Chapter Eight
When it Rains
Menace
I lost track of time in that cell. The light in the hallway dimmed at times, but if I drifted off, I’d be lost until the next tray came. I didn’t know what day it was when a guard appeared at the doorway and smacked the bars with his flashlight.
“Get up, Zade. You’ve got court this morning.” I heard him click the button on the flashlight just before I was blinded.
“Shit. What the fuck?” I groaned, drawing my arms up. “Who goes to court at night?”
“It’s three in the morning. Be fed and ready by four.” He shoved a tray inside and the flashlight clicked again before his footsteps receded down the hallway.
The tray on the floor would have been comical if I hadn’t been shown the same thing every morning since I arrived. The oatmeal was always so thick it held the shape of the ice cream scoop it was dropped onto the tray with. The toast was so overdone it made my mouth dry just looking at it. There wasn’t any steam or signs of warmth, so I doubted that half frozen slice of margarine was gonna spread worth a damn anyhow.
I was contemplating if I even wanted to get up and go through the motions of placing it in my mouth, when a half-inch shadow scurried along the bottom frame of the cell wall. It shot toward the tray and scurried into the oatmeal.
“All yours, bud.” I huffed at the roach.
Thirty minutes later the door at the end of the hall opened and voices trickled onto the protective custody unit.
“You ready, Zade?”
I squinted toward the shadows of the hallway, not trusting my own ears.
“Larissa?” The disbelief ebbed in my voice.
Were they that short staffed this morning?
“Nope.” She denied, placing a hand on either side of her uniformed hips. “It’s Deputy Porter, now.”
I couldn’t stop the laughter from crawling up my throat, “You’re a fuckin’ turn key?”
“Deputy,” she firmly reiterated.
“Right. That’s what I said.” I snorted.
“Whatever. Turn around, inmate. Stick your wrists through the bars, time to cuff up.”
It shouldn’t have amused me that much. She’d been working at the county for a while, she probably earned a spot as some kind of deputy in training or some shit. She fastened the cuffs, and I heard a second guard approach over the click of them. The smile on his face, when I finally laid eyes on her co-worker, caused me to linger in place when she asked me to step out of the cell.
“Menace.” She snapped her fingers in the air, earning a disgusted look from her uniformed friend.
“What did you just call that inmate?” He blinked.
“He’s a damn menace to society,” she grumped, before reaching in and grabbing me by the arm.
Larissa roughly led me down the hall and shoved me into a transport van when the other officer finally got caught up enough to open the door.
She started to march off and the man huffed, “Damn, Porter. You gotta fasten ‘em in. It’s our ass if we wreck and they get hurt.” He leaned in and yanked a seatbelt across me.
I tucked my chin back, not really appreciating his closeness. He smelled like cigarettes and coffee. The scent instantly nauseated me on my empty stomach.
My belly was still rolling when the judge called my name about two hours later.
“Your Honor, the state would like to–” The lady at the prosecution table began, but the judge held up a hand. His finger jutted out oddly from beneath the oversized sleeve of his black robe.
“A moment, if the state would be so kind.” The judge had an east coast accent that I couldn’t really place. “Mr. Zade, have you been advised of your right to an attorney?”
“I have, Your Honor.” I bobbed my head from where I sat, hands still cuffed. That swivel chair was the most comfortable surface my ass had graced in so long, I just wanted to enjoy every minute of it and leave them to their bickering.
Nothing important would happen today, of that, I was sure.
I’d been through the motions enough times to know how it all went.
“And was it your desire to hire an attorney, or did you require the court to appoint one for you?”
I assumed Zig would send an attorney for my questioning, but they’d never called me back again, and no one had ever shown up to ask for me before court.
I shrugged and the chains rattled as I raised my hands and rubbed the stubble on my face. Was there a point in hiring a lawyer when a bar full of people had witnessed me assault the man? The idea seemed like wasted funds to me.
“I’m good,” I abruptly decided.
