The bitch was a murderer. There was no way around it. Rick still couldn’t believe that his baby was dead. As he stood under the leaky faucet in the jailhouse shower, icy cold water drenching him, he still felt that same sense of fury as when he’d heard the news. A miscarriage, that’s what they’d said. He’d never believe that. He’d hoped to deal with this tragedy in private, but Fred and the other guards had latched on to it, taunting him by leaving newspaper articles and decapitated dolls in his cell.
What really bothered him wasn’t the loss of the baby itself. What bothered him was that disobedient cunt and her lies. Didn’t everyone see that this was proof that Lily simply wasn’t capable of caring for herself?
“Rick, time’s up.”
Rick heard Angela’s voice and he shut off the water. He grabbed his towel and dried off, and he slipped into his jail-issued uniform. Angela cuffed him, her hands gently stroking his wrist. Rick smiled back, playing up their “connection” for all it was worth. Things had definitely heated up in recent weeks.
He’d been right. It was almost too easy earning her trust. Rick was kept in constant isolation, away from other inmates due to his “high-priority” status. Angela worked the late shift, or the “shit shift” as it was called, given to all the newbies. The other guards hated his guts, so it fell to Angela to escort him to the showers, his lawyer, or outside for his hour of recreation.
Rick’s trick to winning people over was simple—shut up and listen. Most people want to be heard, but they’re always just waiting for their turn to talk. Ugly women craved attention more than anyone. All it took was asking Angela about her life and she came alive. Each night she’d go on and on, venting about her mother, who thought Angela was a loser. Or her drug-addicted ex-husband Nick, who was withholding child support. Or her three-year-old son Caleb, whom she was convinced she was failing. Rick cataloged each name and issue, inquiring about them daily.
“How was Caleb’s first day at daycare?” “Did Nick keep his word and buy diapers?” “Did you tell your mother to go to hell?” Before long, Angela forgot who he was and the crimes he’d confessed to, and she began treating him like a trusted confidante. She’d fume about the ongoing abuse Rick endured at the hands of the guards, wondering how she could rat out her coworkers without losing her job. Rick told her not to bother.
“Maybe someone like me deserves this. Maybe they’re right.”
Angela would grow serious, and quote some bullshit Scripture about forgiveness. Rick never paid attention to religion. It was for mindless sheep, people so weak they couldn’t make decisions without written instructions. But he’d thanked Angela and mentioned that reading Scripture might be a useful way to pass the time. The next day a King James Bible appeared on his cot.
As the days passed he tested Angela, mentioning a novel he wanted to read (generally something pedestrian he knew she’d like, some inane romance novel or self-help book), and like magic it would appear in his cell. Before long there were chocolates and other homemade treats. He’d always thank her profusely, continuing to feign interest in her mundane life.
Now that he was fully dressed, they made their way around the corner and away from the camera’s view. He stopped, pushed her against the wall, and began kissing her passionately. Her desire was obvious, her tongue practically excavating his mouth as her roly-poly body clung tightly to him. He let his hands graze her body. He was really scraping the bottom of the barrel, but he’d been planning this moment. Their first kiss. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks. You’re all I can think about. But it’s not safe. If you got caught…”
A hesitant expression flashed across Angela’s face. Rick wondered if he’d misjudged her, that her sense of duty might outweigh her desire. But she clung to him, her voice a throaty whisper.
“You’re right. We’ll be careful.”
He grinned, lifting up a cuffed hand to stroke her cheek. Angela leaned into it.
“They’re wrong about you, Ricky. I know it.”
He winced. Ricky? But he forced a smile and put his cuffed hand in hers. He let it rest on the front of his pants. Even if she was disgusting, he still had needs and he’d been without female contact for far too long.
“You’ve made me very happy, Angie.”
“I’ll look out for you. Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”