The Fall Guy (Eastward Prison Story)

9. Kaden

CHAPTER 9

KADEN

A man died a couple of metres away from me, and prison life has picked back up like it never happened. It feels surreal to think I’m sitting amongst a killer, probably more than one. Yes, my brother sent someone to the hospital, but it was an accident and as far as I’m aware the kid’s still alive. Jono was put down like yesterday’s trash. It was no mistake; his death was intentional.

Max laughs loudly, bringing me back to the present. He’s telling a story about visiting a priest, but I missed half the story. The dining hall is full of idle chatter, and the fish isn’t so bad today. I spoon a mouthful in while glancing at Max.

“The church can answer all your questions,” he says, looking at me. He’s trying to drop a hint cryptically, but I’m not sure what he means.

I’m doubting he’s talking about the murder. Although most inmates probably want to know what happened to Jono, I’m uneasy about opening my eyes to the truth.

“Smokes and phone cards?” I ask.

“Sure. He’ll also be able to offer you work in the gospel garden, or something similar to pay for those things.”

I nod. Finally, something I can work with. I need money and maybe the priest is a connection to the outside world. “I could go to the Sunday service.”

“You do that,” he says, patting me on the back.

Rio looks smug as he places his tray on an empty table before slipping onto the bench. I narrow my eyes at him as he happily eats his lunch. Somethings going on with him. I know it, the governor knows it, and maybe others have seen his strange behaviour too. What is there to be happy about? He didn’t smile yesterday or the day before, so what’s new now? He’s getting under my skin, but would he think that was a victory?

“What’s your deal with your cellmate?” Max asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I scratch my chin. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you looking at him a few times, and he’s acting weird today. Did you blow him last night?” He has a serious expression on his face. I guess he’s not joking. Is it normal for cellmates to get each other off?

“Nah. Actually, I was thinking he’s acting differently today. What do you know about him?” I try to sound like his question isn’t a big deal.

Being gay in the twenty-first century isn’t taboo, but the idea of a man making my dick hard terrifies me, and it’s already happened with Rio more than once. It’s not that I’m afraid to question my sexuality. It’s the idea of giving him any kind of power over me.

“Probably less than what you’ve found out by just talking to him. He’s been here almost nine months, keeps his head down, and stays under the radar.” He shrugs before adding, “There doesn’t seem to be much to know.”

“Do you think he’s weak?” I ask.

“Don’t underestimate anyone in here, that’s how you get killed off.”

His answer surprises me. He always seems relaxed, but maybe that’s his false persona, and he’s always fully switched on. “Do you think that’s what Jono did?”

“He was a whiny little bitch. He needed to be taken down.”

I rub my hand over my face hiding my words in case anyone is trying to lip read our conversation. “Do you know who attacked him?”

“Not a Cyclone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

My eyes widen, but I keep my mouth covered while I speak. “I meant any inmate, but it’s good to know none of my brothers were involved.”

Felix frowns as he assesses the canteen. He locates Rio, deciding to head over. His usual confidence is missing as he keeps an appropriate distance from Rio. Today he’s less bully and more friend, but that doesn’t make sense. They’ve never looked on good terms before.

I can’t avert my eyes as they start to interact. They’re talking through gritted teeth, and I wish I was a fly on the wall—closer to their conversation so I could hear their words.

I’m forced out of the canteen when everyone at my table stands. We end up watching The Godfather trilogy in the TV room with Ernie. A few guys play cards at a small table while Max has private meetings with different people in the far corner.

I’m almost nodding off to sleep when Rio is dragged into the room by the scruff of his neck. It’s hard not to react so I shift in my chair to sit up rather than being slouched down. Two guys leave him at Ernie’s feet, and Max comes across the room to tower over him.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Max asks.

“Looks like a snitch to me,” one of the guys who brought him in says.

Rio puts his hands up. “You have the wrong guy.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Some cocksucker is trying to take Ernie’s shower privileges.”

“What’s that got to do with Rio?” I ask.

There was no hint of trouble when I asked about my roommate earlier. I’m struggling to catch up with what’s going down. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to what Max was doing at the back of the room.

“He was seen leaving the governor’s office this morning.” Max tightens his fist like he’s thinking about punching him.

I should leave him to fight his own battles, but what I know isn’t going to harm my relationship with anyone. “That’s probably because the governor’s suspicious of him.”

“And you know this how?” Max asks, finally moving his gaze from Rio to me.

