Page 10 of The Fall Guy

I’m unable to reply. I’ve no last words or final goodbyes. The holding pen is long gone, and I’m led under the court to the real jail cells. It’s cold and smells of damp.

My fate is sealed, so now I must endure. With more force than necessary, the officers throw me in the cell. Laughter echoes around the cold, dark room as they leave me to stew. Did I make the right decision, or will this be my greatest mistake?

CHAPTER 5

KADEN

The dark,stormy sky looms over the Victorian prison. High walls and even taller chimneys blacken its bleak misery. This will be my new home, my confinement, my punishment—or maybe I should think of it as a reward. Kai is free to watch his son grow up and I can be absent from all future family events.

I’m led inside, then stripped of my clothes and jewellery before being hosed down. My possessions are assigned a locker, and I’m given a grey tracksuit with a Velcro patch for my serial number on the pocket. A pair of trainers, white socks and a toothbrush are given to me before we descend into the depths of hell.

Already, I can hear chaos beyond the maze of bars. As we get into the belly of the beast, I’m shown to a small room with bunk beds, a basic sink, and a toilet. I guess this is my new home.

My roommate is absent, so I use my alone time to finally let the weight of my decision set in. Five years is a long time.

Leaving my toothbrush by the sink, I take a look at myself in the dull, plastic mirror. All luxury has been drained out of my life. The toothbrush and the rest of the contents in this room probably cost less than my mattress back home.

Tired dark circles underneath my eyes show the weight of my exhaustion. I’ve had better days, weeks, and even years. A good night’s sleep might help, but that might not be possible. Sounds echo off the walls, and there’s no comfort to be gained from the furniture.

I sit on the lower bed, covering my eyes with my hands while reality sets in. Taking the blame for my brother doesn’t feel like a good deed right now. I’m alone while he’s probably celebrating with his wife. Flexing out my palms, I rub my face. Self-pity washes over me, and I could use a strong drink right now.

I’m lost in myself and don’t notice the newcomer to the room. I guess not all noises travel within these walls. When I open my eyes, cold grey ones stare back at me.

The last time I saw the man before me, he was looking deadly. His blonde curls have been traded for a buzz cut, and his perfect skin is puckered with a scar above his lip. Rio is still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. I part my lips to speak, but he beats me to it.

“Get off my bed before I make you,” he says. His tone holds a bitterness I haven’t heard from him before.

My features tighten as I recompose myself. “I thought you’d be happy to get me on your bed. What are you doing here?” It’s easier for me to joke than show how I really feel.

“I had to make a choice; security or a grave. Eastward doesn’t seem so bad when the other option is six feet under.” He doesn’t break his stare or crack a smile.

Removing myself from the bottom bunk, I stand so we’re on equal ground. “And why are you unhappy to see me?”

“You’re the reason I had to make that choice.”

My eyebrows draw together as I try to figure out what he means. How is this my fault?

A whistle blows, breaking the noise in the main room. Rio turns his back to me and walks out. Following his lead, I join himoutside the door. A list of inmates’ names are called, including Rio’s.

They line up before filing out. Each one is wearing a tracksuit that matches mine. Some have bulging muscles, others have tattoos covering every inch of their skin, and some look like lonely brooding types. None of them appear friendly.

I’ve got a lot to learn so I understand my new home. Navigating the system might take a while, but it is essential if I don’t want to get into any trouble. The judge said no parole, but surely good behaviour counts for something.

A tall, muscular guy with weathered skin is staring at me. He tilts his neck, revealing his cyclone tattoo before giving me a nod and gesturing for me to show mine. I mimic the action, and his lip twitches in acknowledgement.

The crowd disperses leaving me and the big guy. He points to the far end of the hall, and I follow him into a common area.

Two more muscular guys are unofficially guarding the door and inside is an older gent. He sits in a tattered armchair in front of a small old-fashioned box TV with a battered aerial. Dad’s Army reruns play on the telly.

“So, you’re the new guy, eh?”

He glances my way, but not for long. I’m not going to underestimate this guy, but I want to share some of my personality traits with him. A bit of cheek. It’s evident from the mafia setup that he’s important, and I don’t want him to think I’m a pushover.

“And you must be the old one.” If I’d talked to my housemates before I got sent down, I might’ve known who this was.

“You’ve got big balls, kid. I like that.” He gives me more of his attention as he studies my features.

“You need them if you’re going to stand tall in a place like this,” I say.

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