Chapter Six

 

Alfie’s arms were too heavy to lift, and the muscles in his neck throbbed each time he turned. He could’ve called in sick, knew that Henry wouldn’t have blamed him. In fact, he probably expected it.

Ryan was the reason he forced himself into the shower. Running the sponge around his body was near impossible, and he didn’t bother putting shampoo on his hair.

Instead, Alfie rolled his shoulders under the warm spray, then leaned back for the water to cascade down his face. It soothed his sore body, and after a few minutes of breathing in humid mist, he climbed from the shower and dried himself with a towel.

He stood in front of the mirror and glared at himself. Bruises and cuts could be seen, but strained muscles couldn’t, and he hissed at his normal appearance. He felt awful and wanted to be able to physically see it. Even his green eyes weren’t red, and there was no sunken smudge of blue beneath them. He hung his face to make himself look tired, but that required too much effort to keep up.

Alfie slid easily into his trousers, but bending his arms for the shirt hurt, and he winced. He fixed his tie into position, slipped on his polished boots, and grabbed his jacket. Alfie brushed his damp hair into position with his fingers and rubbed his jaw to feel the slight stubble growth. He didn’t want to shave when his arms ached so much.

He didn’t rush his stride like normal. He walked slowly toward the prison, sighing through his nose. He had recovered enough for humiliation to surface and just the sign for Larkwood had his face reddening.

Henry was locking up his car, and waved Alfie toward him. “I’m sorry Ryan chewed you up like that…”

Alfie wrinkled his nose then shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Henry patted his shoulder. “That’s it, that’s being part of the team.”

A team of one, Alfie thought bitterly, but he forced a small smile. There was no point arguing about the previous night. Queenie was still alive, as far as any of them knew.

Alfie saw Marie coming toward them in his peripheral. He turned away, hoping if he didn’t make eye contact she would leave him alone. She tapped him on the other shoulder, and he gritted his teeth, fixing her with another fake smile.

She flicked her heavy fringe away from her eyes and blinked a few times before speaking. “I’m sorry. Me and Glen, we let you down. We won’t again.”

She used the same tone when she asked Glen to check a noise with her and Alfie shuddered. He couldn’t be seduced by her self-perceived sweet voice.

“It’s all right. I just want to forget about it.”

She nodded, tutted, then pouted.

Alfie’s cheeks began to ache with his pretend grin. He strode ahead of them and as soon as Marie and Henry were out of sight, he dropped his cheeks to his neutral expression.

Ryan didn’t look at him once at the handover. He turned on his heels and strolled from the office, whistling. If he had a cane he would’ve been twizzling it.

The twins moved into the lobby, Dan stood on one gate, and Ben the other. Alfie snapped his eyes between them, then groaned and squeezed the bridge of his nose. There were identical twins, and then there were clones. Dan and Ben fit the clone category.

“It’s good to know Queenie’s okay,” Glen said.

Henry nodded. “Yeah, he’s on suicide watch, every hour we’ve gotta check him.”

“Nothing says don’t kill yourself like sleep deprivation,” Alfie muttered.

Henry chuckled and nodded. “The six of us will take turns, make sure he hasn’t choked himself again.”

It wasn’t Henry or the twins’ job to check on Queenie. Alfie knew it was an apology of sorts and nodded in agreement.

“What did he swallow?” he asked.

Henry flicked his head toward the papers on the desk. “His hospital report. Have a read.”

Alfie frowned, and reached for the medical notes. He scrolled through, then widened his eyes at the foreign object that blocked Queenie’s windpipe.

“Tea bags? He tried to kill himself with tea bags.”

“Yeah,” Henry muttered. “In all my years, that’s the first time someone’s shoved teabags down their throat.”

Alfie shuddered and dropped the papers back on the desk.

“I love tea,” Marie said, ruffling her fringe.

“Love it that much you’d wanna choke on it?” Glen muttered.

They shot a venomous look at each other, then stared in opposite directions. A heavy muteness fell over the room.

“So, I’ll check on him first,” Henry said, clapping his hands together. He staggered out of the office, hunched forward, with his head dipping on his shoulders. He looked about ready for sleep.

Marie and Glen didn’t vanish to check odd noises in the toilets. Glen perched on the desk at one end of the office, and Marie sat on a chair with her legs crossed to the other side. They stared in opposite directions.

