Rule on rapists: they will be challenged until they prove themselves to be unbeatable.
Long hair was trouble. Todd knew that. Guards told him to cut it and he refused because he wanted the others to know that he wasn't scared, that he'd look however the fuck he wanted to look. He kept it tied back most of the time, other days he'd let it hang loose. He knew it was a matter of time before he was going to have to prove himself again. So he worked those weights and he made sure he had a weapon on him at all times, a toothbrush he'd fashioned into quite the knife. He'd gotten pretty good at whipping it out of his elastic waistband.
Week three had come and he already had an impressive trail of wreckage behind him. One dead, one forever disfigured, and two gangs in new positions of power. The Mambo Kings held a begrudging respect for him and while the Blue Aryans hated him, they were cautious about him.
But now the Eighth Street Corner gang started sniffing around him. These guys were Black with strong opinions on sex offenders. They made sure all sexual predators inside got what they gave outside. Problem was, they discriminated against no one. ALL offenders got it, even the peeping toms and kids who caught cases for statutory rape for screwing someone just under their own age. In other words, the Eighth Street Corner was all about vengeance rape. Todd began noticing their glances his way, their movements towards him. Twice soldiers had purposely bumped into him, hoping for a reaction. Todd knew something was coming.
He worked in the library, a job Bo got for him. This put him in closer, easier contact with his lawyer and the information highway. He already had files in his head on most of the Statesville gangs, had dirt on them. Real specific, real damning shit. People began to recognize him as an information broker. Little things he seemed to know: who had the drugs, candy, smokes, who had the cell phones, and the code to crack the computer to get full Internet. Whatever shit you wanted, Todd knew something that could help you out. In exchange, people gave him more information. They also figured out he had a taste for heroin. The track marks gave him away. Shit got slipped to him; he didn't always keep it. It was currency. He exchanged the dope for stuff he needed, for more information. When heroin wasn't available, they'd slip whatever they had, pills, weed, whatever. All currency just the same.
One afternoon, a Chinese soldier wanted speed under the radar from his gang, wanted a needle, so Todd asked what he could give him in trade.
"The time the Eighth Street Corner guys are gonna jump you."
Todd shot him a hard look. "How you come to know that?"
"My boss... he deals herb to them. They were bragging."
"Talk to Greg Johnson, Harlem man, went to Harvard. Plays chess in the mornings. Tell him you got a referral from Al G. He'll set you up."
Soldier looked around and said, "They're coming for you tonight, man, at your own cell. Someone gots a key and there ain't gonna be guards on duty. Coincident like."
That night Todd slept with his eyes open. His cellie, Brayden, was snoring away. Sure enough, at midnight, his cell door rolled opened. Within seconds, Todd was on his feet on the ready but the men were fuckin' fast, slamming him to ground, face down, his head hitting the concrete making the room blur. Their deep laughs echoed in the room, the snoring having silenced. The world slowed to a maddening pace, frame by frame. Todd knew he was gonna get raped and probably wouldn't survive. The guards had decided to turn a blind eye to it.
He tried like mad but couldn't move. His cellie watched from the top bunk, his face frozen in utter terror. They locked eyes and Todd wished he could spare this kid this kind of memory. The men didn't talk, sticking to business. He felt his pants get pulled off and he struggled even more against them to no avail. They were just too goddamn big, too goddamn strong. One of the guys acted as a lookout while the other got on top of Todd who wasn't keeping still, who was flailing and pushing and growling like a mad dog.
"Come on, bitch, you can't get out of this. You hurt women...we hurt you. That's the way justice works."
The guy tried to push himself inside and couldn't...Todd moving too much, too wildly. Pissed the guy off so he pulled up to punch Todd in the head, to spit, to make things easier. Loosened his grip.
Mistake.
He loosened it just enough for Todd to twist around and swing his shiv hard and deep across the throat of his attacker. Blood splashed Todd in the face. The guy backed off, on his knees and trying to get to his feet, allowing Todd to totally flip over and drag that knife back in the other direction to make sure he'd done it right the first time. More blood flew across the room. He'd gotten both sides of the neck, the jugular on both sides. The guy grabbed his throat and fell forward, choking, bleeding out. Fell face down.
Todd stood now, the knife in his hand, blood streaking his naked body. The other guy backed up against the door, his mouth open in shock. Blood pooled at their feet.
Todd smiled, "What's the matter, bitch? Isn't this how justice works?"
