AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My problemsbehind bars don’t get any better. The fight I had with theringleader, whose name turns out to be Marco LaTessa, only escalates what was inevitable. He and his jail gang either wanted to claim me as part of their group, or they planned to take revenge for turning them down.
Since the latter happened, I’m left engaged in a conflict I had no intention of starting.
Being a man of few words, Elmer offers his advice in a manner that’s short and succinct.
We’re spending another afternoon in the cell after lunch, waiting for the moment we’ll be granted the luxury of our exercise hour. He’s sitting in a hunched position on the bottom bunk when he looks over at me from under the ridge of his heavy brow.
“Don’t listen,” he says. “Not worth it. On purpose.”
It’s funny that in a matter of a week’s time, I’ve learned to understand his shorthand speech.
I nod along as he speaks, pumping out a couple pre-workout pushups. It’s the only thing I can do when trapped in a nine by twelve cell for sixteen hours of the day. A space I don’t even have to myself, forced to share with Elmer.
Guys come out of their time spent locked away in great shape for a reason—there’s nothing else to do but read. No other way to expend energy in such a tiny space than to drop to the ground and do crunches or pushups.
I stop at my one hundredth straight push up and pause long enough to answer. “I realize they are. That was obvious from the moment they walked up. But I’m not somebody who will be pushed around. I don’t give a fuck how many guys he’s got.”
Elmer scratches his thinning hair. “Circle. Everybody needs one.”
He’s offered me twice to join him and his guys. In the interest of not wanting to get caught up with any group dynamics, I’ve declined.
The offer is appreciated though, and if I were to sit with anybody in the chow hall, it’d be Elmer and his pals.
But I’ve always been a lone wolf. During my school days, it was rare I’d have anybody I’d consider a friend. I never wanted any after I realized at a young age most either thought they could bully me because I was a small kid, or they judged me for being the son of a mobster.
“Thanks… but you know my policy,” I tell Elmer. I rise up and wipe my sweat on the dirty white t-shirt I haven’t put through the wash yet. “It’s best I stay on my own. Plus, I don’t want to bring my shit to you. I hang around you outside this cell, then LeTessa might fuck with you and your guys.”
“Numbers,” Elmer answers, lying back on his bed. “Strength.”
Maybe so.
I’m a stubborn asshole though. Something I don’t voice out loud despite the fact that it runs through my mind.
The thing is, I’m not afraid of LaTessa and his crew. They don’t intimidate me, and there’s nothing they can do to make me bend to their will. If they’re not careful, we’ll go for round two and I’ll have them bleeding on the floor again.
Our exercise hour arrives. We’re let out of our cells and escorted to the exercise yard where there’s basketball courts and space to walk and run around. The most basic gym equipment, like pull up bars and weathered punching bags on chains are in a far corner. Dumbbells that only have twenty-five pounds of weight rest in a stack nearby. Nothing substantial like most guys would prefer.
Most fan out to the basketball courts or go for a walk. I stick around the bar equipment and continue the training I started in my cell.
LaTessa makes no effort to hide how he glares in my direction. He and his crew stare from across the yard. He’s got a cut along the bridge of his nose from where I hit him. It should’ve been the jaw for having Delphine’s name in his mouth.
I didn’t give her specifics about the fight for good reason. She’s worried as is. If she found out I already got into a fight, she’d probably raise hell trying to get me out. From what Stitches tells me, she’s obsessed enough without adding more reasons.
A half hour goes by with me exerting energy. I crank out several sets of pull-ups and then switch to the dip bars.
In my periphery, as I dip and then lift myself up, I see LaTessa’s pointing in my direction. He’s talking to his guys and gesturing over to where I am.
My teeth grit, though I keep going. I’m minding my business and yet he wants to start shit anyway.
This is how he’s about to end up knocked out on the ground again.
They seem to come to a consensus and start heading toward me.
Several others in the yard take notice and pause what they’re doing. I do too, standing up from the dip bar and wiping my face on the t-shirt I’m carrying around as a towel. If LaTessa wants to try some shit, he’s more than welcome.
But I’ll be ready for it and respond accordingly.
“Hey mafioso,” he calls upon walking up with his guys. “Impressive workout. You’re shredded.”
