wasn’t you, it would have been someone else at the clinic. You just got lucky.” He chuckled again. “Soooo… Are you getting along with everyone all right? Make any new little friends?” Crane heard Max take a sip of something and sigh happily. “It’s too bad you’re not here. I’ve got this incredible cask strength Aberlour A’bunadh single malt that is to die for… mmm. Yum yum. Hey… You’re not doing any drugs in the clink, are you? Drugs are bad, m’kay?”
Speechless, Crane stared into space, imagining himself bashing the little psycho’s head open with a sledgehammer.
“Okay, listen, before I go: you’re going to get a bunkmate later today. He goes by Matty, but I checked with him and he doesn’t mind if you call him Max. Isn’t that nice? I’m getting you a brand-new Max to play with. See, Matty’s last wife got paroled, and he’s lonely and needs a new one, and I thought ‘Wow! I know just the guy!’ It’s true, you’ve only taken it up the ass once… But, hey, he’ll probably like that, right?”
“Don’t do this.” Crane’s voice was barely a whisper. “Please just… stop.” How was Max even pulling this off? How far was his reach?
“Aww… You guys will have so much fun together. Anyway, I gotta run. I have a coffee date with dear sweet Mary in a titch and need to make myself presentable. Don’t worry, I’ll check in on you in a few months… see how you’re settling in. Now, can you pass the phone to the man who gave it to you?”
“Don’t hurt Mary,” Crane begged. “Please… I’ll do anything. Just, don’t hurt her.”
“Mmhmm. If you’ll ‘do anything’, then how about you fucking do as I ask?” Max said, his tone dismissive and threatening. “Give the phone to the damn junkie. Now.”
Struggling to calm himself, Crane clutched the phone harder for a moment—a tear broke free and ran down his cheek.
“Fine.” He wiped his face angrily and shoved the phone towards the man at the door.
Instead of putting it to his ear like Crane had assumed, the man closed the phone, motioned to someone out in the hallway, and before Crane could stop him, dumped the phone into the janitor’s water bucket as he passed the cell. The short little man smiled, showing off a silver-capped tooth, and waved as he left.
Alone once more in his cell, Crane wondered what the hell he was going to do.
7:33 p.m., Sunday, May 28th
He was awoken from a fitful nap by a big shadow standing over him. It was a huge man, balding and covered in fuzzy grey-blue tattoos, with a lantern jaw and striking green eyes. As Crane sat up, he noticed the man held some blankets and clothes in his arms.
“Matty?” he croaked, not liking the way the big man’s grin got wider.
“Yeah, I’m Matty,” the man rumbled, dumping his belongings on the other cot. “How you doin’?”
“I’m… ah… good. How are you?”
“Oh, great, great. Ain’t it nice, us gettin’ set up like this? You’re a little on the skinny side, but that’s okay—you got nice hands.”
“Th-thank… you,” Crane stammered, wanting to keep things cordial. He had to keep from flinching when Matty sank down on the cot next to him and began explaining the meaning behind his many tattoos. There was only maybe an hour left of daylight, and two and a half more hours after that before lights out. Then it would be dark.
He was terrified.
10:00 p.m., Sunday, May 28th
At the sound of the bell, all the prisoners were locked in their cells. Crane nervously flipped the page in his book, not because he’d read a single word of it, but because it gave him the appearance of being busy—something that, thankfully, his new bunkmate seemed to respect.
Matty was lying on his back on the bunk, just staring at the ceiling, his big-knuckled hands clasped over his generous belly. Every once in a while, he would begin to hum something, but it was tuneless and would only last a few seconds before he fell back into silence. It was irritating, but Crane would take irritation over what he was eventually going to be forced into submitting to, possibly that very night. If I’m to be someone’s “wife”, why couldn’t my “husband” have a full head of hair and know how to hold a tune? I know I’m no catch, but come on, he joked to himself, trying to lighten his mood. The small laugh that escaped him sounded scared.
“What’s