terrible place.”
“How much for bail?”
“Two thousand.”
“I’ll do it.”
From its inception, the construction of the Ulster County Jail had been enmeshed in allegations of payoffs and kickbacks; inside deals typical of the way business is done upstate. The scandals caused countless delays. Somehow charges were never filed, nor fines levied.
When the jail finally opened, it was five million dollars over budget, but oh what a magnificent prison, complete with a razor-wire perimeter fence. Here, in beautiful Ulster County amid bucolic surroundings is a hi-tech lockup for Mid-Hudson Valley felons and imported high value criminals.
Pete waits in the cold lobby wondering if he’s doing the right thing posting bail for the kid. People were always getting Jackson out of trouble. The sweet, vulnerable boy did occasional jobs around the motel, a competent worker if you could keep him focused. Painting a unit one day Jackson confided that Jaime, his mother, had a girlfriend.
“Ever meet your father?”
“He was dead by the time I found out who he was.”
The cell phone rings, its Bobby, hysterical. Pete steps outside.
“They fired me, fucking Bergman himself, and it’s your fault!”
“What did I do?”
“After reading the rewrite, he decided I was too old to play the part, said you made the chief younger. I can’t believe what you did. It was me got you the assignment.” He hangs up.
Before Pete can process Bobby’s tirade, Jackson is released.
“Mr. Stevens, thanks man, I would have flipped someone didn’t bust me out of here.”
“Looks pretty nice to me.”
“It’s a prison.”
Pete loses it. “You were arrested.”
“When you first came to Woodstock and wanted to score who did you ask? A sixteen year old kid.”
“I should have known it was my fault.”
“I didn’t mean to guilt trip you, I’m sorry.”
“Your mother is very upset.”
“I scored for her too.”
Pete passes the flashing red lights of a police car ticketing a weekender. “They get you for weight?”
“Couple of bags.”
“How many?”
“Ten Z’s.”
Pete is shocked. “That’s more than half a pound. This is New York State, the drug laws are tough. They can easily put you away for a long time.”
“For a first offense?”
“Fifteen years minimum.” He pulls into the Stewarts. “I need an ice cream,” a quick fix for any problem. Pete orders Rocky Road in a waffle cone; the kid has vanilla fudge.
“Are you a dealer or a musician? Tell me.”
Jackson smiles for the first time. “Got a gig with Harvey Mason at the Colony tomorrow night.”
“Not if you’re in a jail cell.”
They drive in silence listening to a classic second line shuffle on the radio. The boy closes his eyes, digging the music.
“Don’t be stupid and blow your possibilities. You’re talented but it is so easy to fuck up.”
“No more dealing, I promise.”
Pete drops the boy outside the small house where he lives with his mother.
Jamie is waiting, she’s been crying. “I’ll make this up to you, Mr. Stevens.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Pete.”
Jackson hugs his mother.
CHAPTER 6
P ete sneaks into the house and calls Marcus Bergman from his office. “Marcus, Pete Stevens. Bobby said you fired him.”
“After reading the elevator scene, he makes no sense, you wrote the chief younger. I want David Duchovny.”
“I wrote it for Bobby.”
“You wrote it for me. I paid you. By the way, your Condoleezza take on the mayor is fantastic, the scene really pushes the envelope, it’s erotic and funny and the surprise when we hear her inner voice at the end is a brilliant touch. I can’t wait to show the network the changes. Good work, buddy, you nailed it.” He hangs up.
Pete considers the moral dilemma of being the brilliant buddy of a man who fired his best friend.
There’s a loud knock on the door. “I know you’re in there.”
It’s her. “Leave me alone.”
Cleo enters barefoot. “Are you
“How much for bail?”
“Two thousand.”
“I’ll do it.”
From its inception, the construction of the Ulster County Jail had been enmeshed in allegations of payoffs and kickbacks; inside deals typical of the way business is done upstate. The scandals caused countless delays. Somehow charges were never filed, nor fines levied.
When the jail finally opened, it was five million dollars over budget, but oh what a magnificent prison, complete with a razor-wire perimeter fence. Here, in beautiful Ulster County amid bucolic surroundings is a hi-tech lockup for Mid-Hudson Valley felons and imported high value criminals.
Pete waits in the cold lobby wondering if he’s doing the right thing posting bail for the kid. People were always getting Jackson out of trouble. The sweet, vulnerable boy did occasional jobs around the motel, a competent worker if you could keep him focused. Painting a unit one day Jackson confided that Jaime, his mother, had a girlfriend.
“Ever meet your father?”
“He was dead by the time I found out who he was.”
The cell phone rings, its Bobby, hysterical. Pete steps outside.
“They fired me, fucking Bergman himself, and it’s your fault!”
“What did I do?”
“After reading the rewrite, he decided I was too old to play the part, said you made the chief younger. I can’t believe what you did. It was me got you the assignment.” He hangs up.
Before Pete can process Bobby’s tirade, Jackson is released.
“Mr. Stevens, thanks man, I would have flipped someone didn’t bust me out of here.”
“Looks pretty nice to me.”
“It’s a prison.”
Pete loses it. “You were arrested.”
“When you first came to Woodstock and wanted to score who did you ask? A sixteen year old kid.”
“I should have known it was my fault.”
“I didn’t mean to guilt trip you, I’m sorry.”
“Your mother is very upset.”
“I scored for her too.”
Pete passes the flashing red lights of a police car ticketing a weekender. “They get you for weight?”
“Couple of bags.”
“How many?”
“Ten Z’s.”
Pete is shocked. “That’s more than half a pound. This is New York State, the drug laws are tough. They can easily put you away for a long time.”
“For a first offense?”
“Fifteen years minimum.” He pulls into the Stewarts. “I need an ice cream,” a quick fix for any problem. Pete orders Rocky Road in a waffle cone; the kid has vanilla fudge.
“Are you a dealer or a musician? Tell me.”
Jackson smiles for the first time. “Got a gig with Harvey Mason at the Colony tomorrow night.”
“Not if you’re in a jail cell.”
They drive in silence listening to a classic second line shuffle on the radio. The boy closes his eyes, digging the music.
“Don’t be stupid and blow your possibilities. You’re talented but it is so easy to fuck up.”
“No more dealing, I promise.”
Pete drops the boy outside the small house where he lives with his mother.
Jamie is waiting, she’s been crying. “I’ll make this up to you, Mr. Stevens.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Pete.”
Jackson hugs his mother.
CHAPTER 6
P ete sneaks into the house and calls Marcus Bergman from his office. “Marcus, Pete Stevens. Bobby said you fired him.”
“After reading the elevator scene, he makes no sense, you wrote the chief younger. I want David Duchovny.”
“I wrote it for Bobby.”
“You wrote it for me. I paid you. By the way, your Condoleezza take on the mayor is fantastic, the scene really pushes the envelope, it’s erotic and funny and the surprise when we hear her inner voice at the end is a brilliant touch. I can’t wait to show the network the changes. Good work, buddy, you nailed it.” He hangs up.
Pete considers the moral dilemma of being the brilliant buddy of a man who fired his best friend.
There’s a loud knock on the door. “I know you’re in there.”
It’s her. “Leave me alone.”
Cleo enters barefoot. “Are you
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