Brighter Days Ch. 01

No you haven't read the by-line wrongly. This was written by Saxon_Hart. So any rumors of my demise or incarceration are not true... if there were rumors.

This story has been an animal with a mind of its own. I started writing this over fifteen years ago. I can no longer recall exactly when, but there is an Easter egg near the end of Chapter one. It's a line of dialog that mirrors a popular meme that was prevalent on social media near the time I started this.

This story has been put on the back burner more often than grandma's succotash, and at one point it was so far off track that I deleted over fifteen pages. The biggest issue was I didn't have an ending, so I had no real direction. As time wore on I had at least a dozen endings, most of them involved characters dying or everything was so forced that it was ridiculous.

Finally a few months ago I had a "Eureka" moment and figured out an ending. Of course, as I was polishing dialog for said ending a previous ending came to mind so I went that way as well. So there are two... um three endings for this one, each will be offered separately so you can choose one, or read all three.

A few words of warning: First this is long. Three chapters plus three ending hopefully published a day apart. Second, you might have to suspend disbelief with some things. I know things don't really happen like they do in this story, but I made things work for my purposes. Third, I hope any Nevada readers don't mind, but one town is a product of my imagination, in a real location. Another town is used, but I have never been there so I am hoping I didn't mess with the geography too much. Also there is some violence. I don't get very detailed with the violence but it is there.

I want to thank my super editor kenjisato for helping to clean up my many punctuation errors. I truly believe he made this much better than it was. Also anyone along the line that has read this and encouraged me to keep on with it, know you are deeply appreciated.

Final fun fact; when I began this adventure I had two things to work from. One is the joke that opens the story, and the other is the method of revenge.

I have at least three more things in the works at the moment, hopefully the next will come out around early fall.

Please enjoy, and every comment is appreciated.

S. H.

Brighter Days

There is an old joke that goes something like this... A guy is sitting in his favorite bar when his buddy comes in. The buddy sits down and says, "Damn Joe, I haven't seen you in a week, whatcha been doin?" Joe says, "I had to attend my wife's funeral." Joe's buddy says, "Damn, I'm sorry Joe. What did she die from?" Joe says "She died from gonorrhea." His buddy thinks for a moment and then says "Gonorrhea? You don't die from gonorrhea." Then Joe looks at him and says, "You do when you give it to me."

*****

That joke played through my mind as my doctor told me that I had a case of gonorrhea. "Gonorrhea? How the fuck could I have gonorrhea?" I hadn't been with anyone but my wife Darla since she and I hooked up five years prior, so it was painfully obvious to me that I had picked up the lovely condition from her.

I was pissed off, but the doctor still managed to make me feel lower than dog shit. "You'll need to inform Darla," he said, looking over his glasses at me. "And I'll need a list of your lovers. They'll need to be notified as will the health department. And before you say it; it is impossible to catch it from a toilet seat."

"Hand me a piece of paper, Dr. Sinclair and I will give you the list," I said, as evenly as possible. I truly intended to look for a new physician as soon as possible.

He gave me a pad and a pen and left the room. I assumed he was leaving to give me privacy in which to list out my harem of one. I wrote my wife's name; Darla Marie Marshall Turner and I wrote my home address. He returned five minutes later with a syringe.

I pointed to the paper on the table. "There's my list Doc." In my mind I added, "You pompous fucking asshole!"

He picked up the pad. I enjoyed the look as his face went from "holier than thou" to "I like my crow sautéed."

He looked like he was about to open his mouth again, so I shut him up by asking, "Is this shit curable, Doc?"

"Ah, yes Jeffery. I'll put you on a course of antibiotics starting with an injection and you will be well on your way to..." He paused and looked at me, thoughtfully. "I hate to bring this up, but we may want to run a battery of tests for other social diseases."

I knew he meant HIV, and I was even more pissed. All I wanted to do at that moment was choke the final breath out of my cheating-whore wife, and whomever she'd been gallivanting around with.

I seethed as the good doctor stuck a needle in my arm and drew blood, then, had me turn around and stuck another needle in my butt cheek. "Fucking bitch!" I accidentally said out loud, as Dr. Sinclair gave me the injection.

"Oh. Didn't mean to hurt you, Jeffery," he said, in a pacifying voice. "There. All done."

I guess he thought I was talking to him.

"Thanks Doc," I said as I left the office and went out into the hot Nevada sun. My work truck was parked across the street since I had opted to see the doc about my burning sensation on my lunch break.

I started the truck and sat there pondering the new direction my life was taking as I waited for the air conditioner to make the cab a bit less like an oven. Darla and I hadn't had the typical marriage. Hell, we hadn't even had the typical courtship.

*****

I had been on a date with Sarah Young and we had gone to the carnival. This date however wasn't the typical boy and girl courting. I was with Sarah because she wanted to make Royce Champion jealous. Royce was a large individual so Sarah had a hard time finding a guy who was willing to play along. Besides, Sarah and I had been best friends since kindergarten and "Show me yours and I'll show you mine" was as sexual as we had ever gotten, unless you count three minutes of making out in a tree house.

I was not the biggest guy around. At five foot ten inches tall and a hundred and fifty eight pounds, I barely qualified as big, but my size had never mattered. I was known as a guy who wasn't afraid to throw down with anyone. Part of that stemmed from a legend.

One evening as I was coming out of the movie theater, two cars full of guys from Reno pulled up in front of my buddy and me. They jumped out, yelling and carrying on, and telling anyone who'd listen that they were there to kick my ass.

Instead of running away, I moved toward the group. I knew I'd get my ass beat, but damn it, they were going to know they'd been in a fight. Just as I had sized up my first targets, my cousin Mike jumped out of one of the cars laughing his ass off.

He'd brought all of the guys to Denton, a small town in the Reno and Lake Tahoe area just to see if he could scare me. He stopped the prank before anyone got hit. Later in his life, he wouldn't stop a prank in time and he'd end up in prison.

Not a single punch was thrown between myself and the eight guys, as a matter of fact, the only damage done was a depletion of the beer supply at Ron's Gas and Grocery. But before the weekend was over, everyone had heard it from someone who was there, or witnessed the brawl in which I, sent four of the guys to the hospital before the rest ran like cowards. Even sorely lacking any truth I was now a guy that no one fucked with, thus I was perfect to make Royce realize he wanted to be with Sarah.

As we walked around the carnival, Sarah's head was on a swivel looking for a sign of Royce. I was reminded of the guys in hunting videos constantly looking around for the sign of deer. As it was, I spotted Royce just before Sarah did.

At first, I thought he was alone. He didn't take any particular notice of me, so I assumed that he hadn't seen Sarah. Royce was moving on an angle to take him away from crossing our path, so I turned my attention to a little blonde in a crop-top and cut-offs trying to knock milk jugs off of a stool with a baseball.

I was watching her delectable ass in those shorts, and feeling my cock starting to wake up when Sarah said, "Oh, hell no," and started moving off through the crowd in the direction of Royce. I tore my eyes from the blonde's ass and chased after Sarah. She was moving quickly and I soon fell behind.

I had underestimated her speed and soon there was a pretty good crowd between us. She wasn't hard to find, though; after a moment, I just followed the sounds.

"Who the fuck is this whore?" I heard Sarah yell over the carnival sounds, as I caught up to her.

"Whoa. You dumped me. Remember?"

