A chill spreads from my neck down my body as I shuffle forward towards the stairs to Commons. It's absurd, but I feel Ox's stare lingering even when we make it down to Commons and we're finally able to break formation.
Mace leads me to a table near the far back of the room. It only takes one look at my face before his dark, bushy brows pull together disapprovingly. He doesn't have any time to bark orders at me to get it together, or grow up, or relax; in my peripheral vision, two figures are approaching our table.
Mace lifts a hand to them in greeting—my first clue these inmates aren't a threat.
But they look threatening.
One guy is just as big as Mace; he has short blonde hair, a hard jaw lined with dark blonde fuzz, and a neck tattoo creeping up his right side. The other has long black hair tied in a loose bun—some of it is falling in his face. I recognize him as the inmate with just one eye.
"New meat!" the blonde announces as he approaches. He has a permanent smile on his face and walks with a bounce in his step. "What's going on with him, Mace?"
The two new inmates stare at me like I'm an alien. It takes all I have to keep composed.
"Bridges asked me to babysit," Mace replies, signature grumpy tone in full effect despite how cheerfully animated the blonde is in comparison.
"Bodyguard," I correct.
"This is Knuckle," he waves his hand at the blonde in introduction, "and Domino." The one-eyed inmate is still stoic in his expression; he quietly lifts his hand as he's introduced. Then Mace turns and gestures to me. "This is—" Mace pauses, and I consider he's actually forgotten my name.
"Andy," I remind, trying not to be offended. If I think about it, he hasn't even called me by my name yet. It's been "kid" or "brat" or whatever other infantilizing terms he'll use in the future…
Knuckle literally looks me up and down without hiding it. I watch his light blue eyes dart from my toes to my face and back down again. "What is he doing in Third Block?" he asks, like there's been some kind of mistake.
I have a hard time trying to understand the logic behind the Warden and Lieutenant's plan, too, but I don't like the way I'm being talked about as if I don't exist.
"He'd be worse off in gen pop," Mace shrugs.
Knuckle lets out a slow whistle as he takes a seat at the table first. "You did tell him about Ox, didn't you?"
"Why do you think he's not here today?" Mace snaps irritably.
At least Mace isn't just short-tempered with me.
Knuckle doesn't take offense like I would—nothing Mace says, or the way he says it, seems to bother him as he turns to me. "So, Andy, what'd you do to end up here?"
"I played copyrighted music on some livestreams, and the sentence was to make an example out of me," I answer.
Knuckle bursts out laughing so loud that several other inmates across Commons turn to stare at him. "Copyright?" he repeats, incredulous between his laughter. Even the quiet Domino is smiling softly as he takes a seat next to Knuckle. "That's bad fucking luck. Me? I'm in because I stole a few cars."
Mace huffs, also taking a seat and kicking up his leg on the table exactly like he did in the small room with Bridges yesterday. "You make it sound like it wasn't organized crime and that it's the reason you're in Third Block," he notes. Then he turns serious grey eyes on me in warning. "Take whatever Knuckle says to you with a grain of salt."
But—even though Mace mentioned organized crime—knowing that Knuckle hasn't killed anyone is a serious relief. I find myself taking a seat with the four of them with a slightly lighter heart.
"Dom, though?" Knuckle continues, still unfazed by Mace, "he's got some seriously gross charges…"
Domino hits Knuckle on the arm but doesn't speak up to correct him. He continues to wear that neutral, almost bored expression as he turns back to me and shakes his head indicating Knuckle's wrong.
"Ow—I'm kidding. Dom's in for armed robbery," Knuckle finishes, throwing the arm that was hit around Domino's shoulders and jostling him back and forth like they share a deep comradery.
"Again," Mace interrupts, "organized."
"Like—the Mafia?" I ask tentatively.
All three of them laugh this time. I have to lower my head to the table so I don't show the intense embarrassment from all the looks the other inmates are throwing at our table.
"Mafia? That's cute," Knuckle says, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin in the free hand not still wrapped around Domino. "Kid like you really shouldn't be here. I feel bad for ya."
Knuckle and Domino both look like they're in their late twenties. Both of them lived exciting lives independent of their parents before prison, unlike me.
My life had barely fucking started.
None of the other inmates come up to us, nor are any of them bigger than Mace or Knuckle. A couple of them sit at a table at the far end of Commons and they continue to throw narrowed eyes at us.
Mace clocks it too.
"Doesn't look like Trip is too happy about Ox," he says, jerking his chin in the direction of a stringy-haired, slim man sitting at that table.
Knuckle actually turns around in his chair and gives the guy a middle finger—it's effective in making him turn away. "I'm not surprised… his nose is usually so far up Ox's ass he must be going through withdrawal."
"About Ox," Mace begins. "Bridges will pay a pack a day for each of you to help Andy out. There's only so long they can keep Ox in confinement, and you know what happened last time."
There's an ominous silence that the three of them share, and the only context I have is when Mace mentioned Ox had attacked the last 'fresh meat' to join Third Block.
"Of course bro," Knuckle agrees, "count on us. Right Dom?"
Domino nods, silent as ever. I'm beginning to think he doesn't speak. His one dark-brown eye connects with mine, and he offers a tiny smile.
Another wave of relief washes over me. The last day has been nothing but extreme stress and fear. Looking around at the table of protectors, I feel the first bit of real comfort hit me.
And it's enough to give me hope.