Chapter Three
Breaking the Fast
He was the first one out of bed when the lights came on—or at least, he tried to be. The Android stepped into his path. “Last to bed, and first to rise. You’re an industrious boy, aren’t you?”
The Android had the makings of popularity at first glance.
He was classically handsome with his Roman nose, razor cut jaw, and well-placed dimples.
But his blue eyes were cold. Much colder than Samuel could ever pretend to be.
They said prisoners had disappeared around The Android. No bodies, no proof. Gone.
Don’t show your fear , he heard Jenny say in his ear. He tried to cloak himself with the protection she’d promised him, but after a night of lying awake, his nerves were shot. “Just taking it one day at a time, same as everyone else.”
The Android smiled. “Like everyone else? Hmm. If you say so.”
He couldn’t take it anymore. He hefted his shower caddy like a shield and stepped around him. “Gotta beat the line,” he said, and fled.
He didn’t go directly to the showers though. He went straight to his closet and slammed the door behind him, taking great heaving breaths.
There was a knock on the door. “Samuel?”
Even with his heart in his throat and his mind frozen he recognized that voice. He’d probably recognize it anywhere.
“Fuck off, Thompson.”
But fuck off, he didn’t. “Who was that officer? I don’t like how he was looking at you.”
Samuel had a hand pressed to his neck. Sometimes he’d visualize his pulse slowing and force himself into a calmer state. “I think you’ve got other things to worry about.”
After all, Racer hadn’t been crouched in front of his bed the previous night. Eli sure was popular.
“That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Want to open the door?”
No. He didn’t. He wanted to stay right where he was until Eli got the hint and went to be blindingly beautiful somewhere else.
But that would be proof the man unnerved him.
Zero contact , he heard. But his sister’s voice was only a puff of breath this time.
He opened the door and had something pushed into his chest.
His jar of Skippy’s.
“Always keep one of these on hand?”
He turned it over. There was a dent in the bottom, but otherwise it was unharmed.
“I like peanut butter.”
Eli chuckled. “I know. You put four packages of Reese’s’ cups into my welcome pack.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d just realized the smallness of the space they were occupying, and the total privacy it offered. This early there weren’t many people roaming around, and even fewer came down this hallway. It was time to leave.
He hefted his shower caddy and shoved past Eli, bumping his shoulder roughly to clear the space. A mistake. He felt the heat of the man through his clothes. The man was like padded Sheetrock. What kind of doctor had a body like a pro-wrestler?
It was a question that would haunt him all through the morning, even after he’d cloistered himself in the library.
He chose to skip breakfast, nabbing some power bars from commissary to tide him over until lunch.
He was definitely avoiding Eli now. Zero contact all the way.
He kept feeling the imprint of the man’s muscle on his body.
His shove had been hard, but the man had barely moved. Dangerous , his mind reminded him.
At five minutes to noon, Rat tapped the door frame. The door of the “library” had been removed, on account of how prisoners apparently couldn’t be trusted to read in privacy. “Is it three days yet?”
"No.”
“So kick my ass. It’s lunchtime.”
He kept his fingers on the keys of his typewriter. “You’re bothering me.”
“And you’re hungry.” There was a pregnant pause. “Though probably not as hungry as your boyfriend.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly how it sounds. He’s not eating.”
“Watching his girlish figure?”
He had firsthand experience with that body now. No way was it maintained on the standard 2000 calorie diet.
“Dunno. I saw him talking to Norm last night, and there was another consult this morning, but Norm shook his head at him.”
That was strange. He’d heard of new prisoners being squeamish about the food, but usually they at least picked it over first. “Must be confused since there’s no room service here. ”
“Shame we can’t eat out in the yard,” Rat said as they waited in line.
“Animals eat in cages.”
“I keep forgetting I’m sub-human.”
“That’s because your little prisoner brain doesn’t work real good.”
Rat laughed. Samuel was starting to feel better with someone at his side. Maybe that was the key to his plan. If he kept Rat close, he couldn’t have any more private meetings with Eli.
Or so he thought. Because the next moment, Arnold was handing him a tray and Rat was asking, “Hey Arty. You mind telling us why our new boy isn’t eating?”
Arnold’s real name was Thomas, but Big Tom didn’t like for anyone in the prison to share the same name as him, so Thomas had been involuntarily baptized.
