Riven (24 page)

Thomas wasn’t sure why he expected the prisoner to be brought within minutes of his own arrival. He had assumed that with all the computers and tracking devices in the place, there must be a record of his progress from his office all the way deep inside to this room and that someone would decide it was time to fetch the inmate.

No such luck. Fifteen minutes after sitting, Thomas began to idly page through his Bible. He didn’t know what he would have done if he had not brought it. The only other reading material was painted on the wall.

Do not touch the glass.

Do not attempt to pass more than one sheet through the slot at a time.

Do not attempt to pass anything through the slot a corrections officer has not authorized.

Thomas heard nothing for fifteen more minutes, then finally poked his head out the door.

“Finished?” an officer said.

“Not even started,” Thomas said. “Are they going to bring him, or what?”

“No idea. They don’t tell us. They’ll inform personnel on the other side when the inmate is ready.”

“Can you call someone and ask?”

“I wouldn’t know who to call, Reverend. Sorry.”

After ten more minutes Thomas emerged again. A new officer stood in the hall. “I’ve been here forty minutes, and no prisoner. Could you please telephone the warden’s secretary for me and ask her what I should do?”

The officer smiled. “You’re gettin’ a taste of what the cons go through every day. If he’s still not here in twenty minutes, I’ll let you use the phone down here.”

The delay seemed so wasteful and inefficient, but then Thomas realized that the Deacon didn’t have any pressing appointments. And neither did he. It was up to Thomas to redeem the time. He turned back to his Bible.

Finally, just minutes before the hour was up, he heard muffled conversation, then a door open and close. Eventually, shuffling into view came the shackled and manacled Deacon. He looked small and thin and weak, no surprise for a man of nearly seventy who had spent half a lifetime in prison.

“Good morning,” Thomas said, resisting the urge to stand.

The Deacon sat wearily. “Is it?”

“Well, I guess not. Big storm outside.”

“Like I would know. I can’t even verify it’s morning.”

“Trust me, it is. What can I do for you, Henry?”

“Call me Deke.”

“Okay.”

“First off, you won’t be needing that.” He nodded toward Thomas’s Bible.

“If
you
don’t need it, that’s fine, Deke. But I always need it.”

“Spare me. We won’t be praying today either.”

“As you wish.”

“I need an emergency phone call, Reverend.”

“You do? You know the rules. Is there an imminent death in your family?”

“Yes, mine. In ten weeks and a day, but who’s counting?”

“And whom did you want to call? A family member?”

“My family abandoned me years ago. I want to call Chaplain Russ. Want him there when they string me up.”

“I can’t allow that, Deke. Sorry.”

“Why?”

“He’s retired; you know that. I asked him specifically if there were any loose ends, anything he needed to come back for, anything to finish up. He told me no, that he had promised his wife he was done and gone. He did say he would send you a note, remind you of a few things, tell you he’d be thinking about you.”

“On my special day?” the Deacon said with a smirk.

“I suppose that’s what he meant, yes.”

“So I got to be alone up there with just a screw and an executioner?”

“You’re permitted a spiritual counselor, but you’re aware of that, too.”

Henry Trenton looked away and shook his head. “You volunteering?”

It was the last thing Thomas cared to do. He did not know this man, didn’t like him, and didn’t need to be just a few feet from a hanging. “I’m willing,” he said.

“I’ll think about it,” Trenton said. “I don’t guess I want to be alone.”

“Can I ask you where you are spiritually, Deke?”

“That’s personal.”

“As you wish. You know I only care that you’re right with God. You wouldn’t want to face eternity apart from Him.”

“I’m sort of used to that by now.”

Thomas prayed silently for wisdom and the right words. “He hasn’t abandoned you, Deke. Not even in here.”

“Well, I’ve abandoned Him.”

“Have you? Someone told me they thought you were right with your Maker. I hope you are, and if you aren’t, I’d like to show you how you can be.”

“Do you know what I’m in here for, Chaplain?”

“I’ve seen your file.”

