I put it on Crazy D. He was in isolation because of me.”
“It was his fault he was in there, not yours. He’s busting your balls. Make no mistake: he’s gonna bust more than that.”
Starks nodded. “I need to deal with him sooner than later.”
“Unless he forces your hand, don’t do anything until you come up with as infallible a plan as possible. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear. Speaking of ball-busting, I did a bit of that with Matthew Demory the other day. The counselor?” Gabe nodded. “I went to see him in good faith—I was ordered to, but it’s like he’s got a one-track mind about how I’m at fault and need to forgive and forget. I used different words, but basically told him to stick it.”
“Until he sits on this side of the bars, there’s only so much he can understand.”
Starks rested his forearms on the table. He linked his fingers and stared at them, debating whether or not to say what he was tempted to. “I’m more comfortable talking with you. We do have certain things in common, so you get me and what it’s like better than anyone here.”
“Don’t make me your shrink, your priest, or your mommy. Demory’s the guy if you want to whine about your life, not me.”
“I don’t whine.”
“That’s one of those lies you tell yourself.”
“Do you take pleasure in going after me?”
Gabe pointed a finger at him. “You’re whining now. You want someone to talk straight to you, come here. Look, Starks, we all have habits we’re unaware of. Whining happens to be one of yours. It pisses me off. Maybe you never did that before the shit came down on you, but you need to take a good look at how you’ve been since. I’m not saying any of it’s easy. I’m saying how you handle yourself when a fucking hurricane is blowing through your life matters. It counts. It shows others who you really are. If you’ve got any sense, you look at yourself, as well as others, and learn from it.”
“You treat me like a four-year-old.”
“Then stop acting like one. You’ve got your own personal war about to break out in here. Don’t look so shocked. I track the heartbeat of this place. I look ahead and imagine
potential scenarios. If I hadn’t learned to do that, and fast, I’d’ve been taken out a long time ago. You need to get your head out of your ass—how many times will I have to tell you that?—and pay attention.”
“I am paying attention.”
“Okay. Sure. You’re on it.” Gabe held up his hands. “I guess I’m talking to hear myself, here.”
“You could help me with strategy.”
“What’s the point? I talk, you nod, and then you blow it. I can guide you to the water trough, but what you do after that is up to you. Just do us both a favor and stop trying to drown yourself. Stop acting like you’re stuck on stupid.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Keep an eye on that Trevor kid.”
“If you know something, tell me.”
“He’s got authority issues and a big mouth.”
“I can manage him.”
“You can’t manage anybody until you manage yourself. You believe anything different then your head really is—”
“I get it, all right?”
“For your sake, I hope you do.”
CHAPTER 64
STARKS PACED IN his cell. He couldn’t train, couldn’t work out with weights, couldn’t yet devise a plan about Crazy D that kept him safe and unsuspected of the crime he needed to commit. He was contemplating doing laundry when CO Roberts showed up.
Roberts nodded toward Starks’s wrist. “Hope you’re healing all right. No word yet about who and how, but that’s not why I’m here. You’ve got visitors.”
“Visitors—plural. Who?”
“Just was told to tell you. By the way, I finally convinced the lead guy to talk to you about the cell phones. He wants to hear what you have to say.”
“Set up a meeting.”
“I’ll take care of it. Want me to walk you to the visitation room?”
Starks thought for a moment. “Stay about five yards back.”
“You got it.”
Starks left the cell first, pondering who waited to see him. After going down the miniscule list of possibilities, one with zero appeal pushed forward in his mind: Maybe it was his mother with—God help him—the wife she’d chosen for him. If it turned out to be true, he’d turn around and get a guard to tell them he wasn’t seeing anyone today. Then he’d call her and ream her.
Just outside the door, he paused and took several deep breaths. The last thing he wanted to do was enter the space looking ready for a fight, no matter who was on the other side waiting for him. The guard nearest the entrance glared at him and rested his hand on his Taser, making clear what would happen if he was tempted to give a repeat performance.
He spotted Jeffrey at their usual table. Jeffrey waved. Two children sprinted across the room, shouting, “Dad. Daddy.”
Tears welled in Starks’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around them. Both children clung to him.
A guard approached and barked, “Limited contact.”
Kaitlin looked at the guard with her soulful brown eyes. Through quivering lips she said, “But he’s my daddy. I haven’t seen him in forever.”
The guard cleared his throat and walked away.
Starks held the children at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. Blake, you’ve grown maybe two inches since I saw you last. And Kaitlin, my beautiful little girl, you’ve grown as well. It’s so good to see you. Come on, we need to sit.”
The three crossed the room. Kaitlin held tight to Starks’s hand.
“Bro.” Jeffrey raised his fists in a pretend fight stance. Starks rolled his eyes.
Blake said, “Dad, can we get sodas and snacks from the vending machines?”
Starks’s right hand automatically reached for the wallet that wasn’t there. His cheeks colored. “Sorry, kids, I don’t have any cash on me at the moment.”
Jeffrey pulled six one-dollar bills from his pocket. “Let me.” The children raced to the machines.
“Thanks for that, Jeffrey. The treats and for bringing them to see me.”
