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pickup he had the title to.  He shrugged and said it had come his way via a lucky hand of cards and had been collecting dust for a year.  He made it sound like I was doing him a favor by keeping it out of his garage so his wife Jenny would stop complaining.  I doubted the story because it wouldn’t make sense for him to let a perfectly good truck sit in his garage and depreciate when he could have sold it for some cold cash instead.  Yet I politely accepted the favor because you didn’t say no to Deck Gentry.  You just didn’t. 
    Bash teased me for being all dressed and ready for work so early.  He hadn’t even showered yet.  I ignored him and settled down on the sofa with A Tale of Two Cities , which I’d been reading in peace before he stormed into the kitchen this morning.  The book was a thick, hardcover edition I’d checked out from the public library down the road.  I hadn’t been a reader in my old life, but there wasn’t much to do in lockup besides work with weights and read.  The prison library was filled with books that had barely been touched.  A Tale of Two Cities was an old favorite by now and there was a certain comfort in reading it again.
    Best of times.  Worst of times. 
    “What’s all that racket,” Bash growled when he walked grumpily into the room while tucking his shirt in. 
    “What racket?”
    He paused and gaped at me incredulously.  “You don’t hear all that fucking noise?”
    I’d been dimly aware of female squealing nearby but it didn’t penetrate enough to get me off the couch.  I stared back at Bash, playing dumb.  “I don’t hear a thing.” 
    He shook his head.  “I swear, Gentry, it’s like you’re floating around in your own personal bubble.”  He put his eye to the peephole on the front door.  “Hmm.”
    Now it sounded like a gaggle of chickens was chirping and clucking all at once.  I set my book down. “What’s up?”
    “Not sure.  Bunch of chippies out there all dolled up like they’re going to the fucking prom.  Oh wait, I think it’s a wedding.  Someone’s wearing seventy five fucking yards of white lace.” 
    “Sounds like they’re about to lay eggs.” 
    He laughed, grabbed his crotch.  “Maybe I could help them out with that.” 
    I nodded.  “You ought to go outside and make the offer.  Be sure to keep squeezing your dick while you talk.”
    “Fuck you, Gentry.”
    “Seriously, I think you ought to fling that door open, crow like a rooster and see who offers to let you mount up first.” 
    “They’re leaving anyway.”  Bash backed away from the door and smiled at me charmingly.  “You know, Stone, you ought to take your own advice while there’s still a little cock-a-doodle-doo left in you.”
    I shook my head.  “No little cock in this package, buddy.  You must have gotten confused again while looking in the mirror.” 
    Bash snorted and then responded with his middle finger.  He sure talked tough for a guy who didn’t top more than five foot eight.  Bash was fast though, and wiry.  I’d seen enough fights to understand that sometimes those things mattered more.  Besides, I’d already figured out that he was just the type who handed out a hard time when it suited him.  I already thought of him as a friend. 
    After disappearing into the bathroom and crashing around in there for a while he emerged in a sinus-busting cloud of aftershave. 
    “You driving?” he asked. 
    I hesitated.  “I need gas.” 
    “Fine, we’ll fly over on my broom.”  He snatched his keys from the counter and waited for me to follow him out the door. 
    The gas excuse wasn’t a lie but honestly I avoided getting behind the wheel when I could.  If Bash guessed why, he was kind enough not to harass me about it.  There were times when it just hit me too hard. I half expected to look over and see a ghost sitting beside me. 
    In reality there were no ghosts.  The girl in those flashbacks was long gone from this