I grab the letter from the ebony desk by the door, just in case they ask for proof. I fold it up into a small square and put it in the front pocket of my jeans, feeling it slide down against the front of my passport. I tap the other pocket, feeling my phone and keys rattle against eachother. Something settles in my gut, something that makes me think I'm taking a huge risk. Well, you kinda' are... it's been a year. It's nerves – I'm nervous. You're scared. Like a child. I frown at the desk in front of me as though it's stained with bloody remains. I suck in a breath and head out the door, taking my keys out my pocket and locking the door behind me, heading out to my car and unlocking it. I check I have my driving licence in the compartment – they'll be needing that too. I start up the car, the radio crackling to life with 'Highway to Hell'. I turn it off with a shaky hand, settling my hands on my thighs, the steering wheel brushing against my knuckles as my hands curl nervously into fists. It's not too late for you to turn back. My fingers reach for the keys, wanting to flick them off and rip them out of the ignition. It slides over to the gear stick, pulling it down into reverse and I pull out of the driveway. I know where I'm going – the sat-nav stays hidden under the passenger seat. You can pretend you forgot where it is. It's only a few miles away, large brick building. Unforgettable. Then your sat-nav took you the long way around. Shorten down the time. Faster I get there, faster I get out. Have you seriously not learned yet? That logic is faulty. Left at the traffic lights, right at the roundabout, straight on – follow the signs.
When I reach my destination, I park in the designated car park, take out my drivers licence and lock up the car. I turn and stare at the building for at least three minutes, it's tall brick walls looking solid and completely formidable. The barbed wiring across the entire top of the walls scream danger, and the big, arched doorway is quite a contrast. I take a step towards the building. Those guards are armed. Something churns in my stomach and it's not nerves. My head begins to pound. Why the hell are we doing this? The letter in my pocket weighs me down, my legs feeling like jelly and stone together. How is that even possible? I take another step, my fists curling at my sides. I reach the building without collapsing in a heap of mush, but the impending sense of doom that the building makes me feel is paralysing. Each step feels weighted. I pass the guards quickly, their weapons concealed (to anyone who wouldn't know where to look) underneath their jackets. But they're guards – why wouldn't they be armed in a place like this? I'm directed by signs into the reception area, where there's already someone being served. It's a sign – turn away. Go home. I take a step back, to give the person privacy or as a reflex to my conscience I don't know. The person goes through the routine quickly, passing the paper over the desk and then reciting it, giving her name, date of birth, address, then providing identification before dumping her belongings in a locker area before proceeding into another room. My stomach churns, I feel clammy, both hot and cold and my head begins to swim. Toilets to your left.
I rinse my mouth out, swirling the tap water around in my mouth ten times before the sick-taste and smell disappears. I rinse my face too, but I'm still pale and shaking like a leaf.I head out of the toilets and grab a drink from the vending machine – it's just water. The receptionist is busy with another person, so I sit and wait until she's free.
"Hi there" She smiles nicely, looking up with a 'can-help' attitude. "Visiting?"
"Uhm...yeah" I nod awkwardly.
"Do you have the visiting order?" I pull the letter out of my pocket, hands still shaking, unfolding it and handing it to her. "That's great, so, is there just you?" She runs her eyes over the paper and puts it out of my eyesight, but in hers. I nod. "Name?"
"Matt" She gives me a look. Give her your full name, asshole. "Oh – sorry, um, Jeevas. Matt Jeevas"
"Date of birth?" She asks, nodding slightly.
"First of February, nineteen ninety" She asked for my address and I recited that too.
"How old are you Matt?"
"Eighteen"
"Okay, and what's your relationship with the prisoner?" This is a trick question, they don't need to ask unless im under eighteen. I pause for a few seconds. Just tell her. Might make you feel better.
"He's..." What, a tomato? Get your act together! "Uhm...my dad" You don't feel better, do you? She nods at me encouragingly.