Alfie shut his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose. They hadn’t sorted their differences after all.

Alfie sat in pin drop silence for two hours. Henry wasn’t bothered by the atmosphere. He settled in his chair, shoved his glasses over his eyes, and then went statue still. Alfie didn’t have a pair of shades on him, and even if he did, he couldn’t force sleep. He went outside with the twins to escape Glen and Marie, but it didn’t help. They were just as silent with his presence. He had encroached on some unspoken twin moment.

When it was his time to check Queenie, he flung himself out the office and through the gate. He bounded up the stairs, ran his hand along the railing, then skipped the last set of stairs to the last stretch of landing. He strolled up to cell 149 and knocked his fist to the door.

“Queenie?”

He listened to a scramble, the slap of bare feet on concrete, and then finally Queenie spoke.

“Officer Alfie?”

He widened his eyes, opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally regaining his voice. He didn’t think the first person to call him by name would be on the other side of the cell door.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said.

“Thank you. Nate told me what you did, said I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Alfie pressed his hand to the door and frowned. “Thank me? You were trying to kill yourself, surely I just screwed it up.”

Nate laughed, and Alfie stared at his door, not getting the joke.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Queenie mumbled.

Alfie rolled his eyes. “Right, so you were lying in bed playing with them, and they just happened to jump down your throat.”

“No … I put them there. I was experimenting.”

Alfie’s frown intensified, and he shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“What he means to say is he was having a high wank and it went wrong,” Nate muttered.

“A high wank?”

Nate hummed and banged the door of his cell. “Make it hard to breathe, and it gets you high. He was probably imagining a huge cock suffocating him. Ain’t that right, Queenie?”

“Screw you, Nate.”

Nate barked with laugher, drumming his fist to his door. “It’s a new take on tea-bagging, but I don’t think it’ll catch on.”

Alfie smacked the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Wait, it was some sex game? You were getting off on choking yourself?”

A slow, patronizing clap came from Nate’s cell. “Gold star for the Freshman.”

Queenie whined. “Please stop talking about it.”

“No way. The more I take the piss, the less likely you’ll do some stupid shit like that again. I don’t want yours and Freshman’s mouths getting familiar.”

Alfie narrowed his eyes at his door and huffed through his nose.

Nate tapped his nails to the metal door.

Alfie imagined a big toothy grin on Nate’s face, and it irritated the hell out of him.

“You know what, Queenie? Out of all the prisoners, I’m glad it was you I had to kiss.”

“That’s cruel, Freshman,” Nate murmured. “It was CPR, nothing sexual. Any boner Queenie had was from the teabags, not you.”

“Yeah, that kiss in the cell was CPR, but what about the one in the lobby.”

The tapping nails stopped, and Alfie stared at Nate door, eyebrow raised as he waited for a reaction.

“Jesus, Alfie, you’ll get me in the shit. He’s messing with you, Nate.”

“I know he is,” Nate mumbled, “but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous Freshman’s lips were around yours first.”

Alfie lifted his chin, smug with himself. He moved along to Nate’s cell, knowing an inch of steel and a chunky cell lock separated them. “First, and last.”

Nate hummed in amusement. “Maybe I’ll shove teabags down my throat till I pass out. Then you’d have to kiss me.”

Alfie shrugged. “I’d get Henry.”

Queenie howled with laughter and hit his fist to the wall.

Alfie grinned so hard it felt tight on his face.

“That’s not nice, Freshman. How evil are you?” Nate whispered.

The lightness to Alfie’s chest vanished. The word evil, Henry used it to describe Nate all the time. Pure Evil, not just the crime he committed, but the man through and through.

Alfie swallowed uncomfortably and backed away.

“Open the hatch, Freshman.”

He didn’t reply. He turned and rushed away from Nate and Queenie, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Flirting, was he flirting, or just passing time?

The glasses had slipped from Henry’s face and dropped in his lap, but it hadn’t woken him. He couldn’t lie and say he was awake when all five of them stared at his eyelids. Alfie never realized how small the office was until they were forced in it for hours at a time. It didn’t help that the atmosphere between Marie and Glen squished them and killed any conversation starters. One of the twins shoved earbuds in his ear, and the hiss of rock music clashed in the silence. The other twin watched his brother for a few minutes, then retrieved his own phone and headphones. The music that escaped his was operatic, and Alfie raised his eyebrows. They weren’t clones in every way after all.

