“Same fortnightly reason?” His eyebrows make a flat black line.

Congratulations.” “I’d thank you if I thought you meant it.” “You know I don’t think you belong in here.” “That doesn’t mean you think I’m innocent.” “No.” He sighs, checks his watch-the same one he’s worn since we met-as if I’m boring him.

He sits across from me, folds his hands, and says, “Oliver.” “Joe.” “Heard the parole hearing went your way. It’s a surprise, every few weeks, to see how much he’s aged-and he’s aged a little more, every few weeks, for ten years. The guard stands by the door, watching me, like he’s waiting for something to happen. I sit with my wrists cuffed to the table and I think, But that I am forbid / To tell the secrets of my prison-house, / I could a tale unfold whose lightest word / Would harrow up thy soul. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.Ī CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.įor the many weird and wonderful thespians whom I have had the good fortune to call my friends. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental. Names, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Published by Titan Books A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd 144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UPįirst edition: June 2017 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Book if we were villains