"Ok, do you have any ID?" I hand over my passport and my drivers licence. "Ok" She stands up, leading me over to a locker like the other woman had. She put the passport and licence in there. "Do you have a mobile?" I pull it out of my pocket and hand it to her. She smiles. "Just put it in the locker hun, along with any other possessions you have, games, even pens or paper – any medication?"
"Oh, no. Nothing" I empty my pockets and keep my jacket. "'Kay" She looks me over.
"Oh...you can't take the water In I'm afraid" She really does look apologetic. I momentarily panic. "You can keep it in the locker until you come back?" I hesitantly put it in, my hand trembling as she locks it and hands me the key. "Is this your first time?" I nod. "You'll be fine, there's people in there to help you if you need it" I nod again, this time more tentatively.
"Okay? Head through those doors there" She points to the double doors and puts a comforting hand on my back. I head over to the doors and give them a light push; the buzzer goes off, which makes me jump, before I realise that she's opening the doors electronically. I step in through the doorway and follow it through down a hall, armed security guards every twenty steps. I reach the visiting hall, but there's not many people in there considering it's a Saturday afternoon. I see him sat over by the window, a square table with two chairs on opposite sides. There's no block between one side or the other – just the table. Walk away. I flinch, but walk over to him, each step feeling like a weighted brick, urging me to fall to the floor and let the world swallow me up. By the time I reach the desk I'm a shaking sack of nerves, my lips dry and my legs like jelly.
"Heh'...i didn't think you'd come" He grins, leaning back in his chair. "Thought you'd chicken out" If he thought that, he wouldn't have written to you. "Matt..." I realise I'm not looking at him, so I turn my head obediently to face him. "You're all grown up... taller...manlier" I watch the security guard walk past me, looping around a few tables continuously. "You gonna' sit down?" Like a kid, I obey. "Heh'...you haven't changed, you lil' skit"
"Don't call me that" I whisper, my fingers lacing together in my lap nervously.
"What? You're still the same little skittish kid you were – still a little whore – just taller" He smirks.
"What do you want?" I whisper, daring to look up at his stubbly, dominant face.
"I want a favour" Oh god.
"I shouldn't have come" I stand up, my chair nudging itself back as I turn, ready to head for the double doors.
"Hey" He says, his voice hard and solid, threatening. I halt my feet, staring ahead at nothing. "Sit. Down" My head swims wildly, so I do, stepping back and sitting uncomfortably in the metal seat. "I know you do fancy shit with computers" This can't be going anywhere good. "I need you to do some digging for me" I shake my head, at first more vigorously, but then – as if in anticipation of a violent blow that'd eventually knock me out – I stopped. "Denying me, Matty?" He chuckles, leaning forwards threateningly on the desk. He eyes the security guard as he walks past, waiting for him to be sufficiently enough away to talk to me again. "That's a first" He smirks.
"I'm not a criminal" I manage, my voice shaking. He laughs to himself, loud enough for the security guard to look over curiously.
"Yes you are. A dirty, fucking criminal" I shake my head softly from side to side. "Dont kid yourself, Matt, you'll always be a dirty fucking criminal, why deny it? Your ol' man's asking for a hand – you're really gonna' turn it down? After everythin' I've done for you?"
"Especially after everything you've done" I brave.
"Got'cherself' a back bone" He laughs again. "Fiesty. I like it" I stand up, ready to leave. "You've got a whole hour with me Matty, where'ya going?"
"I can leave when I want" I repeat, remembering what the receptionist had said.
"Is that what they said, oh...i don't think so..." He looks – no, acts believably confused. "Stay. I wanna' get to know you a lil' better" I shake my head, turning away from him. "Matt" He stands up too, his chair flying backwards. "I need you to do this – it's easy, it'll be pips for you" He whispers. The guard comes over, asking if there's anything wrong, looking from him, to me and back to him.
"He's my kid" He laughs. Oh, oh – tears, really? "Y'never wannem' to leave, y'know?" My stomach churns. "Come back here" He sits back in his chair and the guard looks at me to silently confirm what he'd said. I try a believable nod and smile, but he seems to walk away unconvinced. I don't sit back down. "You always were a crappy liar you fucking shit head" He scolds. "Will you do this, or not?"
