Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  He smashed his hands against the frame of the window, once, then twice. The pain in his palms felt good.

  “Hey, if you’re going to go mental, I want out of here.” Alex backed up against the bars of the door.

  Dane spun around. “I’m just waiting. That’s all.” He forced himself to lean on the wall, kick up a leg, cross his arms. Casual. Low-key.

  “For what? Santa Claus? Think the Macy Day Parade is gonna march right up the five walk?” Alex laughed to himself and lay back down on the bed. “You expecting someone? Visitation is nearly over.”

  Dane clenched his jaw. “No.”

  “I never seen you act this way. You must be expecting something.”

  God, he could not get away, could not escape talking. He felt the walls acutely now. Stay calm, he told himself. You have to keep it down.

  A guard approached, and Dane tensed. He didn’t slow down, though, and Dane turned back to the window. Looking out was the only way he could keep it together.

  But the bars behind him screeched. “Scoffield. Visitor.”

  Alex kicked the wall, sending loose paint raining on his bed. “I knew it! Damn, I never seen anybody.”

  Dane turned around and followed the guard out and down the corridor. He forced his shoulders to relax. She was here. By God, after all this time, she was here.

  “’Bout time someone came to see you, Scoffield,” the guard said. He was a bruiser, one of the real assholes.

  Dane ignored him.

  They exited the unit, and the guard unlocked the cage that led out to the other buildings. “Thought maybe you never talked to no one on the outside neither.” He laughed, and they entered the cage.

  “Still not talking, are you? So who is it? Your sister? Your mama?”

  Dane kept his eyes on the ground.

  “You’re a fucked-up piece of work, aren’t you?” At the exit to the cage, the guard turned to him. “You want to see them, right? You don’t want to get roughed up right here at the last lock and end up having to go back in?”

  Dane set his jaw. “No, sir, I do not.”

  This seemed to placate the guard, so he opened the last door. “All right, let’s go see what you’ve got.”

  They walked along the path past the other housing units, and Dane could see they were heading back toward the red-brick administration building. Visitation must be in the same place as he met Maggie. Made sense. He felt calmer knowing he’d been in the building. It wasn’t too rough. Nothing that would frighten Stella, not like the cracking and peeling cells.

  They passed through the usual entrance, but another guard waited with a metal detector. He waved the wand around Dane, then sent them on through. Instead of turning down the long hall where he’d met Maggie, they walked down a corridor, turning and twisting until Dane was sure he would never find his way back on his own. At last he heard some noise, and they approached a room where several guards waited. One held a clipboard. “Inmate?”

  Dane rattled off his number. Back here, his name was irrelevant. Behind the man was a door with a window, and in the room dozens of round plastic tables with flimsy chairs were filled with inmates and families. Guards were posted every few feet to watch over the din. He’d had no idea there would be so many people.

  The ceilings were low, made of those foam squares to absorb sound, with an occasional plastic section for the lights. Vending machines filled one entire wall, many of them with kids in front, hands splayed on the glass fronts.

  “Saw your woman,” another guard said. “Quite the looker.”

  Dane clenched his fist, willing himself not to listen.

  “You hear me? Where’d a punk like you score a bimbo like her?” He laughed and turned toward the door. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you in. Maybe I should keep her for myself.”

  He walked in the door, and Dane followed, trying to stifle his rage. He spotted her in the back corner, in a green dress that flowed around her like Marilyn Monroe. Her blond hair was different, but it was her. Some punk was trying to chat her up from the next table. “Looks like she’s already found someone,” the guard laughed, and shoved at Dane’s shoulder.

  Dane forgot everything about where he was and how he had to be. He shoved back at the guard, who twisted to avoid stepping on a kid sitting on the floor. The mother snatched up the child, sending the guard off balance, and he fell into an empty chair, knocking it aside with a crash. Two other guards rushed forward and grabbed Dane’s arms. Stella turned to him as the room hushed.

  “You’re done here.” The two guards whipped him around and cuffed his wrists before he could say anything else.

  Stella moved forward. “Dane! What happened?”

  The first guard found his balance and took her arm. “Back away, miss.”

  Dane craned his neck, trying to see her. He’d waited all day. He had to see her.

  He dragged his heels to slow them down, but this infuriated the guards, who lifted him up by the shoulders and flung him through the door. “Administrative write-up,” one said to the man with the clipboard.

  Dane still tried to turn and look through the doorway. Stella stood in the room, her hands on her cheeks. Her hair stood out like a halo, the green dress bright and vibrant in the chaos of people.

  A guard grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “That’s going to cost you three months of visitation.”

  Dane wanted to argue. He hadn’t meant anything. But this was how things kept going for him. This was just how things were.

  ***

  42: Defeat

  CAYENNE entered the kitchen as Stella stuck her purse and jacket on a shelf.

  “So how’d it go with your man? The big reunion?”

  Stella yanked the apron down and rapidly tied it around her waist. “Fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  Stella searched around for an order pad and shoved one in her front pocket. She wanted to lie about the whole thing, say it’d been perfect, ideal, and she couldn’t wait for Thursday when she’d see him again. But truth was, she’d been crying for three hours and her face showed it.

