Cuffed to a table, Dwayne sprawled in a chair, moldering. His legs spread wide in gray sweatpants. He winged his thighs back and forth. The peels here at River House were substantially more comfy than jail threads. A person could air out his nut sack.
He twisted strands of hair. Where was his visitor?
The County hadn’t wasted any time. Right after his prelim, they had moved him—like now that was settled, he could start his waiting game. The downside: they’d bused him out with the crazy Harrison Adams, but at least he didn’t have to share a bunk with him. The upside: the morning in court and the quick move put distance between him and Buster.
Dwayne plucked at his shirt, a green-and-white striped Henley, minus buttons.
They’d assured him the visitor was not a cop, and they would have said if it was his lawyer. Plus, he wasn’t in the right room for that. He was in a room with a row of cubicles, staring at a window with a speak-through in it—no phones here—the cheapest type of set-up. His leg jiggled. Maybe his visitor was Espie.
On the other side of the scratched “glass,’ the guard at the entrance to the room looked bored. Amplified mumbles came from another cubicle, but Dwayne couldn’t make out the conversation.
To pass the time, he mulled over his encounter the day before with the new Christian leader at River House.
“What happened to Lavonne?” he’d asked her.
“She had a hip replacement. I’m Melissa. I’ll be filling in until she’s back on her feet.”
“I’ll pray for her,” he’d said. That had been good. He smiled now, thinking about it.
Melissa nodded, pulled out a chair, and sat. “Uh-huh.” She tucked a knee-length black skirt under her. She didn’t wear much make-up and had her hair skimmed back in a ponytail, her white blouse buttoned up tight.
Blue eyes, shiny as a rock of crystal, regarded him. She was no fool. He’d looked down at the stainless-steel table. “I’ve been locked up for five days. Gave me time to think.” Scratching at his shoulder, he’d rolled his eyes up toward the Christian Youth Leader. “I don’t wanna do all day and a night in prison.”
Melissa tapped the tabletop. Her stare drilled into him, as though God had given her some superpower, a regular Professor X reading his secrets. “Wise choice.”
He hadn’t been able to crab anything out of her tone. She planted both pale palms on the tabletop—no jewelry except for a gold wedding band. Married to some cheapskate.
Leaning toward her, he said with sincerity: “I want to get back in with God.”
“Get back in with?” Her upper lip twitched like she wanted to smile.
“You know, like go to the prayer meetings.”
“We’ll see.”
He was pondering whether he should see any hope in Melissa’s remark when movement roused him. Espie shimmied across the room. He tried to stand. The leash to the bolted chair snapped him back.
He leaned close to the metal slats of the speak-through. “Hey, babe.” His insides lifted. He hadn’t known how good it would feel to see her. “What’s up with the shirt?”
Espie’s full lips pouted. She wiggled into her chair. “They made me put it on ‘to cover myself.’”
“What were you wearing?”
She rolled her eyes. “A tee.” She bent forward and tweaked out the neck opening of the gray sweatshirt.
Glitter spread across her chest, and the cross he’d given her dangled down into a pink V-neck.
“Sit down,” the guard barked.
Plopping back into her chair, Espie swiveled and waved at the guard, flashing him a flirty smile. Espie’s hand in the air was little and pudgy like a baby’s. When those hands slid down Dwayne’s body, they felt like she was brushing him with innocence.
His sweatpants stirred. “Damn, girl.” He slipped his hand down to his cock, leaned back, and looked down the row of cubicles. “Did your aunt bring you?”
“Yeah, she hadda come. She’s my legal guardian.” Espie dipped her chin toward the door. “She’s right over there.”
The aunt hung back with the correctional officer on duty and turned her head away. She was dark-skinned and dressed in old lady jeans. It was hard to see her as Espie’s blood. The excitement under his hand fizzled. In the chain of cubicles with people coming and going, it would have been hard to rub one out anyway.
“Do you have money?”
Espie lowered her eyelids, painted with green shadow and swooping eyeliner. “Twenty.”
“That’s all?”
Her head snapped up. “Hey! That’s food right outta your baby’s mouth, motherfucker.”
If he’d been on the other side of the glass, he would have slapped her. But even if he did, she would back talk. Espie was the type where you could knock her down, but she’d spring up like a blow-up toy. Tugging the cuff chain, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t get my present?”
“Someone stole it.”