"No, I said I needed some space, I never said for you to go out and fuck some skank."

I came to the clearing in the crowd to find Sarah screaming in Royce's face. Occasionally, she'd wag a finger in the face of a short-haired blonde standing beside Royce. I hoped that this was a joke. Sarah had Royce's date outclassed so much it wasn't funny. She had a face for movies and a body that any red-blooded male had to drool over. She'd been one of my best friends since kindergarten, so I was one of a very few men who could be around her without trying to get into her panties.

Royce's date had short, spiky blonde hair which had been dyed at least three different colors, none of them naturally occurring hues, either. She wore a pair of ratty denim shorts that were too short to be capris, but way too long to be shorts, and a denim vest that had gone out of style when the punk era ended.

She wasn't someone a guy would go out of his way to fuck, but I had to admit, she did have a cute face. A sprinkling of freckles over her nose added to her allure and she had almost black eyes. They were definitely eyes you could get lost in.

Sarah was getting very loud and Royce realized that they were attracting a crowd. "Come on, Sarah," he hissed. "Let's take this somewhere a bit more private." He grabbed her hand and led her away.

Sarah looked back at me and smiled. I just shrugged, and went to see if I could find the blonde in the Daisy Duke shorts.

I was moving toward the milk jug booth when I noticed that I wasn't alone. I glanced sideways and saw Royce's date was matching me, stride for stride. We got to the game booth and I didn't see the blonde anywhere. "Damn," I said aloud.

"Damn? Why say damn now? Why not go get your girlfriend back from Royce?"

"My girlfriend? No," I chuckled. "Sarah is one of my best friends. I was just here to let Royce know what he was missing. I wouldn't count on a second date with him if I were you."

"Well, technically, to have a second date, you are required to have a first date."

She laughed as I got a questioning look on my face. "I was here with a couple of friends when Royce asked me to walk around the carnival with him. He knew she'd be here and he didn't want her to see him alone, so he told my friends he'd see to it I got home safe."

"Trusting friends," I said.

"I guess so, seeing as how Royce is my cousin."

As we walked around the carnival she told me all about herself. Her name was Darla, and at age twenty-three she was three years older than I was.

She lived in Truckee, California, but was considering taking a job at a local bar.

By the end of the night, I thought she was a pretty cool chick and I did like looking at her face; especially those eyes. However, I still had no plan to bed her. I wasn't even all that disappointed when Royce and Sarah showed up, after obviously discussing their situation horizontally, and offered to see Darla safely home.

Darla thanked me for a nice evening and went away with the love birds. I went and got an old family friend to buy me a twelve pack of Bud and went home to get sauced.

Darla didn't cross my mind at all over the next few weeks. I was pretty busy cutting wood for the winter. I'd cut three cords during my off time. I'd stack one for myself and sell the other two. Before fall, I had four cords, which was more than enough for winter and I had some money stashed away.

I wasn't old enough to work in either casino in town, so I bided my time by slinging hash in Joe's Greasy Spoon every morning, Wednesday through Sunday.

I lived in a cabin that my great-grandfather had owned and passed down over the years. When my parents had owned it, they only used it as a summer retreat, but the place had been kept in good condition. They had rented out their house in town and moved to Phoenix the summer after I graduated high school, and I had moved into the cabin.

My utilities were few. I had my own well and I had three small windmills to produce electricity. All I really had to pay was my taxes. I truly had no intention of getting emotionally entangled with a woman. My best friend Ramon Gonzales, however, had different feelings.

Ramon and I had been best friends since third grade. I had entered third grade, but Ramon had been held back. I never liked kids calling him stupid so I got into a few fights. Later, he was diagnosed with a learning disorder and got the help he needed to excel in school. He graduated third in our class; I was twelfth of twenty-four students.

In the middle of our freshman year, Daisey Perez moved to Denton. She had been kicked out of the school in Incline Village, and her parents had to drive her every day to Denton. She was a walking wet dream, and every guy in the school wanted to date her, but most of us were instantly disqualified because she "didn't date gringos."

She did hit it off with Ramon. He helped her get through her classes and they became an item. She never liked the fact that I was his best friend, and I have to admit, I was a bit antagonistic to her at times. Finally, during the summer of our senior year, we came to a truce. For Ramon's sake we would try to get along; in his presence, at least.

Ramon got a full-ride scholarship to Stanford, but after graduating eighteenth in our class, Daisey was forced to go to work. She worked at a small burger joint four days a week and worked at the movie theater four nights a week. I knew she was missing Ramon when she found excuses to talk to me. I guess talking about the love of her life with a gringo she despised was as close as she could get to the real thing.

I moved into my family's cabin that summer, and Daisey was a constant visitor. During her visits, she fell in love with the house just down the road. She and I did agree on one thing; the location of the cabin was perfect. It was far enough out of town that nobody bothered you but you were still a five-minute drive from the conveniences of town.

I knew when Ramon was on break because I wouldn't hear from or see Daisey. I wouldn't see Ramon much either because he and Daisey would be making up for lost time. I did get to see him on New Year's Eve, and we did hang out for a day when he was home on spring break.

When he came home the following summer, he began asking me about the house Daisey had been raving about. I wasn't sure why he'd be interested because I knew she couldn't afford it. I was shocked when he told me he was dropping out of school. I told him he was a dumbass, but he loved Daisey and couldn't bear three more years away from her.

He got a job at a local lumber yard and he and Daisey moved into the house down the road. I wasn't surprised at all when he told me they were going to get married. The only shock was that they planned on waiting until she was twenty-one so that they could gamble on their honeymoon.

Daisey turned twenty-one the weekend I met Darla at the carnival. They had a big celebration for her at some bars. I figured they had it at the bar because I wasn't old enough to attend. She also insisted on being married on Halloween. Ramon had pushed her to move the wedding to Valentine's Day, but she wanted Halloween. My birthday coincidentally is in January.

I believed that Daisey was pushing for the early wedding to keep me from being able to attend the bachelor party. My suspicions were confirmed one morning, when I went to pick up Ramon so we could go fishing and I heard them arguing.

"I don't know why you feel the need to be around that pinche gringo pendejo. You know I don't want to be around him, and yet you made him your best man. And then you want me to postpone the wedding so you can celebrate with him?"

"What has he done to you? Not a damn thing. Just because tu madre hates whites, you have to be as narrow minded as she is."

"Don't you talk about my mama. What has that white piece of shit ever done for you anyway?"

"I'm gonna pretend you never asked such estupida question. I've told you a million times, Mi Amor."

"Mi Amor? Who is your love? Me or the gringo puto? If you want to delay the wedding until he is twenty-one, fine. Maybe by then you'll find someone to marry, but it won't be me."

"Come on, Daisey. He's my best friend and my best man; I can't leave him out of this."

"Fuck him, Ramon. Fuck him!"

I chose that very moment to knock on the door. Daisey pasted a fake smile on her face as she answered the door and told us to have a good day fishing. We discussed the plans for the bachelor party. I told him that I wasn't going to let my later-than-convenient birth stand in the way of his night. I wasn't going to allow any rain on his parade.

I would risk getting kicked out of bars. We had a plan that involved a large group of guys. I would slip in amongst them and drink from community pitchers. I also grew my beard as much as I could. We stayed out of Denton bars, where I might be recognized. In a small town, everyone knows your business.

