Page 5 of Love Bank
“The locksmith says he’s fixed the locks. It was just a wire that—”
“Don’t care about the wire, Meadow. Just pay him and send him on his way.” The computer dinged again and it was all I could do not to take my irritation out on the poor girl quaking in my doorway.
“Y-yes, sir.”
The door clicked shut and I kept going through my emails, answering them one by one or deleting the downright aggravating ones. A different-sounding ding pulled my attention away from the screen and over to my cell phone. Jayden had texted me.
Jayden:Proof or it didn’t happen.
I snorted.
Bain:Calm down, little brother. Dropped the liquid gold off at the clinic first thing this morning.
Then I held up the receipt and took a picture with my phone and sent that to him also.
Jayden:Well shit. Guess there’ll be some little Bains running around this green earth shortly.
I frowned.
Bain:What do you mean? I thought I was donating for science?
Jayden:ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? They use those samples for women trying to get pregnant, dumbass!
Bain: Dude, I know. I’m just yanking your chain. Get it? Yanking your chain?
Jayden: Real freaking funny. You should be a comedian instead of a warden.
Bain: Fuck that. I get off on yelling at people. Get it? Get off…?
Jayden: Goodbye, Bain.
Meadow cracked open my door again, nearly catching my smile. I dropped the grin and the paper with my secret deposit. I needed to lock that thing away before anyone saw it and started questioning me about my medical habits. Next thing you know, there’d be a rumor that the new guy in town had a low sperm count and needed to get his load tested. That’s not the way to win the hearts and bodies of the single ladies.
“What’s up?”
The forehead crease was back. “There’s a scuffle going on with a new detainee and Bobby asked for your assistance.”
I fought hard to contain the eye roll I wanted to unleash at that news. Of course Bobby wanted my assistance. He’d probably need my assistance taking a shit if I didn’t lay down some tougher ground rules as soon as possible. The problem with opening a prison in a little town was you didn’t exactly have a large pool of applicants. Meaning you ended up hiring to fill spots, not because the applicant was particularly qualified for the job. Bobby meant well, but most of the food he ate fed that belly of his, not his brain.
I closed out what was left of my email inbox and followed Meadow out the door and down the hall. Ignoring the slower-than-molasses elevator, I bounded down the metal staircase and headed in the direction of the raised voices.
Entering the booking room greeted me with a sight I wouldn’t soon forget. Bobby had a guy’s hand in both of his, struggling mightily to get that damn index finger with the tip blackened from the ink pad onto the piece of paper. Our electronic fingerprint system was still being worked on and wouldn’t be up and running until tomorrow. In the meantime, we had to do it by hand. Literally.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” The guy, dressed in baggy jeans with suspenders and no shirt, dug his sandaled heels in and slid across the floor as Bobby hauled him back to the counter to deposit his fingerprint. “It’s a free country!”
“What’s going on here?” I barked, hands on hips.
Both men froze, the guy’s inked finger poised perfectly in the air. The silence lasted only a split second before they both started talking at once.
“Stop!” Silence again. “Bobby, I’ll start with you. What the hell’s going on?”
Bobby yanked on the guy’s hand and used that index finger to point at me. “This guy thinks he’s innocent and doesn’t deserve to be arrested. I told him that’s not for us to decide. Take it to the judge.”
“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong!” The guy couldn’t contain himself, so I turned to him next.
“What were you arrested for?”
He pulled himself up tall, like that would make me take him seriously when he had no shirt on and his grammatically incorrect chest tattoo—Gone Fishi’n—was staring me in the face.
