“Fuck you, Lazarus!” she sneered. “Self-righteous asshole. Your God may have prevented you from putting on the uniform…but He couldn’t stop you from rutting like a pig. You loved it, man.”

Jacob felt the stab down to the core. He tried to slough it off like dead skin. “I’m sure I would have had I been conscious.”

“Yeah? Rationalize it, baby! First, you were zonked, later…it wore off. You woulda nastied all night, Yonkie, if I hadn’t stopped you!”

Slam dunk on that one! Jacob wilted. He couldn’t look at her. “So I liked it. So what?”

“So what? You hated me…but you still fucked me. What does that say about you?”

“It says I’m an idiot. Congratulations, Ruby. You humbled me.”

She managed to crank up a smug smile. But it didn’t last long. Moments later, tears formed in her eyes. “Write to me in prison?”

Such longing in her voice. It shocked him. But his hatred outweighed his compassion. “No, I’m not going to write to you.”

“How about a birthday card? For your first girl?”

He turned to her and saw red, wet eyeballs…tears falling down the bandages. She was crying blood. Her voice had come out small and shaking…pleading with him just like she had done that night. Then the naked truth dawned on him. Through all the bravado, all the venomous words she had slung at him, she had actually liked him. He looked at her heart monitor, watching it record the s and p cardiac waves that he had learned about in biology. Yep, even Ruby had a heart. “When’s your birthday?”

“August twenty-fifth.”

“Okay. I’ll send you a birthday card.”

No one spoke.

Ruby closed her eyes. “You were the number one hottie, Lazarus…the wet dream of every bitch at the rages. Which is why I got you. Once you figure out…what to do…I’m sure you’ll make some nice Jewish girl very happy.”

The put-down sounded surprisingly good to Jacob’s ear. “I certainly hope so.”

That was his exit line. Wordlessly, he turned and left the room. His stepfather was down the hall, talking to some official, but he broke off the conversation when he saw Jacob approaching.

“Ready?” Decker asked.

Jacob nodded.

They walked without speaking, down the long corridors, passing a pink-clad orderly wheeling a cart of blood vials. When they were alone and out of earshot of anyone else, Decker said, “You’re not dirt.”

Jacob blushed. “Exactly how much did you hear?”

“Overhear,” Decker corrected. “Not much after that. You lowered your voice.”

“I was shouting?”

“You were expressing your displeasure at being called a kike and a prick. Also, I didn’t want to hear any more, so I walked away.”

“That was nice of you.”

“Believe it or not, I try to respect your privacy.”

They walked a few moments in silence.