Page 74 of Stone Coast
“Apparently.”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just need to use the phone for a minute.”
“Everybody in here wants to use the phone. But I’m using it right now. Wait your motherfucking turn.”
I didn’t move. I just stared her down.
“You better step off,” she said, eyebrows raised, eyes wide.
“Do I look like I’m in a good mood? This has been a really shitty day, and I didn’t even get to finish my first cup of coffee.”
She dropped the headset and let it swing from the metal cord. “Do I look like I give a shit about your coffee?” she said, mocking me.
She came across with a left hook.
Her fist and her fluorescent nails whooshed in front of my face as I leaned back.
The momentum carried her aside, and gave me a prime opportunity for a body blow. I put a heavy fist into her rib cage. It was instinctual. I was totally on autopilot.
She groaned in agony, the wind knocked from her lungs. She came back with a hard right, which I blocked with my left forearm. That left her wide open for an uppercut. My fist rattled her jaw, and her head snapped back. She tumbled back against the phone, looking dazed.
She shook it off, pushed off the wall, and charged forward.
But her guard was completely down. A straight right shattered her nose.
Blood spewed.
This time, she tumbled back and flopped to the ground, screeching and squealing. “Bitch, you broke my nose!”
A guard had heard the commotion and looked in the cell. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem,” I said. “She fell.”
At this point, there was blood splatter on my knuckles. I wiped it away on my pants leg.
The guard didn’t look too interested in getting involved. He walked away.
I towered over the woman cowering on the floor. Blood still poured from her nose. “You might wanna hold pressure on that to stop the bleeding.”
I gave her a wide berth as she climbed to her feet and staggered away. “You better watch your back,” she said, as she moved to the other side of the holding cell.
She could talk tough, but I doubted she would mess with me again. I don’t think anybody in the holding cell would.
I reached for the phone and dialed information.
36
The grungy numbers clicked under my fingers.
An automated voice responded, “Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again.”
All that for nothing.
Directory assistance was blocked from this phone.
I looked for a bench to take a seat on, but they were all occupied with people lounging. As soon as I drew near, an inmate made room. My display with the phone lady had earned me some credibility in here, and that wasn’t a bad thing.
I had no idea how I was going to get out of here. The idea of sitting in the county pod until my trial wasn’t appealing.
