The Monarch Read Online Free Page B
Author: Jack Soren
see what was happening. Lew stayed put. Heâd seen freak-Âouts before and didnât need to see another one. He cinched his prison-Âgray shirt collar up against the rain and waited.
Then he saw the real reason Lenny was freaking out. It was an act. He wasnât freaking out.
He was a distraction.
Delroy Thibideau, a lanky black inmate renowned for his temper, marched across the yard with a purpose. At first, Lew thought Delroy was coming for him. He squared off and tried to figure out how heâd pissed this guy off. But Delroy wasnât looking at him, he was looking behind Lew. As Delroy stalked closer, Lew saw him shake something out of his sleeve and into his handâÂa shiv. This wasnât a beating. Someone was about to die.
Behind him, Lew saw a little white dude named Mickey King. He hadnât met Mickey either, but knew him through the prison grapevine, a better serÂvice than even AT&T offered. Mickey had a big mouth. Probably trying to overcompensate for his size, Lew thought. He also knew Mickey was fond of certain words that no doubt would have made Delroy crazy enough to stick him. In any prison those were unwise nicknames to toss around, but in a federal pen in southern Mississippi, it was masochism.
Lew looked over at Lenny, who was still writhing like a lunatic. The assistant warden managed to take his cane away, but couldnât calm him down. Lew thought about just calling the AW and ending this, but he knew how long a rat would last. Though just being in a crowd where a prisoner got whacked could make life get more than a little complicated. His parole would be blown, at least. And that just wasnât going to happen.
Delroy eyeballed Lew for a moment, before returning his stare to Mickey, who had no idea what was happening. Lew read the stare as plainly as the evening paper: Get the fuck outta da way, homey . Lew feigned a sidestep, giving the impression he was doing just as Delroy wanted. But when they were abreast of each other, and Lew was sure the AW wasnât looking, he struck.
Delroy was already in his backswing, his balance all behind him and to the left. Lew stepped behind him, grabbed the shank with one hand, and pushed on the back of Delroyâs opposite shoulder with the other. Delroyâs momentum did the rest. He let go of the shank in an attempt to get his balance and then slammed to the muddy ground. In one smooth move, Lew heaved the shank up onto the roof of the cafeteria building and then turned to walk across the yard toward his cellblock. He heard steps in the mud behind him, knowing there was a pretty slim chance Delroy would let this go. He wasnât out of this yet. He spun around while Delroy was still twenty feet away.
âHeading back, boss!â Lew shouted to the AW. Delroy froze in his tracks, knowing where the AWâs attention was now drawn.
âWhat? Fine, go ahead,â the AW said, obviously just wanting the little pimple under his grasp to stop thrashing.
Delroyâs stare burned into Lewâs face. Lew knew he should have just turned and walked away, but he just couldnât help himself. He smiled and tapped his forehead with two fingers, as if he were tipping an invisible hat. Delroyâs eyes widened even moreâÂwhich was something, considering their already saucer-Âsized spinâÂbut he remained where he was.
Lew turned and headed back to his cell.
An hour later, as Lew stepped inside the activity room and heard the door slam behind him, he knew it was time to pay for his interference. Then he heard Delroyâs signature giggle.
âAh, crap.â
Lew made fists and turned around, readying himself. His fists quickly fell away and he realized heâd walked into something a lot more dangerous than an ambush by some pissed-Âoff cons.
âI think we need to have a chat, ese .â
Delroy was there, but he wasnât the one talking. He sat on a table by the wall, Lenny
Then he saw the real reason Lenny was freaking out. It was an act. He wasnât freaking out.
He was a distraction.
Delroy Thibideau, a lanky black inmate renowned for his temper, marched across the yard with a purpose. At first, Lew thought Delroy was coming for him. He squared off and tried to figure out how heâd pissed this guy off. But Delroy wasnât looking at him, he was looking behind Lew. As Delroy stalked closer, Lew saw him shake something out of his sleeve and into his handâÂa shiv. This wasnât a beating. Someone was about to die.
Behind him, Lew saw a little white dude named Mickey King. He hadnât met Mickey either, but knew him through the prison grapevine, a better serÂvice than even AT&T offered. Mickey had a big mouth. Probably trying to overcompensate for his size, Lew thought. He also knew Mickey was fond of certain words that no doubt would have made Delroy crazy enough to stick him. In any prison those were unwise nicknames to toss around, but in a federal pen in southern Mississippi, it was masochism.
Lew looked over at Lenny, who was still writhing like a lunatic. The assistant warden managed to take his cane away, but couldnât calm him down. Lew thought about just calling the AW and ending this, but he knew how long a rat would last. Though just being in a crowd where a prisoner got whacked could make life get more than a little complicated. His parole would be blown, at least. And that just wasnât going to happen.
Delroy eyeballed Lew for a moment, before returning his stare to Mickey, who had no idea what was happening. Lew read the stare as plainly as the evening paper: Get the fuck outta da way, homey . Lew feigned a sidestep, giving the impression he was doing just as Delroy wanted. But when they were abreast of each other, and Lew was sure the AW wasnât looking, he struck.
Delroy was already in his backswing, his balance all behind him and to the left. Lew stepped behind him, grabbed the shank with one hand, and pushed on the back of Delroyâs opposite shoulder with the other. Delroyâs momentum did the rest. He let go of the shank in an attempt to get his balance and then slammed to the muddy ground. In one smooth move, Lew heaved the shank up onto the roof of the cafeteria building and then turned to walk across the yard toward his cellblock. He heard steps in the mud behind him, knowing there was a pretty slim chance Delroy would let this go. He wasnât out of this yet. He spun around while Delroy was still twenty feet away.
âHeading back, boss!â Lew shouted to the AW. Delroy froze in his tracks, knowing where the AWâs attention was now drawn.
âWhat? Fine, go ahead,â the AW said, obviously just wanting the little pimple under his grasp to stop thrashing.
Delroyâs stare burned into Lewâs face. Lew knew he should have just turned and walked away, but he just couldnât help himself. He smiled and tapped his forehead with two fingers, as if he were tipping an invisible hat. Delroyâs eyes widened even moreâÂwhich was something, considering their already saucer-Âsized spinâÂbut he remained where he was.
Lew turned and headed back to his cell.
An hour later, as Lew stepped inside the activity room and heard the door slam behind him, he knew it was time to pay for his interference. Then he heard Delroyâs signature giggle.
âAh, crap.â
Lew made fists and turned around, readying himself. His fists quickly fell away and he realized heâd walked into something a lot more dangerous than an ambush by some pissed-Âoff cons.
âI think we need to have a chat, ese .â
Delroy was there, but he wasnât the one talking. He sat on a table by the wall, Lenny
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