Pink Butterfly (29 page)

“Do you get paid more?”

“Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but I get a buck more an hour than those bitches do.”

“Is that because your husband is the sheriff?”

“No, it’s because I do the books.”

“Are you saying you picked your own wage?”

“Sorta, part of my paycheck comes out of a special fund if you know what I mean.”

“Let me get this straight, you work in law enforcement, and you’re skimming some fund to illegally raise your pay?”

“Yep, sounds right,” Wanda replied.

“And you’re not afraid to tell me this why?”

“You’re a criminal, who’s going to believe you?”

“The county attorney? Or maybe the county accountant?” Melvin replied.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh, those idiots couldn’t account for shit.”

“How long have you been skimming the books?” Melvin asked.

Wanda thought hard and scratched her large ass. “About three months now,” she replied.

“Does your husband know you’re doing this?”

“Fuck no! I have a fool proof way to make sure nobody finds out. Including him.”

“And how’s that?” Melvin asked skeptically like this woman was an idiot.

Besides being the jailor, I also order the inventory, like all the food.

“I think I see where this is going,” Melvin stated.

“Yeah, I have an arrangement with the food service delivery guy, the bill he gives me is always higher than what’s on the truck. We split the difference.”

“So how does that work out to a buck an hour more than your coworkers?” Melvin asked.

“I was making an estimate, I don’t actually put the money in my paycheck. That would be stupid. Plus I get an extra bonus every time he makes a delivery if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean,” Melvin stated.

“Duh, after he unloads the truck, he unloads in me. Gives me a nice wet present.”

Dumbfounded, Melvin sat on his hard metal bench and shook his head at Wanda. “Where is your husband when the delivery guy is nailing you?”

“Delivery is always at noon, my husband is always at lunch. Gives me an hour.”

“And where do you go?”

“The truck has a sleeper in the back.”

“Pretty slick I do say,” Melvin said. “How often does he deliver here?”

“Once a week, every Thursday like clockwork.”

“And I’m the one in jail?” Melvin asked sarcastically.

“You just did it wrong. Got to use your mind.”

“This may be a bit off topic, or not, but do you ever have relations with your inmates?”

“Can’t, there’s video camera’s all over this place. The monitor is in the dispatch.”

“If you could, would you? If the cameras were gone?” Melvin asked.

“Depends on who the guy is I suppose, but yeah, I’d do it.”

“Do you and your husband have a shitty home life? I mean, does he cheat on you as well?”

“I’d kill him if he did and he knows that. I keep my eye on those bitches in the dispatch. If they as much as look at him the wrong way, I give him hell.”

“Why him? Why not the dispatchers with the wandering eye?” Melvin asked.

“I get them too, just not so direct. I’ve pissed in a few coffee cups in my day, wiped my ass with some jackets and coats.”

“I will say that I’m not so bored anymore.”

“Tell you what, if you want a blow job, I can give you one later when you take your shower.”

Taken aback, Melvin had to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. “What?”

“At ten you get a shower, I have to monitor you to make sure you don’t try to kill yourself or escape. There ain’t no cameras in the shower room so I could give you a blow job.”

“Hell, why not get in the shower with me?” Melvin asked.

“I could if Dolores was working evening dispatch. She don’t give a shit about anything and she thinks it’s awesome I’m fucking around on my husband.”

“When does Dolores work next?” Melvin asked, his dick getting hard thinking about getting laid.

“What is today?”

“Tuesday,” Melvin replied.

Wanda looked up and thought hard for a moment. She moved her fingers around a bit and closed her eyes. “She was off Monday, so she should be on tonight,” Wanda said with some excitement.

“Great, now I have to wait five hours,” Melvin said with disappointment.

“Hey, I’d give it to you now if I could, but not here. Just keep your pants on, you’ll get laid tonight don’t worry. Now I got to get your supper so I’ll be back soon.”

With that said, Wanda left the jail section and left Melvin to ponder his hook up later that evening.

“How’s it going?” a familiar voice asked scaring the piss out of Melvin. It was the voice of Jeff Delgado, who was now sitting next to him on the bench.

“What the fuck?” Melvin asked, looking at Jeff with his heart pounding. “Where did you come from?”

