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“Hey,” Bull says from the other side of Deadeye. “She’s talking to you, skank.”
“You can call me Josephine.” I meet the woman’s gaze and straighten up to my full height. Part of me wants to flee, to forget the phone call and get the hell out of dodge, but another part of me insists on staying put, standing my ground. Whatever happens next could determine whatever future I have here at Ashgate.
“Excuse me, bitch,” Deadeye says to me, taking another step closer. She’s barely my own height, but her body mass alone is enough to slam me into the cement. Just as I’m about to take a step back, an officer approaches the line from behind. Deadeye catches the gaze of the oncoming intruder over my shoulder, then she shoots one last deadly gaze at me before turning back around, brushing me off. For now.
When I glance over my shoulder, the officer is coming toward me, so, hoping to avoid any nonsense, I step out of the phone line and head in the direction of my unit. The officer follows me, catching up so we are walking side-by-side. For a moment I fear this man. What is he capable of? Is he safe? Does he want something I can’t give him? I keep going, refusing to stop and chat, but the officer speaks anyway.
“You must be Josephine.”
“It’s Joey,” I say quickly, keeping my eyes to the floor. The officer slows down a bit, and for some reason I do, too.
“Joey,” he corrects. “I’m Mr. Jaxon.”
“What an unfortunate first name.” Both of us are standing there now, in the hallway, but I don’t mind it because there are no women threatening me. Not with an officer so close. Mr. Jaxon is standing next to me, about a foot behind. I haven’t really looked at him yet, but from the corner of my eye I can tell he’s built like a football player, with mocha skin and chocolate eyes. Hawaiian descent, maybe?
“How’re you settling in?” he asks, and I finally turn my gaze to meet his.
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t be here long.”
Mr. Jaxon doesn’t say anything to this, but I know he’s already thinking about it. They’ve all seen my file. They know why I’m here.
“Is everything going okay?” he says instead, and I bite my lip to keep from crying. There can be no weakness here; if they see it, they will pounce.
“Never better,” I say, turning my gaze to the wall. Jaxon looks as though he wants to say something else, but he changes his mind at the last minute and nods instead.
“Can I escort you to your unit?”
I nearly say yes, almost jump at the opportunity to walk in safety with Mr. Jaxon, but as soon as I open my mouth to agree, Deadeye and her right-hand woman Bull pass us in the hallway, leering.
“Getting’ cozy with the screws, are ya, new girl?” sneers Deadeye.
“Back to your unit, Hollins,” Jaxon snaps, but it doesn’t matter. I know I can’t be seen with him or any other officer unless I want trouble.
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I know where to go.”
Jaxon nods once and watches me depart. I don’t turn around, don’t look back, and instead force myself forward, shoulders hunched, tears leaking down my cheeks.
Once I’m safely in my unit, Camilla and Sabine stop me before I can hide away in my cell.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Sabine asks, reaching out to touch my arm.
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and shake my head. “I want to go home.”
“I know you do, honey. We all do.” Camilla takes my hand and leads me toward the couch, where I sit down. She takes a folded blanket from the back of the armchair and drapes it over me, and Sabine goes to the kitchen to make us something to drink.
“Were you able to use the phones?” Camilla asks as Sabine hands me a steaming mug of hot cocoa. I close my fingers around the hot cup to warm them.
“Um, no, she wasn’t home,” I lie. “It just rang and rang.”
“Ah, I see.” Camilla takes a sip of her tea and settled herself down next to me. Sabine cozies up in the armchair across from us.
“Any of the women give you issues?” Sabine asks.
I think of Deadeye and Bull, how eerie it felt to have her so close. Dangerously close.
“Nah.”
Neither Camilla nor Sabine says anything to this, but it’s hard to miss the glance exchanged between them, as if they know better.