“Sir?” The judge leaned forward, his brows flinching with concern.
“I’ll represent myself.” I cleared my throat and adjusted my tone as I clarified.
The prosecutor giggled.
“Actually, your honor, it was the state’s intention to advise the court and Mr. Zade, that the victim in this case was given a thirty percent chance of surviving the afternoon. Should the victim succumb to his injuries, the state will be upgrading the charges. Something Mr. Zade may wish to consider when making such a choice.”
“Indeed.” The judge’s attention swung back to me. “Mr. Zade, I cannot in good faith–”
“Your faith is your own.” I added a late, “Your Honor,” And when the man’s jaw dropped only to turn to steel, I kept right on rambling. “With all respect, that is. If we’re debating or discussing faith, I’d rather not place mine in what my mother affectionately termed public pretenders.”
The man stared at me so long, I turned to look at the prosecutor, somehow convinced no one had heard me. Her hand was over her mouth and her lips were twitching at the sides. She madea quiet sound that imitated a cough a few times before she eventually composed herself.
“Your Honor, perhaps–”
“No.” He swung that finger, cutting her off again. “No. Mr. Zade will accept the public defender, or he will sit for a mental evaluation to assure me he is of a sound enough mind to turn down a lawyer in what may become a homicide case. I think we will arraign him on the attempted murder and continue this matter next week. Mr. Zade, the court will assign a public defender to meet with you in the meanwhile.”
I gave a slow nod, what else could I do?
The judge called the next case, and I was escorted back to the rigid court bench to wait another hour for the rest of the inmates who had morning court. When the last case was called, we were led out to the van with numb asses. There were only three of us in total, I don’t know why they didn’t just call our cases in a row so the guards could get on with their day, but I didn’t make the rules.
The guard that had fastened my seatbelt that morning, did so again when we loaded up. Another guard whose chest had the name, Ridgeway, sewed onto his shirt helped the other two buckle up.
“What happened to Larissa?” I absently asked.
“Shut the fuck up, inmate.” The guard shot back, before jerking the strap until it was biting into my chest.
I groaned and closed my eyes against the urge to curse at him.
“What did he just say, Collins?” Ridgeway asked.
“Nothing. Damn inmate thinks he is on a first name basis with Porter or something.”
Ridgeway snorted and shot me a condescending look, “Voices carry in the hall, he probably hears more than we know.”
They spoke about me like I wasn’t even there, which shouldn’t have been surprising. They carried on about last night’s game, and the issues Collins was currently having with his ex-wife as if none of us were in the vehicle with them.
“Fuckin’ bitch has me by the balls. Four kids. Can you even imagine what a support payment on four kids looks like, Ridgeway? I’m telling you, don’t fall for that shit. Find you a woman that already has kids, then just convince her to give you one of her own. It’s better that way, she’s already perfected her mothering and worked out her issues on someone else’s brats, you follow?”
Ridgeway shrugged without commitment and made a smacking sound with his lips. It was enough to convince Collins he had a vested audience. “Seriously. I’m giving you solid advice. I’m up to my neck in lawyers’ fees contesting her bullshit all the time, too. She signs them up for programs they don’t need, takes them to doctors that will sign off on any goddamn medicine she sees on the television or hears about in her women’s circles. Insurance don’t pay for most of that psych shit and let me tell ya– they ain’t paying squat on the vision end, either. She thinks they need some high-dollar bullshit eyeglasses from a quack-ass eye doctor who is so low rent, he sent one of ‘em home in a fuckin’ patch. Can you believe that? Sent my boy home lookin’ like a goddamned pirate.”
I squinted at the back of the driver’s seat before I even realized his ignorance was having an effect on my expression.
“You got a problem, inmate?” he barked.
I swung my eyes toward the rearview mirror and locked gazes with him.
“I thought they had an intelligence requirement, was all. Little stunned to hear it’s only a physical test for you boys these days.”
The van braked hard, and my body jarred, making the restraint bite and burn at my chest.