In minutes, the guards were there and Todd was dragged outside, handcuffed, and marched down the hallway, naked and bloody. Inmates were awake now, screaming and whooping it up. He walked tall and straight, hair swinging as much as his dick. The Grim Reaper tattoo on his back was beginning to look more and more literal. His attacker was stone dead and the other guy was struck dumb, refusing to say anything because how the hell could he explain his being in Manning's cell in the first place?
Todd spent a week in the hole. The incident didn't get reported proper because the guards had been in on it. They kept Todd's name off the paperwork and the thing went down as an unsolved. As he walked back to his cell, people watched him, not a single sound coming from any of them. He got nods of approval, got clicks of tongues signaling a truce. That night he got fucked up on dope and drifted in the dark, walking the dark woods of bliss. He could hear someone crying in that dark wood and he realized it was him.
The killing hadn't come for free.
The New Orleans trip had been pretty successful for Jedediah Chant and he was glad to be coming home, more money in his pocket and props from his boss, R.J. Gannon. The small cargo plane dipped a little, hitting some turbulence and bounced a little, giving Jed a thrill. He chuckled and righted the plane, eying the lights of the Llanview Airport runway.
Damn he loved his life. Sure, he was sorry he had to leave gorgeous, sexy, Flora with the chocolate brown skin in that steamy hotel room in the French quarter. God, he hated leaving her bed. On the other hand, he couldn't wait to talk to Mayra… senior at Llanview U., airplane junky, and long black hair that swung over his chest when she got on top...
He narrowed his eyes to focus on something on the runway, not able to figure if it was an illusion, or actually something in the way. He got closer, closer, and when he just about hit ground, he saw it wasn't any illusion but a car and someone in front of it. Instinct burst into life and he pulled hard on the control stick to get the plane back up, screaming out, "MotherFUCK!"
On the ground, Todd laughed his ass off, reveling in the strong wind created by the plane just overhead. He'd parked his Porsche on the runway after speeding the roads of Llanview for an hour or so, after drinking his way through half a scotch bottle. He'd known his kid's schedule and had driven like a bat out of hell to get here on time. Praised the gods that he hadn't caught a D.U.I. He laughed so hard, he fell over, and from that position watched Jed turn the plane around and land on the other runway. When the plane finally stopped, when it was finally tucked away into the hangar, he watched his kid make his way across the field.
God damn he's good, Todd thought. He got to his feet and smiled at that boy who looked fit to be tied.
"The fuck you doing, Pops?! You could have gotten killed, you could have killed me! Ya' fuckin' bastard!"
"I love you too, Jed," he slurred, pointing his finger at Jed's heart. "And I really mean that. Love you so fuckin'...MUCH." Todd laughed and fell against the car.
"Oh Jesus...wow, you're drunk."
"Ya' think?"
Jed wore his golden brown hair much like his father used to, just above his shoulders, thick and full. He had a good collection of tattoos but the tone was worldly rather than dark. Tribal bracelets, words of freedom in all languages, and the piece de resistance, the amazing "Gypsy" across his back. The kid was as tall as Todd and as slender. He had those hazel eyes, but he also had that Manning edge. Catch Jed wrong and he'd take you out fast and quick, physically and verbally. Served him well in his work. RJ had sent him on some pretty crazy missions.
"Gimme the goddamn keys, Pops."
Todd threw them to Jed and Jed got in, clicking the engine on. He pressed the gas and heard that engine roar. He tilted his head towards his father just as he tumbled into the passenger seat, "Gotta hand it to you, this is a beauty. Damn."
"Drive."
They took off fast and headed home. As they got near, Todd sighed and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "I got a situation."
Jed furrowed his brows and glanced at his father who definitely looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his back. Even drunk. Jed saw the bottle still in the seat, next to Todd. Half gone...no glass, paper bag on the floor. Made him nervous.
"Téa okay? The kids?"
"Oh yeah, yeah...fuckin' peachy."
"This is about you, then. Just you. The fuck did you do?"
Todd craned his neck, looking at Jed and smiling drunkenly, "You're awesome."
"Shit… this is bad, isn't it?"
The smile disappeared off Todd's face and he looked away, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He rolled the window down and ran his hand through the wind, feeling the cold hard air against his skin. He smiled and watched the darkness pass him by. The one thing he kept from Statesville was the memory of being inside. The wish to be driving on Llanview roads, driving fast, cutting cold air. These moments were just that much more pleasurable.