“I told you I murdered those kids so they wouldn’t rat me out. But most people think what I did to ’em before that was worse than killing them. Do you?”

Thomas hesitated but held the Deacon’s gaze. “I suppose I do.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“Tell me something. Why do people call you the Deacon?”

The old man shrugged. “I read the Bible. Pray. Talked to Russ a lot.”

“Ever share your faith with other guys? try to get them to become believers?”

“Nah. That’s rude. Anyway, I’m not sure what I believe.”

“You want to be sure?”

“I don’t know. I’m just tired. All I know is, I want to die, but I don’t want to die alone.”

Thomas sighed. “I can guarantee you won’t have to die alone, Deke. But I can also guarantee you’ll spend eternity with God if you want to.”

“I’ll think about it.”

27

Dennis Asphalt & Paving | Addison

The work crews were huddled in the outbuilding out of the rain as Brady sloshed past and mounted the steps of the double-wide into Alejandro’s cluttered office. The secretary was out, and Alejandro was on the phone, his back to the door. He spun and stared at Brady, holding up a finger as he finished his conversation. But the more Alejandro stared, the wider his eyes grew. Finally he covered the phone and said, “Grab a towel from the bathroom and get yourself dried off, man. You look like a drowned rat!”

Brady caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror as he toweled down. He ran both hands through his hair. What a mess. When he returned to sit across from Alejandro’s desk, the foreman hung up and smiled at him. “I don’t know where to start, dude. Did your brother love the play? Did you see the paper? No school today? What’re you doing here?”

“Yeah, he loved it. Did you?”

“’Course! And now you’re a star, a celebrity!”

“Thanks.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I quit school. I need to work full-time.”

“Quit? Why,
muchacho
? You don’t wanna do that! Best you can do around here is what you’re doing, and maybe drive truck now and then. But I don’t know how many more hours I can give you. Times are tough.”

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

“What do you need money for?”

“A car. And to live. I don’t want to live at home any longer than I have to.”

“The guys who work here live together in that shack at the edge of the property. You don’t want to do that, do you?”

“I might.”

“You’d be the only
gringo,
but they’d love to have someone help with the rent.”

“I could get along with those guys.”

“Sure you could. But do you really want to do this, Brady? I mean, I’ll talk to the big boss and see what I can find, but I honestly don’t know.”

“I’ve decided, Alejandro. It’s done. Let me know as soon as you can.”

“You’re working tonight, right? Maybe I’ll know by then.”

Brady had forgotten it was his mother’s day off. No wonder she had been less than thrilled to be awakened by the dean’s phone call. The last thing he wanted was to talk to her, but he was freezing and needed to shower and change. He found her lounging in front of the television in her robe. She muted the TV as if relishing the chance to confront him.

“If it isn’t my favorite failure. So you’re out of the musical. That was one dream that needed to die, and you know it as well as I do.”

“What’re you talking about? You saw the paper. You know I was good. I could’ve become a star.”

“In your dreams.”

“I quit school too, you might as well know.”

“Brilliant. Well, you can’t live here without working because—”

“I’m working.”

“I mean full-time.”

“So do I.”

“Good, because no school means you pay rent.”

“What?”

“House rule.”

“Since when?”

“Since now. Take it or leave it.”

“Pay to live in a hole like this with you? You have got to be kidding me.”

“What do you think
I
do, Brady? I pay to live in a hole like this with you.”

“Well, I already got a place to live, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“You gonna be working at the ash-phalt place?”

“Asphalt, Ma. Asphalt. Learn to talk.”

“Yeah, tell me about it, dropout.”

“Anyway, what do you care where I’m working? Just know I’ll be close enough to keep an eye on Petey.”

“You can’t protect him all the time.”

“What are you saying?”

“Just that if he needs discipline, he’s going to get it, especially with you not here threatening me all the time.”

“The threat still stands, Ma. You keep your hands off him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I’d have you in jail so fast your head would spin.”

“It’d be worth it if I was paying you back for hurting Petey.”