  Cayenne handed her a pen. “It’s Thanksgiving week. It was probably a madhouse, right?”

  Stella nodded, tucking the pen in her pocket.

  “So you only got to see him for what, five minutes? That upset you?”

  Stella walked over to the stack of clean dishrags, threading one through her waistband. “Yeah. Wasn’t what I expected.” She filled a pocket with sugar packets and Sweet’N Low, then a handful of paper-wrapped straws.

  She could feel Cayenne’s eyes on her as she walked past. Rennie pushed through the doors, eyes lighting up when she saw Stella. “You got to see him! How did it—”

  She cut off, and Stella guessed Cayenne had done something behind her to tell her to.

  Rennie enveloped Stella in an awkward hug, making her suddenly homesick for Beatrice. “I’m sorry it didn’t go grand, lovey. Those visits. They aren’t much.”

  Stella cleared her throat. “It’ll be better next time. I’ll know what to expect.” She didn’t want to tell them about the guard’s stumble, and how Dane was blamed, dragged out by two security men in handcuffs. She still couldn’t get over the sight of it, like the morning they’d taken him from Grandma Angie’s house. Her heart squeezed so tightly she could scarcely breathe.

  “Maybe she should get the evening off,” Rennie said. “Do you think we can cover?”

  Cayenne came up from behind, assessing Stella’s face. “We could do that.”

  Stella shook her head. She’d spent all afternoon avoiding calls from Beatrice and Janine, wanting to know how the meeting had gone. “I’d rather be here. Work until I drop.”

  She pushed through the red doors and out into the din of the early dinner rush. There’d been a lot of people visiting the prison, which meant a lot of diners at the Sinners’ Cafe.

  ***

  43: Consequences

  DANE paced the length and width of his cell. He’
d been moved to Unit 2, which had all single-person cells. The smaller room suited him fine if that meant no Alex to put him at risk for contraband searches. No one had said anything to him about why he was moved, just to pack up his things and be ready to move out in ten minutes.

  He had no idea how the schedule on this hall differed, if rec time was the same or if they had the same set of phone booths. He was closer to the yard now, and the window overlooked the sports field and the covered weight station. Prisoners milled around. With no clock or watch or schedule to keep time by, Dane had no idea what time of day it was.

  A guard approached finally, slipping a sheet of paper between the bars. Dane took it and unfolded it slowly. Hopefully it wouldn’t be worse news.

  But it was. Across the top were the words “Suspension of Visitation.”

  He almost crumpled it. But he had to know the deal. He scanned the page.

  Reason for suspension: Assault of security personnel.

  Assault. That was going to cost him. He sat on his bed.

  Six months’ revocation of contact visitation.

  Damn. Longer than they’d threatened. He’d have to call Stella, let her know. He read on.

  Thirty days’ suspension of phone privileges.

  Hell. He couldn’t call her either.

  Removal from honor dorm.

  He had been in an honor dorm? No one had told him that. The A-Hall was one of the oldest. Who would have guessed it was considered the best?

  He lay back on his bed. The ceilings were low. Unit 2 was newer, the same red brick as the administration building, with typical plaster walls and a bed bolted to the wall, unlike Unit 4, with its domed ceilings and carved windows. Still, prison was prison, and if Unit 2 meant he could be alone, that was fine by him.

  He’d write Stella a letter. It was time to cut her loose. Worrying about her, wanting her, this was his problem. She set off something in him that he couldn’t control.

  He had a niggling suspicion that the A-Hall had been easy on him. If a simple shove of a guard landed him here, his first unit was probably a walk in the park compared to what he’d find at rec time. His gut twisted, but he clamped down on his unease with resolve. He couldn’t have anything to lose. Which meant Stella had to go. That was the only way he’d get through these twelve years in one piece. His only chance at it, anyway. Whether or not he succeeded had little more to do with circumstances than his determination. All he could do was make his life as simple as possible.

  He jerked his box off the floor, looking for the sheets of paper Maggie had sent on his first day. The bit of hot pink flashed from inside a crumpled page. He allowed himself to pull it out for a moment and run the fabric through his fingers.

  He should toss it, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He crumpled it back inside the paper and shoved the wad in the corner of the box. The writing papers were stuck together, and it took some concentration to separate a single page. He stared at the blank sheet. On it, he had to tell Stella good-bye. He dug around for the pen and hoped the right words would come.

  ***

  44: Finality

  STELLA dropped the letter to the floor. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving Day. She’d hoped to go back to the prison, see if she could get in to Dane. At least she’d have information if she went up there. He hadn’t called since the botched visit.

  But the silence had been better than this. Dane didn’t want her to visit anymore. He’d told her to leave. Not to wait.

  She let her arm hang over the edge of the bed, fingers grazing the carpet. She had to work a double shift to help cover for Rennie, who had family coming. She didn’t think she could get up.

  The phone rang, but she knew it wasn’t Dane, so she let it ring. Probably Beatrice. Or Janine. Nobody else had her number. She didn’t want to talk to anybody.

