The mustachioed Warden waits for us in his office as Bridges carries me through the door and sits me down in the same chair I was shackled to on my first day.
"Andy," the Warden greets behind a pile of paperwork on his desk. He barely glances up at me, but waves at the Lieutenant to uncuff me. "How's your first week been?"
I rub at the marks on my wrists from the cuffs that were way too tight to begin with, but try my best to plaster on the fakest smile I can manage.
"It's good!" I reply cheerfully. Maybe a bit too cheerfully. The Warden's attention is caught by my tone and he looks up suddenly, throwing me a suspicious stare. I see the way he takes in my appearance; covered in bruises and stinking slightly from confinement.
"Good?" he repeats, like he was expecting everything but that. "Looks like you had a rough time."
"Nah," I insist as breezily as I can. Bridges has walked the perimeter of the office already and decides to stand stationary to my left, closest to the door. "Mace and I got carried away wrestling the other day. He's trying to beef me up so I can at least take a few hits."
The Warden has always been easy to talk to—even when my sentence had been given, he always listened to anything I had to say. There's no doubt in his eyes as he hears me out, unlike someone.
"As long as you're sure," he mutters, setting down his pen and standing up to approach me. "Make sure you tell me if it's anything serious, alright? We can take care of Mace."
"No, no!" I try to hide the desperation in my tone. "Mace has been very good to me. A-and so has Lieutenant Bridges," I add, rushing to make good on my part of the deal. "If it wasn't for him, I don't know if I could've made it."
The Warden's mustache lifts in a smile. "Oh? Well, my instincts are usually right on these things. Bridges is my most capable Lieutenant after all." I offer a pleasant smile, and the Warden sits on the edge of his desk across from me, folding his arms. "The fact that you still have your spirits is all very good for us, Andy."
Good for them?
I'm not sure how to respond, but I sit quietly with my hands in my lap as the Warden continues.
"There's been mounting pressure from the media since the day you came here," he starts, tone serious and somewhat annoyed. "They're overstepping… making demands—fucking vultures are swarming us with requests for interviews, appeals for your case… et cetera."
I blink slowly, still trying to grasp the severity of my whole case. My lawyers had previously steered me away from the situation; limiting my access to the media, social or otherwise. I knew about the protests. I knew about the influx of subscribers. I knew that they banned my account.
But that they're still going on about it? That's new.
"What does that mean?" I ask finally. "That I'll be let out soon?"
A small glimmer of hope shines inside me. I feel the warmth of freedom already—hugging my mom, my dad… my sister…
And then, out of nowhere, a sadness takes over.
No more Mace? No more workouts? Will I even be able to finish telling him about Game of Thrones? It's a confusing mix of emotions. It's like Mace is already family to me—but it's absurd. I've only known him for a week…
"No," the Warden says resolutely. "Your sentence is being upheld for now. The media just wants their story, and they're not backing down until they get it from you." His tanned hands fly to his mustache and I watch him stroke the handlebars as if contemplating how best to say his next words. "Andy—this is a mutual opportunity for both of us."
I glance up to Bridges who is standing stock still and staring forward like he's in the military.
"Opportunity?" I repeat, still confused. "Like—how?"
"If we give them this interview, and you describe exactly how safe you are here—" I stifle a laugh, "—maybe even express regret for your actions? Tell them you want to complete your sentence? They might not have a story after that."
I frown at this opportunity. Nothing in it benefits me. In fact, when I'm put in front of cameras, it's my only opportunity to describe exactly how fucked up prison is. How Lieutenants steal you away in the middle of the night and beat you for nothing. How you're threatened from the moment you step foot inside.
As if reading my thoughts, the Warden continues. "Unless of course, you're saying you aren't safe?" There is a dark edge to his tone, and his beady eyes snap to Bridges beside me.
"No!" I interject. "That's not it—I'm very safe. Actually, that's all thanks to Bridges. He's gone above and beyond for me." The Warden's eyes snap back to me, and I get the impression that he's sharper than he looks.
And probably really good at reading people.
I try my best to fix a stable tone to my voice as I continue. "But, sir, I—I don't really want to stay here if I can help it. No offense."
At this, the Warden softens his suspicions. "Well of course that's understandable," he says. "I know you want to see your family—so I think we can come to an agreement. Don't you think?"
Two deals in one evening?
"What kind of agreement?" I ask tentatively.
"Well—perhaps we can look at some special privileges for you during your stay here?" he prompts. "Family visits… conjugal visits…?"
I stiffen a little at the latter suggestion. I don't have a girlfriend—or boyfriend—and I don't want to admit that actually, I've never had one.
Then they'd know I was a virgin.
While I consider myself bi, I was home-schooled and didn't have many chances to meet someone I liked. Streaming was a good way to make some cash, but even though fans liked my face, I never wanted to date any of them.
"Well—" I start, hesitating how I can navigate this. "I do want to see my family… and maybe get some Tylenol?"
The Warden barks out a laugh and his face relaxes considerably. He smiles behind his mustache like I've said the funniest thing to him all damn day. "Tylenol?" he repeats. "That's easy, but I think you'd deserve a lot more than that if you agree to something like this. How about you take a few nights to think about it?"
I sigh in relief that I'm not expected to answer immediately.
Maybe if I tell Mace about it, he'd want something too. I could bargain for both of us.
"Sure," I agree. "And Warden, sir?" I plant a sincere look on my face as I look up at him from my pathetic little chair in his office.
"Yes?"
"Thank you – and Lieutenant Bridges – for taking care of me."
It's disgusts me to even say his name in a sickly sweet voice, but I have to.
For Third Block.