That afternoon, when the skies cleared, Brady walked all the way into Arlington to the storefront office of the Community Theater Players. A paunchy, middle-aged man was futzing about. He introduced himself as Walter. Brady told him he was an actor, working full-time, looking to audition for any roles they might have coming up for evenings and weekends.

Walter sat and studied him. “Are you even twenty-one yet?”

“Soon,” Brady said. Five years was soon enough.

“You know, we do light comedies, that kind of stuff. Most of us are my age or older, and if we need young people, they are usually relatives. Do you like to do crew stuff?”

“Nah. I’m an actor.”

“Um-hm. I can take your information and keep it on file.”

“Any productions coming up?”

“
Kiss Me, Kate,
but I don’t see a role there for your type.”

“I’m not a type. I have range. I played the leads in all the shows at Forest View when I was there.”

“You worked with Clancy? So did I! Well, let me call him and maybe something will open next spring you could audition for.”

Walter was going to call Clancy Nabertowitz? That would be the end of that.

Brady had been free only a few hours, and already he was tired of walking. As soon as he could get out from under his Laundromat debt to Tatlock, he’d have to start a car fund again. He wouldn’t need anything fancy. Just something to get around in.

Two things weighed on him as he trudged back to Addison. How was he going to tell Petey? And what would he do if Alejandro couldn’t find more work for him or a bunk in the laborers’ shack? Staying even one more night in the trailer suddenly sounded unbearable.

By the time Brady got back to the trailer park, Stevie Ray was pulling in from work. Brady jogged to his place. The baby was at day care, and Stevie’s wife was still at work. Stevie had kicked off his boots and was sitting on the couch with a brew. “Grab yourself one from the fridge, Brady.”

“You know what?” Brady said. “I appreciate it, but I hate beer.”

“Yeah?”

“I do, man.”

“If I drank like you, I’d hate it too,” Stevie said. “You don’t have to drink all you have, you know.”

“I don’t even like just one.”

“That a fact? You know why I like it? I need something to take the edge off, mellow me out.”

“Me too,” Brady said, “but I can’t stand the taste.”

“What about weed?”

“Too expensive.”

“But you like it?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“In the can on top of the fridge. Go for it.”

“No money,” Brady said.

“I’m not selling, bud. I’m offering you one. Smoke yourself some dope.”

Brady and Stevie passed the joint back and forth. It did mellow Brady out, but the combination of alcohol and marijuana made Stevie giggly. As Brady poured out his story, telling the truth to the only person he trusted, Stevie kept covering his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. That made Brady mad, but he would never let it show.

“Man,” Stevie said, eyelids heavy, “you’re hosed. Listen, if nothing works out, you can crash here.”

“You’d better talk to your wife about that, dude.”

Stevie didn’t seem to hear him at first, but then it seemed to dawn on him. “Oh yeah! Her! I am married, ain’t I?” And he slid to where he was lying on the couch, laughing hysterically.

Brady showed up at Dennis Paving just before seven and found Alejandro at the door, pulling on his jacket.

“Bad news and good news,” Alejandro said. “For a while I got no more hours for you than what you have now. But I like your work. The other guys like you, so next time we have an opening or a big job where we can add more hours, it’s yours.”

“Okay. Well, thanks. What’s the good news?”

“The laborers have an extra bunk in the shack, and until you get more hours, they’ll let you have it for a half share of the rent. You’ll be helping each other out.”

“How much is that?”

It was half of what Brady was making, and of course he still had payments due to Tatlock. He knew it was a foolish investment and probably twice what his own mother would charge. But something about the freedom it promised made him take it on the spot.

“When you’re done tonight,” Alejandro said, “check it out. Manny will show you. Those guys have fun over there, man. They live for the weekend, but they’re good guys.”

Brady worked with more enthusiasm and precision than he had in a long time, even with the weed still in his system. That was another thing. All the laborers talked about, besides their money and their booze and their women, was weed. He ought to be able to score some anytime he wanted it now.

Life was looking up. He still had to talk to Peter, and he was going to have to reassure him that he would still be close by and they would see a lot of each other. But things were going to work out.