Givens and Skiv looked at Poppy quickly, then went back to their respective literature.
Poppy liked that, thought that was funny. As if maybe they ignored him he would just go away. But he figured they knew better. “Must be rapo center in here,” he said. “We got nothing but short-eyed chi-mos as far as the eye can see. I feel like a kid in a candy store.” He smiled, revealed his yellowed teeth, giggling with a high repetitive squeaking laugh that was known to go right up spines. “Eeny-meanie-miny-mo, catch a nigger by the toe.” He got up close to Skiv, put his hand’s on the arms of Skiv’s chair, leaned in so close Skiv could smell the rank decay of his teeth. “If he hollers, let him go. My mama said to fuck the very best one and you ain’t it!”
He rasped that last bit right into Skiv’s face. Skiv dropped his magazine, badly trembling.
“I said, you ain’t it,” Poppy told him. “Go over to that candy machine. Get a couple Milky Ways, you hear?”
Skiv did but he was trembling so badly he kept dropping the money. He knew what was going on here. This is exactly what had happened to him when he first got to Shaddock Valley. It had happened to Givens more than once. Maybe it was Palmquist’s turn.
Thank God it’s not me this time, oh thank God Then Tony Gordo came into the room, filling the doorway, picking his teeth with a needle. Gordo was so big he had to stoop over to get in the door and turn himself sideways to fit through it. His head was like a cinder block, a steel gray buzzcut on top and a square jaw below, everything in-between a no-man’s land of old knife cuts, cratered scar tissue, and pockmarks sunk so deep you could fit the tip of your thumb into them. He had no neck. That block of a head sat right atop his shoulders which were nearly as wide as two men standing abreast.
He stood there in his oversized orange jumpsuit, eyes like crouching death taking in his little harem because that was exactly the way he saw things. These were his bitches and he would have them and nobody had better think of stopping him.
As he told Poppy, Any rapo ass walks through those gates, it belongs to me. I break it, I fuck it, I school it, and I sell it.
Gordo saw Skiv shivering in the corner and went right over there.
“Please, Mr. Gordo, I-”
Gordo gave him a quick open-hand shot to the face that left a stinging imprint in his brown skin. Skiv was on his knees, sobbing, remembering oh too well what had landed him here and how those boys themselves had sobbed.
“Stand the fuck up, nigger,” Gordo told him, his eyes gleaming like dirty nickels. He smiled. There was blood on his teeth from poking his gums with the needle. He did not seem to notice. “Gimme them bars.”
Skiv stood up, handed Gordo the candy bars and Gordo very carefully, almost effeminately, unwrapped them. He shoved one after the other into his mouth, working them together into a melting ball of chocolate and caramel. He chewed them slowly, staring at Skiv the entire time, then he swallowed. He grabbed Skiv and pulled him close, running his chocolately tongue over his face. Skiv shook so badly his teeth chattered. You could easily hear the sound of his piss striking the floor.
Gordo threw him aside.
He put his eyes on Givens. Givens tried to make a break for it and Poppy took hold of him, held him.
“You’re the one that raped that little girl and strangled her,” Gordo said. “I enjoyed your sweet ass, oh yes. But it ain’t your turn neither. You ladies get out of here.”
Poppy giggled.
Givens sobbed.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Gordo said. “And close that door behind you. You think of ratting me out and I’ll use the both of you every day for a fucking month.”
Skiv and Givens raced out the door, slamming it shut behind them.
Gordo turned to Palmquist who stared up at him with dead gray eyes. There was no true fear in those eyes. In fact, there was very little of anything.
Gordo grinned. This was the one. This was the one Papa Joe wanted to feel some pain. And, good Christ, what a treat that was going to be, hell yes.
“All right, Palmquist. I been looking for you. Time to go to school. Lights out, motherfucker, lights out for you…”
Palmquist stared at his tormentors. He was not surprised by any of this. He expected it just like he’d expected it at Brickhaven. His eyes were shiny, almost mirrored, just as black as the steaming mud at the bottom of a well. He stared blankly at both men.
“You sure you want this?” he asked them, blinking his eyes.
Poppy started squeaking with laughter. He’d heard a lot of punks say some damned crazy things before Gordo had them, but this beat all and he couldn’t stop laughing.
“First thing,” Gordo said, “is I like my women to do a little begging so you start getting into the act and I won’t hurt you no more than I have to.”
“You’re making a big mistake,” Palmquist told him.
But Gordo didn’t see it that way. He moved fast for a big man. Before the words had barely left Palmquist’s mouth, he had him in those big grimy fists. He pulled him up into the air and planted a sloppy kiss on his mouth that was all tongue. No romance here, just a beast tasting its food before it took a bite. That and nothing more.
And that’s when the door opened and Romero came storming in.
“Hey-” Poppy started to say and Romero gave him two quick jabs to the face that opened his nose like a blood blister and brought him to his knees. Romero grabbed him by his greasy hair and kicked him in the stomach. When he folded up, he brought his elbow down with considerable force on the back of Poppy’s neck and Poppy hit the floor with his eyes rolling.
Gordo tossed Palmquist aside. “Fucking beaner,” he said. “You wetback fucking spic fucking bean nigger.”
As he moved at Romero, Romero leaped at him, every bit of anger and frustration and deprivation that life behind those walls had inspired in him coming out, boiling out of him like poison. Before Gordo got his hands on him, Romero drilled him in the face with three fast piston-like blows that barely even registered. Then Gordo had him, crushing him in his massive arms. Romero thumbed him in the eye and Gordo responded by delivering a head butt that drove the smaller man right to the floor.
Palmquist, bless him, tried to intervene and Gordo backhanded him, dropping him like a felled tree.
Romero pulled himself up, wiping blood from his face, knowing he was in for the pain coming at an animal like Gordo without so much as a shank or a good length of lead pipe in his hands. He ducked as Gordo tried to hit him and got two more good shots in, then kneed Gordo in the jewels. Gordo grunted like a grizzly bear that had been stropped with a belt, but no more.
He hit Romero, piledriving him to the floor.
And before Romero could do more than wonder what day it was, Gordo picked him up and threw him eight feet through the air until he collided with the wall. When he again opened his eyes, there were half a dozen hacks in the room beating Gordo down with their sticks. As he was hauled away for his mandatory thirty days in the hole, Sergeant Warres helped Romero to his feet.
“That big piece of shit started it,” Palmquist said.
“Of course he did, son. He always does.” Warres held onto Romero until he could stand on his own. “That’s gotta be the most selfless act of suicide I ever did hear of, Romero. Sure as shit. Well, let’s get you to the infirmary, get you cleaned up.”
As Romero was led away, cons pushing up to the rec room door to see what was going on, he was wondering if he had just punched his own ticket with Papa Joe or if something darker was about to punch Gordo’s.
13
Night.
Administrative Segregation.