We bar hopped across Reno. We avoided hotel and casino bars because they would be watching and carding more often than the smaller dive bars would. We finally ended up at a strip joint. As our group crowded the doorway, I slipped past them to avoid having my ID checked. I also avoided paying the ten-dollar cover fee.

We watched the women dance and we once again ordered pitchers. I was as drunk as I could be without acting completely stupid. I had slowed down because I refused to be the guy who ruined the night.

I did my best to avoid the bar staff. If we ordered a pitcher, I would choose to be in the bathroom when the waitress brought it to us. I had just made one such trip to the head and was returning to the table when I found out that I wasn't as slick as I thought I was.

Some guy grabbed the dancer on the stage that was furthest from the bar. Our table was on the other side for obvious reasons. The stripper screamed and five large steroid addicts rushed over to pummel the offender. I had no problem watching them beat down a perv, but they did.

One turned to me and ordered me back to my table. My only way to the table then led me right in front of the bar. I hurried by and got back to the table. As the guys were asking me about the ruckus, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned around to find myself face to face with Darla. Before I could say anything she said, "You need to come with me."

I didn't really think I had room to argue, so I followed her. She led me to an office and closed the door once we were inside. "Did January arrive sooner than expected, Jeff?"

I was dumbstruck. I was trying to read her face to see if she was angry. Her black eyes would yield no secrets, though. I considered lying, but for some reason I felt honesty would be a safer bet. "No. January didn't arrive early. I am still twenty. It's my best friend's bachelor party and I didn't want to ruin it by having to stick to places where I could go."

I went on to tell her how his fiancée was rushing the wedding and why. Her face never changed once as I related my tale.

When I finished, she sighed. "You know I have to kick you out. But it's better me than Bruno and his boys out there. Just be glad I saw you when I did."

"Why's that?"

"Your waitress noticed your disappearing act each time she was at your table. She told me first and I told her to report it to Bruno. Then the grabby guy started his shit and Bruno got busy, but I'm sure a visit to your table is next on his to-do list."

"Hey, I'll leave if it means those guys can stay."

Just as she was about to say something, the door opened and a large version of Mr. Clean walked into the office. He was wiping blood off of his knuckles and I was quite sure it wasn't his.

"So what's the story with Fucko here?" he asked, indicating me. "Charlene says you pull a Houdini every time she waits on your table."

I was about to start begging for mercy when Darla chimed in. "I carded him again and he's legal, Bruno. He thought Charlene was an ex of his, so he's been avoiding her."

Bruno tipped his head back and let out a roar of laughter. "You owe the broad money?" he asked, as he laughed. "Afraid she'll kick your ass? Go enjoy your night pal. I hope you grow some balls if you DO run into her, Fucko."

He was still roaring, as Darla and I left the office. "Hey, thanks for covering for me," I told her. "That was really very cool."

"What can I say? I can be cool. But I don't want to see you drink anything I don't send you for the rest of your time here tonight."

I got back to the table and caught a lot of flak from the guys. I told them all was cool, and then Charlene brought me a drink. It was soda. We stayed until the joint closed. Just before the last dance, the bouncers all came out and grabbed Ramon.

"I heard we got a stupid motherfucker in the joint tonight," yelled Bruno, as he hoisted Ramon out of his seat. All of us sat there in shock. Then Bruno frog marched Ramon onto the main stage. One of the other bouncers grabbed a chair and tossed it onto the stage. Bruno forced Ramon to sit in the chair and grabbed a microphone.

"Fellas! Look at this example of overwhelming stupidity! All of the choice pussy running around our great city, and this guy has to settle for just one. Can you believe this fucker is getting married? Well, congrats from the staff of Bruno's, dumbass. Girls, change his mind."

As Bruno left the stage, every stripper in the place surrounded Ramon. He'd never had so many tits and pussies thrust at him as he did that night. Chants of "Dumbass!" and "don't do it" filled the air as the naked women molested my best friend.

Afterward, we all stood outside the club trying to decide if we wanted to hit another bar or call it a night. A couple of guys were ready to pass out, but others were still in the mood to party.

I was trying to decide if I wanted to risk another bar with a diminished crowd when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Darla and one of the strippers. "Care to accompany a couple gals to breakfast?"

"Sure," I told her.

Ramon and a couple of the guys were going to hit another bar. I had ridden with Ramon and his co-worker Dave. Darla told him that she'd see to it that I made it home safe and sound and in time for the wedding.

I had a lovely breakfast with Darla and Tiffany, whose real name happened to be Penny. After breakfast, Penny went one way and Darla and I headed toward Denton. Up until that weekend, I had only heard about marathon sex.

It was also the first time in my life that I had ever face-fucked a woman. Darla definitely had a taste for rough sex, but that mellowed as time went on.

Two days later, we were headed for Ramon's wedding. I had taken a break long enough to call to ask him if I could bring a guest. So after one day and night at my place, we spent a day and night at hers.

After the wedding and reception, we went to my place again. After that, we were never apart longer than it took to go to work and return. She kept working at Bruno's three nights a week, and she worked in a casino bar on weekends.

I got a job working for a company that installed insulation. With all of the new housing, we stayed busy. After five years, I had my own crew that I used if we were installing batting. If I was blowing in fluff or spraying expanding foam I had one helper.

We were married on my birthday, in Las Vegas by Elvis Presley. Okay, it wasn't the real Elvis, but the guy did do a killer rendition of "Burning Love."

We may not have had the typical romantic courtship, but we did love each other. She even seemed to get along well with Daisey, or rather, Daisey seemed to tolerate Darla.

I thought we had a terrific marriage.

*****

Until Dr. Sinclair stuck a needle in my ass, I thought Darla and I had a terrific marriage. I wasn't sure what I should do. As I was about to pull away from the curb, I realized my best bet would be to talk to Ramon.

I whipped out my cell and called the lumberyard. His boss told me that he didn't work on Wednesdays, so I tried his cell. It went to voicemail so I figured he was at home. I put my truck in gear and headed for Ramon's.

As I drove toward Ramon's, I pondered my situation. I was willing to bet she was fucking someone at Bruno's. I knew I'd never be able to take any of those guys in a fist fight, so I had to figure out another way to make Bruno pay.

I had worked from taking an ax to the bastard, to bombing his bar, to sniping him from an adjacent building. I was thinking of ways I could maybe run him over with a stolen tank as I flew into Ramon's driveway.

I left my truck idling and went to the door and knocked. After a few minutes, I decided he wasn't there. I left his porch and was walking back to the truck when I heard voices from the back of the house.

"Of course," I thought. "A beautiful day like this, Ramon will be outside, not cramped up in the house." As I neared the back yard, I heard Ramon's voice.

"Oh fuck yeah you little slut. I love the way you clench your cunt muscles. Dios Mio! You're gonna make me cum too soon if you don't stop."

"Ramon's fucking somebody!" I couldn't remember if I had seen Daisey's car in town, but my curiosity was piqueed. I had always wanted a peek at a naked Daisey, so I snuck up to the screened in rear porch and looked in. Ramon was buck naked on the floor. My blood boiled as I recognized the tattoos on the whore riding him.

I spun around and headed for my truck. I'll teach those two to fuck around behind my back," I said, as I climbed into the cab and started backing out of the drive way. In less than five minutes, I'd be back with my shotgun and I'd save Dr. Sinclair a couple doses of penicillin. Daisey would learn to get checked at my trial.

