32 24 hours a day (1/2)

The seats in Jefe's group were initially in great demand. But after some time he drove the prices higher and higher. Unfortunately, only a few prisoners could pay their expensive prices, so that Sam looked into the same greasy faces of influential gangsters week after week. So Sam had not imagined that and asked Jefe again in the library. Their business has been going on for almost three months now.

”Shit, of course, I have to go up with the prices, Brutus wonders 50% of our revenue.” Jefe stumbled from one side to the other in the narrow space.

Sam leaned against the doorframe and smoked one of the cigarettes, which were now piled up in the library's sagging shelves. Fee in kind. Sam guessed that she and Jefe could smoke for at least two months, 24 hours a day, without significantly decimating their numbers.

Sam watched the smoke billowing from her cigarette, bored. ”You are drunk and no longer fit.”

Jefe stared at her with clouded eyes. ”Say, are you crazy, sugar doll?”

He stepped close to Sam and nudged her with a bulging chest. She smelled the alcohol in his breath. Ever since most clients started paying Jefe cigarettes and alcohol, he was constantly blue and staggering around. He was no longer powerful and strong. Most of the prisoners made fun of him. Although Sam still benefited from the deal, she sensed that it was more likely to attribute this to Brutus' influence.

Jefe exclaimed indignantly, ”If you try to knock me out, I'll turn your neck around, bitch, did you waste my expensive money telling me that shit?”

Sam pushed his burning cigarette into his face. Jefe dropped to the floor, howling, holding his injured cheek.

In addition to the cold smoke of Sam's cigarette, she smelled the sweetish smell of burned flesh. Sam looked at him coldly and kicked him with all his strength against the head. He fell like a stone. She leaned over him and spat in his bleeding face. ”Business relationship ended, you Pisswichser.”

Sam hastily left the library. One of her newest privileges was that the guards escorted her to meetings with Jefe, but then disappeared as soon as Sam stepped through the door.

She had to be Brutus. On the way back to her cell, Sam pondered a strategy. Brutus had kept his feet still. It could hardly be a lucrative 50%, but lately he only got his share of cigarettes and tequila. He had to have other motives and she guessed what those were. Sam.

She had misjudged Brutus more than once. She could not afford another mistake. Today was Wednesday, until Friday night, everything had to be resolved. Sam weighed her chances. That was damned thin ice on which she stood. But she did not have a choice.

Sam informed the next guard that she wanted to talk to Brutus. After about two hours she was picked up and taken to Brutus' office.