Hank

 

When the end of the lockdown was finally announced, applause rippled through the cell blocks. The doors were opened and the inmates stepped out into the common areas, stretching and catching up with people they hadn't seen in four days. But since none of them had anything new to report to each other, the talk quickly returned to the topic of the fight and its tragic conclusion.

 

Hank noticed that the Sinners were giving him dirtier looks than usual, and when they passed him, he often heard muttered threats. Bull assured him that it was just because so many of them had lost money on the fight, but Hank could tell they all shared his suspicion that the fight was rigged—and they seemed convinced that he'd been in on it.

 

A few days after the lockdown ended, Hank was sitting in the prison yard with Bull and Speed Bump when Roberto and a gang of Sinners walked up to them.

 

Before Bull or Speed Bump could say anything, Hank stood up and offered a hand to Roberto. “I'm very sorry about what happened to your brother. I didn't have a chance to say anything earlier, but he was one hell of a fighter, and what happened to him was a damn shame.”

 

Hank saw Bull's bewildered, pissed-off expression in his peripheral vision, but he ignored it. This was the right thing to do, and he was determined to do it, no matter what Bull thought.

 

But Roberto only stared at Hank's outstretched hand with his upper lip curled into a snarl, as though he wanted to rip it right off Hank's wrist. “Yo, you can wrap your fucking apology in greaseproof paper and stick up your ass, white boy. I ain't interested.”

 

Bull stood up, standing in front of Hank. “Hey, cholo: Our guy won, your guy lost. Get over it, and get out of our fucking faces.”

 

“My brother didn't lose no fight. He had a seizure and choked to death on his own goddamn puke. You want to know why?”

 

“Not particularly, no,” Bull said, feigning a yawn.

 

Roberto's eyes stabbed into Hank's like daggers. “They found heroin in his system. Lots of it.”

 

“Well, that ain't no big surprise,” Speed Bump drawled. “Everyone knows how much you Sinner boys love yer dope.”

 

“Yeah, except Manolo fucking didn't. He was straight edge, man. He never did a drug in his life. You gringo cocksuckers cheated. You slipped him the dope somehow, 'cause you knew it was the only way you could win.”

 

Bull stepped forward until his face was inches away from Roberto's. “We won because the white man is superior to all other races in every measurable way. You don't like it? Do something about it. Otherwise, go find a chalupa to munch on.”

 

Roberto's nostrils flared, and for a moment, Hank was sure he'd haul off and punch Bull. Instead, he took a step back and spat on the ground at Bull's feet.

 

“This shit ain't over,” Roberto hissed. “All you pasty white motherfuckers better start sleeping with one eye open.” He turned and walked off, followed by his posse.

 

Hank waited until they were out of earshot, then turned to Bull. “Let me guess. You doped Manolo's nasal spray, then told me to punch him in the nose so he'd have to use it.”

 

Bull let out a derisive snort. “All right, maybe I did. So what?”

 

“First of all, I never cheated in a fight in my life, and it sucks knowing I have now. Second, Roberto was the one giving him the spray. You had him feed poison to his own brother, and you made me part of it.”

 

Bull chuckled. “For the life of me, Hank, I simply cannot understand why you keep acting as though these animals are real people like you and me. They're just a bunch of mindless spics and coons, man. They kill each other off by the hundreds every day. Who gives a shit about a couple more?”

 

“We got us a problem now, though,” Speed Bump said. “If'n they know we killed Manolo on purpose, they're gonna come after us for sure.”

 

“Unless we show them what a bad fucking idea that would be,” Bull replied evenly. He turned to Hank. “You're going to have to kill off one of the Sinners. Maybe even two, if you can swing it. I can get you a weapon by lunchtime. That'll send a message to them and let them know not to start any shit with us.”

 

Hank shook his head. “No fucking way.”

 

Bull raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, as though Hank had suddenly started speaking in a foreign language. “Come again?”

 

Speed Bump stepped in, tittering nervously. “Aw, come on, Bull, ease up. Sure he'll do it, no problem at all.”

 

“No, I goddamn won't,” Hank said in a steely voice, glaring at Speed Bump. “And the next time you try to speak for me, Bump, we're going to have a real fucking problem.”

 

Speed Bump's jaw went slack.

 

“I just gave you a direct order, Hank,” said Bull. “Would you mind telling me just what the fuck makes you think you're in a position to refuse?”

 

“First, because it's a stupid order. You fixed the fight, you were dumb enough to get caught, and now you want to start a war over it? Because I may not be a lifer like you and Bump, but even I know that whether I kill one, two, or ten of these guys, it won't stop there. They'll come back at you, you'll have to retaliate, and on and on. Second, I didn't come in here to be your fucking hit man. If I get caught whacking a Sinner—which I probably will—then what do I get? A longer sentence? Life, maybe? I told you when I first got here, all I want to do is keep my goddamn head down and do my time quietly.”

 

“You seem to be real big on the 'firsts' and 'seconds' of things,” Bull said slowly. “So I'll give you a couple in return. If you don't do this, the first thing that's going to happen is the Knights and the Warriors stop watching your back. The second thing that'll happen is that your girlfriend D'Amato—or whatever the fuck her real name is—will get dimed out to the cops for giving false information on her application, and she'll go to prison herself. And just to give you a little bonus, the third thing that will happen is that wherever she's sent, I'll get word to the Aryans there that she needs to die...slowly, if possible. Do you want me to keep counting, Hank? Or would you agree that my math checks out?”

 

Fuck, Hank thought. They found her out. I knew this would happen. I just didn't expect it so soon.

 

Bull put an arm around Hank's shoulder. “Look. You're a stand-up guy and a real hardcase, and I respect the hell out of that. We all do. No one wants us to come to a parting of the ways. You're a valued member of our organization, and with your skills, I'm sure you'll contribute a lot. So here's what's going to happen. One of the Knights is going to slip you a shiv in the cafeteria, and you're going to kill a Sinner by the end of the day—you choose, they all look alike to me anyway—and we'll go ahead and forget your little attack of conscience. Sound good?”

 

Hank nodded tightly. The truth was, he had no intention of killing a Sinner, and no idea of how he was going to get out of this predicament.

 

“I'm glad to hear it,” Bull said. “And no more hissy fits, okay? I own this goddamn prison, and I'm getting a bit tired of making these speeches to prove it. Just do as I say from now on, and everything will be fine.”

 

Hank highly doubted it.