Американские боги

           Youwaitliketheoldguys,butyou’rewhat?Twenty-five?Twenty-eight?"

           "Thirty-two,sir."

           "Andwhatareyou?Aspic?Agypsy?"

           "NotthatIknowof,sir.Maybe."

           "Maybeyougotniggerbloodinyou.Yougotniggerbloodinyou,Shadow?"

           "Couldbe,sir."Shadowstoodtallandlookedstraightahead,andconcentratedonnotallowinghimselftoberiledbythisman.

           "Yeah?Well,allIknowis,youf**kingspookme."Wilsonhadsandyblondhairandasandyblondfaceandasandyblondsmile."Youleavingussoon."

           "Hopeso,sir."

           Theywalkedthroughacoupleofcheckpoints.WilsonshowedhisIDeachtime.Upasetofstairs,andtheywerestandingoutsidetheprisonwarden’soffice.Ithadtheprisonwarden’sname-G.Patterson-onthedoorinblackletters,andbesidethedoor,aminiaturetrafficlight.

           Thetoplightburnedred.

           Wilsonpressedabuttonbelowthetrafficlight.

           Theystoodthereinsilenceforacoupleofminutes.Shadowtriedtotellhimselfthateverythingwasallright,thatonFridaymorninghe’dbeontheplaneuptoEaglePoint,buthedidnotbelieveithimself.

           Theredlightwentoutandthegreenlightwenton,andWilsonopenedthedoor.Theywentinside.

           Shadowhadseenthewardenahandfuloftimesinthelastthreeyears.Oncehehadbeenshowingapoliticianaround.Once,duringalockdown,thewardenhadspokentothemingroupsofahundred,tellingthemthattheprisonwasovercrowded,andthat,sinceitwouldremainovercrowded,theyhadbettergetusedtoit.

           Upclose,Pattersonlookedworse.