"Killer! Prison! Murder!" These words screeched in my head as I pointed the truck toward home. "I have a better idea," I said out loud.

I drove forward fifteen feet or so and put the truck into reverse. I backed the truck down the driveway almost to Ramon's house. I engaged the power take off and got out. I wasn't too worried about the noise alerting them, the logging trucks paused to take breaks in our driveways all the time.

I opened the rear door and jumped into the back and opened the valves on the spray foam bottles. I then opened the valve that pressurized the system. My boss would have my ass if he knew I was handling the sprayer without safety goggles, gloves or a Tyvek suit, but OSHA requirements were the last thing on my mind.

I grabbed the gun and released the hose reel lock. I jumped down and began walking toward Ramon's back porch. I reached the window just as Darla started her high-pitched squealing that always preceded her orgasms.

Neither one of them noticed as I punched the screen out and stuck the gun into the porch. However, they did notice when the chemical foam started hitting them. I had gotten the stuff on my skin before so I know it burns like a motherfucker.

I had them both coated pretty well when I returned to my truck. I could hear them screaming as I reeled the hose in and depressurized the system. I got in the truck and headed back to town.

"Bastards," I said, as I looked at my watch and realized that dealing with the cheaters had made me late for a job. I called my helper and told him to meet me at the job site.

After we got done, I took the truck back to the company yard. I went into the office to turn in the paperwork. As I was finishing, my boss came to me and asked me, "Did you have some trouble today, Jeff?"

I looked up and saw that he was flanked by two Washoe County Sheriff's Deputies. I just laughed and said, "Now I guess I don't need to explain the fifteen pounds of missing Wall-Tight."

*****

"All rise! The First Judicial Court of Washoe County is now in session; the Honorable Joyce Sanchez presiding."

"You may be seated," said the elegant dark haired lady.

It was the day of my trial. The District Attorney's Office had decided after a few weeks of hemming and hawing around, to charge me with two counts of attempted murder, two counts of felony aggravated assault, and two counts of criminal mischief among other things. They even charged me with breaking and entering for punching Ramon's screen out. Fortunately for me, Ramon and Darla refused to testify.

My jail stay was short. I was out on bail within five hours of being arrested. My lawyer, Larry Connor, was the first person I had called. I gave Sarah power of attorney so that they could raid my bank account. As soon as he had me out I told him to start the divorce paperwork.

I knew my parents would back my play, and luckily, they still held the deed on my cabin. I had them serve Darla and I with an eviction notice.

My personal belongings were moved to a storage facility of my parents' choosing, and Darla's were her own responsibility to deal with. The division of our jointly owned items would have to be decided in court. The place would be rented out and the money put into a trust.

When Daisey discovered why I had done what I did, she cowed Ramon into dropping the charges. Darla almost immediately followed suit. I figured I was home free. That was until the asshole DA decided to play the hero and press the charges himself. His letter to Larry said he felt I might be intimidating the witnesses.

As I understand it, Darla had to spend a couple of nights in the hospital. She had gotten the brunt of the spray and lost quite a bit of skin. A good amount of her hair had to be cut off, too. Ramon only had to spend one night. I had gotten the stuff on my skin before so I knew they were going to be very uncomfortable. Having to be scrubbed with a pumice stone just isn't fun.

It was the day of closing arguments. Larry wasn't sure how things were going to go. He felt nervous because of me. All through my trial I had gone out of my way to antagonize the DA.

The one time I had been on the stand, he asked me about the assault.

"There was no assault."

"No assault? How can you sit there and tell me that there was no assault?"

"I was trying to protect those two out of love."

"Protect them? From what?"

"Well, they were naked and sweaty. There was no insulation on the screened porch so I sprayed them to prevent hypothermia."

"Hypothermia?"

"Yeah, I kept them from freezing to death."

"You kept them from freezing to death."

"Yes, sir."

"In June?"

The judge had to call order in the court and had threatened me with a contempt charge. I loved how red the fat fuck DA's face got. Larry looked like he wanted to crawl away.

So there I was, sitting at the defendant's table with Larry, while the DA made a show of reading his notes, or whatever crap he'd filled the legal tablets with. He finally got up and started giving his final argument to the jury. You would have thought the asshole was on TV.

I almost laughed out loud at the preening prick. He had shaved his head and was wearing all black just like the famous Florida Prosecutor Bill "The Angel of Death" Maitland. Of course, black clothing and bald head ended the similarities right there. He looked like a bulbous penis in a nightmarish porno movie.

The guy in Florida was cut. You could tell the dude worked out a lot. The only work out our DA got was wiping his ass after he took a shit. I wondered, more than once, how he managed that particular task as fat as he was.

Myra Maitland was a stone fox. I'm not sure "The Angel of Death of Flimsy Furniture" had ever seen a naked woman that didn't have dollar bills in her G-string. I didn't even want to contemplate his sex life. I wondered if he even remembered what his dick looked like.

After the DA said his piece, Larry got up and explained to the jury, once again, how I wasn't a malicious terror, but a jilted lover who used a non-lethal, albeit painful method to gain a measure of revenge on my cheating spouse and her paramour. "It was a crime of passion, carried out in the heat of discovering a severe breach of trust by two people whom my client had trusted without fail," he said. "Mr. Marshall could have retrieved a gun. Then we'd be here deciding the fate of a murderer. He, instead, took his frustrations out with insulation. Yes, he caused bodily harm, but Mr. Gonzales and Ms. Turner-Marshall are still alive to continue their affair."

I looked just in time to see Daisey shoot an eye dagger at Ramon as Larry said that. Darla was nowhere to be seen. I hadn't even talked to her since the morning I caught them. Daisey and Ramon had arrived at the courthouse at the same time every day, but they never sat together. I couldn't have cared less about what they were going to do.

Just before the judge called noon recess, the jury retired to deliberate my fate. Larry and I went to lunch. Forty minutes later, his cell rang. It was a clerk informing him that the jury had reached a verdict. I knew it couldn't be good that they were done already. I was facing the possibility of spending the next forty-five years in prison.

Larry and I sat, as the seven men and five women took their seats in the jury box. Even though I wasn't much for religion, I prayed to God, and Buddha, and even asked Hare Krishna for a skosh of mercy. I got some. The jury found me not guilty of attempted murder, but they agreed with the felony assault and criminal mischief.

The judge dismissed the jury and asked me if I had anything to say before she passed down my sentence. Larry seemed to feel I had said enough already, so he told her that I had nothing to say, so she spoke.

"Young man, I have no doubt that you acted in haste; your judgment clouded by emotion over your wife's betrayal, as well as the betrayal of your lifelong friend. I don't envy any person who has discovered their partner's infidelity and I can understand the anger.

"That said; I cannot condone actions taken by anyone that cause bodily harm to a fellow citizen. We no longer live by the "eye for an eye" code of the Old West. I am relieved that you didn't continue on your way to retrieve a deadly weapon, as I don't have to sentence you to life in prison as a murderer. Jeffery David Marshall, I hereby sentence you to twenty years in the Nevada State Corrections system."

She banged her gavel and the bailiff called, "All rise."

The clerk brought over a file for Larry.

