Elizabeth Massie: Naked, on the Edge

The shopper had been praised for attempting to stop the robbery and save the already-dead owner’s life. Marcus, sixteen at the time, though tried as an adult had not been given the death penalty as most citizens had screamed for, but life in prison. Two times over.

Five, six, seven, eight, turn, one, two, three.

He was sorry now. He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Brad. Brad was his brother and Marcus loved him but Brad didn’t know shit about right and wrong. God have pity, fuck it all, where was Brad now? In the never-ending lake of torment? Of course he was.

Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, turn, one, two, three, four, five, six, turn, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, turn, one, two, three, four…

“Your tongue’s ticklin’ my ear!” whined Tonya. “You feel like a old wet worm.”

Jimbo pinched Tonya’s cheek then pulled back and tugged the sweat-crusted brim of the guard’s hat down, covering Tonya’s eyes. “A wet, willin’ worm, honey,” he said.

Jimbo grinned and lit a cigarette. He was good-looking, and Tonya knew she was lucky to have him like her. He was twenty-three, muscular, and covered with knock-out tattoos. She’d first seen him in the 7-Eleven in his guard uniform, buying a pack of smokes before he went to work. She worked behind the counter. When she’d slid the pack across the countertop to him, he’d put his hand on top of hers and said, “Want to light one for me?”

Tonya, at nineteen, was ecstatic. She’d never had a boyfriend before Jimbo, had never even been touched in that way by a boy before. Her height, six-one, had scared off most boys, and besides, she was skinny and flat as a train track and her bottom teeth poked out a little. So, with a trembling match she’d lit a cigarette for Jimbo, and the next morning when he got off work and came back by the store, she’d gone out with him and lit more than that.

Dating hadn’t exactly been what she’d thought it would be, and she didn’t have any girlfriends to compare notes with, she only saw what couples did on movies and on the T.V. But Jimbo kept coming back for more, so she figured it was going okay.

They’d been dating for four months now. At first, Jimbo had made love to her easy, in her bed or his, once out by the pond and once in the back of his pickup on the overlook at Raven’s Roost. Then, it began to change. It wasn’t making love anymore. It was screwing, fucking, humping. And she had the bruises to prove it. But he was her boyfriend.

Most of the time now he scared her. But he was her boyfriend.

My boyfriend, she thought. She had no idea exactly what he wanted today, a fuck in the prison basement? Probably. Just so he didn’t try to put ants down her blouse like he did one time in the woods so she’d buck harder when he came.

They stood alone at the end of a narrow hallway in the far reaches of the prison. Jimbo had a tangle of keys hanging from his belt. It made him look very sexy.

“Now don’t be making any noise, you hear me?” Jimbo warned Tonya. “My friends aren’t going to say anything but Captain Harner will have me out of here on my ass if he finds I got you in here. He’ll probably fine me or even have me arrested. Fuck. You want me locked up in here with these stinking criminals?”

“’Course not.” The gum she’d had resting in the side of her mouth made its way back to her teeth. She stretched it, blew a bubble, and it popped. “Now, what are we gonna do, Jimbo?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. And you be a good little girl and keep your fucking mouth shut. You hear me?”

Tonya nodded.

“It’s gonna be underground.” His brown eyes sparkled, his square jaw cracked in a smile. He unlocked the steel door to the cellar stairs, tugged the door open, and grabbed Tonya’s hand.

Tonya had come into the prison easily, under pretense of visiting a prisoner, Eddie Stratford, who had twenty-five years for armed robbery. Eddie had no desire to see Tonya; she reminded him of his old girlfriend that he tried to kill one time, but he was willing to play the game in exchange for the cash and cigarettes Jimbo was able to provide. “Hi, Tonya, good to see you how’s the baby how’s the job?”

Jimbo had then sneaked Tonya away from Eddie and hid her in the male guard’s restroom. With help and a bribe from another couple buddies who worked check-in, Jimbo’d gotten her signed out. In the restroom, Tonya’s donned an old uniform and put on Jimbo’s cap. Her heart had beat irregularly with dreadful hope.

Then Tonya and Jimbo had slipped deeper and deeper into the prison confines, through the gates and down the passageways, Tonya bending low beneath the bulk of her costume so the prisoners wouldn’t notice her. Jimbo’s friends winked as they passed. After many twists and turns, they came to the stairs leading down to the solitary confinement cells.

“Ain’t supposed to use the cells down there no more,” Jimbo explained in a hushed voice as he’d opened the panel to the light box and flicked a switch, throwing yellow glow down the steps. “Warden don’t even know we use ’em. Say it ain’t humane. Fuckin’, pussy-lickin’ ACLU. Fuckin’ crybabies. It’s their damn fault. What do they think punishment is, a party and a birthday cake? I say screw ’em. Hang the thieves, the drug-addicts, the dealers, the murderers. Hang the goddamned white-collar crooks and those women who don’t get off welfare in a year. Torture ’em first then string ’em up where the public can watch and take pictures. Put the pictures in the post office.”

“You mean there’s guys down there in cells?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Keep up with me and keep your goddamn thoughts to yourself.”

Tonya nodded.

“I know what I’m doing, okay?”

“Okay,” said Tonya. She didn’t know anything about criminal justice, but Jimbo sure did. He knew about everything, cars, politics, religion, hunting. He would make a hell of a president, she thought. Straighten everything out. She followed Jimbo down to the cold concrete floor of the cellar, keeping one hand in his, the other on the crumbling wall. The smell, wafting up from the cellar, was strong, a blending of wet and mildew and cold sweat.

“Only got two down here now,” said Jimbo. “Both murderers. Since neither of them made it to death row, some of us guards decided we would give ’em a little treat down here for a while. Captain Harner approved it, and the warden won’t never hear of it ’cause he doesn’t take much stock in the day-to-day. One’s of the criminals down here’s an old fart, been in prison for, shit, over thirty years now. We put him down here for throwing food in the cafeteria. Now he can throw it all he wants, nobody knows or cares. That’s him there.”

Jimbo pointed. Tonya looked.

The cell was directly in front of them. It looked like a steel closet, with a slot in the door like a mail slot. There was no door knob, only a keyhole. Tonya guessed you tugged the door open with the key. Above their heads, the long, bare fluorescent lights pulsed and hummed.

“Is it dark in that cell?”

“Guess so.”

“No lights at all?”

“Don’t think so.”

“How do they see in there?”

“They don’t, idiot.”

Tonya took a deep breath that stung her nose. She shifted one foot to the other. “How long’s that guy been in solitary?”

Jimbo shrugged. “I don’t know. Couple, four months. He don’t make a sound, but he’s alive ’cause he eats what we stick in the slot. He’s got a mattress, too, so he can’t complain. Homeless people ain’t got mattresses, so this asshole should send us a thank you note, don’t you think?”