“Yeah. I should have expected that, all temper, no testicles.” I groaned, causing his eyes to widen with outrage.
“Just you wait.”
I didn’t have to do so long, we were a turn away from the underground garage. The door sounded and a pair of guards appeared to help escort us back to our cells. Ridgeway and Collins stayed beside me with Collins shit talking all the way to the unit. I let him ramble, causing more than a few of his coworkers to look at him like he was out of line.
“Yeah. Be glad you’re in protective custody, princess,” Collins huffed, as we neared my cell.
I laughed and eyed him over my shoulder, “Fuck you. I didn’t ask to be in protective custody.”
“Yeah.” Collins sneered, jerking me back to his side so our eyes locked. “Neither did Vince. Difference is they’re still scrubbing his brains off the shower floor.”
He shoved me toward the open cell door, and I banged my restrained wrists on the frame in an effort to turn back and face him again.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“What? Doesn't it feel good to know that an old man died for your sins, inmate?”
“Vince is dead?” I quietly repeated, unwilling to believe it.
“Not many people survive a steel pipe to the head, especially at his age. I hear they knocked him the same way he did that fellow he was accused of assaulting with his cane. You know, the one they say gave you that shiner” Collins reached out and gently caressed my nearly healed bruise.
I was so stunned, I let him. Until I came to my senses and realized what he was doing.
“Motherfucker!” I lurched.
A flash of a white shirt snapped between us just in time, planting a hand in the center of my chest and hefting me back a few inches.
“That’s enough. That’s enough!” The supervisor barked at Collins. “You’re relieved. Both of you. Get off the unit. Now.”
His hand tapped in a plea against my chest.
“Is he really dead?” I asked, once I heard the door at the end of the unit click shut.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss other inmates with–”
“Goddamn it, I’m not asking you to gossip. Who the fuck am I going to tell back here? Just fucking…tell me if he’s gone,” I pleaded.
The sergeant looked into my eyes and swallowed so heavily I knew the answer.
“He sustained injuries that were incompatible with life. That's all I can tell you, son. Now, do you want your visit, or not?”
“Visit?”
“You have a visitor waiting,” he confirmed.
“Vince just fucking– Are you saying we’re not going to go on lockdown, or–?” My brain was spinning to catch up. I’d been down enough times to know this was irregular.
The white shirt stared at me until I was ready to scream at him. My whole body trembled with the urge to shake an answer from him, but the handcuffs made me swallow it.
“The incident with the inmate you’re referring to happened days ago. The jail came off lockdown this morning, after the accused assailant was transferred.”
I numbly followed him to the search room and went through the motions. It was normal to feel cut off from the world when you were locked up, but this protective custody shit was beyond unbearable.
“Menace?”
The hushed tone was all it took to break me from my spinning thoughts. I blinked and focused on Sauce, confusion pinching my features.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I saddled the stool and stared.
“Figured you might be okay with some company.” Sauce shrugged.
Sauce was a good kid, but he was young and still learning the hard truths of our world. His father would kick his ass and sign my death warrant if he knew he was here.
“Prospect, do you have permission to be here?”
“Didn’t know I needed permission to be a friend.” Sauce dryly answered, not an ounce of concern registering on his pale features.
It was a nice gesture, but still, not a wise one. I glanced toward the door, knowing I should get up and walk before we both got into water that we couldn’t come out of with the club.
In the end, the thought of willingly surrendering myself back to isolation was more than I could commit to.
“You have to be so careful here,” I started to lecture, unsure if he even knew how to visit someone inside without bringing trouble to himself or the club.
Sauce absently nodded, that shaggy hair dancing around his high cheekbones.
“I ain’t on that, though.” He cleared his throat and crossed his arms on the table, leaning forward.
I gave a slow nod, not really following. “Yeah? What brings you here then, friend?”
Sauce bit his lip and awkwardly shrugged, averting his eyes to the tabletop “Lots of things going on, you know?”