He looked in it and said, "You have three days to surrender yourself to the authorities. You can spend the three days getting your affairs in order, if you wish."

"No, Larry. Let's get this started."

He and I walked down to the Sherriff's Office and I surrendered. I spent the next month-and-a-half in the county jail.

*****

Movies and TV had not prepared me for life in jail. When they processed me into the county jail, I had anticipated having to fight off guys who wanted nothing more than to rape my ass.

They gave me a set of sheets and two extra orange jumpsuits, and then a jail officer walked me down a row of cells and stopped and pointed into one. A Block, Cell 45 was my new home. I went in, expecting some huge guy covered in prison tattoos to have his shit on both bunks and I would have to fight to use one, but the cell was empty.

I made up the bottom bunk and stashed my extras in the cubby hole. Then I slipped into the routine that would be my life until they transferred me to one of the state prisons. I doubted they'd send me to High Desert because my cousin Mike was there doing twenty-five years for armed robbery.

As a goof, he had conned one of his buddies, Dean, into "helping him" rob a liquor store. They figured that he would chicken out and no harm would be done. Mike had a real gun, but it wasn't loaded.

According to Mike's buddy Chaz, the gun didn't even work. It didn't matter. All the mark had to do was look menacing, but they figured he'd run from the store and Mike would never even pull the gun out. The guy didn't chicken out; he improvised and started the robbery early with a gun he'd brought on his own. An off-duty cop busted them coming out of the store.

Only Mike and Chaz knew it had been planned as a joke, they just never figured that their mark had a larcenist streak. The judge didn't see the humor and they all got twenty-five years.

I made my way around the jail pod and discovered that if you weren't a reader, there really wasn't much to do. There were tables in a common area filled with guys playing cards, and there were two TVs on either side of the common. A doorway led to the weight room. I figured I'd pass the time by working out, so I spent a lot of time in there.

I was amazed at how many guys I knew rolled through the county lockup while I was there. Most were serving short sentences. A few of them would be out before I was moved. Every one of them asked me if I'd like them to smack Ramon around when they got out. I was tempted, but I didn't want it tied to me so I told them no.

The most surprising one was Hector Villalobos. Hector was Ramon's cousin. Ten days before I was moved he got locked up for a DUI. I avoided him the first few days because I didn't know if he was going to start some shit for what I had done to Ramon.

The jail was a small place and as it happened, I was lifting weights one day and didn't see Hector come into the weight room. I didn't even know he was in there until I sat up on the bench and he was sitting on the bench directly across from me.

"'Sup Homes?"

"Hey Hector. What brings you to this lovely palace?"

"Just a disagreement, Homes. I thought I was driving pretty bueno after drinking a bottle of Jose, the cochinos didn't agree."

Hector always reminded me of the character "Joker" from the movie Next Friday. He didn't ask why I was in there, so I figured he already knew. He started lifting so I did the same. After a few minutes Hector spoke.

"Did you hear Ramon and Daisey are getting divorced?"

"No, I didn't," I said. I hadn't paid any attention to them since that day. "How's his skin?"

"I don't know, Homes. My momma only told me about the divorce. Daisey found out he was banging our cousin Lupe."

The smartest fucker I know was also a serial pussy hound? I had a hard time fathoming this information. "Did he give Lupe the clap too?"

"Lupe gave it to Ramon, esse," said Hector. "That's how they figured out he was fucking her."

"Little Lupe?" I couldn't imagine her having gonorrhea before Ramon. "She's just a kid, man."

"She's a whore, Homes. She's fucked half of Reno and then some. My uncle wants to kill Ramon."

Ramon's uncle Pedro was a big man. If Hector reminded me of "Joker"; then Pedro reminded me of Danny Trejo. He was not a man I cared to have pissed off at me.

"I never knew Ramon was such a swordsman."

"Shit, Homes. Ramon will fuck anything that has a pulse. Feel lucky he never tried to fuck you."

"I would have beat his ass," I said. "How long are you here for, bro?"

"Three months Homes. Ramon better be in Vegas before I get out."

"Why are you wanting to beat his ass?"

"He fucked my sister, Janice, too."

I almost broke out laughing. Janice was to sexy, what ESPN was to ballet. She was a nice girl, but I had never heard a sober guy wanting to fuck her. Hell, most drunks I knew didn't want to fuck her. But to let Hector know that would be bad.

"I never realized he was such a sick fuck," I said. "Fucking his cousins? Sickening."

Hector was still lifting when I went back to my cell. I wondered how I had missed the fact that my best friend was a disturbingly sick pussy hound. If he had no qualms about fucking his cousin, I guess fucking his best friend's wife was not a hard stretch.

Over the next week, I saw Hector in passing, but we never really talked again until the day they came to haul me off to my more permanent lodging. I was gathering my stuff for the guards to go through, when Hector popped into my cell.

"Good luck, Homes," he told me. "I'll be sure to pass your love on to Ramon when I see him."

Several hours later, I was processed into Lovelock Correctional Center. Once again, I had prepared myself to be ready for non-stop fights and having guys trying to rape me. I didn't have a gauntlet of guys spitting on me as I was led to my cell, or chants of "fish, fish, fish," but I could feel eyes on me all the way.

The guards stopped in front of a cell and gestured for me to go in. I walked in and saw the top bunk was already made. One cubby hole had a few things in it but there was nobody around. I laid my stuff on the bottom bunk and the guard started rattling off the same list of prohibitions that I'd had read and had recited to me during my initial processing.

I also got the standard, "Don't fuck up, and you and I will get along just fine," from him, as he left me alone with my thoughts. I made my bunk and stashed my meager possessions in my cubby.

I saw a couple of pictures on the wall by the top bunk. One was a man and a woman holding a baby. The photo looked to be old and worn. The other picture was a young blonde girl wearing a graduation cap. An older version of the man from the first photo stood behind her smiling.

I heard a sound and turned to see an even older version of the man in the photos standing at the cell door. I felt immediately like a kid who'd been caught doing something that he shouldn't have been.

The man had an inscrutable look on his face as he entered the cell. He wasn't all that much bigger than I was, but the way he carried himself told me he wasn't someone you wanted to mess with.

"Hey, bro. Nice looking family," I said, gesturing to the pictures. I stuck my hand out toward him. "Jeff Marshall. Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot of each other for the next twenty years."

He looked at my hand, but made no move to shake it. He just climbed up on his bunk and lay back. I stood there for a moment, with my hand sticking out like an idiot.

"Okay," I said, as I returned to making my bunk. If "Top Bunk" didn't want to talk, I wasn't going to force him. I finished making my bunk and headed out to explore my new environs.

I had been told that I needed to earn the privilege to use the library and weight room. Accessing these two rooms was only done through a controlled doorway. I could, however, leave a request for a book and the trusty in charge of that duty would see to it that the book was delivered to me, on the offhand chance that they had the book in the library.

I had got a look at the rec yard and was headed back to my cell when someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me into an empty cell. A hand was clamped over my mouth and something was wrapped around my eyes. More than one guy was holding my arms behind me, so I knew there were at least three of them.

"Fight back, motherfucker!!!" the voice in my head screamed. "Do you want to be ass-fucked and made someone's bitch?"

I tried to plant my feet so that I could mount some sort of defense, but they must have known what I was trying to do, because my feet were grabbed and I was picked up off of the floor. I knew then that my ass virginity was about to go bye-bye.

