Chapter Thirteen
Social-Security Dick
The prison made the announcement two days later. They were in the shower together when Rat burst in with, “We’re getting new food!”
He schooled his face into an expression of mild curiosity, but Eli wasn’t fooled. As the bathroom erupted into all kinds of discussion, he turned to him and asked, “What did you do?”
“Me? I just mind my own business.”
“No, you don’t. How’d you manage this? Jenny?”
He pushed his face back under the water and pretended not to hear him. He should have known that wouldn’t work. Eli took hold of his arm and gave him a yank that had him crashing into a wall of slippery skin. “You can’t do this, puppy. She’ll go bankrupt trying to feed a whole prison.”
He couldn’t speak. His entire consciousness was focused on the feeling of warm, wet, and endless muscle.
Eli seemed to realize what he’d done, and released him with a quick, “sorry,” but it didn’t help much.
He shivered and stepped back under the water, but the gooseflesh on his arms and legs lingered.
He could feel Eli’s eyes on him, and it was only making things worse until he remembered the man was waiting on an answer.
Right. As if Eli would ever look at him just to look at him.
“Not Jenny.”
“Who then? ”
“Someone with deeper pockets.”
He held out his hand for the shampoo, but Eli wouldn’t give it to him.
“What did you have to do?”
He opened his eyes, and even with the streaming water he could see Eli was troubled. “Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. Nothing in this world is free. What did you have to do, Samuel?”
He took the shampoo from Eli’s hands. Hands that had never been idle a day in their life. He took hold of one of them and folded the fingers of it over to form a loose fist. “Not everyone has to work for things, Eli.”
“You expect me to believe that from you of all people?”
Eli sounded pissed, but the man’s anger had no danger in it.
Eli would never hurt him. He was sure of it.
He released the hand and looked up into that face.
“The thing about the system, Eli, is that it works better when people like you—good people—don’t believe it exists.
” He found he was smiling. It hurt a bit, but not enough to look away.
“It never felt good to take from him. I never earned it. I didn’t deserve it.
But if it’s for you—If I use him for your sake—then it isn’t wasted. Please accept it.”
He didn’t think Eli would understand. The man lived in a simpler world where things like fairness and justice weren’t just some big cosmic joke.
But Eli didn’t argue with him. He lived in a different world, but that didn’t mean he was blind to other realities.
“Okay,” he said and reached for the block of soap. “Okay.”
By the time he and Eli made it to the cafeteria the line for breakfast ran all the way into the hallway. He balked when he saw it, and he was just about to suggest that they come back later, when Rat grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? Everyone’s waiting on you. Hurry up. ”
He could only look at Eli as he was dragged forward. “Did you—”
Eli held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
Rat snorted. “No one had to say shit. We all know this gluten-free thing had to be your doing.”
Norm himself was waiting at the counter with the first tray.
“Morning, Doc,” he said, and held it out.
On the tray was some sliced melon, a bowl of oatmeal, two strips of bacon, fried eggs, a banana and a small salad.
It was the kind of breakfast Jenny might have made for him.
Healthy. Balanced. Fresh. He’d forgotten foods like that could exist outside of television commercials.
Norm placed the tray in Eli’s hands and Nellie, Norm’s second in command, handed a second tray over to him. “Enjoy.”
He didn’t wait. By the time they made it to the table, he already had both strips of bacon in his mouth. Eli laughed and tried to set his own down on his tray.
He spread out a hand to block him. “This food is special for you , idiot.”
Eli leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. When the surprise of that attack startled him into dropping his hand, the man gave him the bacon anyway. “I know. Thank you.”
He knew his face was flaming hot—enough to fry the bacon a second time. He also knew that any attempt to cover it would only make it more obvious. “At least trade for it, asshole.” He pushed his tray over to Eli and watched the man pick up the banana and turn it over in his hand.
“I haven’t had one of these in forever.”
Embarrassed or not, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass him by. “Gay.”
Eli laughed. He was already peeling it, but instead of taking a bite he brought it up to his nose .
“Pretty sure that’s gayer.”
“Shut up. I’m savoring it.”