"No" I say firmly, turning around and taking a step to-
"You know I can have you buried" He threatens. "Your bones so mangled nobody would-" He stops as the guard passes us again. "—nobody would be able to identify you" I pause, thinking it through realistically. Well, he probably does have murderers for best friends. "Do this for me. You owe me, Matty"
"What did you ever do for me?" I ask, turning back to him and walking closer to the desk, but not sitting down. I can barely raise my voice, despite the adrenaline pulsing through my veins. "You regretted the day I was born, I never found out what a birthday was until I was five – you never gave me anything. I had to fend for myself my entire life – you destroyed my childhood and you ruined my life. What could I possibly owe you?"
"Your life" He frowns, leaning over the table and scowling at me. "I coulda' killed you, coulda' off'd you just like I did with your mother – the selfish cow – coulda' dumped you anywhere, but I didn't. You owe me your life lil' skit"
"You only kept me for one sick reason – I owe you nothing after that" I feel the bile twist in my stomach, work it's way up my throat... He grins. My head swims again and I grip the table.
"How is your sex life Matty, any girlfriends?" I shake my head in disbelief, using the table to push myself upright as I, for the third time at least, begin to walk away from him. "I was kidding! If you like it the other way, that's fine too!" He calls, chuckling. I walk out furiously, pushing through the double doors, ignoring the receptionist and launching myself into the toilet again.
I get my things from the locker, the receptionist saying goodbye and hoping to see me again. Sorry, but I don't think so. I pocket my items and swig the water, heading out of the main doors and across the gravel with the armed guards. There's someone at the archway, looking idyllically out at the cars and normal life in general. He has a large bag with him, his blonde hair pulled into a small tufty ponytail at the nape of his neck. His muscles are evident – he has no jacket and is only wearing a plain black T shirt. It takes seconds to register the attire as the prison one, mandatory black T-shirt with their number printed in white on their right shoulder. By the time I catch up to him, he's still looking out nervously. His number is MK.5433783. He glances over at me and then back to the town.
"Visiting?" His voice is harsh, kinda' expected from a tough looking prisoner such as him.
"Not anymore" I sigh, suddenly dying for a fag.
"Owch" He grins. "A prison life without visitors can get a little boring"
"Good" I scowl, taking a step forwards, aiming for my car.
"Hey" I stop, turning back to the blonde. "Is it okay?"
"Is what okay?" I frown. He indicates past me and outside the prison in general. "Oh...well, it's probably not changed much...still war n' criminals and shit—" My eyes widen a little. "No 'fence" He shrugs.
"S'alright. You need the bad to see the good, right?" I nod a little.
"Y...You're not visiting, are you?" He smiles a little, turning to me.
"Hell no, I'm leaving" I want to ask what he did, how long he spent in there, but something forces me not to. I think if I offended him, he'd kill me with one punch. "Wasted four years in there...Im not going back"
"Good for you" I say awkwardly. He holds out a hand and I take it – he's got a strong grasp.
"I'm Mello...you?"
"Matt..." He smiles.
"That's a nice name. Who were you visiting, Matt?" He turns to me surprised. "Oh – sorry, you don't have to say - I guess old habits don't die"
"Old habits?" He nodded.
"Studied law at college – taught to always question things" The conversation dies, but it's actually comfortable.
"My dad" Mello looks up in surprise. "I was visiting my dad"
"Innocent?"
"Fuck no" I frown. "Hopefully he'll rot away in there until he's old and defenceless" Mello laughs quietly.
"Jail's not nice you know – you might wanna' be a lil' easier on him"
"Nope" I pop the 'p' and shrug. "I don't think I do" Mello smiles.
"Is he a bit of a hard-ass? I might know him"
"He worked for a criminal gang – was a hit man ...amongst other things"
"So...Class A?" He asks, but I shrug.
"I didn't pay attention to anything regarding his arrest – I was just glad to get him away"
"You didn't get along?"
