Page 84 of Judas

“What’s that?” Asking as I take an extra step up where we are closer to being eye to eye—old prison dominance habits die hard. Speaking of, I need to give the girls a call when I can. They wanted an update and, well, we’ve been busy.

“It’s like Blockbuster but comes to your TV without needing to go to a store.”

“Oh. Well, you know I have no clue. I don’t think Ra would mind if you bought a movie though.”

Sadie smirks and shakes her head, looking down at her hands she gives me a squeeze and proceeds up to the landing while explaining this Netflix in greater detail.

“You don’t have to buy a movie. It’s a subscription service with movies, TV shows, and things already programmed into it. It’s a digital library of movies.”

“I see. Just a bit rusty with technology. I’m sure I’ll pick it up soon.”

“Because of being in prison?” The question is heavy, feels loaded, but I’m not going to hide anything from her. Secrets don’t belong around me anymore.

“Yes. You can ask me anything you want about it too. I… uhm, I wrote to you while I was locked up. A lot, actually. Hundreds of letters, I—“

She cuts me off. “I know.”

At the door, we open it and step inside. Babel is standing behind Lucien with a glass tumbler in his hand, sloshing around familiar amber liquid. When he looks our way, he lifts the glass and practically cheers us. Lucien's head dangles forward, the black strands of his hair shrouding his face in a greasy curtain. He doesn’t stir at our arrival so I can only assume Babel beat him into unconsciousness again. Truthfully, it makes me worry for Sadie—having to see someone in that sort of predicament.

“Ladies.”

Still not quite sure about him, call it mother’s intuition—or trauma. Definitely trauma.

Lifting the glass to his mouth, he continues to watch us while we walk through the living room. I don’t know if it’s because he wants to make sure we get to the room without diversion, or if he isn’t sure about us either. If I were in his shoes, standing behind a downright psychopath, sharing an apartmentwith two convicts and a teenage girl who’s supposed to be in therapy, wouldn’t make me feel comfortable either. Going with the former, I nod at him before closing the door and blocking out the madness that is this situation.

Sadie goes straight for the remote and turns on the screen that’s sitting opposite of the footboard. Taking a moment to toe off my boots and shrug off my jacket I watch what she’s doing. Might as well learn something while I’m here, right? A bright red image with Netflix in the center comes up on the TV—which is huge, did I say that?

“Do you care what I pick?”

“Nah, put on whatever you want. I didn’t have a TV in my room growing up, nor in my apartment. When I was in prison, we had one TV in the common areas but they usually replayed old movies and sometimes we would get to watchDays of Our Lives.”

“Isn’t that the one that has Jensen Ackles in it?”

Arching a brow, I drop down on the made bed, propping a few pillows against the headboard for back support while we watch whatever it is she’s about to put on.

“What do you know about Jensen Ackles?”

“Only that he’s been making waves over the past ten years. Movies, new TV series, he sings, a typical panelist at comic conventions.”

“That right? He’s done well for himself I guess. Yes, he was inDays of Our Liveswhen I was little.”

Thinking about him makes me remember Kaleb. Fuck, that was so long ago—the last time I saw him. Sadie filters through the selection as I reminisce about him. That first love never goes away. Hurt like hell when he died, but I like to think he drops in to see me from time to time. All while he chases celestial tail. If I think hard enough I can still smell the leather seats in his car, hear his laugh, and feel his fingers twirling a lock of my hair.

Kaleb was a different timeline for me. Had things gone a different way, I might have had several Reyes kids running around. Speaking of his uncle, I hope he’s doing well. A couple years after I got to Bluitt, I saw he was involved in a police shooting and spent a long while in the hospital—much longer than what I would consider necessary for a gunshot wound but what the fuck do I know.

“You’ve fallen.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Found one!” Sadie sing-songs, hopping merrily onto the bed. She sits at the edge as opening credits roll, pulling off her shoes and dropping them aimlessly on the floor. She’s been through a lot but somewhere in there, in her loud mind, she’s still a kid. Anyone who interrupts that will get one hell of a beating from both parents moving forward. We don’t have much time left for her to have a childhood. It’s our duty to ensure she gets one, short or not.

“What are we watching?”

“Smokey and the Bandit.”

“No shit, Bert Reynolds? Who the hell introduced you to this?”

“Father. He said it was a classic. Would let me watch about an hour or so of it then send me to my room to finish my homework and get my practice over with.”

---