“She pulled me into her office a couple of days ago. She thought maybe I’d know something.”

“Have you considered the guards are nervous about people being alone in the bathroom after what happened to Jono?” Rio adds.

“Are you uneasy about what happened to him?” Max asks Rio, giving him a pointed look.

“He had it coming,” Rio says with a shrug. He doesn’t sound even a little upset that someone got murdered. Jono might’ve been a bad guy, but he was still a person. “Can I get up now that we’ve established that Ernie’s bathroom routine has nothing to do with me?” Max looks to Ernie, and he gestures to get him up. Rio slumps into the chair next to me. “I’m sure you can re-persuade the guards once they realise no one else is going to get murdered.”

“How can you be so sure?” Max asks, and Rio shrugs.

“Call it a hunch.”

Rio is allowed to leave, but he has me thinking. How could he know the bathroom incident was a one-off? Already, I’ve witnessed more violent outbreaks than I’d like. Prison is full of criminals, and maybe nobody is safe.

“Lights out,” one of the guards shouts, and we plummet into darkness. The moon’s glow through my tiny cell window is all that illuminates the room.

“How did you become a Cyclone?” Rio asks after a beat.

“What did you do to get yourself thrown in jail?” I ask, ignoring his questions.

“Okay, I see how this is going to work. You do realise you told your people the governor has eyes on me earlier? That was uncool. But if you want to play games, I’ll give you something if you give me something. I’m in jail because I got caught with a gun in a public space. That gun was used to kill someone.”

“But you didn’t do it?” I ask.

“A question for a question. How did you become a Cyclone?”

“My dad died, and I needed an outlet. They gave me what I needed.” That’s the easy answer. The truth is more complicated. Nobody wakes up and chooses to join a gang for shits and giggles.

“Like what?”

“Have you intentionally killed anyone?”

“Yes.”

Wow. He said that so casually. I’ve never killed anyone, not even the boy that sent me here.

“What kind of outlet did they give you?”

“I needed to be away from my family because they were smothering me. Cyclones let me deliver parcels at first and train with some of their hardest motherfuckers in the gym. How many people have you killed?”

“I’ve lost count,” he says with ease. I’ve known people who’ve killed before, but it’s never been malicious. It’s usually in self-defence. I’m both shocked and a little unnerved by this confession.

“What, so you’re like an assassin or something?”

“When was the last time you got laid?”

His question throws me. We’re talking about crimes as dark as taking a life, and he wants to know the last time I got my dick wet. “It’s been a while.”

“I’ve been paid to take a life before.” Wahoo. He says it like it’s just a job. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve never gone that far. “What do you call a while?”

“About six months. Why did the police show the night of the drug trade at the sports hall?” It’s my turn to lay on the thick questions.

“My client called them when he realised I’d lured him into the pool area under false pretences.”

A frown easily appears on my face. “Did you kill him too?”

“Have you ever been with a man?”

I blink a few times from the whiplash of our conversation. “No.”

“Yes, I was paid to kill him.”

“Do you ever feel guilty?” I fire back.

“No. It was my turn to ask the questions so now I get two. Have you made yourself come while inside Eastward?”

“No. There’s no privacy in here.” I don’t want to be caught rubbing one out. The showers have no doors, and I have a cellmate.

“I’m sorry. I’ll just leave the room.” We’re locked in, so that’s impossible.

“Funny. What’s your second question?” I’m amused with his humour even though I shouldn’t be.

“Will you let me watch?”

“You’re a disturbed pervert.” My words might be harsh, but he’s flirting with me, and I don’t mind. My voice holds a lightness that reflects how I feel. It’s just a shame our conversations are laced with murder.

He laughs. “Prison would be very dull if I didn’t find my own entertainment.”

“It isn’t an adventure park.”

“You should try hanging out with me instead of your gang.” The first sign of bitterness leaks out of his voice. He doesn’t like the Cyclones. That’s interesting to know. They might’ve interrogated him but they were harmless. There’s got to be more to his dislike of them.

“You smell like more trouble.” I keep my words playful, although I’m trying to figure out what I’ve learnt. He’s avoiding joining a gang, keeping his head down, and pretending not to be a threat. With nine months under his belt, he stayed under the radar. The only person he’s given something away to is me.

He chuckles again. “Maybe you’re right.”

Our conversation should unnerve me, but it doesn’t. I’m confused, hyper-aware of him, and a little turned on.