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“Yeah, he’s looking for an escape plan. Don’t tell the guards.”
I sighed. His friend was Jag. Moe probably wasn’t working for Ram, given that Jag seemed to hate my ex. But how could someone, anyone, just admit their illegal plans to a stranger?
“You shouldn’t tell people that.”
“I know, but you seem nice. I mean, not really, but you seem… I don’t know, trustworthy. The guards don’t like you either.”
I eyed the gap in the wall. “You know, they send in informants sometimes to act friendly and get you to confess to shit.”
Moe was silent for a moment. “That’s not just on TV?”
I groaned and ran a hand down my face. This guy was going to be eaten alive in here. No wonder Jag was desperate to find a way out if he wanted Moe free.
“If you’re not acting dumb to hustle me, you have a lot to learn.”
Moe was quiet again. “Dumb?” he said, his voice so soft I barely heard it.
My heart contracted like a cold cock.
“I see,” he said, his voice flat now. “You’re the cruel type of mean rather than the funny or helpful kind.”
I winced, but I fucking shouldn’t have. So what if this random guy thought I was cruel? People had been calling me bitchy and evil my whole life. Hell, my mother loved to remind me that I had a rotten soul and a nasty spirit. All because dark magic came naturally to me. It had stopped bothering me years ago when I realized fuck it, I should just hurt those people who hurt me. They were going to call me evil either way. At least if I was cruel, I wasn’t the only one who suffered.
But harming Moe felt like kicking a puppy. Too easy and too undeserved.
I waited for him to continue with his cheerful talk like he had after the first time I had insulted him, but he didn’t say anything. The only sound in the room was my breath and the clattering hum from the shitty air vent above the toilet. Now that Moe had stopped talking, I realized just how small the cell seemed without him.
“I have a book. Do you want me to read it out loud?” I offered.
I flipped throughDick Fight Islandand its pages of black-and-white drawings of buff dudes getting it on. I nearly groaned, not in pleasure, but in annoyance. Figures I’d be stuck with smut as my only entertainment. I should have taken a puzzle book. “And… ummm… describe the pictures of naked dudes wrestling and fucking?”
Moe didn’t answer, and I only felt worse. If he was a troll or trying to hustle me, he would accept any attempt at an apology to keep me talking. Since he didn’t, he was actually hurt.
He was the rarest and worst thing in the world: sincere.
“I don’t know you well enough to judge your intelligence. Don’t take it seriously,” I said.
The quiet remained like a bruise, silent and sore and suggesting something painful had happened. I clenched my teeth and did the difficult thing.
“I’m sorry, Moe.”
Something scraped on the wall like a stone on stone. Frowning, I stood and placed my eye to the gap but saw only darkness. Moe had blocked it off.
Chapter 7
Iracedthroughtheprison corridors, coming to a stop before Beverly’s cell.
It was free time, so all the cell doors were open. Beverly’s doorway was blocked with a pile of random shit: the mattress from her cot, the chair from her desk, a notepad, and dozens of random yellow pencils.
Inside the cell, someone was singing in a low, smooth voice as if thunder could talk. “Who’s a good beaver? Who’s the best beaver? You’re as cute as a golden retriever.”
Beverly grunted and whined as though she were singing along.
I peered over Beverly’s makeshift dam. An inflatable kiddie pool filled most of her cell. It was too shallow for Beverly to swim in, but she crouched in the center as though trying to get as much of her body underwater as possible. Jag perched on her bed frame, singing to her.
I smiled as relief flooded my veins. “You took care of her.”
Jag startled, but he grinned when he saw me. My stomach flipped over like a gymnast.