Jed rolled into the driveway, got out, and opened the door for Todd. Jed stuck a hand out and Todd took it, letting himself get pulled out of the car. Two in the morning looked dark as hell. Todd didn't want to go inside so the two settled on the porch, collapsing on a long cushioned seat. Both huddled in their coats. Jed tapped the scotch and bummed a cigarette from Todd.
"I want you to know something," Todd said, lighting a cigarette and puffing out the smoke. Looked at the end of it, stuck it back in his mouth and settled back into the seat, his legs stretched out. "You like that car?"
"Well, yeah..."
"You can have it. It's yours. I'll take care of registration tomorrow."
Jedediah suddenly had a wish more whiskey. "You sound like you're dying, Pops...what the hell?"
"We're all dying, Jed." He chuckled softly. "You seeing somebody? Gotta girlfriend?"
"Umm...yeah, naaah. I'm not ready. I've been thinking of getting another plane, maybe two. Thinking of getting my own company...but..." He spat out the words, "But fuck! What is going on?!"
Téa opened the door and walked to them, Jed turning to her and seeing her standing with her arms crossed. She was in a coat, but she had slippers on. Musta been in a nightgown. Her tone was bitter and short, "What's going on, you ask? Bo Buchanan called and your father is accused of killing someone in prison and he refuses to talk. He refuses to tell anybody anything even if that person can HELP HIM!"
Jed turned back to Todd who rolled his eyes and just puffed away. "That true, dad? Why won't you let anyone help you?"
That weakened Todd, Jed's use of the word, dad. Only when he felt the most concern, the most love, the most...anything...did Jed use that word. Todd said nothing.
"You see?" Téa sighed and moved to sit next to her husband. He looked at her and put his head on her shoulder, weary. She put her arm around him, smoothing his hair. "I wish you would talk to me, amor. I'm not trying to pry or drag out painful memories, and... I'm sorry about earlier. I… I was scared and very angry that you're not willing to help the situation by telling me the truth, truths I should know." Her last words were whispered.
"I know, I was an asshole." He grinned at her suddenly, "Though I have to say..."
Téa smacked a hand on his mouth, "Shhhh… Jed is here."
"But..." He shivered, his mouth parted, his eyes closed in what had to be a physical recollection, "Holy shit..."
Jed suddenly realized that Todd was talking about something...well...physical, "Oh really, parents, too much information here."
Todd chuckled and put his head back on her shoulder. Téa didn't find it funny, though, and shook him off her. "You're avoiding this and you can't afford to do that. Too much is at risk." Like a blanket of sudden snow, the mood shifted. Todd pulled away from Téa and looked into the distance. Lit up again, took another swig of scotch.
"So let me get this straight," Jed said, "Buchanan is accusing you of murder, you're not saying shit to your lawyer or Téa, you're acting like an asshat, getting drunk, and giving away your property. Yeah, definitely sounds like you've got it all under control. Real evolved."
Todd shrugged, tipped his head, smiling slightly, "You're awesome."
"Seriously, murder? Again? You going back to jail? Who died?"
"Hell no, I'll be dead first."
"Sounds like that's your plan," Jed murmured, pissed now. "Real fuckin' evolved."
Todd sat back up and looked at two of the few people he loved in this world. "I don't want it to touch you."
Both Jed and Téa looked confounded and at the same time said, "It already has!"
It was strange how his life had changed and how it hadn't. He was born into a life of secrets and to this day, they continued to work him from within. All the forward movement didn't do a thing to silence them, to keep them buried. He dropped his chin and held his head in his hands. "I can't… tell you… I don't want to tell you. I want this to go away."
Téa got closer to him, "I know. But it's not going to, not until you tell your side. At least tell me. I love you. I can help you."
He looked at the two of them and realized he needed to say something. Just enough. He did owe them the reality of what they were up against. He stood up, puffing on that disintegrating cigarette. He cleared his throat and then bent to pick up the scotch. He tilted it back and took a long swig. Found it hard to talk. Puffed some more. Looked hard at Téa.
"Yes," he said. "I knew Jessie Horenda." He said the name like he had shit in his mouth. "He was a fuckin' monster. And he died the way he did because of it." He looked across the porch at Téa, the moonlight lighting her face. He smiled a little, then didn't. "I did damage to him that he was awake for."
Jed, who didn't know many details, glanced at Téa, then asked, "What kind of damage?"
