The Bars That Hold Us (7 page)

‘No problem, I’ll go do it right now.’

‘You can take Miles back to his cell first while we deal with this mess here.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Mercy looks towards me. ‘Grab your clothes; you can dress back in your cell.’

With all eyes on me, I grab my clean prison garb from the rack and head towards the door, Mercy hot on my heels. As I pad back down the vacant corridor towards my cell block, I can feel her eyes on my every move. I’m sure what just happened scared the shit out of her and, more than anything else, I need to know she’s alright despite it not being my place to question her.

I stop and turn around, almost coming face to face with her because she was
following me so closely. Her eyes widen in surprise and quickly dart around – not panicked, but certainly cautious. It’s just the two of us in the short hallway that bridges the bathroom and the cell block.

‘Are you okay, really? I saw the way those two grabbed you.’

‘Thank you for what you did for me—for your concern, but you don’t need to worry about me.’ She looks over my shoulder, checking that we’re still alone. We are. Completely and utterly alone.

‘I’m sorry if I was
… out of line. I just didn’t want them to be able to get up for another go, you know?’

She blushes slightly, the
color doing wonders for her pale complexion. I want to reach out and touch her cheek, but that really
would
be over stepping the mark.

‘Look,
Miles
, I’m fine. We need to get you back to your cell before I get either one of us in any more shit.’

And there it is. Miles. She’s closed the door on the personal way she called me Saxon earlier, reverting to maintain her professional relationship between the two of us. She is my guard. I am her prisoner. Nothing more.

I nod, jaw clenching and understanding completely. I wouldn’t want to get her in trouble, but I need… more. My eyes fall to her lips, set tight in a straight line. I know the rules. I know that this particular woman is well out of my league and definitely off limits.

So why does she look at me now like she wants to kiss me
like there’s no tomorrow?

‘I’ve got your report here, but I want to know how in the hell something like this happens!’

Warden Haylock’s fist bangs down on the table with fury. He’s had more than a day to digest this little incident but time doesn’t seem to have simmered his temper none.

‘To be honest, Warden, I’m not even sure that I can begin to explain why some of these prisoners do what they do.’

‘I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about you! As a guard at Silverwater, we expect and anticipate that these criminals don’t change their spots. You’re in a room alone with four convicted felons and you don’t even have time to get pepper spray out?’

‘Apparently not.’

‘I don’t need your sass, Ms. Cole. You’re here to do your job, to be part of a very well-oiled machine. Others rely on you to maintain a certain level of safety around here. What they don’t want is to have to watch your back for you twenty-four-seven because, if they were to do that, then you become a liability.’

‘I’m sorry, Warden, it won’t happen again.’

‘You bet your ass it won’t! As of today, you’re going to be taken off guard duty on the cells until you’ve completed an additional safety course over at Long Bay. The course is to be completed in your own time. In the meantime, you’re now the lucky person who gets to oversee the renovations of the library. You’re going to be supervising one of the prisoners who will be tasked to complete the painting of its interior.’

‘Sir?’

‘Let me be clear. You’re going to baby-sit one of the prisoners while they do the menial renovation tasks in the library. Am I clear?’

‘Yes, Warden.’

‘Now, judging from what your statement says…’ He peers with his beady little eyes down at my signed testimony in front of him, ‘… this Saxon Miles seems like he would be the obvious choice for the job. Clearly if he wasn’t there to save your hide, I would no doubt have you on leave with much more serious injuries than a simple bruised neck.’

I’m beginning to think that being a stay-at-home
, miserable, grieving fiancé would be much better than having this dickhead berate me. I signed up for
not
dealing with anything. Now I’m dealing with a bullshit assignment all because I couldn’t give two crims the licking they deserved. He’s right, though. Saxon did save my ass. There’s no way I could tell him just how much I appreciated it. To do that would put him on my level – something I can’t afford to do in my position.

It’s something I don’t want to do either. He’s a criminal. I’ve seen his jacket.
Manslaughter
. He’s not the kind of guy you take home to mom and dad, if you know what I mean. Speaking of Dad, he’s bound to hear all about this shit through the grapevine.

‘Mercy?’

‘Yes?’

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘Yes. Sorry, Warden, but what else can I say?’

‘Not a damn thing. Get your
ass up off that chair and let’s go get your prisoner.’

‘Fine,’ I grumble, following him out of the office. This little demotion is a kick in the nuts
– if I had any. How embarrassing, to be demoted over not being able to handle my shit.

We make our way to F Block
and I have to endure the long walk of shame down the cell block, past all the judging eyes of the other guards and the empty threats and cat-calls of the prisoners. We finally come to a stop outside the bars of Saxon’s cell. He obviously hasn’t been assigned a new cell mate yet because he’s sitting on his bunk, alone in the small, confined space.

Our arrival disturbs him from the novel he’s reading. He sits up and swings his legs off the bed, landing on the floor of his cell as nimble as a cat. He’s dressed in a white singlet and regulatory green prison garb pants.
His temple is covered in sweat, which makes me think he’s recently been exercising. It would be too cold to be without a jumper otherwise.

He says nothing, waiting expectantly for us to announce why we’ve come to visit him. Most of these guys in here are smart enough to know not to say anything, not to give away anything
, unless asked.

‘Miles, it’s your lucky day.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Guard Cole here has requested you for a job within the prison.’ A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and it’s unavoidable that I look
at him as he peers around the warden’s body that’s keeping me from view. He raises one eyebrow in question, not really believing that I have personally requested him. I shake my head, no. He nods imperceptibly, knowing better. I don’t make the decisions around here, only the warden does. His smile increases a little more, I’m sure.

