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Lock-Down: Chapter Five

Mac O'Roni



     Gambit bopped back into their cell that evening, quite literally. A spirited and expertly executed dance step that was spoiled only slightly by the unsatisfying silence of his crepe-soled prison slippers. He was escorted in by a guard, a decent guy and a fellow Louisianan named Andrew DuBois, who laughed at him as he closed and locked the cell door. “All right, you nutjob, behave,” DuBois said, grinning.
     “I don’ know de meanin’ of d’word, Moe,” Remy said, throwing himself onto his bunk with a huge cat-that-got-the-canary grin.
     DuBois, who’s dark hair was cut in a bowl-shape like the Stooge patriarch, laughed again and allowed as how he reckoned Remy didn’t know what the word “behave” meant. Then he went off to see to his other duties.
     “Nice kid, Moe,” Remy said to no one in particular, watching the young man move off down the row of cells. “Prolly d’nicest screw in dis asshole outfit.”
     “I hope you mean ‘screw’ as in ‘guard,’ and not anything else,” Logan grunted.
     Remy cocked a sardonic eyebrow at his cellmate. “Now, what else could I have meant?”
     Logan grinned. “Never mind. Guess I’m just free-associatin’, ‘cause frankly you look like a man that just got laid.”
     Remy sighed, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. His smile was positively beatific. “Ah, my frien’…de only t’ing what coulda made dis a better day,” he said.
     “All right, Cajun, fess up. What kind of devilry did you commit today?”
     Gambit’s fiery eyes opened wide in mock innocence. “I din’t do nuthin! Remy a good boy, he is!”
     Logan laughed out loud. “Gumbo, you ain’t been a boy in at least fifty years, an’ you ain’t never been anyone’s definition of ‘good.’ There ain’t nothin’ gets you grinnin’ like that except sex, good food, music, and mischief, and this place is plenty short on the first three. So own up: what did you do, and more importantly, can I get in on it?”
     “Gambit not gonna count his chicken’s before dey’re Kentucky-fried, mon ami. Let’s jus’ say, between you an’ me like, dat I’ve got some irons in d’fire an’ dey’re gettin’ mighty hot. I’ll let you in when dere’s somet’in t’be let in on.”

On to Chapter Six!



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