"Doesn't matter." He looked at his knuckles, looked at the LOVE, then ran a tongue along his bottom lip. "Just know his last vision was of me. I didn't kill him, but I was there. I do not regret it. I only regret that the fuckin' cops are giving his corpse the fuckin' time of day. That they're touching MY family, MY life, FOR THAT piece of shit." As he spoke, the rage came back, and it burned his every word, he shook with it. He picked the bottle of scotch up, drank the rest of it, and smashed it against the porch wall with every bit of strength he had.
He turned and leaned on the porch railing, breathing hard, shaking his head. "Fuckin' died too good… I wanted to do more to him… but we ran out of time."
Téa sat back, and breathed out a heavy sigh of stress. The fact that Todd said "we"did not escape her notice."You're in deep, then. That can't come out."
"No shit," Todd murmured.
Jed got up and stood next to his father, asking quietly, "What did he do, dad? Did he hurt you?"
"Me? No...fuck no. He hurt someone else. Someone who couldn't fight that fat… fuck."
The boys. The boys he protected. Horenda hurt a boy that Todd could not protect. She remembered the interrogation, the one name that got Todd to react. Subtle… but still a reaction. Diego Loriz. He died of a drug overdose. Had no teeth. Tea swallowed what felt like a rock in her throat. Todd had said a lot. And what he said was damning. No wonder he didn't want to talk to Bo about it. Or her. Or even his lawyer. He had no way out of the killing.
But now she knew. And she had an inkling that this was only the tip of the iceberg. He let this information out way too easily, comparatively.
He walked toward the door and stumbled, Jed catching him and getting him back to his feet. Todd pushed his kid away from him. He felt the filth of Statesville on him, on his skin. He didn't want it on Jed. He wanted a hot, scalding shower. He needed it. He paused at the door and turned to Téa, "No, Delgado, those boys didn't do things to me in exchange for protection. What I did demand… and I mean demand, was information. They learned shit from people, they passed shit on to people...and...uh..."
Téa recognized the shame on his face. He furrowed his brows and twisted his mouth, a look of pleading for the smallest bit of forgiveness, "They did those things for me. They got me the information I needed. See...I survived Statesville by knowing things. By knowing… everything. And I did anything to get it, to maintain a space of safety for myself and for those boys." The expression on his face was sad. He looked to his wife and his son. "By the time I got to Horenda, I was almost as big a monster as he was. And it's all going to come out. By the end of this… you're not going to love me anymore. You're going to realize what Statesville did to me. You think you're scared now, Téa? Just you wait." He smiled at them, swayed a little under the weight of the scotch. He looked at the glass on the porch. "I'll clean that up tomorrow - keep the kids inside."
He disappeared into the house, the door slamming shut.
The only noise Téa and Jed could hear was the outside noise of nighttime life, crickets, birds, the movement of the trees in the winter breeze.
#########
The shower was hot, burning his skin. Todd sat huddled on the tile floor, hugging his knees, his head down, his wet hair hanging about his face. Vaguely, he remembered cutting himself, oh so long ago. He looked at the scars running down the insides of both his forearms. He'd meant business back then. He'd meant to die. The idea was that Satan lived inside of him and the only way to kill Satan was to kill his body.
Didn't work.
He raised his head that felt heavy and weighted, knocking back against the wall. No amount of hot water would erase what he'd done to those kids, all in the name of protection. Sure, they appreciated it, sure it worked to keep them alive and untouched… but almost every single one walked out of Statesville with a host of crimes under their belt and a new level of badness handed to them by Todd Manning. One of those kids… stayed in prison for some of those crimes. Got new sentencing even. Longer sentencing.
Téa made it sound so...saintly. Saving that kid's life.
Thank you, thank you, boss, for not really raping me, for making people think you're raping me… thank you, thank you. God, I loved being seen as a monster's lover, as a kid who LIKES getting raped and LOVES his rapist.
Todd got to his feet, pushed open the shower door and vomited hard into the toilet. He collapsed onto the floor, grabbing a towel off the heated rack. Cuddled there, like a ruined dog.
Utterly ruined.
After some minutes, he stood and shut the shower off. That kid was so grateful, he had no idea what he was saying. The thing had started so small, just a little info here and there. Just a big piece of info to save his own ass from the Blue Aryans. From there...it expanded. And soon it wasn't just his own life he was saving. There was a new goal. And that goal was so far-fetched, so impossible, that he had to become the kind of monster that Horenda was. Fictional, real...what difference?
When he met Diego Loriz, Todd's mind split, cracked into a million pieces. And when that happened, Statesville learned just who Todd Manning was.
To be continued...