Jean looked out of the tiny window in his prison cell, wishing that he could have had just one chance to explain to Mireille before she had called the cops on him, or to Maiah before she had walked away, disgusted. Jacques had always angered him with that haughty attitude, and it hadn't helped that Maiah had been in a catty mood the rest of the day. Nobody seemed to care to listen anymore since they had all lost their heads. "Why the hell does she refuse to let me explain?" he demanded angrily, ignoring shouts from the other inmates. "Damn you, Mireille, and you too Maiah! Just a couple of rich girls that caught me off guard the first time around."
Yet there was no more time for contemplation, as he saw Antonio rounding the corner, dressed in his business suit. Why would he be near the jail cells at this ungodly hour? It was the middle of the night and Jean had only been awake because of fear and guilt combined. Otherwise, nobody would have any reason to be in a prison at this time of night, where all the inmates were brutally violent. A click sounded almost too loudly, and Antonio's face smirked at him from the shadowy outside. It had been a week since his arrest, and he had somebody who was willing to bail him out despite what he did to Jacques? Taking his friend's outstretched hand, Jean Mieuret stumbled forward, catching himself so that he didn't fall and make too much noise. "Thanks," he said under his breath. "Guess we're even now." Antonio helped him up and handed him a small shotgun before both went dashing down the dark halls of a French prison, ignoring the disturbing sounds about them.
Suddenly, Jean pulled his friend aside and pressed his own body flat against the wall, keeping his breathing slow and steady. "Watch my back," he whispered to Antonio, and turned the corner, holding up his weapon. A cop stood there, barely able to scream before a bullet went straight through his head. "Darn," Jean muttered, and went on until he hit the next corner. There he drew a silent breath and waited, eyes closed. After a couple seconds, he heard someone, and peeked out from behind his cover to take a shot. It whizzed by the target and hit the wall with a loud clink. Before he could get in another shot, he ducked to avoid a large metal object that was being swung at his head and a bullet aiming for the same target. Unfortunately for the metal object's wielder, the bullet met his head instead.
Jean rolled across the ground to avoid a third shot and finally nailed the target. He kept on running, trying not to think about what might be behind him. For a couple seconds he waited, until he heard Antonio calling to him so he wouldn't shoot. Turning around, he saw his friend, but they weren't in the clear yet. Most likely, the younger man had his car parked in the visitors' lot. Noisy shouts came from the inmates as they saw their guards fall, but no keys being produced. All of them were scum, people who Jean had no time to rescue. When he came to the office, Antonio smirked as he fired the shot that killed the prisonguard who was on duty.
Now they just had to make it out to the lot without getting noticed and they were home free. Jean hoped and prayed that no one would be waiting for them there, but he found Maiah standing there impatiently, as if she was helping but didn't want to admit it. "I'll take him," she said, running over to her black Renault. "You can't afford to accomodate someone else, Antonio." Jean followed his girlfriend into the car, and with the sound of burning rubber, they were leaving the prison yard to go to Maiah's apartment.
"How does it feel?" she asked, once they were out on the open road. "Being in prison, I mean."
"Because of you and Mireille, it made me feel guilty," Jean said, a little jovial at his close escape. On the way out, a couple shots had grazed him, and one bullet was stuck in his side, right below his ribs. "The inmates aren't the greatest of company, either." Maiah allowed him a little laugh, but it sounded sort of dry, as if she were still mad at him about something. "What is it?" he asked, wondering why she was helping him if she was still angry.
"You could've ended up leaving me alone," she said angrily, "and all because you decide that you're going to take out a little anger on an injured man. Never scare me like that again Jean, got it? I didn't appreciate the fact that you got yourself arrested either. I thought you had a little more common sense than that!" Jean's eyes sank to the floor with her cutting words and he did feel guilty, behaving like that, and then doing it to a man who was injured, even if it was Jacques.
"I thought you were going to kill me when I saw the look on your face, Maiah, but I was about to kill myself because of that look. You can't even imagine how guilty you made me feel. Everything collapsed when I realized that the police were there. I know I got carried away, but you didn't even give me a chance to explain." Maiah sighed and focused her eyes on the road intently, pulling up her short midriff top.
"Don't even try and make me feel sorry for you Jean, because it's not going to work," she said absently. "It just makes you look like more of an ass." He knew it, and was ashamed for it, but Maiah never let anyone off easy, especially when she was stressed out. Then she would cut you down and hang you out to dry. Jean sighed and looked out the window. They were coming back into Paris, and he saw the beautiful Eiffel Tower, and the Seine, one of the main rivers in France. The car stopped at a small apartment building and he got out, wondering if Maiah still trusted him enough to let him in.
"Come on," she said irritably, "I have to drop off the rent by eleven AM tomorrow, and the land-lady'll be ticked if I sleep too late to get it in on time." With a short nod, Jean followed her inside and they both fell asleep in their clothes on the big queen bed.