The Job Interview

I thought I had friends in prison.  I was telling my cellmate how the guys in the suits was asking me all these questions- ya’ know- asking those stupid fuckin’ questions over and over.
“We uh…finesse our clientele to give us what we want”
The one in the Brooks Brothers suit and Hilfiger tie had this stupid-ass smirk under his mustache I just wanted to fuckin’ rip it off his goddamn face.
“Ssssure you do Sammy.  But we want to know is how you ‘finesse’ your clientele” he said moving closer to get a better look at me.
“Well I’m a business man- I work and people really like me.  They pay me for the work I do…uh…in construction.  They are very happy with me- so they pay me a lot.”  I said with a toothy smile.  And that really got them all fucked up.
“I’m sure they do, Mr. Harris,” the young one chimed in.
He was dressed in cheaper pinstripe that was meant to impress but I could tell it was shit.  It looked like something that I would see the mortician wear to prep his bodies.  I wasn’t worried at all.  It was all under control.  They couldn’t touch me.  The suits are all stupid.
“Did you meet with Mr. Gregory on May 7th?” the older suit asked.
I leaned back in my chair and gave them a dramatic pause for a good effect and make them sweat a bit.  Clearing my throat and arching my back I came back at them.
“Boys.”  I says.  “We are all good friends here and I know if you want to pin somethinz on me you’d do it with or without my help.  As I know of two Mr. Gregory’s I’d suppose’n you’d need to tell me which of the two you might be askin’ me about?”
The younger moved in closer to my face so that I could see he needed some Clearasil.  Havin’ two teen age daughters of my own you go through a truck load of that stuff.  But seriously that ass-clown musta started shavin’ last week.
“We are asking…about the younger one.  William Anthony Gregory.” The kid said stressing each word as if they were painful.
“He wound up in a trash bin on La Brea chopped up into little pieces,” said the stache moving in closer.  By now the two of them stood over me like a pair of vultures ready for the kill.
“How unfortunate! He was a good client of mine.” I said flatly.
“Bet he was!”  The kid said sarcastically.
“But for how long?”  The older remarked.  “I think we are going to hold you for questioning, Sammy.”
“Excellent gentleman!” I said.  “It will give me time to get my lawyer here- he will have a lot of questions for you gentlemen also.”
The suits didn’t like that idea.  My cellmate was bored by the story.  I’m sure he’s heard it before.  But here the fuck I am and it’s 5 hours later.  Waiting for that prick to get me fuck out of here.   There must have been 8 of us at one time in this iron postage stamp of an incarceration facility with all kinds of smells and people here- druggers and drunks to fuckin’ crazy fucks.
“Yeah- we are all waiting for someone to get us out of here” another from the holding tank exclaimed as he began to laugh.
“Just don’t turn your back in here, man.  You are liable to get something you don’t expect,” another said with hard eyes that never looked at you.  Of all the people in the room I could tell he has been inside.  I’ve seen that look before.  Having my own dad do time is something you don’t forget nor is every little human piece of him that gets lost as the fuckin’ years tick away.
All the wackos were scattered about.  On floor was one blond headed kid tripping out on some bullshit for like 2 hours now since they brought him in.  I bet his ivy league parents must be proud of him.  Drunk guy is snoozing in the corner and he’s in an a-shirt and he looks like he was in a fight with the blood under his nose that has been bandaged.  Oh and then you have Hoodie boy slouched in the corner in baggie jeans and his Hoodie pulled over his face like the fuckin’ Thinker grim reaper.  There is one that’s just really quiet with a full beard in the corner in a dress shirt and Dockers- looks like he’s gonna cry.  One of them must be oozing ass cause it’s really starting to stink really bad around here.
“Sammy!” my lawyer finally arrives.
“YOU ARE GOING TO GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”
I move up closer to the bars and in his face to get his attention.
“You’ve made quite an impression on your friends the suits.”
“Yeah- I know- they love me.  Now get me the fuck out of here.”
“Strangely they’ve been rounding up our people all over town since you’ve been in here,” he said blankly
“They’re playin’ the game.  Lookin’ for a bite.”
“They are making you look bad Sammy.  Word on the street is…”
“Fuck that!  They are squeezing me in here and WE are NOT going to let them do that!”
I interrupted moving closer to his face grinding my words into my teeth.
“They are preparing an interview room.  They have more questions.”
“Martin.  They have nothing.  They’ve gone through all they have.  They’ve held me long enough.”
“You’ll be out soon.” He said unaffected.
“NOW!”
I just lost it grabbing his coat and pulling him into the bars.  He looked at me behind his wire rimmed glasses with a cold blue eyed stare: his look gave me a cold shiver down my spine.  He released my hand from his coat as if it was infecting him.
“They are prepping the room.”
He puffed as he turned and walked away. I watched him go as if it was all in slow motion.  Suddenly it got strangely quiet in there.  Looking around I didn’t even see any guards as they followed Martin out.  They should know better than that but sometimes money has a better feel than responsibility for you own.  I felt someone brush me from behind and it was almost like I didn’t feel it but there is was first as cold and then burning in my side.  Then there was another- and another.  I was up against the bars and from all sides I was feeling jabbed and stabbed.  I clung to the bars with all of my life.  I wasn’t giving in and I wasn’t going down.  In a way it was a relief and in a way it made me mad.  I knew if I was ever getting out of this I needed not to make a sound- if I’d ever get to see my kids again- if they didn’t get to them first.  But I knew they’d be taken care of.  They’d be in another state, another life and they’d get a flag to cling on to.  And perhaps by chance a happy memory or two of their Dad (if their Mom would just allow me that).  My life was draining from my body and I held closely to chilly iron bars but I was feeling lighter and lighter.  My heart was racing.  And things were getting murky.  I knew that living my lifestyle would lead to this in time.  When I interviewed for this position I knew it had its risks.  It just comes with working undercover.