Page 10 of Close Quarters

“People like you?” he offered with a grin.

“Yeah,” I said, unable to help my smirk.

“Interesting,” Leon said, taking a step back.

“What?” Elliot asked, looking at him.

“Nothing, you two carry on,” he said with a wave.

“Are we going to pretend like we believe him?” Elliot asked me, cocking his head like a confused puppy.

“I’d have to pretend to care what that was about first,” I grunted, shrugging.

“Huh, what’s that like?”

“What?”

“Not giving a shit.”

“Pretty nice.”

“Yeah, sounds pretty nice,” he said, staring off into space momentarily before shaking himself. “Anyway, I’m going to head out. Maybe I’ll see you later. Hope the phone call is a good one.”

I watched him go, distracted from my anger and pent-up…feelings. For a moment, it sounded like he genuinely wished me well on the phone. I had done nothing to invite anything genuine or heartfelt out of him, so why was he suddenly giving a shit about my phone call?

Just like he’d shaken off whatever weird thought had entered his equally weird brain, I pushed away that curiosity and made my way toward the center of the ranch. When I reached it, I found a collection of guys in one of the bare patches where there were typically tables set up for guys to idle or have their lunches. They seemed to be in an intense debate, probably about the matchups, and I wondered if I should join them after the call or if that was even a good idea.

I passed them and the clinic, entering the ranch's little ‘shop.’ Much like in prison, we could use the funds we had in our non-savings account to buy snacks, certain clothes, and even cigarettes. The prices weren’t terrible, but I didn’t go out of my way to buy anything extra except for the occasional gummy snack.

It also happened to be where we could use the phone. Despite the sheer size of my family, I didn’t talk to them much, so I didn’t come in here often. Some of the guys came in every other day, and some didn’t at all.

“I have a call, I guess?” I told the guy behind the counter.

He didn’t bother to look up from his book. “Reno?”

“That’s me.”

“Booth three.”

“Right.”

I entered the door into a narrow hallway with four half-glass doors. Honestly, I didn’t see the point of the glass since I knew the phone calls were all recorded anyway. We might not be prisoners in the same way as before, and this was better than we had behind bars, but we were still prisoners all the same. Sometimes, I wondered if the others realized that or if they deluded themselves into thinking they were almost free.

I picked up the phone in the cramped room and dropped into the fragile, plastic chair. “Hello?”

“Hey, Reno,” came the unsurprising voice of my younger sister, Mara. Other than my grandmother, she was the only person who bothered to call while I was here or to come see me when I’d been in prison.

“Mar, wasn’t expecting to hear from you for another couple of weeks,” I said, feeling a sliver of unease run through me. “Aren’t you working doubles?”

“They’d work me triples if they could. Whole fucking ward is understaffed,” she grumbled. “But…that’s not why I’m calling.”

The unease grew to worry. “What is it? Christ, don’t tell me Flint is on a bender again.”

“Bender? Babe, he’s been drowning himself in whatever he can for weeks now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he’s disappeared. Only shows up when he wants something, and he doesn’t come to me after I called the cops last time.”

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