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“I’ll get you out. I’ll make a deal with Wells. He needs me to work the 8 Ball. I’ll blackmail him to Hell and back if I have to, to get you out.”

She smiles faintly.

“That’s sweet.”

I want to ask her about some of the other things she said the other night. Cursing Doc. Cursing me. But I don’t want to hear any of it again right now. We’re having a not-­totally-­fucked-­up moment and it feels so fragile. One wrong word could blow it away and I don’t want to do that.

“I’m going to figure this out.”

“I heard someone say Mason Faim is back.”

“Ain’t life grand?”

“At least he’s locked up too. I’d be a little distressed if I was in a cell and they’d put him up in our room at the Chateau Marmont.”

She comes back to the bars.

“Well, he doesn’t look so good right now. He tripped and fell into a wall a ­couple of times.”

She smiles and wraps her arms around herself.

“Did I say something wrong the other night? I can’t remember and you’re acting funny. What happened?”

I shake my head.

“You didn’t say anything. I’m just worried is all.”

“If I said anything to hurt you, I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

“You forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“You’re lying, but that’s okay. Us jailbirds need the occasional hopeful lie.”

She puts her hand up against the net and holds it there. I reach out for her.

The cellblock door slides open and I pull my hand back.

“Stark,” says Julie. “It’s time to go.”

“Thanks for coming to see me,” says Candy.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“If I’m not out by Christmas, bake me a gingerbread man with a file in it.”

“Baby, I’ll bake you a neutron bomb.”

She stands at the bars watching until the door closes.

I walk with Julie back to the empty office.

“Thanks for letting me see her.”

“Just remember. If anyone asks, you were talking to her about Mason.”

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