Page 51 of Homebound
“Yeah, I’m telling you. Of course, the supplier gets the most of the profits, and the hustler - that would be me - gets his share. So, a mule like you may get maybe a quarter of a dollar per joint, but the joints add up.”
Now Gemma was positive Arlo had been the one who sold weed to Number 34.
“What about Simon? He may have an issue with being stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey with weed.”
“Who, that dude? He’s half-dead! He probably hears voices of his ancestors calling for him from the grave to stop kicking the can down the road and come home already. He wouldn’t even notice.”
“Well, he might.”
Arlo waved a dismissive hand at Gemma. “Sweet talk to him. Have him smoke some. Can’t be too bad in his condition.”
Gemma had had enough.
“Arlo,” she said firmly. “You’re wasting your time. I won’t do it.”
“Why?” He was taken aback. He was honestly, genuinely surprised that she would turn his proposition down.
“It’s illegal.”
“It’s money. Don’t you want to be independent?”
“I do, very much so. I just don’t think this is the way to go about gaining independence.”
“Afraid to get caught?”
“Well, that, too. Aren’t you, Arlo?”
“To take risks now means to live safely later. I have no choice.”
“We all have a choice,” she countered. “We should also have… principles.”
Arlo’s face turned ugly.
“Oh, you have principles? Good for you, Miz Holier-than-Thou Gemma McKinley.” He gave her a derisive once-over and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t preach to me about principles. I’m not a girl with big tits who can spread her legs to get what she wants. Arlo has only Arlo to look after him.” He thumped his chest with a tight fist. “I have no plans to slave at this rank place till I resemble a prune from old age. I want to never have to eat gruel ever again, and I want me a nice warm place to sleep at night, and even an unassuming woman to warm my bed who I can provide for. I’ll never get a chance to go to Meeus and it’s alright with me. But by God, I will live the rest of my life here on my terms.”
“It’s not worth it, Arlo. That’s all I have to say to you. Don’t approach me again.”
She turned to leave.
“You owe me, bitch! I saved your sorry cunt from the Obu. Remember that.”
Gemma stopped and turned slowly to face him.
“I remember. That’s the only reason I am not reporting you, Arlo.”
She would have liked to slam the door in her wake as she left Arlo on the stairs and returned to the lobby. She didn’t, for attracting the guards’ attention would require some sort of an explanation, and she was in no state of mind to give any. Or else she might change her mind and report Arlo in the heat of the moment.
The weasel. The nerve!
The lobby was unusually busy and Gemma saw several people who weren’t part of the prison system engaged with the prison officials. That’s right, the inspection that Arlo had warned her about. She smiled wryly. He had only given her the warning to sweeten her up. She highly doubted he would repeat any good deed on her behalf.
The elevator was shut down for reasons unknown and Gemma ended up hauling the bucket filled with water up the stairs. Short of breath, she shouldered the heavy door open and stumbled into the familiar corridor slushing the water over the rim.
She ignored the spill. She’d wipe it later. Or not. In which case someone, preferably Arlo, might slip on it and break a leg.
Gemma recognized dimly that this careless attitude was unlike her. She was wired from her exchange with Arlo and filled with tension and adrenaline in anticipation of close contact with Simon.
“We can’t go out today,” she announced as she unlocked his cell and walked in. She steeled herself before turning to look at him even though she knew he would be sitting there staring at a wall.
