Page 3 of Law Maker

They came like clockwork.

None on Sundays, but he always had two on Monday afternoon.

Each envelope was white, simple neat block letters with the address, his prison number and return name on the front.

On the back was always a different cat sticker.

His mouth twitched.

Today’s cat was ginger riding a motorcycle.

Hey, Lawless,

(I like to start it with Hey, like we’re having a conversation rather than Dear. DEAR is for old grannies and while you are old, you’re not my granny)

Are you still being grumpy?

Don’t worry about the cats. I’ve been taking care of them as best as I can between school and college interviews. Zara helps and Rider too, if Zara makes him, she makes him do a lot of stuff, it’s funny. I found a litter last week over by Pike street, stupid asshole boys were kicking a bag, they won’t do it again. Two gray and a black with a white eye patch. I didn’t name them, like you said, but the gray one definitely looks shifty, like he’s up to something. I like him, he reminds me of you. I’ll send a picture in my next letter. They’re eating like greedy monsters. Seriously, it’s an all-day buffet for them. You have a pretty neat set up with all the cat provisions in your room and the pet store deliveries. Snake said you’re the cat whisperer. I told him you care for things that are too small to fight their own battles yet. I rehomed six of the long timers over in Fort Springs, it’s amazing what I can talk people into it. I think it’s a skill, maybe I’ll become a lawyer and get a job with Archie. It helps that you have an account with the vet to have them spayed and inoculated. And I packed them off to their new homes with a brand new bed and cat food. It’s all quite sweet. I cried the first time (don’t laugh) I wanted to keep them all, but as Zara told me, how can we help more kitties if I keep them all? Rider would be pissed if I turn the clubhouse into a cattery. Is that a word? I feel like it should be. Maybe a cat hotel. We can discuss.

Have you been eating?

I miss you.

Will you write me back this time?

I don’t understand how this happened.

No one will tell me.

You’re the least likely person to get caught doing anything.

Please, grumpy, tell me how you are.

Snake said you’re fine, but he wouldn’t tell me if you weren’t.

Why won’t you let me come to see you? They turned me away, Lawless. They said I wasn’t on your list. Why won’t you put my name on your visitors list?

You said you’d read over my college essay; how can you do that if you’re ignoring me?

Anyway, I better go, my foster mom wants to go to the salon for her birthday and then I’m babysitting for the goobers later. You should see Zane; he looks like a chubbier buddha version of Rider.

Please write me back, grumpy.

Miss you.

Angie xoxo

Running his thumb over that last sentence, Lawless didn’t ponder too deeply on the overriding noise between his ears, before he folded it back into three careful pieces and pushed it into the envelope. Then he placed it on top of the others in a box.

The white shoe box was a purchase he’d made recently to store his letters in specifically.

Some motherfucker earned fifty bucks for a cardboard box, talk about daylight robbery, but he’d needed it, hadn’t he?

It was important to Lawless, so rather than hang the guy up by his toenails and take what he wanted, he’d paid.

Nice and calm.

Now, if that fella received a beatdown later that day in the canteen it was nothing to do with Lawless, business was business.

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