“Plane crash, didn’t survive.” Jeff replied.

With a smile, Melvin said, “Now you know what it’s like.”

“To be dead? Yeah, sucks. Hey, how is it that you can see me?” Jeff asked.

“I was dead, I know what dead people look like, you look dead,” Melvin replied.

“And a better question, how did I go from being at a plane crash to this cell? I don’t even know where I am.”

“Not every question has a why answer, you’ll learn that someday. In life, shit happens for no reason other than shit happens.”

“Seems too random to me, there has to be a reason for everything. Cause and effect.”

“Cause and reason are two different things. What causes the wind to blow is due to the uneven heating and rotation of the Earth, what reason a woman buys twenty pairs of shoes, there is no reason.”

“That’s true, there is no reason why anyone would need that many shoes. But there may be a cause, the cause may be that women lack a common sense gene.”

“Women would say the same of us.”

“True.”

“Don’t over analyze, you’ll get a headache. You’re here, I’m here and now we can have a conversation.”

“Is there any chance you’re imagining me?” Jeff asked.

“Considering I was brought back from the dead by your dime store psychic medium, I would think the better chances are that you are imagining me,” Melvin replied.

“Touché’” Jeff said. “So do you want to have a long talk about how much of a shitty step dad you were to me as a kid?” Jeff asked.

“Not really,” Melvin replied.

“Yeah, no use bringing up the past. What are your plans for the future?”

“Screwing the sheriff’s wife in the shower tonight before bed, then go to bed.”

“Dare to dream,” Jeff said.

“Considering I’m probably heading for the chair for the second time I think it’s a pretty good goal.”

“Isn’t that double jeopardy?” Jeff asked.

“New crime, so no, wish it was though.”

“So what’s there to do on this side?” Jeff asked. “What did you do for the ten years you were dead till I brought you back?”

“I don’t know, walked around a lot I guess.” Melvin replied. “Honestly, it seems more like ten minutes.”

“You didn’t go into the light or haunt a house?”

“If I did I don’t remember, Dang, they tried to fry my brain with a hot plate plugged into a wall socket. I’m sure my mind’s fucked up pretty bad.”

“So asking you for advice would pretty much be a waste to time I guess,” Jeff said disheartened.

“Try hanging out at fortune teller shops, they always need someone to channel. You can pretend to be someone’s dead grandpa or cat or something.”

“I went to college,” Jeff replied.

“I don’t know what to tell you Jeff, sorry.” Melvin said.

“Do you mind if I hang out for a while?” Jeff asked.

“I don’t want you watching me getting laid if that’s what you mean.”

“Fuck no, I have no desire to watch you have sex, I just want someone to talk to.”

“I have a better idea, walk through the bars, go into the control center and unlock my cell.”

Jeff pondered Melvin’s poorly worded request and wondered if that was even possible. “If I can walk through the bars, how would I be able to push a button that released your cell door? I mean, either I pass through matter, or I don’t. I can’t have it both ways.”

“True, but you could get the dispatcher to do it for you.”

“How?”

“You’re a ghost, think of something ghost like. Haven’t you ever seen a spook movie?” Melvin asked. “Put the idea of a cupcake on the button in her mind and maybe she’ll reach for it and press it.”

“I can do that?” Jeff asked.

“You can do whatever you put your mind to, now go give it a try. I’ll wait here till the cell unlocks.”

“How about the door to the cellblock? That takes a key.”

“Fuck!” Melvin yelled echoing down the hall.

“Get your girlfriend to open it for you,” Jeff said.

“I don’t think so, she’s a horny bitch, but I don’t think she’s stupid enough to let me escape. As long as I’m here, she can fuck me for free.”

For a good thirty seconds there was silence as the two men tried to think of something to say. The cellblock was quiet except for the sounds of the lights buzzing and the occasional echo of a slammed door from the office side of the jail.

“Got any shoestrings? I think I want to hang myself,” Melvin said.

“I’m a ghost, I don’t wear shoes,” Jeff replied.

“Wow, I just noticed you’re naked. You weren’t naked a minute ago were you?”

