King Perry by Edmond Manning Read Free Book Online Page A

classes.”
    We snicker at our little jokes, the same jokes every other tourist makes, but we think they’re funny because right in this moment, they’re uniquely ours, and suddenly every observation is hilarious compared to the hard lives whispered into our ears. While we stroll through the abandoned dining room, a thousand scraping knives and metal forks shriek in our ears as an invisible horde slops down chow.
    Though we don’t have great conversation while listening to the prison tales, we read each other’s expressions, small gestures, and movements, gradually attuning to each other. He expresses disbelief at a few details, and I nod in agreement. It does sound horrible. I can feel Perry relax further, somehow reassured that we’re compatible.
    I take off my headphones and point at a bunk. “Those look comfy.”
    “Ugh,” Perry says, pausing the narration. “I’m exhausted and even I wouldn’t lie down on it.”
    Exhausted? Good to know.
    I say, “Why? Do you believe in Alcatraz ghosts?”
    “No,” he says, “I believe in vermin.”
    His eyes flash in recognition for a split second, remembering my art gallery story, and he starts to stutter a shocked apology.
    I hope my smirk indicates that it’s completely okay.
    I say, “Do you believe in rat ghosts?”
    He reads me; I can see it on his face. He makes a significant gesture of pushing Play, and he turns away.
    There are no rats on Alcatraz.
    If there were, I would smell them. I can always smell them.
    I have hunted for traces of rats or mice on previous visits, idly wondering which would feel worse: Billy’s basement or a cell in Alcatraz. I used to think Alcatraz, because they locked the door. But I change my mind right now. Choice is always harder.
    Billy used to call down that it was my choice whether to leave the basement. He would stand at the top of the stairs yelling at me, offering asylum from the dark. But I knew he wasn’t alone up there, so I stayed below, never answering.
    He wasn’t alone.
    Maybe bringing Perry to Alcatraz wasn’t such a great idea. I thought I considered all the angles, thought that I could handle it. But Billy already popped up a few times today, and I can’t have him in my head all weekend. I don’t normally associate Billy with Alcatraz. Why today?
    C’mon, Vin. Perry’s making sexy, grinning faces. Pay attention.
    One snippet of the audio tour always grabs me: the description of New Year’s Eve. Prisoners would unite in total silence to listen for party sounds floating in from across the bay, remnants of a life they would never know again. Behind the narration, a faint piano tinkles and partygoers laugh, sending chills down my spine, every single time.
    We finish the tour and dump our mechanical companions. We decide to explore the rest of the island, wandering at a casual pace and watching the waves. Perry and I exchange observations on prison life and wonder what we would miss the most. Would we break? Could we endure?
    I say, “I would miss onion rings first, then lasagna, then cake, in that order. But part of it is that I like the word cake , so I might have to put deep-fried cheese curds ahead of cake.”
    He says, “Sounds gross. What’s a cheese curd?”
    “Little nuggets of deep-fried cheese. They’re popular in Minnesota and Wisconsin, but not in Illinois, which I don’t understand. The land of Chicago-style hot dogs, deep-dish pizza, and deep-fried anything, but they don’t serve cheese curds? It doesn’t make sense. But I bet in a Minnesota prison they serve cheese curds.”
    Perry is quiet for a moment but finally says, “You would have eaten one of those hot dogs on the ferry.”
    “Cheese was only seventy-five cents extra.”
    “Now that’s gross. It’s canned cheese from a dirty ferry, Vin.”
    “Would you eat cheese cubes on a fancy cruise ship?”
    “That’s different.”
    “Oh, please. Cheese on a boat.”
    “Completely different.”
    “ Cheese on a boat. ”
    We wander the