the exasperation in Linc’s voice. “Bye, Wyatt.”
“Bye, Webster. I’ll make sure Linc puts money on your commissary books,” Wyatt shouted as the phone seemed to be wrestled away from him.
“I see you got the pin for the debit account I set up,” Linc said, by way of greeting. Unlike his gossipy husband, Linc was never one for small talk.
Webster rested an arm on the top of the phone, pressing his forehead against it to give himself the illusion of privacy. “Yeah, thanks. Tell me you found something that explains why the fuck I’m in here, man.”
“Even if I had, I don’t know how I’d know it? Nobody speaks nerd around here but you. I need to find somebody I can trust to sort it all out.”
Webster gave a defeated sigh. “Is there any way you can get it to me?”
Linc snorted. “The whole goddamn computer? Not likely. No.”
“A printout of the results, whatever they are?” Webster clarified.
“I’ll see what I can do. Are you holding up okay in there? Have you been avoiding your brother?”
Webster flushed, thoughts of Cyrus flashing through his head, his hand curling over Webster’s hip, the way he’d moved inside him, their lips crashing together. “Don’t call him that,” he muttered. “And no, I haven’t. He’s…somehow…my roommate. Which I find hard to believe is a coincidence.”
Webster dragged the phone from his ear as Linc shouted, “And you’re just telling me now? I’ll call your attorney. They can’t do this to you.”
Linc’s outrage was somewhat soothing and made Webster feel like, just maybe, he wouldn’t be forgotten in there. “Relax. I’m good. We’re good. It’s okay. Turns out…he doesn’t actually want to murder me.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Linc made a noise of exasperation. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“What?” Webster asked, hating the way his voice cracked. “I didn’t do anything.”
Once more, Linc snorted. “Look. I’ve known you long enough to know the way your voice gets all weird and scratchy when you like a guy. I watched the way you followed Jackson around for the last couple of years, even though you never stood a chance.”
“Wow. First of all, fuck you, and second of all”—he dropped his voice to a whisper—“I never had a ‘thing’ for Jackson. Not really,” he added begrudgingly.
Linc ignored him. “You’ve been there 24 hours. The ink isn’t even dry on your transfer papers and you’re trying to bone your brother.”
“What!” Wyatt shouted from somewhere in the background.
Not trying, thank you very much. “He’s not my brother.”
“Yes, you’ve felt the need to point that out twice now in our not even ten minute conversation. But not because you’ve decided to spend your time on the inside banging your not-brother.”
This was starting to feel like an attack. “You know, there is such a thing as being too close to your co-workers. You don’t need to know everything about my life. How about you just get me out of prison and then you can lecture me about my love life?”
“First, you’d have to have one. Which you don’t, of course, because you’re focusing on staying alive in prison while I figure out who’s framed you for terrorism and wants you dead. You’re definitely not spending your time re-enacting the all male version of Orange is the New Black.”
Webster’s response was a hissing whisper. “What do you want from me? I don’t have a work assignment. There’s not much else to do in here.”
“For fuck’s sake. Call me tomorrow. I’m going to go punch something.”
“Don’t leave me in here just because of this,” Webster begged just before the phone disconnected.
As Webster hung up, his mood plummeted. Just ten minutes of talking to Linc, with Wyatt shouting and nosy in the background, had let him forget, if just a few minutes, that everything sucked. It had made him feel like at least he had people fighting for him. But now, reality fell on him like an anvil, knocking him back to reality. He should just go hide in his cell for a few hours until Cy was back from his work detail in the laundry.
As he passed the table closest to the stairs, a leg shot out, blocking his way. His gaze slid to the owner of the leg, one of the skinheads—he had no idea which one. They all looked alike. All but their leader, the big guy at the head of the table.
“Hey, where you going in such a hurry?” the large man asked, his voice as