No one commented on my state, and I nodded curtly at the assholes who’d given me the lesson when they walked back to their cells after the bell rang.
Just like school had bullies, prison had thugs. It was all a chessboard in the end. No one was king for long. And no one stayed a rook forever. We were all jumping over each other trying to win the queen.
Trudging back to my cell, I spat out a glob of blood. I’d never been soft or na?ve in my life—I couldn’t after seeing death and never having a home—but the awful fact was, I had begun to relax a little. I’d relaxed knowing Larry had my back, and Elle was mine after so many mistakes.
I’d relished in playing games with her because it soothed some of the pain. I’d become the bully, and with my belly bruised and face forming a nice black eye, I was reminded how much it fucking sucked to be the victim.
Yet here I was, held in remand with no way out on an attempted murder charge, buried up to my balls in shit.
At least, now I was in jail, Arnold wouldn’t be able to fuck up my life as bad. Unless he was in the habit of bribing the warden or commissioner of corrections, I was out of his control.
For now.
I needed to see Larry.
And Elle.
Fuck, I needed to see Elle.
*
Another two weeks.
Fourteen measly days on top of all the rest.
A fucking lifetime.
I lived in sameness every day, tormenting myself with thoughts of a happier memory, spending whatever freedom I was given between working, eating, and yard work in the library.
The books hadn’t changed.
The reading material was no better.
But at least the notepad and pen gave me an outlet to scribble my thoughts and see if there was any way around my mess.
I kept those notes with me safe, posting pages to Larry on mail days so he could have some idea of what I knew and suspected between our meetings.
Today was Wednesday, which meant the only thing to look forward to were spaghetti and meatballs for dinner and our turn in the media room for the allotted ninety minutes.
My life is fucking riveting.
As I made my bed, preparing for a new day in this walled city, a guard appeared. He had to be just out of his teens, filled with the need to be the best and most liked officer on staff. It made me hate him immediately.
“Everett, visitor.”
I dropped my pillow onto the bed. “You sure?”
The guard rolled his eyes as if I was a simpleton. “Of course, I’m sure.”
I had no response to that cocky attitude. I didn’t feel like getting into a fight with a newbie. I’d been told that other personal visits would be strictly monitored and most likely denied because of the upcoming trial. Turned out, Larry got around it.
Then again, what trial?
I had no correspondence on when my case would be heard. If it was anything like last time, I’d end up serving more time waiting for the trial than I did after being convicted. The fact that the time served was subtracted from my sentence wasn’t a relief. It was hollow—especially if you’d served six months and the offense only deserved a three-month term.
This entire process was screwed the fuck up.
Innocent until proven guilty my ass.
“Fine.” I dragged my fingers through my hair. “Let’s go then.”
Following the officer through the usual riff-raff of prisoners, I kept my eyes forward, not lingering on anyone in particular. My prison-issued sneakers squeaked on the linoleum as the guard swiped his I.D and ushered me through to the small processing room then through another security point to the visitation areas.
I swayed to the left, following the hallway I knew led to the meeting hall where I’d last seen Elle and Larry.
“Not that way.” The guard rubbed his nose, his dark hair dull and needing a haircut. “This one.” He pointed at the right hallway.
I probably shouldn’t but I asked, “Private?”
He nodded.
My heart did a strange skip cough. Private meant Larry had come to talk—away from prying ears. Private meant Elle wouldn’t be with him because only client-attorney relationships were deemed sacred enough to have privacy.
Conjugal visits in this place were like fucking gold nuggets—rare and hard to earn. There was no way to hug your lover or even touch to reassure both of you that this fucked-up place couldn’t tear you apart forever.
Goddammit, I hate it here.
Swallowing back my frustrated anger, I followed silently.
Passing a few meeting rooms with matching metal doors, bars on viewing windows, and large locks, we stopped outside private room number six. The officer rapped on the door with his knuckles, giving me a quick glance.
I linked my fingers together in front of me. Remaining the perfect prisoner when all I wanted to do was handcuff the fresh-out-of-the-academy idiot and teach him what it was like to have your freedom stolen.
Larry opened the door, beaming. “Ah, great. Thanks for bringing my client.”
The officer nodded. “Welcome. You have thirty minutes. Press the button if you require assistance before that. For your safety, we’ll record visual but not audio.”
Larry nodded, ever the professional. “Great. See you in thirty.” Pulling my arm, he tugged me into the room and closed the door in the guard’s face.
We couldn’t lock it from the inside, but the illusion of having a door between them and us...fuck, it was the best goddamn thing in weeks.
“Hey.” Larry slapped me on the back. “How you holding up?”
I shrugged. “Can’t complain.”
I could fucking complain, but Larry was already doing so much for me. I wouldn’t turn him into my agony aunt, too.
“I’m glad.” Pointing behind me, he added, “By the way, I brought you a gift.”
“Better be a burger and fries.” I smirked, turning on the spot.
Something light and sexy and so fucking addicting leaped into my arms. “Penn.”
Instantly, my embrace wrapped around her, squeezing so tight I had to remind myself not to kill the girl I wanted more than anything.
I forgot about Larry.
I forgot about cameras and guards and court dates.
My body took over.
I did the only thing I could.
Her face tipped up.
Mine tipped down.
I groaned long and low as our lips connected, and she deepened the kiss the moment we met. I switched from expecting a friendly but purely platonic meeting with my benefactor to slamming Elle against the wall and kissing her until I couldn’t goddamn breathe.
My hands no longer obeyed my brain; they tracked over her, my thumbs rubbing the beads of her nipples, barely hidden beneath whatever clothes she wore.
I was so drunk on her, I couldn’t look away to see if she wore a convenient skirt to hoist up and delete the remaining space between us.
Larry cleared his throat.
It didn’t register or stop me in the slightest.
But it did stop Elle.
She withdrew from the kiss, pushing my chest a little to give her some space.
I blinked, coming back to earth with a smash.
Fuck, what was I thinking? Touching wasn’t permitted. I didn’t want to layer yet more crimes to my long tally.
I’ll never fucking get out of here.