Theodore (Xavier's Hatchlings #2) - Kathi S. Barton Page 0,7

that nobody treated a person any worse than fucking family. “You got that right.”

“What you in here for? Knock over a liquor store? Did you perhaps kill someone? I’m in here for no other reason than the judge told me that without a house or job, I couldn’t leave. I have one, damn it.” He didn’t know if that was all the reason but didn’t say anything to her about that.

“No, I didn’t kill anyone. I wanted to, let me tell you. But now I have to figure out a way to get out of here and go to the reading of my dad’s will. It should have been done sooner, but my daughter was out someplace and couldn’t be reached. She’s a bitch too.” The woman laughed. “I had me the steaks all lined up to steal, but this is putting a damper on things I got going.”

She told him she had the same issues. “That son of a bitch even said he was going to sell off my car. How the hell am I supposed to get around and to my job and house if he does that? I’m gonna be telling them who’s boss, let me tell you. I have myself a plan, and once I’m out of here, I’m going to be executing it and a few shits that have been doing me wrong too. I’m Sandra Merkle. I’m going to be a millionaire as soon as someone gets their head out of their ass and figures out that I’ve been falsely jailed.”

He just rolled his eyes and laid back on his bunk. Patrick no more believed she was going to get out than he believed he was going to win the next lottery. Some people, he thought, thinking that they were more than they really were, got on his last nerve.

“Here’s your meal, Patrick.” He must have fallen asleep and rolled out of the cot onto the floor when the person spoke to him. Christ, he could barely get up off the floor, he was so out of shape. “The doc will be in to see you in the morning. He’s making sure you don’t have anything likely to make us sick. I mean, other than your stench. When was the last time you had a shower? You smell like rotted meat.”

Taking the tray, he stayed on the floor where he’d landed. Even if he had a table, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to get up to eat at it. Once he had the covers off the plates, he hollered for the cop again. When he came back, Patrick showed him what was on his plate.

“I know what’s there, moron. I’m the one that fixed it up for you. What’s wrong with it?” Patrick didn’t know where to start, so he just pointed at it again. “Yeah? So? You should be thankful that you’re getting anything at all. Eat it and shut up.”

“All I got was a bologna sandwich here. Some baked chips of some sort. Why would someone bake chips when they can have them deep fried? Where is the mashed taters and gravy? Even a little bit of mayo wouldn’t go unnoticed by me. How am I supposed to get enough with this little bit of food? Come on. You’re pulling a funny on me, aren’t you? Get me one of the meals like you used to bring me: sliced ham and some taters with gravy on it. There was dessert too. Ice cream and pie. This ain’t enough for me to get the hunger pangs to go away.”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot you were in a five-star hotel and that I should have brought you a wine list too. Will that be all right?” Patrick told him that he’d take a nice bottle of wine if they was offering it. “We’re not. You’ll eat what you got and be happy for anything at all. We don’t have the funds like we used to when there was a cook that would bring by meals.”

When the cop walked away, Patrick asked about the wine list. When the door slammed behind the other man, Patrick wondered what the hell the world was coming to. Offering a man a wine list, then taking it away was beyond cruel, he thought.

He picked up the sandwich and bit down into the thing. “One slice of bologna? Where’s the mustard and cheese? I like chips on my bologna sandwich too.” He ate the dried-out sandwich and looked