"No"
"What was his name?"
"Mark" I whisper, his name sending chills down my spine. "Tall...dark brown hair...fairly well built I guess...got a huge tattoo on his arm, his r-right arm?" I frown. I don't really want to remember what he looks like to be honest. I fidget nervously, my fingers fumbling over eachother.
"A snake?" Mello asks, curiously. I look up – my reaction confirms his question. "Wrapped around his bicep? Here?" Mello indicated on his own arm with a frown. "And another one, a name – on his shoulder...here?"
"...-You knew him?" Run away, move. Get your ass in the car and run. Any friend of his is a fucking jerk – why are you still stood still?
"Had a few scrapes with him...Cocky ass... hah...criminal gang ey?" I shrug at this. "Mafia Boss – but shh, don't tell" Mello taps his finger to his lips. "Got sent down for manslaughter – they don't know about the Underworld side of things just yet – I like to keep them police on their toes, y'know?"
"Uhm..."
"Would it make you feel better if I told you I knocked him out five times?" He asks, looking over at me concernedly. "I may be at least twenty, maybe thirty years younger than him – but I don't get where I am without knowing how to bring men down"
"That does make me feel a little better" I smile.
"Hey Matt?" I look towards him again. "You're my first, new friend now" I laugh quietly.
"That's nice, I guess"
"Yeah...do you wanna' go for a coffee?" I look up, unaware that my gaze keeps shifting to my shoes.
"I don't like coffee"
"Me neither – im a hot-chocolate fan – but people always say that so..." I smile again. "If I said would you like to go for a drink – you'd assume I meant alcoholic, right?" I nod. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen"
"Ahh...big drinker?"
"Not really" I glance around the archway where we were still stood. "There's a cafe down the road...if you want" He turns, smiles and nods.
"Sure – do they do hot chocolate? The prison ones are a bit naff"
"I don't know...never been in" Mello picks up his bag of things and takes a step closer to the outside world.
"I think I might stay around here for a while..." He was referring to the town – the thought that he was referring to the prison was fleeting and left me feeling stupid. "Do you live around here Matt?"
"Are you sure you weren't sentenced for stalking?" I ask, feeling slightly nervous. Mello looks a little offended. "Sorry...i-...i just-"
"Introvert?" I nod. "Let's go for that drink – I can tell you lots of horrible stories about your dad if you want"
"I'd rather forget him, actually" He links his arm through mine and we walk under the archway, stopping just as it met the pavement.
"It feels weird..." Mello says quietly. "Like everyone knows...like everyone's staring"
"Ignore them" I shrug.
"Easy for you to say – you don't have someone else's blood on your hands" Mello takes in a deep breath and blows it out, his eyes reflecting his uncertainty.
"Look" I unlink our arms and step out, onto the pavement and only two steps away from him. "If you want that drink, you're gonna' have to come on outta' there" Mello smiles, launching his bag at me. It's surprisingly light. "Now you" He takes one step, and then another, his nose right near mine.
"Like this?" He grins, then licks my nose. Eek! Another fucking paedophile! He steps back, taking his bag from me with the same grin on his face. "I think I like you, Matty"
"Dont call me that" I snap with a frown. I turn and begin walking in the direction of the cafe I saw on the way here – Mello follows.
"Eh, sorry" Mello looks offended again, so I apologise. "No, s'fine...i don't like being called Bitch – call me a bitch" I blink, confused.
"Bitch?" Mello smiles.
"Now we're even"I laugh at the pointlessness of it all. "First things first, finding a place to stay – the prison doesnt really have a rehabilitation scheme"
"You gonna' go back to being a ...y'know...Boss?"
"Nnneeehh..." He looks thoughtful. "I'll tell em' I'm out...and that I need to recuperate for a while...then maybe, yeah"
"Oh..." If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then stop. "I have a spare room?" You're inviting a criminal into your home! What are you thinking? You might as well start a shelter or something, are you attracted to them? – oh, wait...don't answer that. "Y'know...if you want..."