“Happy to do it. Kaitlin was miserable. Said it was unfair her brothers got to see you and she didn’t. The boys were going to toss to see which one came, but Blake said since he was her big brother, he was the one to come along to keep her safe on her first visit. The three-person limit is a pain. At least your hair’s grown out a bit. Not as scary for the kiddies.” Jeffrey cracked his knuckles.
“When you do that, you’re anxious. What is it?”
“Don’t want to upset you, bro, but Blake told me Kaitlin’s been calling for you in her sleep. The setting’s not ideal, but I think you need to make it a point to see her as often as you can. I’m happy to bring her and one of the boys anytime.”
Starks pressed his fingers to his eyelids and cleared his throat. Blake and Kaitlin returned to the table, each taking a seat on either side of Starks.
Blake said, “Cool tattoo, Dad.”
“It’s nothing. Just something to do.” Starks turned to Kaitlin and stroked her hair. “How are you, sweetie?”
“I’m okay.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t like that.” She pointed at Starks’s dragon. With a gentle touch, she rested the pointing finger on the edge of the bandage. “You got hurt. What happened, Daddy?”
“Just a careless accident. Wasn’t watching what I was doing. It’s fine.”
Kaitlin leaned over and placed a light kiss on the gauze wrapping.
Starks’s breath caught at the gesture. “Now I know it’ll heal perfectly.”
Kaitlin beamed. Then her expression became serious. “Can you come home with us when we leave? Please. Please. Please.”
“Not today. But one day I will.”
Then reality settled on him. Starks looked at Blake. The reminder that this boy wasn’t his son clanged in his head. Not mine, but only by blood, he told himself.
Blake turned his gaze toward Starks. “Why are you looking at me like that, Dad?”
Starks swallowed hard. “It’s just that you’re becoming such a young man now.”
Blake sat upright. “I want to be as tall as you.”
Starks’s chest tightened. “For all we know, you may be taller.”
A quarter hour passed quickly as Kaitlin held her father’s attention with stories of what was happening in school and with her brothers. Blake sat in silence, so unusual for the boy who was always the most vocal of the three children.
“You’re being very quiet.” It took several seconds for the word “son” to follow. Blake shrugged. “You’re not going to go teenager on me, are you? Tell me what’s going on with you. With school.”
“School’s okay.”
“Something’s bothering you.”
Blake shifted in his chair. “I have a girlfriend. Sara’s really pretty. Mom doesn’t like her.” He turned the soda can in circles and swung one leg back and forth, kicking the chair leg under him.
Starks snorted then pretended to muffle a sneeze. “Did your mom give a reason?”
“She got all upset when I said I love Sara and that I’m going to marry her as soon as we’re both old enough.”
“You’re only thirteen, Blake. You’re too young to be thinking like that, much less understand what love or marriage really means. Enjoy Sara’s company, but put your attention on your studies so you can be successful. Be a success, and I promise you you’ll have more girls to choose from than you can dream of.”
Blake’s jaw jutted forward. He half-shouted, “I don’t care what you or Mom say. I love Sara and I’m going to marry her.”
“Lower your voice, boy, and watch your tone.” Starks leaned in. “Listen, Blake, I’m speaking from experience. In five years this girl won’t be the same as she is now, maybe not even in five months. Neither will you be. You’re too young to even think about this kind of decision. I don’t want you to miss out on the experiences you can have, or to get hurt. I promise you, boy, it’s just hormones kicking in.”
“It’s not hormones. Look, Dad, I know you’re talking about you and Mom. Bu
t that’s never going to happen to me.”
Starks started to grab Blake by the arm then stopped himself. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin Kaitlin’s visit or get Tasered in front of the children. As it was, she was watching them with wide eyes and chewing on her bottom lip. Starks took a few breaths then said, “As long as you live in our house, you’ll do as you’re told.”
Blake slumped in the chair. “It’s not your house anymore. You don’t live there. You live…” A red flush covered the boy’s neck and face. He dropped his chin to his chest and stayed still, except for the swinging leg.
Starks glanced at Kaitlin. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. He winked at his daughter then forced a smile as he looked at Blake. “I know my being here is hard on all of you. This is a topic that can be discussed—calmly—another time. Who knows? Maybe you’ll still feel the same about Sara after college. Just know that as true as that may turn out to be, it’s also true that things change. People change, and life has a way of changing people. That’s all I’m saying.
“Jeffrey,” Starks said, “these two look like they could go for another snack. Would you mind?”
Jeffrey said, “How about it, kids? Want something else?” At their nods, he handed each of them two dollars. The children hurried to the other side of the room.
“Okay, Starks, it won’t take but a minute or so before they’re back.”
“Did you get Richard and Jenny to agree to see me?”
“They’ll be visiting you soon.” Jeffrey looked past Starks. “The kids are heading this way. Anything else personal you need to discuss?”
Starks shook his head.
His visitors stayed another half hour. Blake was polite with his answers, but moody. Yet, when it was time to leave, his hug around Starks’s neck was solid. He said in a low voice, so only Starks could hear, “I miss you so much, Dad.”
“I miss you, too. Son.”
Starks had reacted to Blake’s adamant statements like any good father would. But he couldn’t blame the boy. When his family met Kayla and disapproved, he’d had an immoveable disposition on the matter. He’d been far more rude to his mother, grandfather, and other relatives whenever the topic of Kayla came up not in her favor.