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90 SCENE | JULY 2017 beachreads anywhere decent. At least pizza places always needed delivery drivers. The ads said you could make about ten bucks an hour, probably nine if you figured the gas. No benefits. Dunes were rising from Raul’s desert with a stroke of color as simple as eyeliner. “Got the whole picture in your mind?” Adam asked. “I know where I’m headed,” Raul said. “But you got to finish with one chunk before you can be sure what to do with the next.” The Rank always warned you not to talk to inmates. They lie. They get inside your head. They use you up. But out here, over the ham sandwiches Froggy Jones had packed, Adam found himself telling Raul about a lot of things, like how he married the girl at the register who had pointed out that his bag of charcoal had a hole in it or how he studied his heart out to pass the firefighter exam only to learn that the city and the county had run out of money and weren’t hiring. From his wallet, Adam pulled out a photo of Mandy propped on a merry-go-round pony, the scar of her harelip almost erased by her smile. Raul had a kid, too, a boy who’d be about seven now, although Raul didn’t even know which state he was living in. “You’re missing a lot,” Adam said. “I screwed up pretty good,” Raul said. “You got what, five years left on your sentence? After that, second chance, same as everybody else.” “Who knows what this place will do to me in five years?” Raul muttered. Once in a while, the Sheriff pulled up in his black sedan to inspect the mural. He seemed pleased, especially with his portrait, though he wanted more hair on The Rank always warned you not to talk to inmates. his brow and a balloon from his mouth that said, “We’ve Got Your Back.” Raul didn’t say much as he painted, and Adam respected his concentration. At home, building a bird feeder or something, Adam was the same way. Luckily, Jenny was too. Sydney Beaumont liked to listen to his lips flap, but Jenny spoke only when she had something to say. Yet Adam loved to work in her presence, following her progress by the lurching, humming, and stitching of the sewing machine as she made pillows to sell on eBay. Jenny was interested in Raul. She wanted to know if he had a reason for the stabbing. What a question—the guys on the tiers would hoot if they heard him ask it. As the Rank always said, you weren’t paid to be an F-ing social worker. But one day when Raul stepped back to survey the MedEvac chopper he’d just added to the scene, Adam asked how much a mural like this would cost on the outside. “Murals I did for free,” Raul said, holding up the brush he’d used on the wounded. “To make money, I worked as a graphic designer. Three grand a month.” Adam whistled. “So why’d you do it?” “Do what?” Raul said. Red paint dripped onto his orange jumpsuit. “Do what. Nearly kill some guy.” “My boss,” Raul said. “He messed with me.” “That’s what bosses do,” Adam said. “So every time Hyde tells you to take a leak in a paper cup, you all just drop trou and—” “That was a drug test,” Adam said. “How’d you hear about that?” Raul snorted. “Bet it was fun in front of the nurse.” “They had to know the samples weren’t tampered with.” “Right,” Raul said. “The man’s got a right to everything, even your piss.” It wasn’t until Raul was finishing touchups to the wall that Adam thought to ask him about the chirr. Tomorrow, they’d both be back on Four, separated by bulletproof Plexiglas. Raul laughed. “You probably hear us sharpening our shivs.” He added coconuts under the palm leaves. As Adam gathered the paint cans and drop cloths, Raul bent down to tie his sneaker, then reached toward the tray of turpentine. At that moment, the sun struck shiny metal. Fast as a reflex, Adam’s thumb unsnapped his holster strap, and he drew his 9mm. “Drop it,” he said. Raul’s hand opened instantly, and the weapon tumbled to the ground. It was a paintbrush, with a band of bright aluminum below the bristles. Raul didn’t move. Adam slipped the safety on his gun and returned it to his hip. “Come on, stand up,” Adam said. Slowly and stiffly, Raul stretched to his feet and turned around. “Nearly killed me.”


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