Title: Doing Time
Summary: Dominic Toretto is interviewed by a student in journalism from U of C. Questions on his past, also, a little bit of angst. Possible romance.
Note: I don't own TFATF, or any of the characters, don't sue, I'd only give you pocket lint.
Melanie took her sunglasses out of her messenger bag and put them on over her hazel eyes, blocking out the glaring sun. How lovely, moving to California to attend the State University (a scholarship she had worked her ass off to get), and her first journalism assignment involved a trip behind bars. This would be fun. Her job was simple, or at least it was on paper. Go into Lompoc, and try to catch an interview with a convict, all to explain the misconceptions of being in prison. Due October 18th, one week after her birthday. I'm too young for this assignment, she thought to herself. Imagine, sending a 17 year old girl- especially a girl who grew up in the Pennsylvania suburbs- into prison to speak with a man who had probably killed, or stolen, or raped. A perfect setup for a cordial conversation, wasn't it?
Melanie took a deep breath. She was scared, but a journalist should always be on top of a situation, fear would shatter the proud, accomplished step she was already faking as she took her steps into the prison.
"Whoa! Hey baby, come here, show you what a real man can do," shouted a short, dark man. Avoiding the catcalls coming from the criminals that were outside, she walked up to a stocky man with small, glinting eyes, and gun at his waist. She proceeded to ask him:
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Sharp?"
"Yes, can I help you with anything," he replied, in a somewhat annoyed tone.
"Yeah, I'm Melanie Greenman- I'm supposed to interview one of the inmates."
"Oh, I remember. Damn college couldn't get a better assignment for you students?" he asked mockingly, as he waved over another warden.
"Ha, I guess not..." she said as she began to follow the man Mr. Sharp had waved and pointed to. They continued through the exercise grounds toward the main building without another word. They walked into a cold, narrow hall, completely devoid of color. Well, obviously, this was a prison, wasn't it? The chill of the prison bit at Melanie's arms as she tried to keep pace with the yet unknown warden. No comfort in here, not in this unforgiving home of the criminal.
Finally, she arrived at a large, metal door with a small window in the middle of it. "In here," her guide spit out. Clearly not a man of many words, thought Mel as she took a step inside. The room was large, with a metal table and a chair on each side of it in the middle. One chair was already occupied by inmate 754390, sitting in a half-relaxed position. He was clearly as nervous as she was. Melanie gasped as she took her first glance at him. She had been expecting a crude, tattooed, rough-mannered man, but here sat a young man, perfect olive skin, defined muscles, and dark, chocolate brown eyes, offering his hand out as a welcome to her. Melanie regained her cool quickly as she shook his hand.
"Hi, I'm Melanie. I'm supposed to interview you for my journalism class assignment… Why don't we begin with your name? What is it?"