I was put face down on a bunk. Two guys held my legs and I felt someone climb on to the bunk behind me. I was hoping that one of my captors would screw up and let me loose enough to at least attempt to fight the anal invader off.

When he put two hands on my shoulder blades and I felt him leaning in, I had a weird thought, "Is he going to kiss my neck? How fucking romantic." I felt his lips near my ear and I heard a familiar voice say, "Welcome to Lovelock, Jeffy."

I was released and spun around to look at the laughing faces of my cousin Mike and three other guys.

"Motherfucker! I oughta beat your ass!" I hissed. "I thought my ass cherry was a goner and I haven't been here more than two hours."

He and his cohorts belly-laughed. "Damn, Jeffy, it's good to see you. Mom told me about what happened, I never dreamed they'd send you here."

"I thought you were at High Desert."

"I was until six months ago. Some of us, they don't like to keep in one place for too long."

I didn't understand what he meant, but in my relief that I was not going to be forcefully sodomized I didn't give it much more thought. We talked for a while. I noticed a good number of guys were paying attention to us.

"Okay Jeff. We gotta get you inked to save your ass."

"Save my ass?" I asked, my mind immediately going back to sodomy.

"Yeah. You've been seen with me so you either get inked or you gotta play bitch. If you play bitch, there's no guarantee that you'll be safe."

"Play bitch?" I wanted to make a joke, but I knew he was serious. I knew some guys came into prison and willingly gave up their ass for protection. I had an inkling of an idea of what was going to happen.

"We'll go get Smedly Duncan to drill our boy here," said Mike, as he grabbed something from the pillowcase on the top bunk of that cell. With that, we walked down to a cell in a far corner of the pod. "Smedly's good cuz. It won't be no hack job."

We entered a cell occupied by a guy who looked like he'd be more at home playing the mad scientist in one of those old cheesy B-movie-sci-fi flics. His glasses on his narrow face gave him a "bug eyed" appearance, and his white hair stuck out in all directions. He would have looked right at home if he'd been wearing a lab coat and goggles.

"Smedly, meet Jeff. He needs some artwork."

The guy looked me over, and said, "Does this fish have currency?"

"Come on, Smedly, have we ever let you go uncompensated?" Mike asked, as he handed him the something he'd gotten before.

"Okay, but this time, I also want a taste of your monthly visitor."

"Done! Give my boy here a badge, with a capital B."

With that, Mike walked out of the cell. The other guys with him walked out behind him, but they didn't go too far. They kind of milled around in front of Smedly's cell.

My mind was working overtime trying to figure out the conversation I'd heard. I knew I was being marked as a member of whatever clique Mike was running with, and I was fairly certain there were racist connotations associated with membership. I didn't understand the "capital B" remark, nor Smedly's request for extra payment. To me, "monthly visitor" was a woman's period.

"Remove your shirt, and have a seat fish," Smedly said, indicating the steel commode in his cell.

As I removed my shirt, Smedly pulled a few books out of his cubby and opened them. I was surprised to see an improvised tattoo gun and several small containers of what I assumed was ink. He pulled out a Sharpie and drew something on my arm. I couldn't easily see what he was doing.

"Here, read this," he said, handing me a magazine. I had heard that guys couldn't have girlie magazines in the joint, so I was surprised to see tits and ass in Smedly's offering. He laid three more within easy reach and sat on his bunk and started tattooing me.

Smedly chatted idly as he did his work. His chatter covered up most of the noise from the tattoo gun. Twice, we got a signal from the guys outside the cell and Smedly quickly stashed the gun. The guards never did come close enough to the cell, but everyone played it safe.

When the session was over, we hung out in the common area until we were ordered back to our cells for the pre-dinner headcount. Top Bunk sat on his bunk as the guards walked by. He still didn't say a word.

I ate with Mike and his guys. They pointed out a few guys I needed to watch out for. "Most of the gangs that hate us are split into the other pods. They have a few members over here, but we have a majority so they don't do shit."

Mike explained to me that the Latino gang was the worst we had to watch. Even though their shot callers were in a separate pod, they still managed to get messages over here. The black guys in our pod kept to themselves and pretty much ignored us.

"Pepe Lupino is the big guy for the Latinos in our pod. Julio Vargas is the overall leader, he's in C pod. Just be glad you didn't get their pod, Jeffy. Be very glad."

After dinner, we were allowed to go to the rec yard, or the common area. I never caught sight of my cellmate in my travels. At 8:30pm, we were sent inside and ordered to our cells. Top Bunk was sitting on his bunk when I arrived at our cell.

At nine the guards did another headcount and the call of "lights out" came and all of the cell lights went out. I lay on my bunk and fought for sleep. I knew they would roust us at 5:00am sharp.

As I listened to Top Bunk snoring, I reflected on many things. I thought about Darla the most. I wondered how long she'd been fucking Ramon and I wondered what I had missed. I had spent many nights playing it all over in my head. Seeking a clue as to why it had happened.

Our relationship hadn't been the storybook head-over-heels-in-love-from-day-one story that most married couples tell. Ours was more a story of opportunistic sex that grew into love, or at least, I had thought it was love. Maybe she never loved me and I was just a sucker who'd put a roof over her skank head for a few years.

Ramon, on the other hand, was the lowest form of excrement imaginable. I wouldn't have fucked Daisey even if she'd been friendly. As attractive as she was, she was my best friend's wife and, therefore, was off limits; even as fap material.

Obviously, Ramon had no limits. I truly hoped that Hector got his hands on him when he got out of jail. The more I thought about what a sick fuck he was, the more amazed at how clueless I had been.

"Better not be that clueless in here, buddy boy, or you'll end up with a dick in your asshole or a shiv in your kidney," my inner voice of reason chided. At least I was an honorary skinhead, or whatever racist clique it was, so I had a few sets of eyes on my back. But still, it bothered me that so much wool had been pulled over my eyes.

*****

As it always does, life settled into a routine. I had a job mopping the floors in our pod. It wasn't as nasty as one might expect. This place was our home, so everyone pretty much kept it clean.

I also, finally, earned the privilege of using the weight room. It took longer than it should have because a guard saw my fresh ink and I was given a written reprimand. I guess an extra three months without weights was worth having the protection the tattoo afforded me.

I got letters from my parents. They would come see me when they came to visit my aunt and uncle during the holidays. My aunt Patty and my uncle Wade did visit at least twice a month. They were glad to be able to see both Mike and I at once. They had hated driving to High Desert to see him.

Sarah and Royce came fairly often to see me as well. He felt bad about putting me in contact with Darla. I always tell him not to even worry about it. I've told him about how we hooked up at Bruno's, so he really had little to do with it.

My attorney Larry came by when my divorce had been final. He then told me that I had done myself a huge favor by surrendering early and not waiting. It seemed that Darla had managed to get her ass kicked the evening my trial ended. She had gone to the emergency room afterwards and told the police that I had done it.

Two days later, the "Angel of Disappearing Pastries" had called Larry demanding to know my whereabouts. Larry had a good laugh, when he, and a sheriff's deputy informed the pudgy fucker that I had surrendered and entered state custody an hour after the trial.

I guess I wasn't the only one who was upset about getting gonorrhea from Darla. Bruno had beaten her within an inch of her life. She had still been pissed off enough at me for coating her with spray foam that she decided to try to pin it on me rather than on Bruno.

