The Angel with Papery Wings [prequel]

ch.4 Still liked me

"Can I call you Michael or is that weird, since I'm like half your age?" I asked.

Michael laughed. "Whatever you like, kiddo."

I shook my head and smiled. "Sounds good, Mickey Mouse."

Michael choked on his spit. "Not," he spoke up. "Not that. Don't ever call me that," he warned.

"I was just messin', Michael," I teased. He nodded.

"You know what, I think you can land Barbie," he admitted slowly, taking a sip of his soda. I sat upright. "Just be careful, though. She may think you're bad ass, but she doesn't know who you killed," he hissed.

My fists tightened immediately and I looked down at my bulging veins. For a moment, I saw the blood and the knife I had once held. I dropped the imaginary knife and ran to the corner of my cell, where there was a crappy little sink that spurted metalic cold water.

I scrubbed and scrubbed my hands, but everytime I blinked, I realized that there wasn't any blood. God, I am going insane.

"Harry," a woman's voice hissed. I closed the sink knob immediately.

"Hey," I smiled. It was Sam. She brought me my tray of food and set it down. I smiled at her, watching her face instead of the food.

"My mananger is drunk again," she shook her head, glancing at the empty desk at the front of the hallway.

"What an idiot," I sighed. "I tell you, just cause someone wears a uniform doesn't mean he's holy," I shook my head, recalling the jacket and the medals Sergeant always wore...

Sam laughed lightly. I peaked from over her shoulder and saw Michael winking at me. I tried not to blush or else Sam would think I was weird.

"So how long are you in this dump?" she asked, poking a fork at my mashed potatoes.

"I should be probably be here for life, since I committed a capital offense, but I'm a minor and I'm looney so they only gave me about 2 years and ten total years of being followed by a shrink and a parole officer," I told her.

"Wow," she gasped, making a big "O" with her mouth. "You got all that lined up for you and you haven't even grown facial hairs," she teased, poking my cheeks.

"I'll have you know that I've got plenty of facial hair, dark, dark hair, everywhere," I winked.

Sam laughed and pushed at my chest, trying not to think of all the areas I was hinting at her. Her hair was dirty blonde so her eyebrows were a sandy brown....and everything else that was hidden was probably sandy brown, too.

"I can't believe you're 13," she sighed, almost in disappointment. I sat straighter, trying to make my shoulders look broader.

"I look older, don't I?" I winked. Sam shook her head.

"No, but you talk like you're some kind of slick, sexy mobster," she admitted. 

"Sexy?" I purred, making stupid kissing faces at Sam. She held her arms out, trying to block my fake kisses. Even if we both wanted to kiss, there was a damn iron rod between us. But since Sam works here, maybe she could come inside my cell...

"I think you're the sexiest 13 year old I've ever seen," she exclaimed. Michael cocked his head to the side and held a thumbs up to me. Sam laughed at herself.

"You're not so bad yourself," I smirked. Sam was a thousand times better than "not so bad," but I just liked getting a rile out of her. She looked even more attractive when she was angry.

"Not so bad?" she gasped, pretending to be annoyed.

"I mean you're beautiful and all, but I don't really like blondes," I sighed, leaning back against my bed. Sam's mouth hung open. It looked like she either wanted to yell at me or kiss me.