“You live ten minutes away, don’t you?”

Alfie turned to Marie, then checked over his shoulder to make sure it was him she addressed. “Me? Yeah … not too far.”

“I could give you a ride home. It’s on my way.”

Glen muttered something under his breath, and Alfie looked at him.

“Erm, I’m all right. I like the walk.”

“But I think it might rain.”

Alfie frown at Marie’s sudden ability to tell the future. He turned to her, then winced at the jolt of pain up his neck.

“Your neck hurt? I could give you a massage.”

Alfie held his hands up in surrender. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“It looks like it hurts. I’m good with my hands. I’ll sort it out.”

Glen bashed his heel into the drawers of the desk and muttered more words Alfie couldn’t decipher.

He gestured to Glen, then Marie. “Look, I don’t wanna get in the way of this.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to get in the way of.”

“Not now you’ve called it a day,” Glen snapped.

“I need to think about my family,” Marie said, eyeing the floor.

“Then why you trying your luck with Alfie?”

“I only offered him a ride home.”

Alfie jumped to his feet and raised his hands. “Don’t involve me in this, and for the record, I sway more toward Glen.”

Heat filled his face at his admission, but he didn’t know why.

Then Henry laughed, his phlegm ridden laugh, and his eyelids peeled back. “I told you to keep that to yourself, and here you are, jumping up and down and shouting it out.”

“I just wanted to stop this from escalating, and that was the quickest way of stopping it.”

Marie’s mouth popped open, but no words followed.

Glen had a smug smile on his face and flexed his eyebrows before stilling them with a look of panic. “I’m straight.”

Alfie clapped and nodded. “Good for you. Roll call?”

They nodded and followed him out.

Henry shoved the glasses back over his eyes and sunk into his chair.

Alfie knocked on door 149 with his forehead. His face hadn’t cooled, and he still reeled with embarrassment. “Queenie?”

“Yep. I’m here, but you’re killing me with the hour checks. Give them a rest.”

Alfie sighed through his nose. “Sorry, protocol after a suicide attempt.”

“For the last time, I wasn’t trying to top myself.”

The gate to the lobby slammed shut, and Alfie peered over the railing.

Marie stood one side, and Glen the other. He had his hands at his sides, fiercely whispering at her for slamming the gate on him.

“What’s that about?” Queenie asked.

Alfie rubbed at his skin, watching the argument unfold. They had the awareness to argue in hushed voices, but their exaggerated arm movements and posturing looked funny.

“I think there’s been a break up,” Alfie muttered.

“Poor old Marie,” Nate whispered through his door. “Another one bites the dust. She’ll be after you next, Freshman.”

Alfie snorted and moved in front of his door. “Told her she’d be barking up the wrong tree.”

He ticked Nate’s name off, then realized what he’d just said. His face had cooled after speaking to Queenie, but the heat returned with a vengeance.

Nate hummed into the gap of the door, a pleasurable sound, almost a moan. “Music to my ears…”

“God, I hate you,” Alfie mumbled.

“No, you don’t…” Nate chuckled, then exhaled into the gap of the door.

Alfie knew he couldn’t feel the rush of air, but he shifted and rolled his shoulders as if fighting a cold breeze. The jittery feeling returned to his stomach, and he pressed the clipboard into his chest. Another barrier between him and Nate.

“So, you’re not straight then?”

Alfie cocked his jaw left to right, then levelled his expression. “None of your business, is it?”

“No, it’s not, but I’m curious. Do you have a boyfriend, Freshman?”

“Would it bother you if I did?”

Nate snorted, but didn’t answer.

Alfie waited, then sighed and turned to walk away.

“Yes,” Nate hissed. “It would bother me. It would make me jealous, very jealous.”

“Then no, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Nate groaned, a long low rumble that made Alfie shiver. He knew Nate was about to say something crude, or ask him to open the hatch, but he didn’t give him the chance.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I have two.”

He stomped hard as he left, and the metal of the prison vibrated and rang in his wake. It deafened him to anything else Nate said, and he smiled smugly to himself.