Christopher Cervelloni The Last Minute The pay phones always had long lines. Most often, Tony spent more
time waiting for a phone than actually using it. Pennington Correctional put three inmates to a cell these days, and all those guys made their calls, too. The whole place had only three phones, and three waiting lines with guys talking, and the cement walls mixed and echoed it all together. The guy ahead of Tony—Tony met him once and thought maybe his name was Gus—called collect: dialed, said his name, waited, hung up, dialed, said his name, waited, hung up, over and over. Calling collect was free and didn’t need the pre-paid minutes, but it meant Gus couldn’t leave no message, so if his woman was mad, she said no to the charges and Gus couldn’t say nothing. A few more dials and Gus smashed the phone against the wall. “Dumbass bitch!” He walked off. The phone swung on the metal cord. That’s why the phones were wrapped in duct tape. Tony turned off the pocket radio clipped to his waistband. He pulled out the single earbud and let it dangle from his shirt collar. He dialed the ten digits on his phone card and then ten more to call his stockbroker. He tucked his shoulder in the corner of the phone and the wall. He plugged his ear with his pinky. “You heard of BioZoom?” Garrett, the stockbroker, said. “Rumor has it they’re about to rebound.” “I heard. Their accountant’s here. Killing five for fraud.” “Insider.” Garrett held out the R. “Nice! Anyway, I’m telling ya, it’s da bomb.” Tony hated when Garrett talked like that. Garrett probably never said Ya or Da in a real meeting. “You want me to buy you some shares?” “Nah,” Tony said. “You sure? You’re down two hundred this month. You need a win.” “Indigo eSolutions still at twenty-five-fifty a share?” “Oh no, bro. They’re not experiencing the awareness growth they need. They’ve dropped to nineteen-twelve and are on a steady decline.” “Sell my shares then. And what’s my portfolio at?” Tony heard snapping computer keys. “$4,119.17,” Garrett said. “That includes today’s sale.” “Right. Call you.” “Wait wait,” Garrett said. “You should buy some CoreCode. It’s
Crab Orchard Review
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