‘And how much does this job pay, Warden?’

‘I think a dollar an hour sounds more than fair. You can have extra rations at meal times and have the luxury of borrowing books from the library on a daily basis.’

‘And if I don’t want the job?’

‘There are many other assholes that would be happy to take your place.’

‘I see. Okay, when do I start?’

‘Now. And if you fuck this up Miles, I’ll see you spend the rest of your days here at Silverwater in solitary confinement, eating that Nutraloaf brick food you guys seem to love so much.’

Saxon
nods, clear on the warning. The warden takes a key out of his pocket and opens his cell, motioning him out before locking it again. We leave the prison block amid the noise and chaos that is jailhouse life.

The w
arden leads the way to where the library is located. We pass through many secure doors, Saxon following with me bringing up the rear. He keeps turning around, questioning eyes trying to summon me to give him answers. I motion for him to face the front, not wanting any more attention brought to myself before the warden. I’ve had enough of him already and it’s not even lunch time yet.

Once inside the library, the warden turns the switch on for the lights. The place smells like freshly sawn lumber and paint.

‘Right, Miles. You’ve got the task of finishing all the menial labor jobs in here before we can have a fully functioning library again. All the walls need two licks of paint and the new timber shelving requires a lacquer of gloss. When you’ve finished all that, we can talk about your ability to do the flooring.’

‘Yes, b
oss.’

I have to stifle a laugh. It’
s not really common knowledge amongst prison inhabitants anymore, but wardens and guards used to be referred to as boss by the prisoners. They used the term because it stood for
sorry son of a bitch
spelled backwards. These days they accept it as a term for them being
the
boss. Saxon must have done his homework since being incarcerated, but I guess when time is plentiful, you can afford to read up on meaningless trivia. Either that or he’s as innocent as he looks. He eyes me now, his face not giving anything away.

‘Well, I’ll leave you to get started. The cans of paint are over in the back storeroom and you’ll find all the brushes, rollers and trays in there as well. Any problems
, Cole, you see that you’re on that radio pronto.’ He nods curtly at me before retreating into the depths of the prison. I’m more than happy to see him go. Asshole.

Saxon and I are left standing, staring at each other.

‘So, I guess I better get busy.’

‘I guess.’

He nods and heads off towards the rear storeroom to get the gear he needs. I follow, keeping a respectful distance between us. While it’s my duty to watch him, I don’t want to be too intrusive, especially after he saved my ass yesterday. I hate that I have to follow him about, though. It makes me seem like a lost puppy. Sometimes I do feel lost, ever since Daniel died really. But I don’t want him to see that weakness.

He grabs what he needs.

‘Do you want a hand to carry those back out?’ I offer. He looks at me sternly.

‘It’s not your job to do that.’

‘I know, but you wouldn’t be here doing this if it weren’t for me yesterday.’

‘Well in that case I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,’ he says, staring me straight in the eye. ‘Besides, it’s good. It will keep me occupied instead of going stir crazy in that cell. As much as I like my own company, you don’t
realize how much you need the voice of someone else from time to time.’

‘It must be lonely,’ I offer, thinking of my own prison
that I keep myself in.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Ah, no reason.’ I’m an idiot. The last thing I need to do is get personal with this guy. I follow him out to the main area and take a seat on one of the covered chairs while he pours the thick, white paint into the tray.

When he’s ready to get started, he removes the remaining white tank top that has thus far left little to the imagination. He’s completely different to Daniel
—thicker around the mid-section with wider shoulders, but certainly not as tall. I wonder absently if I will always compare other men to Daniel since he was so crudely ripped from my life.

It takes a moment to
realize that those rich, dark-green eyes are staring intently at me.

‘You okay?’

‘Sure. I’m just going to see if there’s any coffee in the kitchenette, okay?’

‘Sure.’

‘Don’t go anywhere.’

‘You can trust me,
I’m not about to fuck this up.’ I nod, knowing somehow that I
can
trust him. Besides, the kitchenette is right next to the exit door which requires my key pass to get out of. He’s not going anywhere without my say so. I tear my eyes off his washboard stomach and go in search of blander things, like coffee.

I’m in luck
. An old jar of Nescafe is still on the shelf, along with individual portions of long-life milk. I take the disused kettle out of the cupboard and fill it with fresh water from the little sink and switch it on.

While the water is boiling, I check on Saxon to see how he’s getting along. He has a long stick in his hand with a paint roller on the end. He’s moving it methodically up and down the walls, the muscles on his back rippling with each stroke. I don’t want to look; I don’t want to be entranced by something as superficial as muscles or something as dangerous as a murderer. If there is one thing I need to remember
while fulfilling my job, is that these guys didn’t end up with this life from being nice.

‘Saxon?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you want a coffee?’

He stops abruptly, turning to face me.

‘You know the w
arden doesn’t allow inmates to drink coffee, right?’

‘Ah, no.’

‘But I won’t tell if you don’t,’ he grins, flashing me his white teeth. He looks wolfishly at me.
Didn’t Little Red Riding Hood know to stay away from the wolf?
Apparently not.

‘My lips are sealed. I owe you.’

That’s probably the worst thing a guard could say to an inmate. It could get me into some serious shit. I realize it all too late, because the words are already out of my mouth. I’m sure if my father were here right now he’d give me a serious kick up the butt. Saxon must sense my hesitation.

‘You really don’t have to if it makes you feel uncomfortable. Water’s fine.’

‘No, coffee it is.’