Rufus, who knew how the system worked, had never even seen real booze in all his years in lockup. Max smiled, took the bottle, said, “I let him live.”
Max clinked his prison-issue tin cup again Rufus’s. Chivas in a tin cup. Thought to himself, Hmmmm, maybe a good title for the book of poetry he’d been thinking he might write someday. He was just so on fire. Then he laughed to himself and said out loud, “I’m a fucking riot.” Later, he’d remember saying this, after he’d become the cause of one of the bloodiest fucking riots to come down the pike. Wouldn’t seem so funny then, but for now he couldn’t stop chuckling.
He had another shot of the Chivas, man, that was good shit, he didn’t know if the big guy appreciated the finer things in life but hey, hang in there, The… A.X. would bring him right along. He reminded Max of the giant in The Green Mile, and he made a metal note, tell the writer babe to put ol’ Rufus in there.
Then he realized the big guy was… sobbing? The fuck was that? How good was this booze?
Max, allowing his sensitive side to show, asked, “Hey, amigo mio, whassup?”
Then to keep his Spanish in trim, added, “Que pasa, compadre?”
Rufus, massive tears rolling down those cheeks, said, “Yo, Max, man, I just been feeling so bad and shit, know what I’m sayin’? When you came in here, me wantin’ to ram a rod up yo’ pretty ass and shit? That shit was wrong, know what I’m sayin’? That shit wasn’t me talkin’, man, you gotta know that shit’s true.” He sobbed some more, then said, “Outside, man, I never even been lookin’ at another man’s ass, know what I’m sayin’? But inside here, shit, it fucks with a man’s mind and shit. You see the sissies walkin’ ‘round shakin’ they pretty asses and you start wantin’ some of that shit yourself, know what I’m sayin’? You start sayin’, ‘Gimme some a dat shit,’ ‘I want some a dat shit.’ ‘I wanna fuck that shit.’ Know what I’m sayin’?” He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. “And, Max, yo, if I been knowin’ you was some hot shit gangsta an’ shit, I wouda been cleanin’ yo’ ass fer you every day ‘stead a wantin’ to fuck it, know what I’m sayin’? Why would I would I wanna fuck some big time gangsta’s ass for? That’s shit’s crazy, man, shit makes no sense and shit. And some a the shit I been sayin’ to you, man, like how I been hatin’ Moslems and shit, I didn’t mean none of that shit. I don’t know why I said that ’cept I was crazy cause I been in this jail too long and I been gettin’ too much sissy ass. It fucks with a man’s brain and shit, know what I’m sayin’? And now, every night, I been afraid. Yeah, I been afraid that I wake up my dick won’ be on my body no more. Every night, ’fore I go to sleep I pray to Jesus you won’t take off my dick. And every mornin’ when I wake up, first thing I do is I check to make sure my dick’s still there. So that’s what I’m sayin’ to you is thank you, man. Thank you for not takin’ my dick off, and I hope you forgive me for disrespectin’ you and shit. I didn’t mean none of that shit. That was just bullshit talkin’, that wasn’t me.”
Man, Max was soaking all this up, he didn’t want it to stop. He knew moments like this, they didn’t come along too often in life and he had to milk it for all it was worth. He had this huge terrifying black cellmate, a serious gangsta who could crush him with one hand, and not only was the man living his life in total fear of Max, he was also begging for his forgiveness. He glared at Rufus hard for a long time, as if he were weighing all his options.
Then, expansive and like the Mahatma, forgiving like Gandhi but with a shitload of Chivas on board, Max finally said, “ De nada, senor. Ain’t no big thang.”
Whoops, how did he go Texan? Eh, what the fuck ever. He was forgiving the mutherfucka, not forgetting, or as Dr. Phil might say, Moving on and moving up.
But Rufus kept talking and truth to tell, it was grating just a tiny tad on Max’s nerves. He was about to snap when Rufus blurted out, “I got a secret, man.”
Max, in his most humble, quiet voice, said, “Pray tell?”
Which reminded him, he better get that preacher validation on the web, 100 bucks and you were like, An ordained preacher of the church of outreach saints. Two fags on the upper tier wanted to get hitched and he’d told them for four hundred bucks he would perform the ceremony. Was there truly no end to his talents? Prison was ripe, fucking abundant in business opportunities. Ask that Watergate guy, Colson.
He had to refocus. Rufus was spilling, “We got a break comin’.”
Max, muddled by the Chivas and his myriad schemes and languages, thought first he meant someone was, like, going to cut them a bit of slack, then he realized, prison break. Sweet Jesus, like the TV series. This would put the book up there with Dan Brown. Wait till Paula heard about this. It would have to at least get him a great blowjob, right?
Rufus was saying, “Yo, I only trustin you cause you a gangsta and I got respect for you an’ shit. I ain’t even tol’ the rest of my crew, but you the man, Max Fisher, know what I’m sayin’? We been plannin’ this shit for three years. And we ain’t stupid and shit neither. We’re gonna do this shit up right, know what I’m sayin’? Now we got a gangsta like you on our side, shit, we’re gonna be all set up. So you wanna be in, you just say the word and you in, know what I’m sayin’?”
Max waited, trying his hardest to stay stone-faced, to put the fear of God in his cellmate, then asked, “When y’all gonna make your move?”
“When them riots come down,” Rufus said, “know what I’m sayin’? Everybody be fightin’ and shit and we be sneakin’ our asses outta this jail. Damn, I can’t wait to get outside an jam my dick into some real pussy, know what I’m sayin’? Man, I been fuckin’ so many sissies’ asses I don’t even ’member what real pussy feel like.”
Max was thinking: Riots, a prison break, Hollywood, fame. Was he the luckiest guy on the planet or what?
“Count me in, baby,” he nearly shouted.
Thirteen
“All day long I experienced infinite sadness amid grey surroundings. I collected one by one my sullied hopes, and I cried over each of them.”
Manhattan used to give Angela a big buzz, but not anymore. The city had disappointed her so many times that arriving in midtown and being in the center of it all once again left her feeling depressed more than anything else. It reminded her of all the failures, all her disappointments, all her dreams gone to shite. She couldn’t even muster up a fantasy that this time around things would work out differently. Why should they?
Her cash was running so low – maybe that gift to the British girl on the ferry hadn’t been the smartest move in the world – that she couldn’t afford a cab and had to take a bus into the city. A hotel was out of the question, so it was either Max Fisher or bust. She had no idea if he’d take her back, but she was out of options. If this didn’t work she might have to sleep on the street tonight, or on the subway.
She took the 6 train uptown and headed over to the apartment building on the Upper East Side where she’d spotted him briefly the last time she was in the city. In a strange way she was looking forward to seeing him again. Yeah, he was bonkers and sleazy, but she wasn’t exactly the portrait of mental health and fidelity her own self. Maybe they were destined to be together – two tortured souls who’d been around the block more than a few times and who, in the end, realize they’re perfect for each other. You could even see something romantic about it, if you squinted.
She went to the concierge desk. The guy was on the phone and Angela looked around, impressed with the decor in the lobby. Jaysus, Max was probably rolling in it. Before she’d left for Greece, she’d read in the paper how he’d become a drug dealer, and she knew he must have been doing well at it, to live in a swank building on the Upper East Side. But she’d had no idea he’d been doing this well. Too bad she didn’t look her best after the long flight, the ferry ride to Athens and the, well, encounter in the Greek prison. She knew a first impression was everything and she wanted Max to see her in her best light. But then she expanded her chest and looked down proudly, remembering that with Max these babies were all she’d ever needed.