Page 99 of Caged In

Trust Zid to turn it into a big issue. It’s not bad. It looks worse than it feels. And Izz relishes them. He wouldn’t take any of it back for anything.

“Nothing to it,” Izz mutters, his best friend pegging him with anI’m-not-buying-itexpression. So Izz reluctantly adds, “it was consensual.”

He watches Zidie’s face light up like a Christmas tree—with a bunch of presents under it waiting to be unwrapped. Izz needs to cut that train of questioning off before they’re set free. “No. I am not talking about it.”

“Don’t be a buzz kill, Izz. Not like there’s much else to talk about in here. Spill.”

He would rather talk about a million other things which don’t involve his newly discovered kinks. Like the grass, and how long it’snotgrown, it is literally the same length as when he arrived in prison. And he’s never seen anyone mowing it. Is this grass even real? It presents as real and feels pretty real. Maybe they have a night shift of prisoners who came out with a pair of scissors and a ruler, to trim the stuff—

You’re surely not thinking about grass to avoid the question?

Maybe he can change the subject—except, knowing Zidie a subject change won’t work. The man is tenacious and ruthless when he wants to pry into someone’s business.

“Yeahhhhh, Izzy, my man,” Sinj bellows from across the yard as he saunters over to The Gang. Arriving late as usual, “look at them battle scars.”

Sinj holds his fist out to Izz, waggling his eyebrows. Izz grumbles under his breath as he reaches up to pound his knuckles with the red-head. Why is Sinj so mellow about these things? Whereas the rest of The Gang are liable to pop a haemorrhage over it.

Sinj’s nonchalantly open with everything sexual. Including giving it up for items or protection. He’s always bragging about blowing someone for expensive Commissary products or contraband. And he’s completely on board with Izz and Sin’srelationship dynamics. In fact, he encourages it. Telling Izz it’s a good deal, ‘why bother protecting yourself when someone else is willing to do it for you’.

“Well well well,” the soft voice cutting in is God-sent, giving Izz a reason to avoid Zidie’s inevitable torrent of questions.

That is, until he turns to the voice and finds a familiar feminine inmate swaggering over.

“If it isn’t my favourite smoking buddy,” the small inmate purrs. Hips swaying with exaggerated movements.

Vince.

Izz celebrated the interruption too soon. Why does it have to be Vince? Of all the inmates or guards who could have jumped on the interrupting train. Why does it have to be this one?

He’s not sure why he’s on edge. Maybe because Vince made it clear he’s into selling his body to get things—except Sinj does that too, and Izz’s not on edge around the red-head.

It could be something to do with Sin? Perhaps Izz doesn’t want word getting back to Sin regarding him talking with the prison . . . prostitute . . . ? Escort? Hooker? What do they call themselves these days?

“Hi,” Izz pulls out his polite self-defence, restraining his urge to snap at the small female-presenting inmate, “haven’t seen you around.”

Can you please fuck off.Izz’s itching to say, holding the words in by his fingertips. It’s hard work being so polite—some days he wonders why he bothers. It’s so much effort. Wouldn’t it be easier to blurt out the truth?

“You haven’t been looking very hard, Sweetness,” Vince purrs, moving too close for Izz’s comfort, standing to hover over Izz. “I’m where I always am.”

Great, another pet name from a random inmate. Why can’t they use‘Izz’or even his real name. Which at this point he probably won’t register if someone is talking to him. He hasn’tbeen called Jasper since the counsellor mentioned it. Everyone calls him Izz—except for those with ulterior motives—and Sin—but Sin doesn’t count. He actually likes it when Sin calls him‘Beautiful’or‘Gorgeous’.

“You care to have a chat,” Vince smiles, in what he no doubt imagines is seductive—to Izz it screams fake intentions and artificial flirtation.

He’s into one—and only one—inmate in this cage, and it is not this overly feminine cute inmate before him. His is a rough dangerous alluring male, with zero tolerance to anyone near Izz.

Not really, but if it gets rid of you quicker.Izz answers in his head. Deciding against telling Vince outright. He picks a more friendly approach. He doesn’t need to make more enemies.

“Sure. Talk away.”

And then leave.Izz adds silently.

Where is Sin when Izz needs him. If the fearedmale—who everyone avoids—was around, he wouldn’t have to deal with Vince. No one bothers him when Sin is nearby.

In fact, they studiouslymake a point to avoid looking anywhere within Izz’s vicinity. Even the guards tiptoe around him. It’s . . . eerie.

“Elsewhere,” Vince flutters his eyes at Zidie—and the rest of The Gang reclining close by—reminding Izz of a bitchy girl in a reality show. AllI’m-the-best-one-here-and-I-know-it.

Sucking in the strength to deal with Vince. He begrudgingly rises to his feet, trudging off, separating himself from The Gang. He doesn’t wander far. Out of earshot, not out of sight. He doesn’t trust Vince. And Sin isn’t here to protect him. He knows Zidie and Reni will jump in to help, if he needs it. The way the two of them are outright staring reveals they are already considering it.

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