Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Her lip curls in revulsion as her brow rises. “I will never get used to the way you eat. You’re a pig.” She mock-shudders. “Disgusting.”
Throwing the last quarter of the burger into my mouth, I speak around it. “Old habits.” I pick up the coffee and sip it. “If you’d ever been to prison, you’d get it.”
Ling eyes me in disbelief before turning to look out the window. “I know lots of people who were in prison. Fucked ‘em too.” She pins me with a stare. “And they don’t eat like pigs.”
I start the car and answer quietly, “Sure they do. In private.”
In prison, all you had between you and your food was the amount of time you could get it into your mouth before someone bigger and stronger came along and decided they needed it more than you did. If you didn’t eat fast, you didn’t eat at all. In my first week of juvie, I was lucky if I managed to eat half my meals before they were taken from me. I quickly came to know the pecking order, and I didn’t like it.
So I changed it.
One afternoon, an older, bigger, meaner guy slid my tray out from underneath me. By this point, I’d had enough. I was already cold and lonely in the concrete hellhole I’d call home for the next few years, so if I could stop myself from being hungry, then I was going to do it.
I quickly realized that if I wanted that food, I was going to have to fight for it.
Juvie is less like a prison and more like a zoo. Show your size and dominance, and others will leave you be. Hunger does things to people. It feeds anger and irritation. That anger and irritation soon becomes raw fury, and before you know it, you’re sticking a makeshift shiv in the gut of a guy you were playing basketball with the week before. It can make even the most agreeable of people do things they hadn’t imagined possible.
I remember lifting a tray over my head and bringing it down onto the other guy’s head, the unsuspecting attack leaving him sprawled on the dirty floor. I remember lifting that sticky, thick, rectangular piece of plastic and throwing it down, again and again, the jerk of his body bringing me a sick sense of satisfaction. I remember the deafening roar of blood rushing through my ears and the other guy bleeding on the floor, unmoving. I also remember reaching down and picking bits of food off of the floor, managing to eat some of it before I was taken down by officers. I remember the look on the other boys’ faces as I was escorted to the hole.
No one took my food again. Sure, I wasn’t the biggest or strongest, but I made my stand. They now knew there would be consequences for their actions when it came to me.
It wasn’t my last fight in juvie, but it took a lot to make me fight again. The only thing I found solace in was being able to keep my cool for longer than most. My control near unwavering, the boys started to come to me for advice or an ear. That first fight would cement my role in juvie. I had earned it without even knowing I was fighting for it. I was fucking good at it though, and as the years went on, an unspoken level of respect amongst my peers was won. Again, I hadn’t known I wanted it, but having it gave me an inch of power I hadn’t had before. Funnily enough, it would lead me to my current role in life.
A taste of power is sweet on the tongue.
Draining the last of my coffee, I throw the empty cup into the paper bag and hand it to Ling. She takes it without question, and I pull out of the parking lot, driving west, making it a short way before I lower the volume on the radio to ask, “Details?”
Ling shuffles around a moment before locating her Oroton compendium. She turns to the first page, and reads aloud, “Dispute between the Castillo and Gambino families. Castillo has his hands all over. Weapons, dirty money, women. Gambino is a classic case. Drugs, protection, bribery. Castillo’s only son, Miguel, is the contact. A few years back, Castillo and Gambino called a truce. Gambino’s eldest son, Dino, married Castillo’s eldest daughter, Alejandra.”
Without a trace of emotion, I mutter a cold, “How sweet.”
Ling snorts a laugh. “Anyway, you’re going to love this.” Tapping the page with a perfectly manicured nail, she announces in glee, “The Gambinos… they don’t know we’re coming.”
Well, that’s just fucking dandy. “Please tell me this is a minor dispute.”
“Of course.” I can practically hear her smile. “Just murder.”
Taking a deep breath, I mutter a hushed, “Fuck.”