Wolf cast a sideways glance at Justin, trying to catch his eye. They were standing ten feet apart in the common area, hands clasped behind their backs, facing the wall, waiting for guards to escort them back to their cells after visits from their attorneys. Of course the whole point of the face the wall rule was to prevent any kind of prisoner-to-prisoner interaction while waiting for the other guards. Justin looked straight at the wall. Eyes blinking rapidly, he sniffled repeatedly and quickly swiped the back of his hand along the side of his face. An almost electric tension flowed off him as he struggled to stand still. Wolf turned his head slightly again, this time hissing “pssst.” Justin turned his head ever so slightly and Wolf shot him a quick half smile while he gestured up with his chin. Justin turned back and stared at the wall.
“Andrian!” The guard barked at Wolf. “Eyes on the wall!”
Wolf faced the wall. Contact made
Between his squirrel-on-crack mannerisms and bizarre speech outbursts, Justin Kucate would have been Wolf’s last choice for an accomplice. Except. Justin knew how to steal cars. That’s what landed him in the Juvenile Detention Center— or so Wolf overhead other guys say. A short kid, most likely Native, with black hair pulled back in a ponytail, cigarette burns on his arms, Justin looked barely old enough to drive but Wolf knew Justin’s expertise was critical for his mission.
At seventeen Wolf was already six foot three with a strong, muscular build, freakishly broad shoulders, a thick rope of blond braid down his back, and a well-practiced, menacing Viking warrior demeanor. Plus, there was his name. He used to hate it because everybody asked if it was his “real” name or a gang name. But more than that, it was a reminder of his mother— before quirky eccentric turned into batshit crazy junkie— and the messed-up life she inflicted on her kids. Now, his name was central to his bad-ass persona. Nobody in the JD Center messed with Wolf. Even the paunchy guards were a little intimidated.
Wolf and Justin. It was a bizarre mismatch that just might work.
Wolf knew it wouldn’t be hard to get Justin on board as an accomplice because he was small and really freakin’ weird making him a constant target of the gangbangers trying to prove something. That made him a better choice than the rough, aggressive assholes in for auto theft.
Wolf’s first real opportunity to talk to Justin came a few days later in the commissary line. Justin was two guys up from him. When the guard watching the line bent down to sign something on a clipboard handed to him, gang banger, Felipe, shoved Justin hard in the back and snickered. Wolf stepped out of line and stepped in front of Felipe, staring down at him with a threatening gaze.
“Andrian!” The guard yelled at Wolf. “You got a problem there with Chavez?”
“No sir,” Wolf replied. “Just wanted to be behind my friend Justin.”
Eyes blinking rapidly, Justin turned and looked up at Wolf, with a mixture of fear and confusion. Everybody knew all about his huge white guy. Nobody messed with him. Nobody. Wolf smiled at Justin and nodded. Justin stepped forward.
There were whispers in the line over Wolf’s startling statement. Behind Wolf, Felipe snarked, “¡Órale! Andrian’s got a bitch.”
Wolf turned, glared down at Felipe, and growled, “Mira que´ cabrón. Got eyes on you for a bitch, Chavez.” He put his fingers in a V to his eyes and then pointed at Felipe.
Justin picked up his Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and headed for a table in the corner. He glanced back in alarm when he saw Wolf following him.
“’Sup Justin?” Wolf asked, sitting down across from him, tossing his bag of Doritos on the table.
Justin held his Cheetos bag without opening it. He looked down at the table, not meeting Wolf’s eyes. He bounced a foot up and down. His hands trembled. He blinked rapidly. He rubbed his face and sniffled.
“Look dude,” Wolf said, “I don’t like to see guys get picked on, OK? Especially by gangbanger assholes. Open your Cheetos. I’m not going to take ’em away.”
Justin carefully tore open the bag, still not making eye contact with Wolf.
“Well?” Wolf asked. “No comment?”
“You gonna make me—”
“No, I’m not going to make you my bitch,” Wolf said firmly, anticipating Justin’s question. “I told you, I hate it when these assholes harass people. Besides, I’ve got a proposal for you.” Wolf looked at the nearby tables and glared at the guys he knew were speculating about his sudden and unlikely interest in Justin.
With shaking hand, Justin carefully placed a Cheeto in his mouth and finally raised his rapidly blinking eyes to Wolf. “Oh yeah… uh… like what?”
“Well, let’s just say I heard you’re in for auto theft,” Wolf said, popping open his bag of Doritos with a squeeze of his massive hand.
“Yeah…uh…so?”
“So, it’s true?” Wolf asked.
“Yeah, could be…uh…fire owl…Why…uh…do you wanna know?” Justin asked, pulling Cheetos out of the bag and chewing slowly. The cadence of his bouncing foot increased. He sniffled, rubbed his face, looked nervously around the room, eyes blinking rapidly.
Wolf followed Justin’s gaze to one table where guys were laughing and pointing. He stood and took several steps toward them. The laughing stopped and the guys quickly engaged in a conversation.
Wolf sat back down. “Well, what are your skills? I mean do you know how to break in and hot wire and shit?” Wolf asked quietly.
“Uh, maybe. Again, why?”
“Look, I know you need protection. You gotta be straight with me man. Yes or no. Do you know how to break in and hot wire?”
