Read Online Snitch (The Bea Catcher Chronicles) by Olivia Samms - Free Book Online
Authors: Olivia Samms
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out.”
Junior rubs the red welt on his forehead with his palm and slowly makes his way to me, looks in both directions down the corridor, probably making sure no one’s watching, ready to take on the pending peep show.
I’ve never been into this before, exposing myself, sexting—but whatever it takes. I step back so the sergeant doesn’t see me in the camera, and slowly unzip my jacket, exposing mywrinkled PE tee, size small, and shrunk in the wash. Even though I’m not exactly well-endowed, no way does it hide the girls.
Junior sits on the wooden bench, his eyes focused on me—I don’t think he even blinks—and his leg starts jiggling again. But this time it appears to be a “seventeen-year-old-trying-not-to-get-a-boner-from-a-tight-T-shirt jiggle.”
“What the hell you doin’ here? You nuts?” His jaw juts back and forth.
“Shhh. They don’t know. I told them I lost my license.” I zip up. “I wouldn’t be here in the guys’ cell if they knew, and I sure don’t wanna be thrown in with them mean bitches. Girls are badder than boys, you know that, right? They scratch and shit.”
I get him to smile a little. “Oh, man, that’s for sure. The bitches in my ’hood, they’re . . .” He stops. Cracks his neck.
“Where’s your ’hood?”
He drops his eyes. Says nothing.
“You won’t tell nobody about my boobs, right?” I whisper.
His eyes zero in on me. “I ain’t no rat. Never will be,” he hisses.
“That’s cool.” I sit and try to keep the conversation chill. “Did I really fool ya? You thought I was a guy? It’s crazy wild I’m getting away with it.”
He wrinkles his brow and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know how you fooled them, but I didn’t get a good look at you. I woulda known, though, if I did.” He chews on his thumb,nods, still studying me like I’m a figment of his imagination. “So what d’you do, anyway; why you here?” He spits a piece of nail out on the floor.
The “tagging bust scenario” feels too lame for this sitch, so I say, “I was picked up for lifting an effin laptop at the mall and got caught, and I was carrying dope in my pack. Can you believe it?” I finger the worn wood of the bench. “Stupid, right?”
“Shit, yeah.”
I keep going, bolstering the charade. “Only way I can make money lately? Lifting and then selling.” I pull out a little spiral pad of paper and a pen that the sergeant stuffed in my back pocket. “Okay, I told you my deal, now it’s your turn. What you in for?”
He sucks through his teeth as if he’s swallowing a spit secret and lies down on his back on his bench. He stares at the ceiling.
I start doodling.
He glances over, sits up a bit, leaning on an elbow. “How come you got a pen? They don’t let that shit in here.”
“I know; I smuggled it in—shoved it up my ass.” I hold it out toward him. “Wanna borrow it?”
He smiles again, and I think I hear a little laugh—short-lived.
I look around the cell, falsely befriending it. “You know, this is the best place I’ve been in the last week. It has a toilet, a sink—both stainless—top of the line, like a four-star hotel.”
A definite snicker. “You wandering?” He sniffs.
“Kinda,” I say. “I got in a big fight with the ’rents, and theykicked me out. You know . . . tough love, they say. More like tough shit, I say. So, yeah, I’m on the run, chillin’, trying to stay out of trouble.” I laugh. “I guess I messed up that last part.”
“You on the streets?”
I nod. “But the bathrooms in the malls are cool for whore baths. You know, chick parts.”
He looks away, kind of shifts his body over to the other side.
I went too far, dammit. Gotta get him back.
“TMI? Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to share that. I’m doing the best I can, dodging the pigs. And it’s a lot easier pretending I’m a guy. I don’t get messed with, if you know what I mean.”
He leans forward, wraps his arm around his knees. “Oh, yeah,
Junior rubs the red welt on his forehead with his palm and slowly makes his way to me, looks in both directions down the corridor, probably making sure no one’s watching, ready to take on the pending peep show.
I’ve never been into this before, exposing myself, sexting—but whatever it takes. I step back so the sergeant doesn’t see me in the camera, and slowly unzip my jacket, exposing mywrinkled PE tee, size small, and shrunk in the wash. Even though I’m not exactly well-endowed, no way does it hide the girls.
Junior sits on the wooden bench, his eyes focused on me—I don’t think he even blinks—and his leg starts jiggling again. But this time it appears to be a “seventeen-year-old-trying-not-to-get-a-boner-from-a-tight-T-shirt jiggle.”
“What the hell you doin’ here? You nuts?” His jaw juts back and forth.
“Shhh. They don’t know. I told them I lost my license.” I zip up. “I wouldn’t be here in the guys’ cell if they knew, and I sure don’t wanna be thrown in with them mean bitches. Girls are badder than boys, you know that, right? They scratch and shit.”
I get him to smile a little. “Oh, man, that’s for sure. The bitches in my ’hood, they’re . . .” He stops. Cracks his neck.
“Where’s your ’hood?”
He drops his eyes. Says nothing.
“You won’t tell nobody about my boobs, right?” I whisper.
His eyes zero in on me. “I ain’t no rat. Never will be,” he hisses.
“That’s cool.” I sit and try to keep the conversation chill. “Did I really fool ya? You thought I was a guy? It’s crazy wild I’m getting away with it.”
He wrinkles his brow and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know how you fooled them, but I didn’t get a good look at you. I woulda known, though, if I did.” He chews on his thumb,nods, still studying me like I’m a figment of his imagination. “So what d’you do, anyway; why you here?” He spits a piece of nail out on the floor.
The “tagging bust scenario” feels too lame for this sitch, so I say, “I was picked up for lifting an effin laptop at the mall and got caught, and I was carrying dope in my pack. Can you believe it?” I finger the worn wood of the bench. “Stupid, right?”
“Shit, yeah.”
I keep going, bolstering the charade. “Only way I can make money lately? Lifting and then selling.” I pull out a little spiral pad of paper and a pen that the sergeant stuffed in my back pocket. “Okay, I told you my deal, now it’s your turn. What you in for?”
He sucks through his teeth as if he’s swallowing a spit secret and lies down on his back on his bench. He stares at the ceiling.
I start doodling.
He glances over, sits up a bit, leaning on an elbow. “How come you got a pen? They don’t let that shit in here.”
“I know; I smuggled it in—shoved it up my ass.” I hold it out toward him. “Wanna borrow it?”
He smiles again, and I think I hear a little laugh—short-lived.
I look around the cell, falsely befriending it. “You know, this is the best place I’ve been in the last week. It has a toilet, a sink—both stainless—top of the line, like a four-star hotel.”
A definite snicker. “You wandering?” He sniffs.
“Kinda,” I say. “I got in a big fight with the ’rents, and theykicked me out. You know . . . tough love, they say. More like tough shit, I say. So, yeah, I’m on the run, chillin’, trying to stay out of trouble.” I laugh. “I guess I messed up that last part.”
“You on the streets?”
I nod. “But the bathrooms in the malls are cool for whore baths. You know, chick parts.”
He looks away, kind of shifts his body over to the other side.
I went too far, dammit. Gotta get him back.
“TMI? Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to share that. I’m doing the best I can, dodging the pigs. And it’s a lot easier pretending I’m a guy. I don’t get messed with, if you know what I mean.”
He leans forward, wraps his arm around his knees. “Oh, yeah,
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