Into Fat City is the first episode of The Fletcher Chronicles. At approximately 5,000 words, it introduces the reader to young Fletcher Hightower, a trust fund baby who finds himself locked in a bizarre prison, his first step in a much larger, darker world than he anticipated. (Blurb with a link to full story on Kindle Unlimited)
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“Fat City or Death Row?”
Fletcher Hightower stared blankly, the question’s meaning entirely eluding him. His arms remained outstretched, his handcuffed wrists held through the rectangular gap in the door of the cell. The guard who had asked the incomprehensible question finished unlocking the cuffs. As the cold metal dropped free, the guard’s gruff voice repeated the question.
“Talking to you, inmate. Fat City or Death Row?” He shoved a canvas bag into Fletcher’s outstretched hands. “Take everything off and put it in here. Do you understand what I’m saying, son?”
Fletcher pulled the bag into the cell and set to work removing the cufflinks from his white cotton dress shirt. “I understand this part, but what does Fat City or Death Row mean?”
The guard, a large man with rich brown skin and spring-loaded locks of curly black hair, responded with a crooked, knowing smile. “No moons shining in your sky tonight, huh?”
Fletcher wondered if they spoke an entirely different dialect in this province. That, or the arresting officer had given him a concussion when he threw Fletcher to the ground. “I’m pretty sure all three moons were out last night.”
The guard laughed at the answer. “Figure of speech, son. Means you’re not too bright. You’re really not from around here, are you?”
Fletcher shook his head as he unfastened the silver clasp of his wristwatch and put it in the bag.
“You understand what a death sentence is, right?” The guard’s eyes were fixed on Fletcher’s hands as Fletcher removed a gold band from his right ring finger and a silver signet ring from the neighboring pinky.
“I do,” Fletcher answered, “and I don’t believe I’ve been sentenced to death.” He looked up at the guard, who didn’t disguise his fixation on the jewelry.
Those greedy eyes told Fletcher that a few pieces of his jewelry might go missing before he retrieved his belongings at the end of his jail sentence. It wouldn’t be the first time that he left a jail with less than he came with, but he hadn’t exactly been dressed for the occasion when he got arrested.
“Well, if you ain’t sentenced to death, then you’re going to Fat City.”
Fletcher unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a lean torso concealed by a thick layer of dark chest hair.
“I think a little guy like you might have preferred the accommodations on Death Row.” The guard laughed again as Fletcher removed a thick gold chain around his neck that reached nearly down to his defined abdomen.
Fletcher wondered if the greed in the man’s eyes might present an opportunity. He narrowed his green eyes and stroked the neat brown beard on his square jaw. “I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to send a telegram to my lawyer for me?”
The guard shook his head. “Not my job.”
“Maybe not. But my lawyer is out of a big firm in Prime City, I’m sure they would reimburse you for your troubles.”
“Big shot with the big city lawyer, huh?” The guard smiled cruelly. “You must be an out of towner. You should know that the Warden runs a pretty tight ship here at Fat City.”
Fletcher gave a casual shrug as he pulled off his brown leather shoes, stuffing them in the bag. It had been worth a shot. Fix f
“You’ll see. Good luck, little guy.”
The guard kept laughing as Fletcher loosened his belt, dropped his pants, and put them both in the bag.
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