Madhouse_Trade by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Regions Press
Published: 2015-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

The Champion of Roshambo

by Max Xavier and Sam W. Anderson

“Scissors.”

“Rock!”

“Goddamnit,” Franklin said through clenched jaws, then broke into a smile of resignation. Like always.

“I win. Again!” Sugar’s giggle rang clear through the thick wall. “We play chess.”

Franklin made a mental note to choose paper next time. He pulled the ancient wooden chessboard from under the bed and set up the pieces. A few buttons replaced lost pawns, and the tooth Drake had knocked out last year sat on the white queen’s throne. “All set, Sugar. Your move, isn’t it?”

Sugar called out her moves from the other side of the wall, but Franklin heard them as clearly as if she sat beside him on his urine-scented, rickety cot. Sugar on his bed, now that was a pleasant image. On the board, Franklin moved the pieces corresponding with her instructions.

“Hey, Franklin,” Sugar’s voice drifted into that syrupy tone, the one she used whenever she was trying to sweet-talk him. The one that always worked. Always. “If I win this game—and who am I kidding; when I win this game—we break out of this joint, okay? Put the GC behind us and head for Mexico.”

“Mexico? What the hell would we do in Mexico?”

Sugar hesitated. “I… Well, I could start singing again.”

That she could. Franklin didn’t remember her, hell couldn’t really remember anything before the hospital, but he’d heard several of the Golden Canyon staff workers mention Sugar as somewhat of a celebrity before her breakdown. Even Franklin’s therapist had brought it up in several sessions. Franklin had thought it inappropriate to discuss another patient, especially Sugar, and would always change the subject.

“And what would I do?” he asked. “Drug mule? Maybe one of them coyote dudes that smuggles immigrants?”

“You could be my kept man. Put you up in a lifestyle you could grow accustomed to. You in?”

His laughter rattled through his room. “Didn’t really have any other plans. And if you’ve made up your mind, it wouldn’t matter if I did. What the hell—I’m in.” Franklin studied the board. Sugar had been right—she was going to win again. He called out his move. “Check.”

“You sure?”

Franklin didn’t know if she was talking about his move or her escape plan. Hell, he didn’t know if she was serious about either one. “How you going to get past Drake?

“I was thinking of using my feminine wiles.”

She saved the king by sacrificing a bishop. “What warm-blooded American male could resist that?”

“Drake. Your pussy could glitter and burst with sunshine and rainbows and it wouldn’t faze him. Face it, sweetheart—you may be a fine young Miss Thang, but he’d take my old wrinkled dick over you any day.” It didn’t come out as a joke.

“Fine,” she said.

Franklin called his move and Sugar slid her queen in for the kill. “So I’m not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out soon enough.”

In the five years since he’d awoken in this hell of a mental institution, the five years they’d shared a cinderblock wall and a connection like he’d never shared with another person, Franklin had learned to recognize that stubborn note in her voice.

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