Page 41 of Existential
“Back from where?”
“State penitentiary.” I rub the tackiness from my palms onto my jeans. “I get sent inside, we don’t have enough connections left to ensure my safety, even if I did get my sentence reduced to life.”
“Seriously?”
I give her a wane smile. “Seriously.”
“I thought that shit only happened in movies for added drama. Do they not have rules and procedures in place to keep inmates from attacking each other?”
I shake my head. “None that work. Real life is so much worse than anythin’ you’ll ever see on the silver screen, honey.”
“I’m starting to get that.” She stares off across the barn and draws her lips tightly together. “What’s the plan now, then?”
“Get you and Mel somewhere safe. I’ll go underground for a while, let Crackers run the club while I’m gone, and make sure the heat stays on me and me only.”
She sighs. “Why do you do this, this life?”
“Why do you do yours?”
Dagne ducks her chin, nodding slightly as she clearly accepts my point.
“Everyone asks those kinds of questions as though there’s a different option,” I say, “but in reality, how many of us actually have a choice in what we do?”
“We all have the power to change our situation.”
“But not who we are.” I rise and cross over to the far side of the barn before the conversation gets any deeper, ignoring the pointed look I’m getting from Mel.
I don’t need my little sister to give me a grilling; I already know what she has to say. I’m telling it to myself.
I shouldn’t have been so selfish and used Dagne like this.
I should think more about how my actions affect others.
I should fucking well ask for help.
If I’d done that last one, then I could damn well lay money on the fact we wouldn’t be here now, hiding out in a fucking barn. Without a doubt, Crackers will have the same thing to say. I should have taken the threat to the table when Donovan first cornered me with the insider info he’d managed to get a hold of. How, I still don’t know. But finding the leak in our system hardly seems a priority when I’ll now be wanted in my home state.
Hoo-fucking-rah. Living the dream.
Mel takes up position next to Dagne, talking quietly enough that I can’t hear … about me most likely. I watch the two of them for a moment, finding a clean section of floor to recline on. Legs stretched out before me and my shoulders propped against the wall, I pull my phone out and praise the fact I left my everyday one at home today, figuring I’d only need the burner I used for Dagne.
Praying like hell I’ve remembered his number right, I dial Crackers and wait on him to pick up.
“Hello?” he answers skeptically.
I close my eyes in relief. “Hey, brother.”
“What’s going down?” I wouldn’t be calling him on an unknown number unless there was some sort of trouble afoot.
“Got myself in a spot of bother,” I say with a hint of humor in my voice. “Could you check the lines, see if there’s an APB out for me?”
He sighs heavily down the line, the tick-tick of the lighter in the background indicating he’s sparking up. “What’ve you done?”
“May have lost a couple of bullets into an officer this afternoon.”
“Fuck’s sake. Dare I ask why?”
“Family issues.” I glance across at Mel, my heart heavy at what we’ve been through.