Givvy got the good news in the lunch line.
“You’re out today. You’re supposed to serve until Sunday, but there’s a bunch of other pendejos coming in from the Thanksgivings break, and we need the space. Stay here. Somebody’ll come by and process you out,” the jail shift supervisor said.
“De aquellas! Home for the weekend,” Givvy said.
Lunch was quickly over, and all the other inmates were escorted back to their cells, except one, Bryan, Givvy’s neighbor across the walkway.
Bryan had landed in jail a day before Givvy to serve the maximum time allowed in the county lockup, 30 days, for smashing up his ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend’s truck.
He came in angry at everybody at first but quickly calmed down when reality set in the first night. He knew he needed to make friends—not a single enemy. So he started kidding with Givvy.
“Any money left over from that bank you robbed?” she asked Givvy, showing a wide grim to make sure to communicate he was only playing.
“Nel. Bank robbers go to the state a longer time. I’m here cuz I was framed,” Givvy said.
“For trying to overthrow the government?” Bryan continued.
“Oh, nos llevamos?” Givvy asked.
Bryand didn’t know what exactly that meant. But he figured it was Givvy’s way of going along with the joke. They joked this way the rest of their time in jail, with Bryan being the aggressor.
Even now that they were getting out together, Bryan joked that Givvy should stay in.
“Chale. You need me to help you survive the road of shame.” Givvy said.
Bryan got quiet.
“That’s when you walk through the barrio with everybody thinking you’re carrying a fat wallet,” Givvy said.
Bryan’s face tightened with worry.
“Órale, let’s start walking. I hope you make it in those dance shoes,” Givvy said.
A few blocks later, Givvy stopped.
“That’s it for me. I live right over there. You keep hoofing it and watch out for all the bad dogs and the White Devil,” he said.
Bryan looked desperate.
“Just kidding. Ain’t that many dogs,” Givvy said, waving goodbye.
