Part 10 (1/2)

At the end of the row they abandoned the cart and took only the pitcher, climbing the metal stairs, walking back the way they came, doing switchbacks up and down the line. It became Josh's job to run back to the ground level and refill the pitcher every time it ran out. He hated being away from Fenton and on his own. He walked fast, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in a cell. Still, hands reached out. Mugs gestured for extra swill. Kisses got blown. Others hung back, indifferent to his existence, and he felt like a rodent scurrying by.

A new tier of cells around the other side of the block. It must have been a wing for s.e.xual predators, because Fenton's disposition changed. He allowed Josh to pa.s.s out only a few doughnuts. ”Fruit,” he said. ”That guy will blow you for a six-pack. This one's a sleazy f.u.c.king diddler.” To accentuate the point, he pressed his lips to the doughnut and sucked out all the jelly, then let Josh give it to the man in the cell.

When they finished the block, Fenton sent Josh out into the hub on his own.

”D is next. You go ahead and be my reconnaissance,” he said. ”Let me know if there's any fun and games waiting.”

Confused, Josh left Fenton behind and pushed the cart forward by himself, all the confidence drained out of him. He headed back into the hub and crossed it, then got buzzed into the next hallway. He steeled up as he approached the nest. There was a jack inside, watching Josh from on high through the Plexiglas. Josh nodded and asked for entrance into D block.

”Where the f.u.c.k is Fenton?” the jack asked him through the microphone on his console.

Josh pulled up on the cart with both hands and gave the jack his straightest answer.

”It's just me,” he said. ”Fenton's on C. We're running behind, so we split up.”

The jack looked furious. He spoke into his radio and told whoever was listening that Fenton was no longer doing his appropriate rounds. Josh got nervous fast. A hitch in the static, then a voice said Fenton had been spotted and everything was fine.

This didn't please the jack. He told Josh there was no way he'd let a fish into D and to get the f.u.c.k out of his sight until Fenton showed up. Josh turned the cart around and walked back down the hall the way he'd come.

He found Fenton in the hub, just exiting the hallway from C.

”What you got?” he asked.

Josh was excited without knowing why. ”The jack didn't like that I was by myself. He asked where you were and wouldn't let me in.”

Fenton nodded. ”That's what I was expecting. You play chess?”

Josh said he knew how.

”Then you'll understand my thinking. When the guy you're playing tempts you to take some halfway decent piece, you got to figure it's a trap. But sometimes the best way to look like you're falling for it is to make a sacrifice.”

Josh didn't know how that applied to the current situation, exactly, but he asked Fenton what the plan was going forward.

”Deliver us some doughnuts,” Fenton answered.

Josh put his faith in Fenton, but his nerves were bad as they traveled the long hall and approached the jack nest again. This time the jack waited outside the nest, standing on the floor before the cage.

”Hey, boss,” Fenton called out cheerfully, as if nothing was up.

The jack asked Fenton why the f.u.c.k he wasn't doing his rounds properly. Fenton made up a story about a weeping con, the need to provide solace to a brother in pain.

The jack told Fenton to leave the social work to the weak sisters and get his a.s.s in gear. Fenton rogered that and asked for permission to deliver doughnuts to D. The cage snapped open, and Fenton nudged Josh forward.

Josh pushed the cart into the block. Then something happened to his feet, and he fell forward, colliding with the cart and pulling it down on top of him. The large and small containers of hot chocolate tumbled off the cart and struck the ground, the contents rus.h.i.+ng along the floor in a brown flood. With his hands and knees covered in the stuff, Josh looked up from his embarra.s.sed brew-drunk sprawl, terrified of the consequences, then felt the world smack him back down as G.o.d's hammer, or the heel of Fenton's hand, hit him so hard on the top of his head that the pain spritzed out through his eyes. He huddled there, every muscle in his ribs and back tightening in expectation of Fenton's boots to commence s.h.i.+t kicking. Instead, he heard Fenton voicing his utter contempt for the stupid, clumsy fish who'd just spilled the whole f.u.c.king wagonload of hot chocolate.

”Jesus, boss, I am completely f.u.c.king sorry,” Fenton said to the jack. ”We will, and I mean will, clean this up right away. I am going to stick the mop up this fish's a.s.s or he will lick the floor clean, and that's a promise.” Then to Josh. ”All right, get your s.h.i.+t-a.s.s up and f.u.c.king move!”

Josh stood, the heat of the smack to his head still filling his face. He righted the cart, scooped up handfuls of soggy doughnuts, and chased after the empty containers. Fenton waited impatiently, as though his hand could strike again at any moment. Then they were walking down the hall back to the hub.

”You all right?” Fenton asked him.

Josh felt a hand on his shoulder.

”Had to make it look good.”

And Josh realized he hadn't tripped on his own, but had been tripped up intentionally.

”That, my friend, was a head fake. A couple bada.s.ses on D want to take me down,” Fenton explained. ”Gave the jack a little New Year's bonus. We go inside, unsuspecting, then bam, suddenly a few extra cell doors would have opened.”

”You mean he'd let them out?” Josh asked.

”Accidentally, of course,” Fenton said. ”You did good, though. That was a convincing fall.”

”My head hurts like h.e.l.l,” Josh said.

Fenton laughed. ”Sorry about the slap.”

When they entered the hub, Fenton stopped suddenly. ”f.u.c.k if I want to go all the way back to the cafeteria. I got people I want to see.”

”You want me to get the bucket and mop?” Josh asked.

”Let that fat pig do it himself.”

One minute obsequious to the CO, next the spittle of disdain.

”So, according to Wobbles, you and Crowley got to know each other good, huh?”

This is it, Josh thought. This is how the hurt comes.

”We had drums beside each other.”

”Crowley used to do a valuable service for me before he went a little free style. He wasn't all wrong, just a little confused, if you know what I mean.”

Josh didn't know whether to nod or say nothing, the nervousness gnawing at him.

”All I want to know is how Crowley finished his annual report. Roy says you did it for him. Is that true?”

He had no choice but to admit it.

”Roy says you can draw just about anything, huh?”

”I suppose.”

”You think you can remember what you drew for Crowley?”

Josh shrugged, afraid to death of offending, afraid of answering wrong.