"I'm a criminal"
"Ex-criminal" I say. "until you...you know...start again" Mello smiles again, slowing his walking.
"I like that logic" He nods.
"As long as you don't kill me in my sleep" Mello turns to me, seriously.
"I'd do it when you were awake, if that's any comfort. Only pussies kill people when they're fucking sleeping"
"T-that doesn't help..."
"I'm not going to kill you Matt. Seriously, do I have a reason to?"
"I hope not...but when you see the state of my house you might..." Mello chuckles.
"Can't be as bad as a prison cell – my cell mate was a pig in his past life – and made sure everyone knew it"
"Eugh" I pull a face and Mello pats my head. Obedient. Like a dog. I swerve my head away, my feet crossing over each other as I walk.
"You're a little skittish, aren't you?" I halt. "What? Did I do something else?" You can't keep being scared of this Matt,...
"No...nothing" We continue walking in silence, until Mello lets out an aggravated groan and a sigh. "W-what?"
"I just remembered something..." He pulls out his phone from his bag and texts something, receiving a text back in seconds. "Awh cow-shit" He huffs, turning to me and openly saying - "Mafia just had a shootout, right? Cause they heard I was out"
"That was quick"
"It's the criminal underworld, babe, everything's faster than normal" I roll my eyes. "So yeah, shootout, stupid lazy-ass hacker just got shot dead, right in the middle of a fucking project, daft bat"
"Hacker?"
"We have everyone and everything at our disposal...shh" Mello winks. "But not any more"
"I...I can hack" He looks over.
"This is way too convenient. Are you Russian?" I shake my head. "American?"
"Wholly British - Like Coca Cola"
"Really?" Mello laughs. "Alright then...not just some nerdy kid? You can actually hack?"
"Even got NASA for a few seconds" I say, too proudly for my own good. Mello smiles at me.
"I still want a break before I go back – I plan on enjoying it with you" I blink.
"With me?"
"Yeah, you're now my house-mate, my best friend, and my co-worker. I need to know more about you" He pauses, pointing at something. "Is that the Cafe?" I turn, look and nod. "Cute" He turns to me as we head on in. "We'll give it two weeks. If I don't trust you or like you or even think you're a total waste of space by the end of it – deals off...you could end up dead"
"I don't have much going right now"
"Owch...emo-much?" I shrug as he rolls his eyes, leading us to a table and ordering a hot chocolate and "a...what for you?"
"Oh...tea, please" The waitress scurries off.
"I have no money to pay for this" Mello admits, grinning widely.
"Asshole" I frown playfully, pulling out my wallet. "I'll get it"
"Good. So, let's talk business"
"Uhm... ok" I nod.
"What's your sexuality?"
"The hell?" I gasp. "That's not business!"
"It is" Mello frowns. "I need to know if it'll work when I do this..." I feel his foot ride up the side of my leg. I jolt. "That way, if I need you to do something as soon as...i know how to bribe you"
"That's sexual assault" I pull my legs away from him and up close to my chest. He looks slightly rejected.
"I may have to work on you" He mumbles.
"Mello...please –I can hack – just gimme' a good telling off n' leave the assaults out of it" Something softens in his eyes.
"Virgin?"
"Fuck no" I press my head into my knees in embarrassment.
"Sorry..." Mello say, his hand placed soothingly on my shoulder, his thumb swishing from side to side softly. "Dont get all beat up about it, it was just a question – m'sorry" I peek my head up.
"...That topic – and anything relating to – is off limits. Understand?" I breathe, he nods in response with a confident smile.
"I have to ask though..." Mello starts cautiously, his hand trailing from my shoulder to my hand and giving it a squeeze. "Is...this ok?" The underlying question of 'is it ok if I fuck you at some point' was loud and clear. I give a nod, not regretting it as much as I thought I might. He pulls his hand away. "Good - don't want to rush you, but its kinda' hard to get a decent fucking in jail – so whenever you're ready" I bash my head into my knees again, leaving Mello chuckling a our drinks are served, and me wondering what the hell had I gotten myself into with a new friend called Mello.