“Yeah…uh…but not all cars.” Justin blinked rapidly and rubbed his face and sniffled.
“Ok, well what do you know how to boost?” Wolf asked with a trace of irritation.
“Well… uh… all the newer ones have a bunch of electronic shit and special key fobs. Those… uh…fire owl… uh… take special tools. I don’t… uh… know how to do those. Mostly, what I know is how to boost older stuff, Fords ’n Chevys. I also… uh… know how to do old Hondas. A baby could do them.”
“Ok,” Wolf said, his mouth full of Doritos. “What about an RV?”
“An RV? Uh… no man, those things are huge. Complicated. No way.”
“Not a new one. Not one of those big bus-type ones. I’m talking one of the smaller ones.”
“Well… uh… uh… fire owl… maybe if it’s… uh… older. Probably wouldn’t be much different than a pick-up or van. Why you wanna boost a RV? Besides, we’re in here… stuff’s out there. I’m in here ’til my trial and that’s—”
“Look, here’s the deal.” Wolf interrupted, dropping his voice to a near whisper and looking around. “I know how to get us out of here. And, when we do, I need to steal an RV. An older one is fine. In fact, I know of an older one. I just need to know that you can do it.”
“I don’t know dude. Uh… uh… sounds sketch,” Justin said finishing the last of his Cheetos and squeezing the bag into a tiny ball that he started to roll around in his hands. One side of his face twitched, and he reached up and rubbed it with the wadded-up sack, eyes blinking rapidly.
“Well, do you want to get out of here or not?” Wolf demanded in a harsh whisper.
“I do… uh… uh… fire owl… but it’s a big risk. Things go sideways, I’m worse off. Gotta know your plan.” Justin’s hand shook as he continued mashing the bag. His foot bouncing increased until nearly his whole body was vibrating. “Fire owl.”
“Fire owl? What the fuck?” Wolf asked with an angry edge in his voice. “Why do you keep saying that?
“Never mind. I say random shit.” Justin said, clearing his throat.
“Okaaayyyy…” Wolf replied. Then, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m gonna tell you the deal and I swear to God, dude, if you snitch—”
“Hell no… uh… uh. You think I wanna piss you off?” Justin asked, looking around. “Everybody in here is freakin’ terrified of you. You the size of a grown-ass man, you could… uh… squash me like a bug… fire owl.” Justin’s twitching, throat clearing and eye blinking amped up.
“I don’t know what’s with your ‘fire owl’ shit, but here’s the deal,” Wolf began and took a deep breath. “I get us out of here. We steal an RV. That’s where you fit in. Then I find my sister, Silvy. She’s fifteen. She got moved to a new foster home and I got sent here after a deal I’ll tell you about later. Once we steal the RV, you can split.” Wolf paused to gauge Justin’s interest. With all his twitching, sniffing, throat clearing, face rubbing and eye blinking it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Maybe he was completely freaking out.
Justin nodded and said nothing. Finally, he asked, “You know how to drive, right?”
“A little. I’ll figure it out.”
“Figure it out?” Justin asked. “You… like don’t like just figure out how to… uh… drive something’ you just boosted.”
Wolf scowled at him in annoyance and clenched his fist on the table. Then, seeing that Justin was looking down again and his foot bouncing was getting worse, Wolf took a deep breath to calm himself. Just above a whisper he said. “Silvy and I need to find our little brother. He’s only four. Our junky bitch mom and her asshole boyfriend abducted him right out from under the social worker and foster mom on a supervised visit. She disappeared.”
Justin looked up. “Why do you… uh…. need… uh…fire owl…a RV to find your brother? Car would work.”
“She probably took him to this place, Yuma. Silvy says it’s in Arizona, almost to California. That’s where her boyfriend was from. I figure an RV gives us a place to stay that’d be better than a car while we try to find him, ’cuz it could take a while. Done my share of living in a fuckin’ car…”
“Guess that… fire owl… makes more sense.”
“So, you in?” Wolf asked, anxiously.
Justin bounced his foot, rubbed his face with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. Finally, he said, “I… uh… uh… guess. You protect me from Ochoa and his crew ’til we… uh… get out… fire owl?”
“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about anybody. I got your back. Promise. But dude, you gotta tell me, what is with the fire owl shit? Why do you keep saying it? I’m trying to figure out if it’s a code or your way of giving me a hard time … or what the fuck?”
Justin blinked repeatedly, sniffled and amped up his foot bouncing while he continued to mash the Cheetos sack into an increasingly tiny ball. “They say I got something called Tourette's. Probably cuz my mom was an alcoholic. When I get nervous, it… uh… it… uh causes twitchin’, snortin’ and me saying random shit. Wish I could stop. Really do. I got no control and I hate it, but that’s what it is.”
Wolf scowled and was silent for a beat. Finally, he said, “Well that sucks for you. Sorry. But it won’t affect you being able to boost an RV? Right?”
“No man. I… uh… kinda get in a zone when I focus on somethin’. It just gets bad when somebody harasses me or being around a huge-ass white guy like you who could flatten me.”
“Look dude, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize it was something you can’t control. Don’t worry. I got your back. Pisses me off even more now how guys harass you.”