“Yeah, I’ve been naked the whole time.”

“I thought a ghost was a representation of what you were, not the real thing. I would think I’d think of you with clothes on, unless I have some deep seeded homosexual agenda I was unaware of.”

“I think I better get going now,” Jeff said uncomfortably.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, although I do enjoy the conversation. This place is as dull as dirt.”

With that said, Jeff was gone. Melvin sat alone waiting for his chicken supper scratching his nuts and staring at the cell across the hall.

Sheriff George Langley stood looking at a display case of flowers. He was at the mall after work looking for a birthday present for his wife Wanda who was working her usual evening shift at the jail. As he scanned the arrangements, a female clerk approached and asked if he needed any help.

“Yeah, I need something for my wife, it’s her birthday today,” Langley replied.

“Do you have anything in mind? Does she have a favorite flower?” the clerk asked.

“I have no idea what she likes, all I know is she turns fifty four today and I need something or my staff will think I’m a real ass,” he said joking, but meaning it at the same time. The sheriff didn’t care for his wife, he grew tired of her attitude, her friends and her lack of attention to him. But he felt obligated to get her something since he was the boss at the law enforcement center and didn’t want to look like a jerk. For all he cared, she deserved a pot pie and a broom, not a flower arrangement.

“Do you have a price range in mind?” the clerk asked.

“Forty, fifty bucks I guess,” Langley replied.

“Ok, that’s a start. For that price I can get you roses and carnations in a clear vase, or spray roses, daisy and button chrysanthemum, Monte Cassino asters and limoneum bouquet.”

“You lost me past roses, but that sounds fine.”

“Which one?”

“Whichever one will get me the most brownie points, I’ll let you decide. How long will it take?” Langley asked.

“When do you need it by?”

“I’m sort of embarrassed, but I need it in the next two hours,” Langley replied.

“No problem, I can get that done for you, do you want to pay for it first and pick up later?”

“Sure,” Langley replied and paid the clerk for the arrangement.

“What’s your wife’s name for the card?” the clerk asked.

“Wanda Langley,” Langley replied. The clerk stood stunned for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh nothing,” the clerk lied back. She knew the man who delivered the food to the jail each week and how he bragged about fucking some woman named Wanda every week in his sleeper cab. The clerk didn’t realize this woman was the sheriff’s wife. “What do you want the card to say?” she asked nervously.

“To my wonderful wife Wanda, may your birthday be as great as can be, your loving husband George.”

“That’s nice,” the clerk said and scribbled the phrase on a sheet of paper to be transcribed on the card later by computer printer. “How long have you and Wanda been married?”

“Twenty two years,” Langley replied.

“Any kids?”

“Two, both in college.”

“That’s wonderful, I have one in college too. She’s a journalism major.”

“One of mine is an art student who spends more time playing in rock bands and the other, my daughter wants to be a pharmacist.”

“That’s a good paying job, the pharmacist that is.”

“Yeah, my boy has hair down to his ass and thinks he’s Bon Jovi or something. One day I’m gonna cut his hair, sell his guitar and make him get a real major. The world is already full of starving artists, we don’t need another.”

“Maybe it’s a phase he’s going through, all boys have this dream to be a rock star.”

“Most boys grow out of that phase, he’s just getting warmed up. Started playing that stupid noise maker when he was twelve. Never should have bought him that damn thing. Anyway, I don’t want to bore you with my family life,” Langley said.

“Oh, I love chatting about this sort of stuff, it’s no problem. I’ll get this arrangement started and have it done for you by around eight thirty ok?” the clerk asked.

“Eight thirty it is,” Langley replied with a smile. “That’s when showers start at the jail, should be a great time to surprise her.”

Ten o’clock, Sheriff George Langley walks in the front door of the law enforcement center with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. At the dispatch is Dolores, Wanda’s friend and coconspirator. “Seen Wanda?” Langley mouths through the protective glass.

Dolores fakes a smile and shrugs her shoulders as to answer “No,” In a panic, she presses the call button to the jail to prompt Wanda to come out to the dispatch area. Several clicks and no reply.

“I’ll check the kitchen,” Langley mouths and heads down the hall towards the food prep area.