"Thanks. I’ll just put my laptop there." Randy leans back in his chair and wiggles his butt around. There is a problem now with an erection. It has been at least a week for Randy. Three nights in the jail, the night before that at Tom Howard’s house, before that the airplane, before that Avi’s basement floor . . . actually it has probably been a lot more than a week. Randy needs badly to get into that private cell if for no other reason than it will give him an opportunity to vent that which is bearing down hard on his prostate gland and get his mind back on an even keel. He prays to god that he’s only going to be seeing Amy through a thick glass partition.