“Stole it!” Across the room the guard and Espie’s aunt stopped chatting. He lowered his voice. “What the fuck?”
“For reals?” Espie barked a laugh. “It was in the garbage, pendejo. You steal outta your grandma’s purse. Why you think someone wouldn’t take stuff from a dumpster?”
His leg bounced uncontrollably.
“I thought Jessika must’ve took it,” Espie said. “She’s the one—”
“Shhhhhh.” He slapped the glass. They might not tape here, but the speak-through amplified their voices.
Espie pulled back. “You didn’t have to do that. I know they’re recording.”
Oh my God she’s a dumbass. He wished he could slip through the glass.
Her lip plumped under a biting tooth. She leaned close and whispered. “Babe, only your jacket was there, but I ran into Jessika right on that street.” She turned her head and pressed the side of her face against the glass. “See this?”
Her features distorted like in an arcade mirror. Little dried scabs traced the bottom of her cheek.
“Away from the glass!” the officer said.
Espie whipped around and gave the guard another smile. His face creased, and he stepped in their direction. But the aunt said something that seemed to calm him down.
Probably saying how sorry she was for Espie’s behavior—kissing white authority’s ass when he’d send her back to Mexico given half a chance.
Dwayne pulled on his ear. “You jumped Jessika?”
“Got her good.” The glow made Espie’s eyes turn gold, like a cat’s. “But Jessika swears a couple of kids took it.”
“Little kids?”
“Nuh uh, like tweeners.” Her nails rapped on the glass to command his attention. “At first, I didn’t believe her, but then I was thinking she was on her way to—”
“Shhhhhh.”
“Anyway, Jess seemed to be going there, not leaving. But check this out.” Her voice was excited. “Two old people came along and broke us up.”
He leaned forward. “A short guy and a skinny lady with silver hair?”
Espie gawked at him. “Yeah. How did you know?”
He grunted. If those two were that close to where he’d stashed the gun, maybe it was a good thing the kids took it.
“I texted Jess,” Espie said. “We’re cool now. She says that spot is like the kids’ hangout.”
“Does she know what the kids did with it?”
Espie chewed off her lip gloss and inspected the room. “She didn’t tell me.”
“Did you ask?”
She wouldn’t look at him.
“I need more than twenty.” He jiggled his foot, his jail sandal tapping the linoleum. “That first call to you cost, and since you didn’t do nothin’, the price went up to fifty.”
Anxiety pounded his head. The situation was out of control. Buster was over in County, but he knew people, and here at River inmates had too much freedom.
“Fifty?” Espie said. “That’s crazy.”
“Crazy is what could happen to me.”
“Over fifty bucks?”
He rubbed his jawline with a fist. He’d done plenty for less. “The guy who fronted me is going up for murder. He don’t care.”
Espie looked from one side wall to the other and then back over her shoulder, as though searching for a clock. “I left a photo of Tanisha for you. I made the dress she’s wearing,” Espie said. “And don’t be a hater with that stupid is-she-mine.”
He wished Espie would stop twisting around. She was chattering about the dress she made with help from the aunt and something called bric-a-brac and how great it turned out and maybe she could be a fashion designer. “Look!”
She barely glanced at him.
“That necklace has diamonds on it.”
Her fingers gripped the cross under her shirt. “Seriously? The only fucking thing you’ve ever given me?”
He needed to regain control. “Lean on Rico. If he don’t have money, he can get some.”
“Rico? I thought you didn’t like him anymore.”
He slapped the glass. “Listen!”
The guard started across the room toward them.
Espie used her charm smile that cut little dimples in each cheek. Her face glowed, as if the guard’s pasty, old white ass amped her up. She turned back to Dwayne.
“Rico has motivation to help. Feel me?”
“But that guy you owe is over there, and you’re over here.” Espie waved both hands back and forth in the air. “How does that work?”
Espie was a stupid bitch. “Didn’t you see inmates? On work duties? Walking around free to deliver a beat down. Minimum.”
Espie opened her mouth to respond, but the guard hovered.
“Tell Rico to deposit money at the jail. For Buster Jones. Today.”
“But—”
“Want Tanisha to have a daddy?” he hissed. “Just do it.”
He tipped his chin and eyed the guard. If one of Buster’s posse went for him over here, no fat-ass white guard was gonna ride to his rescue.