I shushed him.
'Actually, I'm not very good with women.'
'You're kidding, right? With a face like that, I bet you get laid all the time. When was the last piece of ass you tagged? Come on, don't be shy. When was it? Last week? Yesterday?'
Seconds of silence went by.
'You're not a virgin, are you?'
'No.'
'I didn't think so. So when was the last time you got some?'
'This morning.'
'I knew it! I knew it the moment I saw you. I bet you like that kinky shit too. Little rope action, little spanky- spanky. Am I right?'
'Sort of.'
'Look at you, smiling like that. What's your kink?'
'It's . . . private.'
Hand-clapping sounds, and McGlade laughing.
'I bet it's real private. I can see it in your eyes. Well, your one eye. Your other eye is all screwed up. I bet you have a hard time watching 3-D movies.'
Herb sighed again.
'So what's your kink, man? Kids? Animals? Getting pooped on?'
'Nothing like that.'
'Tell me.'
'I don't really talk about it.'
'Got it. Secret stuff. I'm cool with that. What's you're name, man?'
'Derrick.'
'Hi, Derrick. My name's Barnum. Call me P.T.'
'Unbelievable,' Herb said.
'What do you do, Derrick?'
'I own a funeral home.'
'Funeral home, huh? How's business?'
'Business is dying.'
They both chuckled. Herb and I managed to restrain ourselves.
'Hey, wait a second! A funeral home! Is that your kink, man? You boning the stiffs? That's freaking great, man! I bet you get a lot of tail working in a funeral home, and none of it ever says no. Am I right?'
'I don't want to talk about this.'
'Why not? Nothing wrong with grabbing a little afternoon delight at work. I always wanted to nail a corpse.'
'Really?'
'Sure. Don't have to buy her dinner, don't have to bother with foreplay, and she wouldn't want to talk afterward. Sounds like the perfect woman. Tell me the truth: How is it?'
Another long pause.
'It's beautiful.'
'Not cold?'
'I use a heating pad to warm them up.'
'That's genius, man! When we get out of here, maybe you'd let me stop by some time? I'd, you know, pay for the privilege. As soon as we both get out . . . hey, what's wrong, man?'
'I'm never going to get out of here.' Rushlo's voice was cracking.
'Why not? What are you in for?'
'Murder.'
'No shit! You killed somebody?'
'No. I didn't kill anybody. They think I did.'
'Well, if you didn't do it, they'll let you out. Do you know who did it?'
Sniffling. 'Yes.'
'Did you tell them?'
