Bob Goes to Jail by Rob Sedgwick

Bob Goes to Jail by Rob Sedgwick

Author:Rob Sedgwick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2021-07-06T18:48:39+00:00


21

“If you go away, it’s going to be a federal situation,” Ron said. He and Warren, my crack legal team, sat with me in the conference room.

“So if you go away, it won’t be a cakewalk by any stretch, but more likely than not the worst thing that happens in there is boredom. You read, you work out.”

Perhaps I could achieve that Charles Atlas body I had always yearned for.

A polished lizard that had overdone it at the tanning booth, Ron wore a suit of the highest-quality swank and the cut of his cuffs was perfect. His fingers were bejeweled.

“It’s a minimum-security prison, so everyone wants to be there. The shenanigans that happen in a more heavily secured facility are rare to none where you’ll be going. If you go away at all.”

When I’d hung out with Linus at seventeen, elegantly sipping Rhum Barbancourt in his bedroom, he’d spun tales of Hank’s escapades in prison. It sounded so exotic, so colorful.

“I’d love to go to prison just for the experience,” I’d told Linus. “It would be unique. Thrilling. Vital for a Renaissance man of my ilk.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for a man of your ilk,” Linus said.

“First you have to get a job,” Ron was saying now.

“Can I bartend?” I knew Moss would hire me immediately.

“No. Bartenders are notorious for associating with a criminal element.”

“Can I be a waiter?” I had no real experience being a waiter. “What about doing movies? I have two movies coming out now. My agent is getting lots of requests from casting agents.”

“You can’t leave the southern district of New York State.”

“Soap operas?

“Where do they shoot?”

“In the city.”

“Great, go get a soap.”

I thought I was done with soap operas, and my heart drooped a little. I was on a roll there and I blew it. But this was more of a maneuver than a professional decision. I kept telling myself that.

“Then you have to have a community service commitment,” said Warren, ever practical.

“Why do I have to get a community service commitment?”

“It looks good during sentencing.”

“But I don’t want to get a community service commitment.”

“No one does. People only do it because they have to or they’re trying to feel better about themselves. You fall under the category of have to. You see, Rob, we have to do everything we can to show that you have learned from your mistake,” Ron speaks as if he’s talking to a jury, “that it was merely a youthful indiscretion, and that you’re doing your best to make restitution to society for your misdeed.”

“Restitution?”

“That means you fucked up and now you’re trying to make nice. You feel bad and know that what you did was horribly wrong.”

“And that I’m ashamed?”

“Yes.”

“And that I’ve disgraced myself?”

“Yes.”

“And my family?”

“Yes.”

“And that I want to make it right?”

“Now you’re getting it.”

—

“Get a job, Uncle Rob,” my nieces and nephews used to sing when I was six years younger and not employed. They were about twenty years younger than me, and even



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