Arnold shook his head. He didn’t talk much. It was the reason Samuel liked him better than 95% of the other prisoners.
“Now, now, Arty. Don’t be shy. You know you can trust Fuller and I.”
But trust had nothing to do with it. Someone behind them shoved at Rat’s shoulder, a not-so-polite reminder to keep the line moving. Samuel grabbed their trays, but then he paused without setting them down on a table.
“What’s wrong? Place not clean enough for you?”
Seriously, jokes about basic hygiene weren’t funny.
He turned and pushed the trays into Rat’s hands. “Don’t eat my Jello.”
“But where are you going?”
He went back to the barracks, but they were basically empty. He continued the search elsewhere, walking the halls, opening closets, and even peeking through the gate near the office.
He stopped in the library after he’d already given up, so of course that had to be the one place Eli was standing.
“Don’t touch that.”
Eli lifted his hand away from the typewriter. He didn’t seem at all surprised to be caught. “Why is it transparent?”
“Because prisoners can’t be trusted not to shove contraband into their devices or MacGyver the innards into some kind of weapon.”
“Isn’t that reference a little before your time?”
He wasn’t interested in banter. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted a book.” At his look, the man amended his statement. “Okay, I was searching for you.”
“A little obsessed, aren’t you?”
“Maybe, but there’s also the part where you keep running away.”
He went over to the shelf and pulled his copy of The Stranger free. “Here. A book. Now get out.”
“I’d rather stay here,” Eli said, but he took the book, their fingers brushing as they made the exchange.
Samuel snatched his hand back. The jolt gave him a moment of clarity, and he remembered why he’d come. “Why aren’t you eating?”
Eli’s lips quirked upward, and he wanted to smack the smirk off his face. How dare he smile when he was trying to focus?
“Concerned?”
He turned his face back to the books. They didn’t really need straightening, but he needed a break from that face. “It’s just a question.”
“I’ve also got questions. You like to write?”
“The hell do you care?”
A hand reached around him and touched one of the books he was straightening. It took all his self-control not to flinch. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who keeps rescuing me.”
Samuel didn’t think he turned around. He could swear he hadn’t moved. And yet his back was to the shelf, and he was staring up into Eli’s face. Up. It had been years since he’d looked up at anyone.
“You’re even younger than I thought.”
Eli had lowered his voice. With the two of them so close, there wasn’t a need for volume, but Samuel wished he’d speak up.
This low, that voice was the rustle of silk sheets.
Still, he wouldn’t be cowed. More than that, he refused the fluttering of arousal that tugged at the edges of his fear. “I’m old enough to be here, aren’t I?”
Eli frowned. “They told me you’ve got a fifteen-year sentence, but you’re still a kid.”
So Rat hadn’t lied. Eli really had been asking around about him. He shoved at his chest. “They tell you why I’m in here?”
“You killed a man.”
A wave of dizziness passed through him and for a moment his hands were covered in slick red. When he blinked, the image vanished. “I don’t think your husband would like you fraternizing with a murderer.”
“You’re not a murderer.”
That startled him. He almost nodded, convinced by the sudden weight of the man’s words.
Eli seemed to exude a shamanistic energy, even more dangerous than he’d suspected—and he already thought he was plenty dangerous.
He stepped out, away from Eli. “Are you even listening to yourself? You just said I killed a man.”
“I know what I said.”
His heart was racing again, and now the nausea was back. He swallowed it down. “You should leave.”
Eli was standing exactly where he’d been pushed, The Stranger hanging loosely in his grip. “You don’t think I’m like the others, right? The ones who hurt you. Like Racer.”
He took another step back and bumped into the desk. Just how much had Eli learned? “No one can hurt me.”
“I wish that were true.”
Those words were all he needed to turn his fear into anger.
Who was this guy, coming in here and patronizing him?
Pretending to care about books while he tried to play at—what was he playing at?
Not knowing only pissed him off more. “I don’t need to hear fuck-all from a guy who can’t even protect himself. ”
Eli just looked at him. Not the way someone did when they were lost for words, but like he was appraising him, weighing his words to find the true meaning in them.
He hated it. “Whatever. Starve yourself if you want.”
And then he did exactly what Eli had accused him of—he ran away.
“It’s gluten.”
He lowered his notepad. Rat was grinning down at him with a look of triumph. “Come again?”
“The reason your boyfriend isn’t eating. It’s gluten. He can’t eat it.”