Larry told me that she ended up serving three months in jail for false reporting and that Bruno had gotten five years' probation for assault and had served five days. I got a little perturbed that Bruno had physically beaten Darla and only got probation, whereas I got twenty years and I didn't physically strike anyone. Sadly, I wasn't surprised that she'd been fucking Bruno as well as who knew how many others behind my back.

My most surprising moment was hearing I had a visitor and finding it was Daisey. I half expected her to be hateful and rude toward me, so I was more than a little apprehensive as I sat across the table from her. I didn't even need to be told "no contact."

"You're looking well, Jeff. How have they been treating you in here?"

"I can't complain," I said, apprehensively. "You look pretty good, too."

She gave a half-hearted smile and looked at me softly. "I have always been such a shit to you, Jeff. For years, I thought that you were everything that was wrong with Ramon. I blamed you for his inadequacies. Deep down, I knew better, but I still wanted to hit you every time I saw your smiling face.

"I planned to try to keep you out of my wedding. I know you know that. I didn't want you anywhere near Ramon, but Ramon felt a loyalty towards you. He told me how often you fought kids that picked on him. I thought that you were responsible for some things that..."

She paused and seemed to collect herself. "There are some things that I don't think you know, Jeff. Ramon and I gave each other our virginity. About a month after the first time, I noticed Ramon seemed to want more and more. My girlfriends said that all guys were horn dogs and it wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

"When we weren't having sex, Ramon was with you, or so I thought. I had already blamed you for most of his issues, so continuing to do so was not a hard stretch. Ramon stood me up several times. He would often tell me that you and he were out getting all borracho. I hated him drinking with you."

"Drinking with me? Ramon rarely got drunk with me. After he started dating you, I rarely saw him on weekends."

"I know that now. He was off fucking whatever other skank would spread for him. When he was away at school, he failed to call me many times that he said he would. He was always 'studying' or working. Do you know why he quit school, Jeff?"

"He claimed he didn't want to be away from you."

"He ran from Stanford because he knocked some girl up. I only found out a week after you caught him and Darla."

"Fuck me! I never knew he was such a dog, Daisey. I was so fucking stupid and clueless."

"You and me both. Do you know he tried to tell me that you sprayed him down with that stuff because he defended my honor?"

"What? Defended your honor?" I asked, incredulously. "Really? From me?"

"Yeah. He said that you told him that I was a worthless whore and that he should leave me. He said he swung at you, but you knocked him down and then sprayed him. It wasn't adding up. I had never heard you say a bad word about me, even though I treated you like shit. Nor had I ever seen you get physical with anyone. I was about to ask him about it when the cop came into his room and asked me to step out so he could ask Ramon a few questions. I wanted a few answered, too, but I had to wait.

"As I was waiting in the hall, I saw Darla in another bed in the ER. She had the same stuff on her that Ramon had. I walked into her room and she got a scared look on her face. I saw that the stuff was on her back and on her ass and that she was completely naked. It dawned on me that Ramon had also been naked but there was no stuff on his crotch and I lost it. Security had to pull me off of her. As soon as they thought I was calm, I walked into Ramon's room and punched him in the mouth.

"When I got home I saw the outline of where they had been when you sprayed them. I was trying to decide if he and I were done when he came home bitching about all of the pain he was in from having been scrubbed raw. He was going on and on about making sure you spent the rest of your life in jail when I told him that if he wanted even a slight chance of keeping us together, he would not press charges. 'And you better tell that little puta the same thing. If she presses charges you and I are over,' I told him. He sucked up and was a good boy, as far as I could tell.

"Then a few days later, I started having issues. My doctor told me I had gonorrhea. When I got home, I told Ramon that the gringo slut had given him a gift. I went with him to the doctor so he could be checked. I made damn sure that I was with him the entire time he was there. When the doctor asked him to contact everyone he'd had sexual contact with, I knew Darla wasn't the only one.

"I sat there in the room as he called five women on his cell to tell them. When one was his baby cousin, Lupe, I lost it. I had my brother Juan come to the house in case Ramon got violent when I threw him out."

"Five women? Where did he find time? Did Lupe and Janice have the clap, too?" I asked even though I already knew the answer.

"Janice?"

I saw the revulsion cross her face. "Okay, six women," I said.

She just shook her head. I then told her about talking to Hector in jail. She had not known about Janice.

She told me that Darla had moved to Reno and then she'd moved away after Bruno beat her. She thought Darla might have gone to New Mexico. Ramon had moved to Missouri, she said to avoid the wrath of his uncle.

She looked sad when they announced that visiting time was over. She said she'd come back in a few weeks. Daisey ended up being my most frequent visitor.

*****

Three months of my sentence had passed before "Top Bunk" ever said a word to me. Maybe they weren't the friendliest of words, but he did speak to me.

Ever since I was a kid, the silent treatment bothered me. My mom found it to be a more effective punishment than time-outs, stern looks, or good old-fashioned ass whippings.

In later years I discovered a method for dealing with the unwanted silent treatment. I spoke for those who had no voice; usually in the voice of Kermit the Frog, Yogi Bear, or, my personal favorite, Yosemite Sam. I understood it was quite hard to give the silent treatment to a kid who is conversing with the rootinest, tootinest, shootinest hombre east, west, north and south of the Pecos.

One day, I walked into my cell and found that "Top Bunk" wasn't there. As I usually did when he wasn't around I stared at the pictures on the wall. I wanted to meet the girl. I didn't know a damn thing about her, but I intended to.

"I am so ready to meet you, babe. I'll take you from whatever hellhole you call home and show the life of a jet setter," I said to the picture, in a suave voice. Then it struck me. "Top Bunk" was giving me the silent treatment. So, I was going to revert back to my pre-teen years.

One thing I did for Mike was to make deliveries. Each month, his girlfriends would sneak him in different things. One brought heroin, the other brought in vicodin. Four guys were dealing the horse for Mike, and I delivered it to them.

One of Mike's dealers was a big guy named Julian, who reminded me of the actor Forrest Whitaker. I would often try to get Julian to do some lines from "Good Morning Vietnam." Sometimes, he'd just look at me as if I were touched in the head.

Julian was a reader, so we let the library trusty deliver the goods to him. He'd stop at Mike's cell on his route, and he'd leave Julian's book in a specific spot on the cart. I'd then peruse his cart and slip the heroin into Julian's book.

On that particular occasion, Julian had ordered Charles Dickens' classic "A Christmas Carol." As I stuck the H into the book, it struck me; one of the holiday traditions at my house had been to watch the movie version of Dickens' timeless tale. One character in a party scene was named Mr. Topper. So I decided that from that moment on, "Top Bunk" would be known as Topper, and would speak with an English accent.

That evening, when I got to my cell, Topper was reclining on his bunk reading some letters. I knew it probably wasn't the wisest thing to do. For all I knew, they guy had been locked up for eating someone's family because the guy mocked him during a silent treatment.

He didn't even look at me as I walked in. I was slightly disappointed that his knees blocked the pictures from my view, but I carried on anyway.

"Hello Topper," I said. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"

"It sure is, guvnor," I answered for him in the cockney accent. "Loved the swab job you did in the shitter, old chap."

"Why thanks Topper. How was your day?"

