out. Gang's got to provide, see? Some others, you know, they like to get them a little buzz, break up the boredom. Either way, the dope's the gang. Like them ads on TV say: Membership got its privileges. Gives them money. Discipline. Gangs gotta get their shit in here.'
'We were searched pretty thoroughly coming in.'
'Hell yeah, you better bet we gonna search you, cause this here is a penal institution, man, we ain't gonna help nobody break the law. Sheriff's got to run for re-election you know. Mayor do too. But these gangbangers find a way. Shit comes in here, same as the money to pay for it. I mean, that's how it is. Everybody knows that. Kind of works, let's say, to mutual advantage.' Eddie smiles again, but on reflection he seems concerned that he may have shown excessive candor, particularly with a reporter. He jams the toothpick, long held between his fingers, back into his mouth and drifts off to his duties.
Kindle County, Seth thinks. Always something dirty doin. Always amazing him. Will he ever escape this place? No. He's wondered that for thirty years and now he knows the answer: No. This is where his dreams are set. In the gloomy winter light, thick as shellac. In the air of childhood, tinted with the oily-smelling smoke and ash of burnt coal. No escaping. He and Lucy have lived everywhere: Seattle, Pawtucket, Boston, Miami, and Seattle again for the last eleven years. But now that his life is up for grabs, now that this lugubrious mid-life mourning period, too prolonged to be called a crisis, has him thinking of fresh starts, he answered yes when the flight attendant asked, 'Going home?'
About ten minutes later, Hobie and Nile are done. Nile seems more pensive. Hobie says he'll see him tomorrow and Seth embraces Nile quickly, before he's returned to Eddie's custody. The guard waves goodbye, still laughing.
'Okay, Froggy,' says Hobie. 'Pluck your magic twanger. Let's blow.'
'So?' asks Seth, as soon as they are on their way back across the yard.
'"So," what?'
'So what do you think? You going to get him off?' 'Wouldn't really know. I left my crystal ball at home.' 'Yeah, but how does the case look?' 'Beats me. I didn't talk to him about it.' 'Christ, what the hell did you talk about then for forty minutes? O.J.?'
'What I talked to this young fellow, my client, about is none of your business. But what I discuss with every client first time I meet em is my fee.'
'Your fee!'
'Hell yes, my fee. I asked you, first thing - didn't I ask you, "Can he afford a lawyer?" And you told me, "No problem." Hell yeah, I talked to him about my fee. I pay alimony to three mean women.'
'How much?'
'That's none of your goddamn business, either. I told him what I get, which is one hell of a lot, and he says he can handle it. That's jazz to me. I don't ask em where-all it's coming from. Long as he ain't stickin up my mother. All I care is check comes upfront and clears.'
'Jesus,' says Seth. 'What are you doing out of your coffin in daylight?'
'You wanna hear stories about gettin beat? I'll tell you stories. I had one sumbitch handcuffed his woman to the radiator, just to prove he'd be back with the money soon as we finished in court. And you know what I ended up with? Bill for the fuckin hacksaw.'
Seth laughs out loud. Hobie's bullshit is still the best. Reality so seldom intrudes.
'Upfront,' Hobie repeats. 'In hand. Period. You find him another lawyer that won't do him like that, that lawyer isn't worth having, because he doesn't know shit.'
'Nobody said anything about another lawyer. I told you, he wants somebody who isn't from around here, so he's sure they won't be beholden to Eddgar. I promised him he can be damn certain of that with you.'
Hobie pauses for reflection, a huge pile of a person, the color of dark oak. As he has grown older, little dark flecks of melanin
'We were searched pretty thoroughly coming in.'
'Hell yeah, you better bet we gonna search you, cause this here is a penal institution, man, we ain't gonna help nobody break the law. Sheriff's got to run for re-election you know. Mayor do too. But these gangbangers find a way. Shit comes in here, same as the money to pay for it. I mean, that's how it is. Everybody knows that. Kind of works, let's say, to mutual advantage.' Eddie smiles again, but on reflection he seems concerned that he may have shown excessive candor, particularly with a reporter. He jams the toothpick, long held between his fingers, back into his mouth and drifts off to his duties.
Kindle County, Seth thinks. Always something dirty doin. Always amazing him. Will he ever escape this place? No. He's wondered that for thirty years and now he knows the answer: No. This is where his dreams are set. In the gloomy winter light, thick as shellac. In the air of childhood, tinted with the oily-smelling smoke and ash of burnt coal. No escaping. He and Lucy have lived everywhere: Seattle, Pawtucket, Boston, Miami, and Seattle again for the last eleven years. But now that his life is up for grabs, now that this lugubrious mid-life mourning period, too prolonged to be called a crisis, has him thinking of fresh starts, he answered yes when the flight attendant asked, 'Going home?'
About ten minutes later, Hobie and Nile are done. Nile seems more pensive. Hobie says he'll see him tomorrow and Seth embraces Nile quickly, before he's returned to Eddie's custody. The guard waves goodbye, still laughing.
'Okay, Froggy,' says Hobie. 'Pluck your magic twanger. Let's blow.'
'So?' asks Seth, as soon as they are on their way back across the yard.
'"So," what?'
'So what do you think? You going to get him off?' 'Wouldn't really know. I left my crystal ball at home.' 'Yeah, but how does the case look?' 'Beats me. I didn't talk to him about it.' 'Christ, what the hell did you talk about then for forty minutes? O.J.?'
'What I talked to this young fellow, my client, about is none of your business. But what I discuss with every client first time I meet em is my fee.'
'Your fee!'
'Hell yes, my fee. I asked you, first thing - didn't I ask you, "Can he afford a lawyer?" And you told me, "No problem." Hell yeah, I talked to him about my fee. I pay alimony to three mean women.'
'How much?'
'That's none of your goddamn business, either. I told him what I get, which is one hell of a lot, and he says he can handle it. That's jazz to me. I don't ask em where-all it's coming from. Long as he ain't stickin up my mother. All I care is check comes upfront and clears.'
'Jesus,' says Seth. 'What are you doing out of your coffin in daylight?'
'You wanna hear stories about gettin beat? I'll tell you stories. I had one sumbitch handcuffed his woman to the radiator, just to prove he'd be back with the money soon as we finished in court. And you know what I ended up with? Bill for the fuckin hacksaw.'
Seth laughs out loud. Hobie's bullshit is still the best. Reality so seldom intrudes.
'Upfront,' Hobie repeats. 'In hand. Period. You find him another lawyer that won't do him like that, that lawyer isn't worth having, because he doesn't know shit.'
'Nobody said anything about another lawyer. I told you, he wants somebody who isn't from around here, so he's sure they won't be beholden to Eddgar. I promised him he can be damn certain of that with you.'
Hobie pauses for reflection, a huge pile of a person, the color of dark oak. As he has grown older, little dark flecks of melanin
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