Fight for You (2015 Camp Nanowrimo Winner) Love Locked Down, Book 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

(Alexander Marushin my idea of The Devil)

**I was taking a hiatus from posting, but I had someone very special contact via my Facebook today and I want to dedicate this chapter to her, so NaughtiCupCake, this one is for you, xoxo Dianna***

Assimilating to life in prison was weirder than anything I have ever experienced before. After Dilly's visit a few days ago, it seemed to have gotten weirder. First thing, the second bed in my room was removed, so I assumed that I wasn't going to be getting a bunk mate anytime soon. The second thing was that everyone that had come in with me have all been assigned to the shittiest jobs this place had to offer. From what I have heard, it's a right of passage as the, "Fresh meat," so to speak that you either endured the menial and sometimes downright disgusting jobs or be forced to do them anyway. It was just that simple.

Me, on the other hand, I was given what is considered a top tier job function as the cook's helper, which meant I peeled potatoes, stirred the heavy duty pots, carried food from the pantry and as a perk I got to eat my pick of the choicest portions before they are put out on the line to feed the masses. It was a prime assignment for me and let me tell you, the food that the prisoners received and the food that was prepared for the guards come from two very different menus.

If the prisoners got mass produced shepherds pie, and the guards got hearty steak and mashed potatoes. If the inmates got spaghetti with meat flavored sauce, then the guards got juicy meatballs the size of your fists and loads of spaghetti drenched in real mozzarella cheese, and guess who gets to eat off the guard's menu because they're the chef's helper, me that's who. I've quickly gained back the weight I've lost and if I'm not careful I will gain much more if I didn't make use of the gym here.

Untying my apron, I stretched the kinks out of my back. As much as the special treatment rocks, it sucked also. I've quickly come to realize that with all the extra privileges either due to luck or for whatever reason I curried favor from someone somewhere, there is also equal amounts of jealousy from those who feel that I must be giving my ass up to someone up high in the prison hierarchy. They assumed I didn't seem to have an inmate, "Daddy," laying claim to me then I must be kissing the guards assess. A crime worse than anything anyone one in here can commit, because you are telling your fellow inmates that they are not good enough for you to give the time of day or offer your favors.

In the past few days, I've kept my head down and refrained from making eye contact with anyone, but it seems that the others were going out of their way to make contact with me whether I liked it or not. Especially a six man crew run by a larger than life latino man they called, "Papito." A huge mother fucker covered with ink all over his gigantic body, not only did he seem to run shit with the other inmates, he had a bevy of beautiful boys falling all over themselves to gladly present him with their favors for whatever contraband Papi can get them.

Anything you wanted from cigarettes to liquor, Papi's crew can get it for you for a price, which was usually a pound or more of flesh. There was one particular member of the crew Javier, a big mean looking motherfucker that for some reason has become my new admirer slash tormentor, and I made sure as hell that I didn't wander anywhere in this place by myself if I can help it. It also helped that everywhere I turned, I seemed to run into the Devil. I had a feeling the big fucker was watching me for a reason, but I damned sure wasn't going to complain about it because everyone scattered like roaches whenever he set foot on the cell block, all except Papi himself of course. The big fucker just nodded in the Devil's direction and continued to Lord over his minions.

Tonight though, I was running a little behind schedule due to all the damn pans cook had me scrubbing, and damned if all that melted cheese didn't prove harder than hell to scrub off the baking sheets. So now, I was rushing back to the cell block to grab my shower before I was the only one left to bathe before lockdown. Trust me, that is not a good thing, especially if you get caught butt naked and all on lonesome. I'd rather go to bed smelling like day old cooking grease than get caught in that situation.