Page 31 of Jar of Hearts
“Of course he isn’t,” Julia says. She’s still looking at him funny. “That’s Calvin.”
So she does recognize him. But her use of only his first name strikes Kaiser as odd. “So you know who he is, then?” he says.
“Of course I do,” the young woman says, and the line between her eyebrows deepens. “But he’s not the guy Claire was with the other night. That would be ridiculous, I wouldn’t have let her hook up with him again.”
“Again?”
“Remember I told you she disappeared for a few days once before? He was the guy she was with. They had a hot and heavy fling, pretty much all sex, no talking, she never even got his last name. But I guess he must have rocked her world because when she finally came home, she was like the human equivalent of that heart-eyed emoji face in your iPhone.” Julia shakes her head. “She really liked him. He was older, nothing like the guys she usually hooks up with, and she thought maybe it would turn into something real. But when she texted him the next day, he never responded. Douchebag. And when she found out she was pregnant six weeks later, she tried calling him, figured he deserved to know. But by then his number was disconnected.”
“Wait,” Kaiser says, holding up a hand, not sure if he heard her correctly.“What?”
“Are we not on the same page here?” Julia is looking at him like he’s an idiot. “Detective, the picture you just showed me is of Henry’s biological father.”
Kaiser opens his mouth to speak, but he’s so caught off guard, no words come out.
“That asshole is long gone,” Julia says flatly, making a face. “And good riddance. Hey, was he arrested? Was that a mug shot you showed me?”
Still processing it all, Kaiser says, his voice faint, “Yes, it was. I guess you don’t watch the news. That’s okay, I don’t either. It’s all terrible, anyway.”
“So? What was he arrested for?”
He looks at her; she wants to know. He might as well tell her. Like she said earlier, she’ll just google the shit out of it, anyway.
“Murder. Calvin James is the Sweetbay Strangler.”
“Wait.…what?”
“Exactly,” Kaiser says, watching as Julia’s fingers fly back into her mouth. A spot of blood appears on one of them as she gnaws. “Exactly.”
PART THREE
BARGAINING
“You save yourself or you remain unsaved.”
~ Alice Sebold,Lucky
12
Five years is a long time to wear uncomfortable panties.
Prison underwear is scratchy. So are prison bedsheets. So are prison clothes. Prison isn’t designed for comfort. It’s designed to keep the criminal away from the outside world, or the outside world away from the criminal. Which aren’t the same thing, and the distinction is important.
Geo, flat on her back inside the prison library, spreads her legs a little wider. Her panties are in a puddle beside her head, and the cheap industrial carpet feels like sandpaper against her bare ass. She can’t remember the last time she had sex on an actual bed. The carpet smells vaguely of mildew, and maybe it’s the fibers or maybe it’s the mold, but ever since she started having sex here, she’s had a chronic rash on the back of her shoulder that won’t go away.
She thinks about this rash now while absently staring at the mop of dark hair bobbing between her legs. Her shoulder is so itchy, and her tube of hydrocortisone ointment is in her pants pocket. Her pants are somewhere behind her head. Can she reach it?
Corrections officer Chris Bukowski looks up and licks his lips. “What’s the matter? Not into it?”
“Keep going. I’m getting close.”
Bukowski’s head goes back down and Geo makes a swipe for her pants, but can’t quite reach them. She makes a few grunting noisesand moves her hips a little, timing it to his rhythm. They only ever do oral because Bukowski, only twenty-five years old and one of the newer COs at Hazelwood, is terrified of getting her pregnant. There’s no access to birth control here, which makes sense, since the inmates aren’t allowed to have sex, and especially not with the guards. Bukowski is risking his job and a prison sentence if they’re ever caught, but that’s not Geo’s problem. As far as she’s concerned, being friends with a CO has made life a bit easier.
She and Bukowski have been “friends” for about six months now. During that time, Geo’s received special privileges, like extra fresh fruit at mealtimes and a personal TV for her cell. He also brings her books, cosmetics, and toothpaste that isn’t available in the commissary. It’s funny how something as fucking insignificant as Sensodyne can suddenly feel so important. Everything is magnified is prison. On the outside, you bump into someone, you apologize and go on your way. The worst that might happen is they give you a dirty look, tell you to watch where you’re going. In here, bumping into the wrong bitch can land you in the infirmary for a couple of days.
Bukowski isn’t married, but he’s had the same girlfriend since high school and the relationship has gone stale. Lori—or is it Traci?—certainly wouldn’t be pleased to know what her boyfriend does at work all day. He isn’t the first guard Geo’s slept with, but thankfully, he’ll be the last. Bukowski is in love with her—which again, is his problem—but it’s getting annoying. At least he’s nicer than the others. Helpful. Eager. Sweet, even. Right now it feels like a puppy is licking Geo’s palm. Except it’s not her palm.
Thirty seconds later she pretends to orgasm, and then she and Bukowski switch positions. Geo has no preference over giving or receiving. Her mind is elsewhere anyway, and she thinks about a hundred other things as her tongue and lips work efficiently. Fortunately, Bukowski’s been handling himself the entire time so he’s most of the way there. They’re in their usual spot, in a little-used area in the nonfiction section, somewhere between auto mechanics and home repair. The library is closed for another ten minutes while the other guard is on lunch break, and that right there is the only good thingabout getting it on with someone you’re not attracted to in prison—you have no choice but to make it quick.