And Eli did savor it, eating it the way middle-aged white women enjoyed yogurt in tv commercials, closing his eyes and smiling and everything.
He thought his heart would leap right out of his open mouth to see it.
How could a banana bring the man so much happiness?
He wanted to tell him he’d give him a thousand—a million bananas every day if only he’d keep smiling like that.
Maybe others thought so too, because Bee stopped by their table and set his banana down on the table. “Stay good, doc.”
Samuel stared. Bee was the biggest guy in the prison. Bigger than big Tom. Bigger than anyone he’d ever seen. He’d never spoken to the man. He’d never had a reason to. Bee largely kept to himself. He was called Bee because he ate honey with everything.
Eli smiled at him. “Thank you, Finn.”
Bee nodded and kept moving.
He stared from the banana, to Bee, to Eli, and then did the whole trip a second, and then a third time. “How in the fuck —”
“HIPAA.”
“There’s no goddamn HIPAA in prison. What did you do? Cure his dick cancer?”
“Penile cancer is exceptionally rare in North America.”
He leaned over and took a savage bite out of Eli’s banana. As far as revenge went, it was petty. Ineffective too, because Eli laughed, and ruffled his hair. “Love you, puppy.”
He almost choked. It was only a lifetime practice of overeating that saved him. “You can’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Because it isn’t true . “Because we’re in prison. ”
Eli laughed, as he knew he would. “Is love illegal here?”
Samuel pushed his face into his folded hands. He was going to have a heart attack. “Stop using that word.”
He shouldn’t have said that. He should have known that would only encourage the man, who ruffled his hair again. But maybe that was why he’d said it. Maybe he was so thirsty for Eli’s affection he’d do anything to get it.
“I don’t know what to do when you act this cute, Samuel. I really don’t.”
He wanted to grab that hand. Wanted to throw himself into those arms and cling to him and beg him never to leave.
To stay by his side. To love him for real.
Because if he had that—if he had Eli—it wouldn’t matter that he was in prison.
It already didn’t matter. Maybe Eli’s moods were contagious because he was beginning to love his life.
Even with all the predators and The Android and being locked away from the outside world, each day was good.
It was so good. And he didn’t know what he was going to do—didn’t know how he was going to go back—once Eli was let out and he was alone again.
Eli got five more bananas before he began turning them down. “I can’t eat this many,” he told Vern when he tried to add to the pile.
But Vern was undeterred. “Fuller can.”
It wasn’t just the bananas. The bacon and hash browns were a big hit, but a lot of the salad was put onto their trays.
Samuel wasn’t particularly picky about what he ate, and he’d learned to do his duty when it came to vegetables, but he couldn’t mimic Eli, who put each forkful into his mouth with such pleasure it bordered on the obscene.
He couldn’t understand it. “Is this because you’ve been deprived of donuts your whole life?”
“I’ve had donuts. ”
“I don’t mean the gluten-free shit.”
Eli picked up another salad bowl and smiled into it. “You are so beautiful,” he told a piece of avocado.
“If you love it so much, why don’t you marry it?”
“I already have two husbands. I doubt very much the good lord is going to grant me a third.”
Samuel bent his head over his fourth banana and tried not to feel anything from that comment. The truth was, the husband story didn’t feel like just a prison thing anymore. He knew it was just supposed to unite them against the predators, but more and more he found himself playing pretend.
“Hurry up,” he finally said, and set about stacking the empty bowls. “We’ve got yard time soon.”
He was on edge the whole day, expecting something to go wrong, but lunch came and went, and then it was dinner, and no one had staged any riots. He had yet to speak to the warden since his little hissy fit, but it seemed the gluten-free meals were a success.
But perhaps his celebration came a little early.
He was halfway through his chicken and rice when, across from him, Eli set his fork down and covered his face with a hand.
It had him practically destroying the table to get to him.
“What is it? Your stomach?” He’d explained the dangers of cross contamination to his father, and Jethro was always so precise in everything he did.
It hadn’t occurred to him that a mistake could happen. “Do we need to go to medical?”
Eli shook his head, but he didn’t uncover his face.
Panic spiked. “Was the food too hot? Did you bite your tongue?”