Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
KACE
My emotionless new co-worker makes me less than excited to be working here. Every one of them has an attitude like this. I’m sure it’s from being a correctional officer for so long, but fuck, I hate being around all the negativity.
I grab my walkie and make sure I have all the other gear I may need in my belt. “Sounds good, heading there now.”
Today is my first day on my own. I just finished the six-week training that all prison officers in the state of Georgia have to complete.
Six weeks is nowhere near enough training time for anyone to be thrown into this job, especially working in Georgia’s newest and biggest prison.
But this is Georgia, and nothing is done the way it needs to be.
The wing I’m assigned to houses cell blocks one through five. Each block is split into two sides—A and B—where one CO is assigned to each side.
Do I agree with the prison-industrial complex?
Fuck no.
Is it a job that pays decently?
Sadly, yes.
I try to hold my head high while walking into the cell blocks, but they know I’m new. Catcalls ring out from all directions, but I ignore them as much as I can.
There’s no way to hide from all of them, and I can’t show them that I’m scared… When the wolf-whistling starts, heat rises in my cheeks. The inmates did this when I was in training too. And I can hear all the things they said then repeating in my head now.
“Ohhhh, fresh meat on his own today.”
“Why are you here, pretty boy?”
“Yeah… they’re gonna tear that ass up.”
Same thing, different day. They aren’t very imaginative ideas, just very repetitive.
I was able to block it out during training, but I was caught off guard when the officer I’d been training with for three days had unprofessionally mentioned that he overheard the inmates saying, “He looks like the perfect bottom.”
I had to school my features when he said that.
I gave him the benefit of the doubt, since he’s one of the oldest officers here, that maybe he didn’t know what it meant… but the smug look he wore told me otherwise. This is an all-men’s prison after all, so I’m sure everyone is well-versed in all the terms and lingo the men are spewing.
There are a few guards my age, and most of them are chill, but there’s a handful I don’t care for in the slightest. The only advice they gave me was to not get too close to the inmates…
At first I thought they meant physically—which I already knew. Never let my guard down, no matter what. But in all actuality, they were talking about mentally.
Falling for them.
Having an intimate relationship with the prisoners.
I know my face showed my absolute horror, but from the look in his eyes, it was like he was remembering a past colleague doing so. I don’t know.
The one thing I do know, is that I’ll never cross that line. I reassured him that a prisoner boyfriend would be my worst nightmare, so he didn’t have anything to worry about.
As I reach the end of my cell block, one cell sits empty and the other is occupied by two middle-aged men.
I haven’t had the time to look into each inmate in depth, but I know these two are the lowest threat.
The one with the darker hair seems to be a tad older, his temples defined by grays that reflect off the light above.
They’re standing against the bars, and I let my eyes shamelessly look them up and down one at a time.
They’re both built and fill out their orange prison uniform in a way I shouldn’t notice.
And something about how close they are to one another makes me want to know more about their dynamic.
The older one has his arm draped protectively over the other’s shoulders.
They don’t come off as a couple, but it’s hard to tell in this setting.
“Nathan, this must be the fresh meat they were yelling about up there,” the one with the lighter hair says to whom I’m assuming is the silver-haired fox—Nathan.
Nathan practically purrs, “Colson, be nice.” And I send a prayer down to the devil that these cargo pants are tight enough they don’t see my cock react.
“You’re awfully pretty to be working in here with all these criminals.” Colson pauses as he looks me up and down, before reaching through the bars to trace his finger down my chest. “Wouldn’t want that ass getting tore up, would we now?”
The feel of his hand on me shakes me out of whatever trance they had me in, and I spin quickly on my heel, probably faster than I should, making it obvious they tripped me up for a moment. Hopefully they don’t realize it’s because of their looks… and those gravely voices.
That will only come back to bite me in the ass.
I head back to the block two desk where the other guard that’s been assigned to side B will sit with me and we can monitor the cameras to ensure there’s no suspicious activity happening.
Before the other guard returns from doing his rounds, my fingers have a mind of their own, typing in cell 222.
I need to know more about them.