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glass?" I asked, pointing to the sign that read "No Touching."
    "Yeah, the sign's for the visitors. No touching each other. We had a problem with girls coming in and putting on a show if ya know what I mean." He gave me a leering grin.
    "Oh, I see." Now all the warnings were starting to make sense.
    "Okay, here we go," the guard said, grandly opening the door and leading me to a glass booth. "You've got yourself quite a character for a boyfriend."
    "He's not my boyfriend."
    The guard gave me an inquiring look.
    "He's, um, an old friend from school. I just found out he was in jail."
    Great now he was going to think I was really a weirdo. I should've just gone with being his girlfriend.
    "Uh-huh." The guard shook his head and made a face, clearly not believing a word. "Well, he's been real anxious to see you. Kept asking if a blonde shorty was here to see him. You seem a little tall to be a shorty," he cackled.
    "And you seem a little fat to be much of a guard," I growled under my breath.
    "Here ya go, Stretch." He laughed again as he pointed me towards a metal chair in front of a window. There was no phone. It appeared that a speaker was built into the window. In the space opposite me, sat Tyrell. His hair was braided, and he looked thinner than he had four months ago in court.
    I sat down and stared uneasily at him.
    "Lookin' good, Diana," he drawled. His hooded eyes gave me a lazy appraisal. "I seen you on TV. Made it to the big time, huh?"
    "Why am I here, Tyrell?"
    "Come on, give me a little foreplay before you grab a handful." He gave me a smile, and his gold grill glinted against his dark skin.
    I stared stony faced at him.
    He sighed and shifted in his chair. He leaned back, all sprawled out, and worked his mouth from side to side. "You here," he said slowly, "because you got nerves of steel, mama. You impress me. It takes a lot to impress Tyrell."
    "I'm here because you've been threatening my life!" I hissed. "And I want it to stop!"
    Tyrell put a finger to his lips and shook his head. "No girl, you here because I'm tryin' to save your life."
    "From who?" I demanded.
    Tyrell leaned forward, his lips inches from the speaker. "From The Spider," he whispered.
    Our eyes met, and I saw regret and sadness there. I was confused. Why would Tyrell care what happened to me?
    "You're in the web, an' The Spider is already spinning a cocoon around you strand by strand. You ain't gonna know you're caught until it's too late."
    I shuddered at his words, already feeling the stickiness of the web.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    "So is this some kind of joke?" I asked, swallowing my panic. "Get me out here and try to scare me? Have a laugh?"
    "Those little accidents you been havin' seem like a joke to you?" He stared me down.
    I blinked first. "Tell me about The Spider."
    Tyrell shrugged. "Ain't no one know nothin' about The Spider. He's a phantom. A killer you ain't gonna see until it's too late. The Spider's the best."
    "Great." I looked at the ceiling. "So how do you know so much about The Spider?"
    Tyrell looked down at his hands and worked his mouth some more. "'Cause I'm the one who hired him."
    "You put a hit out on me!" I shrieked. "Really? Shooting at me on stage wasn't enough?"
    Tyrell held up his hands. "That was the old Tyrell. I'm a changed man, baby. I cool now."
    "So what, you found God or Allah or something?" I asked.
    Tyrell waved his hand dismissively. "That old school prison shit. Do I look like I Muslim? No, man, I found peace. Tyrell's livin' large in the vortex. The light of the universe has driven out the darkness. I'm finally on the path." He nodded sagely.
    I stared at him like he was nuts.
    "Oh, I get it," I said sarcastically, "so hiring a hitman is okey-dokey in the vortex?" I raised my arms and gestured wildly.
    The pudgy guard looked up from his desk. He grabbed the speaker in front of him. "Visitor four—read the rules: No lewd conduct. Quit that gyrating down there!"
    Steam started to leak out of my ears.
    Tyrell