"Oh you know, Jeff; I made some license plates, and some shivs. I was going to shank a guard, but I thought that two life sentences are enough."

"I didn't know you were a lifer Topper. What did you do to get those life sentences Topper?"

"I was caught downloading music. But it was really tough gangster rap."

I continued like this for several days.

One evening, I was lying on my bunk and chatting with "Topper" about some inane subject when I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I turned my head to find my celly staring at me with murder in his eyes. I stopped mid-sentence.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked.

"Well, I am having a conversation with my good buddy, Mr. Topper."

He gave me a funny look, and said, "Do you know how annoying it is to listen to that shit night after night?"

"Do you know how annoying it is to only have myself for conversation?"

"Yes, I know how annoying it is to have you for conversation. Now shut-the-fuck-up."

He climbed back onto his bunk. I debated internally about shutting up and decided I would talk more quietly. I figured Topper should be the first to speak however.

"He was a rather rude chap, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed he was, Topper."

"You know he's in here for mopery, don't you?"

"Mopery? What's mopery?"

"It's exposing yourself to a blind person, old chap."

I laughed, as if I had just heard that for the first time. Suddenly, I heard a grunt from the cot above and before I knew it Topper was in my face again.

"What the fuck is your issue, bub? What the fuck does it take to stop the ridiculous Revenge of the Nerds quotes? Do I need to make you a statistic?"

I was actually scared. I didn't figure any tattoo would keep this guy from making good on a threat. But, oddly, I felt emboldened. "Dude, you don't talk to me, so what's the big deal if I talk to myself?"

"Look, junior. I know what you are doing. Topper? Really? You couldn't name me anything more clever than that?"

"Feck, I thought it was rather clever," I said, in a cockney accent.

He let out a sigh of resignation. "So, if I talk to you a little, you'll shut-the-fuck-up?"

"Me shutting up would not be conducive to a conversation, now would it? I am already having one-person convos and I think if you do it, folk will think you've lost it."

"Fine," he snapped. "We can talk. But it don't mean we're best buddies or anything."

With that, he jumped back onto his bunk.

I asked him, "So if Topper wasn't clever enough for you, what clever handle did they hang on you?"

"The name's Fred Hoyt."

"Nice to finally meet you Freddy. Mine's Je..."

"The name's Fred, junior," he said, sharply. "I know you are Jeffery David Marshall. Mother is Sally Floyd, father is Arthur, but he likes people to call him Skip. You have been divorced for three months now and you are in here for spraying your ex and your former best friend Ramon down with sprayfoam insulation. You're twenty-six years old and do a crappy cockney accent."

I was stunned. "So how is it you know so much about me, Fred?"

"Some of us spend time in the library reading, instead of just slipping dope into books. Two guards are onto you and your cousin, by the way. You might consider telling him to postpone next month's delivery or you'll see some serious time added and he'll be moved to a federal specialty unit. That's what they do with multiple offenders.

"If you're lucky they might leave you here, Junior. After a stint in seg, they'll plunk you into one of the other pods, where that ink on your shoulder will be a target rather than a shield. But you don't have to listen to me. What do I know, huh?"

I digested what he had told me. A moment later, the lights-out call came and we were bathed in shadow. "So Fred, what did you do to gain entry to this charming club?"

"They caught me downloading music. But it was really tough gangster rap."

"Fucker."

*****

Fred and I actually ended up becoming something like friends. I had warned Mike about the guards. He confirmed Fred's story through a trusty and got a message to his girl to not bring any product in. Somehow, Pepe Lupino didn't hear of the bust and got popped holding three grams of cocaine.

Mike was dragged from the visitors area and strip searched as well. He thanked me profusely and told me to give Fred a big ol' sloppy blowjob.

"Fuck you, dude. Maybe you oughta be blowing him."

The news of Pepe's problems got around the other pods, followed closely by rumors that either Mike's crew or a Black gang had set him up. The rumor of Mike's involvement ran rampant around our pod.

Once again Fred saved my ass by warning me that Pepe's guys were out for blood so I shouldn't be caught anywhere alone. I got that word to Mike as well and all of his crew knew to be watchful.

One evening, I was lying on my bunk when I told Fred, "You know something Fred? I almost wish someone wanted to kill you so that I could save our ass."

"That's a mighty fucked-up way of expressing gratitude, Jeff."

"Well you've saved my ass twice now and I haven't done shit for you."

"You've kept me entertained. If I let you get killed, the next turd they stick in my cell might be a real jerk-off so you might say I got a vested interest in your wellbeing."

As much as I'd like to say that my stay in Lovelock was all fun, I couldn't. Fred and I talked at length on certain subjects, but after three-and-a-half years, I still didn't know what he was in for, nor did I know the name of the girl in the pictures. I gathered she was his daughter from a conversation one night, but Fred kept his life pretty close to his vest.

Daisey visited at least once a month. After three years, she'd not heard any more about Ramon. She had heard that Darla was back in the Reno area, but she hadn't kept track of her. I told her that I hadn't heard from either of them.

Sarah started coming without Royce. She told me that one morning they had just looked at each other and decided what had worked in high school wasn't enough as adults, and they had gone their separate ways. I was a bit saddened that I couldn't be there for her, but I told her to make sure the next guy would make her as happy as she deserved to be.

Mike had started having his girlfriend bring heroin to him again, about a year after the big bust. He didn't have her bring it every month, but she brought it at least once every six weeks.

He and three others in our bunch got popped. Mike did three months in segregation. The other guys did varying stints in segregation and disappeared. Word was one of them was put in B pod, and the other had been transferred to High Desert.

Things were quiet for a few months. After Mike and the guys had been popped, it seemed that the Latinos were ignoring the few of us that were left. Fred even said that he'd heard nothing, and Fred seemed to hear everything.

I was mopping the main common area one day, when I remembered that there was a leaking pipe in the latrine and I needed to go mop it again. I was sure that the maintenance guys hadn't cleaned up after repairing it.

I headed that way with my mop and bucket. As I walked into the bathroom, I heard a noise from the shower area. I went into the shower area to find three of Pepe's guys raping Smedly. One guy was holding Smedly from the front. He had his arms threaded through Smedly's elbows and his fists were clenched behind Smedly's back.

The biggest of the three was behind Smedly pounding into him like a porn star. The third guy was supposed to be looking out, but he seemed to be mesmerized by the scene and wasn't paying attention, so I broke my mop handle across the back of his head and he dropped.

Before the other two could react, I was swinging my bucket with every ounce of strength I could and smashed it into the big guy's face. I heard an audible pop as he fell out of Smedly.

I grabbed the guy who was holding Smedly like a rodeo bull-dogger, and started ramming his head into the shower wall. I had rammed him into the wall four times when I was hit upside the head. I was dazed, but managed to fend off the guy's next punch.

About that time, the guy I had taken out with my bucket was getting up and preparing to bull rush me. While my attention was on him, I took another shot to my head. I released the guy I had been ramming into the wall and tried to keep my balance.

Just as the first guy started his rush, the guards came running in. I still took another shot and was slammed into the wall by the bull rusher. As I lay there on the shower floor, watching the guards pull the two guys aside to restrain them, I looked over and saw Smedly.

He was bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose. His pants were around his ankles and he wasn't moving. I had a second to wonder if he was dead before the guards roughly rolled me over and shackled my wrists and ankles.

To be continued...