Will’s been here before. Knows his way around. And not only are cell phones a big commodity inside prison—above cigarettes, amphetamines, barbiturates, and even opioids in desirability—but new prisoners are also a special commodity of their own. They’re still so connected on the outside that they can get outside “favors” taken care of. If a guard gets an inmate a phone (and Joey assumes that’s how Will got this one), it’s usually by providing the guard a favor that the new inmate’s outside friends can handle for him. Will doesn’t offer up what kind of favor or favors these guards wanted, and Joey doesn’t ask. All he knows is Will’s got himself a phone.

Joey understands the way it works in prison. You cultivate relationships over time, you barter and trade and develop trust, you pass some tests, but this is jail, temporary holding, shuffling people in and out. Who does Will know, how did Will work it, to get a phone?

“Aren’t you worried they’re gonna catch you with that?”

Will shrugs. “So what, they’ll put me in jail?”

Most of the prized prison cell phones are older models. Flip phones, earlier generations. Fewer records of them, recovered from lost and founds, liberated from electronics stores, no paper trail. But this phone is brand-new—looks like it just came out of the box.

“Can’t they tell you’ve got it, you know, from the signal?”

“Nah. Geolocation’s only accurate to within a few yards. They’ll just assume a guard has it.”

Joey watches Will.

“You stay in touch with people,” says Will. “You check your email and Twitter and your social media. You can almost forget you’re in jail. Your life goes on. Hell, people don’t even need to know you’re in jail.”

You’ve got some juice here, thinks Joey. He knows enough about the inside to know this didn’t just happen because Will’s got a charming smile and a winning style.

“It’s good to have,” says Will blithely, flipping the phone between his hands playfully. “And now that I’ve got it, maybe I’ll teach you a few things. There’s so much it can do.”

What is this sudden friendship about? Joey is confused by it. Maybe it’s respect for Joey? Maybe underneath the hard shell, the kid has, well, some admiration for an older, career criminal?

“Yeah, well, you don’t need to teach me,” says Joey. “’Cause we both know I’m not gettin’ out of here.”

Will smiles. Makes a point of not looking at Joey as he says, offhand, casually, “Oh, I don’t know about that, Joey. I think you need to learn. ’Cause I think you’re gonna need a cell phone again.”

25.

25.

Zack walks down the street.

Everyone on their cell phones. No one looking at one another.