Page 50 of Homebound
On the stairs, Arlo called her name.
“You can’t take the dry bones outside today.”
“Why is that?” Gemma frowned. Missing another feeding might hinder Simon’s progress.
“There’s a site visit from the magistrate.”
“So? OO likes when I show Simon off in his wheelchair. Good for PR.”
“Not today he won’t like it. Got word through the grapevine that they are under some inspection and it’s a rough ride. Take my word for it and don’t go. They won’t thank you for having to explain this freak show being carted outside the prison walls.”
Gemma pursed her lips debating whether she should listen to Arlo or if he was being full of shit. In the end, she decided to listen, partly because dealing later with OO in case of fallout could prove disastrous.
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Of course.” Arlo was looking at her intently. “I’m always happy to help a friend out.”
He wasn’t her friend.
“I appreciate your help,” Gemma responded politely.
“That’s what friends are for, right? To trade favors.”
It was a rather narrow definition of friendship, but Arlo was allowed to have his own outlook on life.
“Maybe so.”
“You aren’t against helping a friend out, are you, Gemma?”
“Do you need something, Arlo?”
He checked around furtively to ensure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby. “I was thinking, when you take your alien husk out next time, could you bring something in for me?”
“Like what?”
“Nothing big. Noting dangerous.”
“They pat me down every time we come back, you know that, right?”
“But they don’t pathimdown,” Arlo pointed out with emphasis.
She wasn’t sure how Arlo knew it, but he was right. The guards experienced an aversion to Simon and hated touching his alien, supposedly sick body. Theyshouldbe frisking him but they never did.
Gemma remained silent.
Taking her silence for an encouraging sign, Arlo went on, “It’s a golden opportunity. He’s in a wheelchair with lots of places to stash stuff. You go outside - truly outside, Gemma, not to the courtyard. Guards don’t patrol the street. There are no windows on that side of the prison. Other people can come freely, meet up with you, bring you stuff.”
Still, Gemma remained silent.
Arlo interpreted it like a price tag was in question, and rushed on, “It’s going to be a percentage for you. Or a flat fee, if you’d prefer, but if you want my advice, a cut is always better.”
“Out of curiosity, what is the most popular contraband nowadays?” she asked snidely.
The sarcasm was lost on Arlo who in his mind already saw many dollar signs floating his way from the success of their joint enterprise.
“Drugs of all kinds,” he replied without hesitation. “The hard ones are rare anymore but weed is abundant. Everybody likes weed, it’s the most requested goods. A joint sells for three to four brass dollars.”
“Three to four?” Gemma was flabbergasted. She earned that much a week.
