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If it were any other jail, in any other city, Steven wouldn’t have made a call at all. At least, that’s what he told himself as he stood in front of the old metal box attached to a cinderblock wall, one hand on the black phone inside, the other clenched in a fist. The guard that dragged Steven there in the first place cleared his throat loudly, arms crossed where he leaned against the wall beside Steven. “You have five minutes,” the man said, arms crossed. Steven could feel the guard staring, so he glared determinedly at the phone, knowing if he were to look at the guard he’d give entirely too much of himself away. “Yes, yes, five minutes, got it,” he said instead, squaring his shoulders. He could figure this out.This wasn’t exactly Steven’s first time in a jail cell. He’s been caught before, threatened with arrest before, but he’s always been set free without having to touch a phone. Although at SourceFed he was just a runner, the people in charge there knew how to cover their trail, and Steven was never forgotten or left behind.But now he was alone, even more so than before. As depressing as the thought was, not only was no one coming for him, but he didn’t even have anyone to ask to come. And he was running out of time. ‘Less than five minutes,’ his brain helpfully supplied. “Hey,” Steven said, finally meeting the guard’s eyes and immediately regretting his decision when he saw how stoney his expression was, “...sir,” Steven corrected, hand sweaty around the neck of the phone. The guard continued staring at Steven, so he continued. “Is there any way I could possibly look at my phone? I just don’t have any phone numbers memorized entirely. I’m sure you relate, seeming to be quite the twenty-first century man yourself-”“No outside phones or phone books allowed,” the guard said, standing up a bit taller, and despite Steven’s height, making him feel very small.Steven focused his attention back on the telephone in his hand. “No outside phones, okay fine, sure, that’s fine,” he said, running through his options, brain on overdrive. He only had two phone numbers memorized, and neither seemed like ones he wanted to call. One was for the old SourceFed office, a phone number that, after nine months, would have no one on the other end of the line. He would’ve called one of his old coworkers, if he knew their numbers by heart. Or if any of them had cared enough to give their number to you before they fucked off to god-knows-where,’ he thought, before electing to ignore that particular dreary train of thought.Unfortunately, the only other number he knew was his father- a topic drearier still.Steven hadn’t called him in years- not since his mother died, since he had dropped out of community college and ran. But, it was the only phone number he knew by heart. ‘It’s either this, or jail time,’ Steven thought.
That decision made itself.
Ignoring the judgemental eyes of the guard still next to him, Steven began pressing the keys of the phone, shakily lifting it up to his ear. Steven tapped his foot over and over on the ground and reached the hand he wasn’t using around to grab his other elbow, curling tightly in on himself.
The dial tone rang once, twice, three times, and this was almost worse than having to speak with his dad. Finally, a click on the other end, and Steven stilled his foot and held his breath, when-
“Y’ello?” said a voice. Steven stared at the concrete wall in front of him.
The voice was a man, but definitely not Steven’s father.
“Hi?” Steven said, stunned, the word turning to a question by tone alone. “Holy shit. Um, I guess I thought he would’ve found someone by now, but I never saw him as the gay type. Alright.”
“Wha’?” said the man, his voice going up in a way that would’ve been comical if not for the situation Steven was currently in.
“I’m Steven. Steven Suptic, actually. You’re living with my dad, I guess? He probably didn’t tell you about me, he’s kind of an asshole.”
The voice on the other end was quiet for a moment before a sharp laugh sounded from the phone’s speaker, so abrupt that Steven flinched. “Oh, oh no, dude. I’m not gay for your dad. I mean,” the man made a weird licking sound that had Steven scrunching up his nose, “I’m definitely gay, but I’m solo right now. And your dad’s a super mega jerk. Also old. Probably has twenty cataracts. Maybe even ten.”
“What the hell,” Steven said, unable to help himself. “Do you understand how math works, at all?”
“Enough to pay rent on this bangin’ apartment every month,” the man said. A beat, then, “...Sort of. I forgot to pay last time. Or that might’ve been the month before. I’m gonna be evicted soon, probably.”
Steven paused mid-retort, a wave of hurt rushing over him in a way he wasn’t expecting. “Wait. My dad moved out of his apartment?”
“Uh, yeah,” said the man, in such a ‘no-shit’ way that Steven was surprised he didn’t add ‘duh’ at the end of his sentence. “He moved East like two months ago. Which, coincidentally, was exactly when I started renting this sick man cave.”
Steven knew he had no right to be upset, not really. He and his dad hadn’t really communicated in three years, and Steven had ran away from home- the pinnacle of not telling someone where you were going. But something still stirred in the pit of his stomach, an old pain that he hadn’t thought he’d have to feel again.
Now wasn’t the time. He and this weird douche could talk later, after he bailed Steven out of jail. Right now, he needed to convince this idiot who didn’t understand math that the little money he had was worth saving someone he had never met from jail
“Listen,” Steven said, “are you busy right now?”
The man gasped. “Is this a come on?” he said, sounding entirely too excited.
“Yuck. No, absolutely not,” Steven said, lip curling.
“You sure? You don’t wanna do a little suck n’ cuck?”
“Oh, disgusting.”
“I’m not busy. We could meet right now, do some wine and dine and sex.”
Steven shook his head, face flushing against his will. “No. Jesus, no, we aren’t doing any of that. Are you anywhere near Achievement City Police Station?”
“I’m not fucking in a jail, dude.”
“We aren’t fuck-” Steven gave a cursory glance to the guard still standing by before continuing in a more quiet tone. “We aren’t fucking. At all.” Steven sighed deeply, rubbing his thumb and index finger over his eyes. “I was hoping my dad would pick up and do this for me, but since he isn’t here, could you come to the police station and post my bail?”
The man on the other end of the line finally paused. “You’re really in jail?”
“Why would I lie about that,” Steven deadpanned. The man on the other end was still quiet, and Steven continued, “I swear, I’m not a murderer,” Steven lied. “I’m in here for petty theft,” he lied again. “It’s only gonna be a few thousand, and I can repay you.”
The man was silent.
“Repay you, with interest.”
‘Eventually,’ Steven’s mind supplied.
“Oh,” the man said, and Steven rolled his eyes. All people cared about in this city was money. “Oh. Okay, if you’re gonna pay me that’s chill. I was worried at first because I have a thing with police officers. Meaning that they usually don’t like me. Meaning that my face might be on some lists. Meaning no-fly list. I’m on the no-fly list.”
“You’re on the no-fly list,” Steven repeated. “How is this my life, holy shit, my luck is so bad.”
“Naw, it’s cool, man! My name’s Cib, I got you covered, I’ll be there in ten with a few thousand ‘k’ if you know what I’m saying,” he said, huffing as though he had just said something to brag about.
“You know the station records these calls, right?” Steven said.
“Counting on it!” Cib said gleefully, and Steven heard the telltale click and then buzzing that meant Cib had hung up.
Exhaling deeply, Steven hung the phone back on the wall, leaning an arm above the metal rectangle against the wall and closing his eyes for a brief moment.
He was so fucked.