I leaned back, unsure where he was heading. A single pop to the surface of the table brought his gaze back to mine.
“My sister is home,” he clarified. “My dad doesn’t even know.”
I relaxed immediately at the mention of his sister. Sammy was a military woman, there wasn’t anything criminal to her.
“I remember her. She’s home on leave?”
Sauce slowly shook his head.
“Oh,” I swallowed, suddenly feeling like an asshole. “Shit. She didn’t get hurt badly, did she?”
“She got burnt by a fuckboy.” Sauce’s eyes flashed with anger.
“‘Burnt–’” I repeated.
Sauce made a low growl that drew the guards’ attention momentarily.
“He gave her a disease. He didn’t just burn her, though, he broke her fuckin’ spirit, man. I guess he had a whole wife he kept secret from Sammy, or whatever.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. My sister didn’t know shit until they were kicking her out over it.”
I snorted, unable to help myself.
“Kicking her out? Over some dick?” I shot him a skeptical look.
“Fraternizing is what they call it in the service,” Sauce insisted.
“That’s fuckin’ wild…” I shook my head and thought about it for a moment.
Only long enough to feel like someone's grandma at a tea party.
“Yeah, she’s worried about what Dad will say about her pissing away the career.”
I couldn’t keep the smile at bay, “He’ll get over it. He’s her dad.”
Sauce hesitantly nodded, “I just wish I knew how to make it better for her.”
“Or at least where to find the prick, hm?” I teased.
“That, too.” He didn’t bother denying it, if anything he grunted those two words with a little too much conviction.
I was leery of continuing the conversation, so I grew quiet for a moment, but he didn’t let it drop.
“I can’t ask Eightball or the Felons to find him. They’ll report back to my dad.”
“Wish I could help, ‘lil man. But…” I raised my shackled wrists.
Sauce glared at my choice of moniker for him.
“Sorry. Old habits.” I winked.
“Yeah, well… If I ever find Corporal Bill Parker, I’m gonna show him exactly how little I’m not. Bet that.” Sauce grumped.
I slapped the table a little more forcefully than I had the first time.
“You’re talking too much… Brother.”
Sauce cleared his throat and nodded, taking a moment to compose himself.
“Sorry. I just… Sammy and I were closest. Not that I’m overly close with any of my siblings, but– You know.”
I nodded, totally getting that part. It was how things were with me and Henny.
“I get it,” I assured him, before trying to steer the conversation toward her health. “What did he give her though? I mean she probably just needs some antibiotics, right? She ain’t gonna die or nothing, yeah?”
Sauce jerked on the stool abruptly, his body turning toward the door and his hand coming up. The side of it faced me, betraying the tremble that ran through him.
Shit.
“Hey,” I whispered, leaning across the table abruptly and placing a comforting hand on his forearm.
“Inmate,” the guard barked from near the door.
I lifted my hand and held it up to appease the uniforms.
“I don’t know,” Sauce whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I guess the guy’s wife worked at the clinic on base. Sammy didn’t feel comfortable going back there.”
“Well, get her to a fuckin’ doctor here, bud!” I advised him in a firm but hushed tone.
Sometimes these younger kids killed me. Their lack of direction when shit hit the fan was terrifying.
He sniffled and I’d never felt more stuck. I was the one people came to for help, but shit– I couldn’t help nobody in this place.
“I didn’t know you could give somebody cancer with your dick, man… What the fuck?” His voice ebbed with emotion and restrained tears.
“What?” The word sounded like a shout, but I barely even found my normal voice for the first time in the visit. I didn’t know what the fuck he was on about, but if he was serious, this was definitely something Zig needed to be aware of.
Cancer wasn’t something you hid from your parents.
“I– If Sammy has cancer you have to tell your dad, Sauce. You can’t let a thing like this just– She needs support, and he deserves to know if his daughter is sick like that.”
Zig had put me out bad with the club, but that didn’t change anything. He was a brother. Family. I hated hearing that all of this was coming his way.