Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Should I tell him now or wait until the doctor confirms it? I’ll need to schedule an appointment. I take a bite of the risotto, but it tastes like cardboard. My favorite takeout, and I can’t even eat it.
The silver lining to my anger at Tank and the news of my pregnancy is that I forget about his jailhouse letter for the rest of the night. There are more pressing matters to think about. But there’s one thing I can’t put off for too long.
Telling Tank.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tank
Another goddamn day in this hellhole. All I can do is lie here on my cot, staring at the wall, thinking about Sophie. Her smile, her laugh, the way she feels in my arms. I know it’s stupid to be so hung up on her, but I can’t help it. She’s something special.
Part of me wishes I could just let her go, stop obsessing over what could have been. But I know if I ever get out of here, the first thing I’ll do is look her up. I don’t care if she’s moved on or wants nothing to do with me, I have to see her again.
Something interrupts my daydreaming. I hear footsteps, and a shadow crosses over me. I look up to see some ugly mug standing over my bunk, staring at me like he wants to start something.
I jump up and get right in his face, staring him down. “You got a problem?” I ask, ready to throw down if he makes a move.
Something resembling a smile crosses his face, and he shakes his head. “Me? Nope, no problem at all. But you are gonna be drowning in problems. Real soon.”
I watch him closely as he walks away, fighting the urge to go after him and ask for clarification on his not-so-thinly-veiled threat before I beat the fuck out of him. I watch him walk across the rec area and up the second set of stairs leading to the cellblock directly across from mine.
He slips into a multi-person cell. That tells me he’s here waiting for judgment, or he’s only serving two years in lockup. He shakes hands with a guy I don’t know or recognize. Must be new. So, I reach out to one of my bunkmates.
“Hey, man?”
The kid looks up from his comic book. “What’s up?”
I nod across the way. “Do you know that ugly motherfucker who just walked into cell D?”
It’s never a good idea to ID your enemies, even to the man who sleeps in the same room with you. You never know where anyone’s loyalties lie, so I keep my questions vague.
The guy looks like he’s in his twenties, early thirties, but with enough prison tats that I know he’s not new to the system.
He says, “They’re Latin Mafia, one of the biggest gangs in Central California and here in lockup. Looking to get a toe into Southern California, too. I’ve been here about a year, and when I first landed, there were about twenty of ’em. Now? More than a hundred.”
I listen as he talks, absorbing the information and trying to make sense of it while I watch the two men interact. They smile, shake hands, and keep their heads close while exchanging information. Whoever they are, they’re close. More than gang members, which I find interesting.
“Thanks, man.”
“Anytime. Can’t imagine they’re too thrilled with the way you fucked up Manny.”
My brow shoots up. “Is that his name? Don’t know the asshole from Adam.”
He shrugs. “In the real world, that might matter. In here, it only puts a target on your back. Good luck.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I grumble, keeping my eyes on those two. They’re talking about me. I can just feel it, but they’re trying really hard not to look over here, almost like they can feel my gaze on them.
“Rutherford!”
Instinct kicks in, and I stand tall when I hear my name, turning to see one of the corrections officers coming my way.
“What’s up?” I turn and fold my arms, a protective gesture that does nothing to soothe my nerves.
He sighs, scraping a hand down his face as if he doesn’t want to say whatever he tracked me down to say.
“Just wanted to let you know that nothing’s definitive yet, but you’re probably gonna catch charges for that fight with Olivera.”
“Manny Olivera?” I ask.
“Yeah. You know him?”
I shake my head. “He bumped into me right before lunch, but otherwise, never saw him.”
“Yeah, well, prepare yourself because it can go either way.” He shakes his head. “Tell your lawyer to check the mess hall tapes.”
I nod, and without another word, the officer walks away while my hands ball into angry fists. Any sign of weakness can and will be used against me, so I sit on my bunk and shift gears, thinking about Sophie.
Yet, it’s pointless to think about her when I might be facing additional charges.