Vernon God Little

'Lemme tell you something for free – you'll have a honey of a life if you love the people who love you first. Ever see your ma choose a birthday card for you?'

'No.'

He laughs. 'That's becausen there ain't the hours in a boy's agenda to watch her stand and read every little word in those cards, turn every feeling over in her soul. You probably too busy hiding the thing in you closet to read the words inside, about rays of sunshine the day you came into the world. Huh, Vernon Gregory?'

Heat comes to my eyes.

'You messed up, son. Face it.'

'But I didn't mean for anything to happen…'

'Stuff needed to happen, kid. Different stuff from this. You just ain't faced your God.' Lasalle goes to his pants pocket and pulls out a rag for me to wipe my eyes. I use my sleeve instead. He reaches over and wraps a wrinkly hand around mine. 'Son,' he says, 'ole Lasalle gonna tell you how it all work. Lasalle gonna give you the secret of this human life, and you gonna wonder why you never saw it before…'

As he says it, I hear movement in the corridor outside. Footsteps. Then Lally's voice.

twenty-four

'The key to this first public vote', says Lally, 'is not to give too many choices. We need to pick a shortlist of prisoners, advertise them well, then open the voting lines and see who performs.'

It sounds like he's with at least three other men. The guard knocks urgently on our door, but doesn't open it, like he just wants us to shut up.

'We have a hundred and fourteen ready to go,' says another man. 'You mean put up three dozen or so, for the first vote?'

'Tch, no way. I mean put up two or three, at most. Flesh-out their characters for the audience, show interviews, reconstructions of their crimes, tears from the victims' families. Then give the candidates web-cam access for the last week, live to air – a head-to-head battle for sympathy.'

'I see,' says the guy. 'Kinda Big Brother, huh?'

'Precisely, just how we sold it to the sponsors.'

'But how do we select the first two?' asks a third man.

'It doesn't really matter, provided the crimes are strong enough. I heard a concept the other day that kind of interested me, though, I think it was on a game show or something – "The last shall go first," it said. Has a ring to it, don't you think?'

'Nice,' says the fourth man. 'Top-of-mind recall.'

'Precisely.'

Their footsteps slow as they approach the cell, you hear the guard clink to attention.

'Any reason for you to be down here, Officer?' asks Lally.

The guard shuffles on the spot, then a shadow passes over the peephole. 'Open this door,' says Lally. The key turns, and he looks inside. 'What have we here?' He turns to the guard. 'Aren't the men supposed to be segregated?'

'Oh sure, sure,' says the guard, fidgeting with his keys. 'It's just like, therapy, you know? A little counseling makes the living easier up on the Row.'

Lally frowns. 'This boy is a mass-murderer – surely it's a little late for counseling. Anyway, these cells are out of bounds, we're installing sound post-production down here.'

'How's your mama?' I ask Lally. The words skim from my lip like spit. 'Motherfucker.'

'Jesus, kid!' chokes the guard.

Lally stifles an impulse to lash me, his business cronies keep him chilled. I stare slow deaths at him. 'There ain't prayers enough in heaven to stop me paying your fucken ass back,' I hear myself whisper. Even Lasalle recoils.

Lally just smirks. 'Break them up.'

'Yes, sir,' says the guard. He straightens, and waves an angry hand at Lasalle and me. I try to catch Lasalle's eyes, but he just shuffles away.

'Lasalle – what's the secret?' I hiss after him.

'Later, kid, later.'

Lally smiles at me as I leave the room. 'Still trying to figure things out, eh, Little man?' He gives an asthma laugh, then his voice folds into echoes as he leads his men away. 'So, February fourteenth we launch the first vote.'

'You mean Valentine's Day?' asks another man.

'Precisely.'

Guess what: you can receive junk-mail on Death Row. The week before the first vote I get a sweepstakes letter that says I definitely won a million dollars; at least that's what it says on the envelope. I think you have to buy encyclopedias to get it or something, or to maybe get it. I also find a Bar-B-Chew Barn token entitling me to a Chik'n'Mix for two, at any of their branches across the State. Yeah, they're across the State now. Tomorrow the world, I guess.

I'm working on my art project when I hear Jonesy making his way down the Row towards me. Banter from the other cells lets you know where he is. He's bringing the phone. I stiffen, and stash away my art stuff. As it happens though, the big news reaches me before Jonesy arrives with the phone. I hear it from a TV up the Row.