*****
For the first week of his incarceration Danny had paced like a caged tiger; the stench of the jail nauseating. He had had three fist fights, lost two and a half of them. Then, settled down to this strange new world of young gladiators he had fallen into. He had never dreamt there were people on earth like these men. These men were vicious animals! Barely human! Three of the ten in the tank he was in were confessed homosexuals and the reason for his first two fights. Although he hadn’t been raped, it was only because he made it clear that if that happened no one in the tank would get any sleep; he would kill the first man who did. After that he was left mostly alone and allowed to settle in to this new lifestyle.
The second week of his incarceration his third fight came along with an African American new-boot. He had given as good as he had received and finally neither of them could go any more so called it quits and a draw.
Now he was an accepted member of the tank and thanks to his parents he could pay his gambling debt; if he lost. He seldom did. He was good at poker and choosing the winning sports teams when he chose to bet on one.
His unreasonable hate toward John Travis and the Rivers family hadn’t diminished at all. In fact it had grown only stronger and his every free moment was filled with planning his revenge. After all, he reasoned, he had taught John everything he knew about the guitar; therefore it was only right that he be the famous one, not the ‘dummy’ John!
Out in the hallway an elevator door slid open and a big bellied jailor stepped out. He made a left and walked importantly down the hall. His keys jangled loudly in the silence of the steel hallway. They swung on the end of a heavy chain just long enough to reach the heavy steel lock in the steel doors. He came to 12-S-10 and slid the big brass key into the lock. He felt a thrill of power as he turned the heavy lock and jerked the heavy steel door open. He stepped inside wearing his ‘mean face’ and yelled, “Floyd! Roll it up! You’re outta here! I won’t be waitin’ long, either! So, get a move on!” Damn he loved talking rough to these criminals! He had convinced himself long ago that he was one ‘mean’ s.o.b.!
Danny looked around at his friends and said with a superior smile, “Looks like I’m all in here!” then threw his cards onto the table along with his stack of vending tickets. “Ya’ll split up my money evenly. I won’t be needing it where I’m going.”
The other prisoners laughed, joked and said their goodbyes to their new friend. Everyone was glad he was getting out. It was a joyous occasion when anyone was released from jail or prison.
Danny walked to the door and pulled the iron bar gate open and stepped inside a small cage.
“Slam it behind ya!” the jailer said gruffly.
Danny slammed it with an earsplitting clang that echoed resoundingly throughout the hallway. A furious roar rose all up and down the hall; everyone knew someone was being released. Or admitted! Either way their joy, or sympathy, was with the man.
“I make bond?” Danny asked the tall, sloppy fat, bald, unshaven, droopy pants wearing jailer.
“What difference does it make?” the slob asked smartly, arrogantly. “You’re being released back into society. But, don’t worry. We’ll save a place for ya. You’ll be back. Fools like you, always come back for more.”
“Point taken,” Danny said, looking coldly at the piece of walking shit, as the jailers were known as, throughout the world, Danny supposed. He knew the cops and jailers, prison guards, State or Federal, were the lowest form of life on the planet! Three steps below child molesters!
Danny gritted his teeth. It was all he could do not to hit the fat faced cocksucker in his cocksucker just to wipe the smirk off his face.
“Cuff up!” the jailer said, holding out a pair of handcuffs, motioning for Danny to turn around.
Danny turned around and offered his wrists behind him. “Thought I was being released?” he asked.
“Ya are,” the jailer replied. “Jail policy that ya be cuffed, Mister Floyd. Until ya get downstairs, anyway.”
They walked down the hallway side by side. The jailer stopped in front of a stainless steel elevator door, inserted a small key and turned it. The door opened and they stepped inside.
“Ever worry about someone taking offense at your attitude and coming back for a little revenge?”
“Not fer a minute,” the jailer smirked. “People like you don’t have the balls to come after a cop!”
“I find it hard to believe you qualify,” Danny smirked back.
The jailer swung his heavy set of keys. They slammed into Danny’s groin and he folded over with pain. He nearly puked, but was able to control the impulse. The impulse he couldn’t control though was the impulse to kill this piece of shit. He decided he would, but for now he had to play it cool, get out, and take care of Travis first! Then he could come for this dead man. He smiled a secret smile and stood up. “Good move,” he said breathlessly. “Sure wasn’t expecting that!”
“My favorite one,” the jailer replied with a grin. “You guys can’t control your mouth! You forget you’re cuffed until you get out. But you run your jibs anyway. So, take the good with the bad, wiseass!”
“I plan to, Officer Short!” Danny smiled looking at the name tag for the first time.
“That little move of mine is a good one for teaching respect, ain’t it?”
“We’ll see, Officer Short!” Danny said icily.
Short humphed. As he did the doors slid open and he urged Danny out and over to a cage where another cop stood waiting for them. Short dug in his pocket and handed the other cop Danny’s ‘book in’ card.
“You ever consider opening a wrecking service, Floyd?” the cop in the cage asked, looking over the police report. “Seems you did a hell of a job, from what I see here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Danny replied seriously. “I haven’t done anything to anyone!”
The jailer smirked, as did Short.
“Like I told him upstairs, Lucas, his kind don’t have the balls to get serious!”
Lucas smiled, looked at Danny as if judging his potential. “Don’t let ‘im fool ya, Short. They’re full of surprises.” Lucas turned away when he saw a smirk on Short’s face. He knew the man had been living on borrowed time for a long time. One day he would get his, and wouldn’t have time to wonder why.
“Old men worry too much,” Short stated, grabbing Danny’s wrist and removing the cuffs roughly. “I ain’t scared of none of you young punks!”
By the time he finished Lucas placed a brown paper bag on the counter. The name Floyd was written across it in black magic marker. “Check your property and sign this card if it’s all there,” Lucas said respectfully.
Danny quickly went through his property and finding it all there, signed the card, then climbed out of the orange jumpsuit and into his own clothes. He began putting his stuff in its proper place on his body. He felt like a human being again, as he buckled his belt and slid his feet into his Tony Lamas.
Short stepped to a door and when the lock popped he pushed it open and held it for Danny. “See ya soon, Sugar,” he said smugly with a knowing grin.
“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit, Short!” Danny smiled and winked. The iciness of it caused Short’s smile to drop into a look of worry. Danny laughed.
Danny wasn’t met by anyone. He walked over to the elevators, pushed a down button and waited. He rode the elevator down and went out on the street. He looked up and down the street, hoping to see someone waiting for him. There was no one. He was surprised to see the bright sunlight. Still the temperature was kind of cool. He hunched his shoulders, stuffed his fingers down inside his Levis pockets and started walking toward home.
Two blocks from the jail he was still planning his revenge on Short. He saw a taxi speed by and remembered he had thirty-five dollars. A taxi would be better than a five mile walk in the cold, he decided. He turned around and started walking backwards waiting for a taxi. Several passed without stopping, despite his efforts to wa
ve one down. He took a twenty from his wallet and when he saw another cab coming he waved it. The cab pulled over and stopped for him.
After giving the address he leaned back and sighed with relief. It was then the pressure began to rise once again and his anger rose with it. From the car radio a John Travis song was playing. It was a very good song, he decided. But, it should have been his!
Just Beyond the Curve Page 18