Chapter 27
Simon
California State Prison
“Inside.” The man pushed me past the steel bars and into a six by six room that smelled like cold concrete and urine. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I’d totally underestimated Allen, and because of that, I now shared a cell with a tattooed version of Arnold Schwarzenegger.
“You might want to lose the virgin-in-a-biker-bar look, if you’re going to survive this place,” the man grunted at me as he did push-ups against the side of the bed. “You get top bunk.”
“Yup, okay.” I tossed my few things on the ratty mattress and ran a hand through my short hair. “I’m Simon.”
The man stopped his push-ups and eyed me. He was strong and thick, a little taller than me. I was tall and wiry. I knew I wasn’t strong physically, but I was mentally, and that would be my weapon.
“Simon?” He repeated my name. “Sure, okay.” He smirked, and I pushed my glasses up my nose. “You call me CM.”
“CM?”
“Cellmate.” His smirk grew wider. “When you’re ready, we’ll get more personal.”
“Fair enough.” I jumped when an inmate stopped in front of our cell with a cart of books.
“What fairy tale do you want?” He held up a true crime novel, and CM moved out of the way.
“Umm,” I scanned the titles on the spines, “do you have any of the classics?”
“Do I look like I know what a classic is?”
“Sorry.” I went back to scanning the titles.
“No, please, take your time.” The man’s words dripped with sarcasm, and I picked up the pace.
CM reached through the bars and pulled out one called Catch-22. “This one.” He waved the man off and handed it to me.
I ran my finger along the ripped spine. “I feel like there’s a meaning here.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” He went back to his workout. I heard a man from another cell whistle at someone and hoped it wasn’t me.
“We got a pretty one, boys.” He confirmed my worst fear as his words made the others around us cheer.
I closed my eyes and pushed back the hell that wanted to show itself. Once I had my head in check, I leaned my back onto the cool wall and flipped to page one.
As the years passed, I learned that rage was a tricky thing. It festered inside, clawed at your flesh, and begged to be unleashed in some explosive way. I finally learned I was different from many of the inmates. Rage wasn’t for me, not anymore. It was different now; I was different. I had complete control over my emotions. I stored them deep down inside, under a tight lid, with the knowledge that all good things came to those who waited. I had slayed a demon once, and I could outwait the rest.
* * *
The warm sun beat down on my face as I leaned against the brick wall in the far back corner of the prison yard. It had been thirty-four days since I stepped foot in this piss hole, and the thought that I had at least another twenty-some years was a hard pill to swallow.
“Hey, pretty eyes,” the predator who lived across from our cell called, “I got something for ya.” He grabbed his pathetic excuse of manhood and stuck his tongue out like the nasty perv he was.
I loathed this place.
“We got a problem here?” CM moved to my side and shot the man a look. He raised his hands and looked away from me.
“Was just seeing if the boy wanted to play.”
Boy? I hadn’t been a boy since I was nine years old, and my father took me to a strip joint.
CM raised his arm, and the man nodded and left. His buddies followed.
“Ever consider gaining some weight and fuckin’ up your face?” CM chuckled as he took a seat next to me.
I took pride in my slim figure and clear complexion. Though I was on the skinnier side, at least I was healthy and had low cholesterol.
“What did you show him?” I pointed to his arm.
He pushed his finger into the dirt and drew a circle. “I’m part of a club.” He looked around. “It’s elite and highly private.” He drew up his sleeve and lifted his arm to reveal a circle tattoo. It had what looked like a crocodile swirled around the top and looked almost tribal.
“What’s the purpose of the club?”
“Power, money, fear.” He grinned. “We’re taking back something that was once ours.”
“What are you, like, the mafia?”
He leaned his head back and looked at the sky. “In a way, yes. I can tell you more, if you’re interested in joining.”
“No,” I shook my head, “I don’t want to belong to anything.”
“You say that,” he continued to draw circles, “but you’re marked as jail bait, and I won’t always be around to interfere.”
“And you think some black ink is going to protect me?”
“No, but they will.” He pointed toward the other inmates. “You can’t spot them, but there’s a lot of us in the group, and we protect our own.”
“It was because of a fucking club that I’m even here.”
“I know.” He nodded, and that caught my attention. I’d never shared who was behind my ruined life.
I pondered the idea, but I’d been badly scarred by Allen and pushed it right out of my head. I belonged to no one.
He got up and dusted off his knees. “Something to think about, anyway.” He lit a cigarette and slowly wandered away from me.
“Hey,” he looked back at the sound of my voice, “what’s the name of the club?”
“Potens.”