  The frame with the strip of pictures sat on Grandma’s table by her bed. She lifted it up, rolling onto her back to peer at it. Dane stared at her, but in the black-and-white version, she still couldn’t see the color of his eyes. Two weeks. She’d only been with him two weeks. How many times had she even seen him in that time?

  She sat up and grabbed the order pad from the apron she’d forgotten to take off the night before. She made a list.

  Good Scents

  Garage

  Car delivered

  Tower (!)

  When he got cut (!)

  Meeting Grandma

  She paused. Grandma had met him. They’d made the bracelet together. She picked up the triple strand from the table. Dane’s beads, the earth tones for his gentle side. But then the bright-orange bones. His danger strand. Seems like that should have been her warning.

  She dropped her legs over the side of the bed. She tore the partial list of their time together off the pad and laid it on top of the frame. Then she placed the bracelet on top of that. She was wearing the Show-Me State shirt, so she pulled it over her head and folded it around the bundle. Everything they ever had together was in this one meager pile. Dane was right. It wasn’t enough. Not for twelve years.

  She opened the drawer of Grandma’s table, the one that had secretly held Joe’s bracelet all those years. She stuffed the things inside and forced it closed.

  She was done.

  ***

  45: Unexpected Guest

  FEBRUARY 1985

  Three months later

  Stella burst through the doors at the Sinners’ Cafe. She was late.

  “Corgie’s fit to be tied,” Cayenne warned.

  “I couldn’t care less,” Stella said. She had four months of perfect attendance at this hellhole. He could stuff it.

  She flashed a smile at a group of college boys. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, and she had no intention of spending it alone. Jefferson City was starting to feel like home, and although she should get off her butt and find a better job, she’d begun to think of Rennie as a mother, Corgie as some incorrigible uncle, and Cayenne as the bitchy sister she couldn’t stand but missed when she wasn’t around.

  And the boys were plentiful. She didn’t have her old spark, but months of difficulty had kept her lean, and her long blond hair, now almost to her waist and ironed straight, got her the attention she needed when she felt particularly blue.

  She hurried back to snag her apron and dump her jacket and purse. Corgie stepped in front of her.

  “Oh, stuff it,” she said. “I’m not even ten minutes late.”

  “You got visitors.”

  Stella turned back to the red doors, still swinging. “Really? I didn’t see anyone I would know.”

  “Said you wouldn’t recognize them. A couple. All dressed up, like a funeral or something. You’ll see them.” He waved a spatula at her. “And don’t make this a habit.”

  “Visitors?” Stella stuffed her things on the shelf and snatched up the apron.

  “Being late.”

  Stella shrugged. She was more interested in the table of college boys than the visitors. The last man who had interested her had lasted only three dates, and they’d never even gotten in the sack. Like the rest of them, no fireworks, no go. She was reconciled that what she felt with Dane wasn’t going to be easy to replace, and so she avoided entanglements. The five men in her life these past three months since Dane’s letter had lasted no more than a week. But Valentine’s Day was different. She’d put a rush order on this one. She hadn’t had any real action since the day before Dane’s arrest.

  And a table full of prime suspects had just arrived.

  Cayenne already had them cornered, but Stella could stop by anyway. There were plenty to choose from.

  The couple Corgie was talking about sat in the back booth. The man was tall and straight-backed, with wiry gray hair, his black suit well fitted. The woman had a kind face, sort of church-ladyish, and a bun the size of a beehive on her head. Stella decided to get this part over with.

  But when she got near the table, the man turned his face to her and she stopped short. He was Dane all over again, a
lbeit older. That same nose the brothers had shared. And his hands. They rested on the table, and Stella’s knees wobbled. His hands were most certainly Dane’s.

  The man stood. “You must be Stella.” His eyes fixed on her, sparkly and gray. Gray! Dane’s eyes had been gray!

  She didn’t extend a hand, shocked as she was, but he reached for her and took it. “You are as beautiful as Joe said.”

  “Joe?” She managed to choke out the name.

  “Dane’s old boss. He told us how to find you.”

  “You’re Dane’s—”

  “Father. I’m Bud Scoffield.” He walked her closer to the table. “And this is my wife Clarice. Dane’s stepmother, although he’s never met her.”

  Clarice took Stella’s hand from Bud and grasped it firmly between her own. “Stella, I’m so glad to know you. Joe told us how you’d moved here to be near Dane. What devotion.” She pulled Stella to sit in the booth beside her.

  Stella could hear the boys laughing, flirting with Cayenne, and her face flushed. “I haven’t seen him in three months,” she said.

  “Oh, I know,” Clarice said. “They suspended his visitation. We hired a lawyer for him. It’s been reinstated. They had video surveillance. The whole thing was really just a misunderstanding.”

  “But Dane did push the guy.” Stella had been there. She knew what happened.

  Bud sat down opposite them. “They overreacted.”

  “So,” Clarice said. “We have a wonderful surprise.” She glanced over at Bud. “Shall you tell her, or shall I?”

  Stella wanted to escape. She didn’t know these people. And obviously they didn’t know Dane.