Hard Time by Anthony Papa Anne Mini Shaun Attwood Page A

looking down on the top of his head.
    ‘I watch it all the time. It’s one of my favourite movies. I practise Alex’s lines at home . ’
    I was thankful for all things English that were novelties abroad. Maybe my Englishness will continue to help me in here.
    ‘Aren’t you wondering how you ended up in a cell with a Chicano called Schwartz?’ Troll asked.
    ‘Yes,’ I said.
    ‘Got a Mexican mom,’ Schwartz said. ‘Pop’s American. His parents are German.’
    ‘Then we’re fellow Europeans,’ I said.
    We discussed our charges. Troll had Class 2 felonies, including fraudulent schemes and artifices; Schwartz, a petty drug possession.
    Schwartz demanded I climb down from my bunk so he could demonstrate something. On the tiny steel table, he placed a black pawn on a chessboard. ‘I’m getting bonded out soon, but I’ll be right back. Compared to you two, I’m just this little guy.’ He pointed at the pawn. ‘In the real world, this is how people like me get pushed around.’ He knocked the pawn over with a white castle and surrounded the castle with black pawns. ‘The only way the little people like me can push back against the big people with power and money is when we gang up like this.’ He moved the pawns closer to the castle. ‘But when we push back, they call the big guns in, and we can never ever win.’ He circled the black pawns with the larger white pieces and knocked the pawns down with a white knight and bishop.
    I laughed at how well Schwartz had summarised a subject I’d struggled to understand in economics: Karl Marx’s theory of class conflict.
    ‘It’s the same in jail. They’ll do us dirty, and we’ll take a stand, flood our cells and shit, but then they’ll send the goon squad in.’
    ‘The goon squad?’ I asked.
    ‘Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s goons,’ Schwartz said. ‘They’re massive dudes who come in, throw us around, make us get butt naked and blast us with Tasers and shotgun rounds.’
    ‘Shotgun rounds!’ I said, hoping he was joking.
    ‘Non-lethal. You’ll see them soon enough,’ Troll said, chilling me more. ‘You play chess?’
    ‘Not for about 20 years,’ I said.
    ‘Let’s play.’ Troll started setting up the board.
    Schwartz stood up. ‘I’m outtie. Later, cellies.’
    ‘Whoever draws white or wins a game gets to sit on the stool. The other stands.’ Troll held out two fists. ‘Pick one.’
    ‘The left.’
    He unclenched a black pawn. ‘Unlucky, dawg.’
    Troll listened to his tiny black radio via earplugs and sang during the opening stage of the game. I was rusty, and it showed. But my rustiness lowered his guard, and he made some careless moves. He turned the music off too late to stage a comeback. Heckling me into losing concentration didn’t work. I won by a narrow margin. He said, ‘Ain’t that-about-a-bitch, ’ abandoned his radio and continued to talk trash, probing for chinks in my psyche as we started the next game. I complimented him on his chess ability, hoping to throw his game off. Playing Troll taught me a lot about his crafty side. We ended up tied 3 – 3.
    ‘You’ve got game, dawg,’ Troll said, returning to his bunk.
    I stayed on the stool. ‘You too. How did someone as intelligent as you get busted?’
    Troll rested his elbows on his thighs and steepled his fingertips. ‘I was going in banks with fake IDs and cashing cheques. I’d take out small amounts, get to know the bank staff, and when I felt comfortable, I’d withdraw a large sum. The crazy thing is, on the day I got busted the cops had already let me go.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘The bank called the cops. The cops came and questioned me, and I bullshitted my way out of it. I left the bank and was on my way to my car when the Feds stopped me. I tried to bullshit the Feds, but they were having none of it.’ He pressed his palms together as if praying to erase his arrest. ‘That was a year ago. I’ve been here fighting my case ever since.’
    ‘I can’t