Behind the Gate

by Renee Adams

  Copyright

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover Design by Silla Webb

  Interior Design by Silla Webb

  Editing by Silla Webb

  http://www.alphaqueensbookobsession.blogspot.com/

  To my mom, Rhonda, who is the strongest cheerleader I know. You are the definition of the warden, but look at what has come from your warden like ways, I have a book now!

  Lacing up my sneakers I hear a loud, “Mom, where is the cereal?” I can’t help but smile because isn’t it just like kids to not see what’s right in front of them? I walk into the kitchen, handing him the box of cereal and see my beautiful boy with his big brown eyes looking back at me. Then I look down, and in true boy fashion my 8-year-old is walking around in nothing but his boxers!

  “Jack, put some clothes on, and stop walking around in your underwear,” I tell him with a slight smile on my face.

  “But mooooooom, I hate clothes, and I’m covered!” he tries to argue.

  “I don’t care, you cannot walk around the house like this, at least put on a pair of shorts.” Then I realize my mistake. “REAL shorts, ones you can wear out in public!”

  I hear him snicker as he takes his cereal bowl and sits it next to the empty sink then walks away to get dressed for the day. With a sigh, I put his bowl in the sink and make a mental note to talk to him about it tonight, for the sake of myself and his future wife.

  He’s a good kid who has had it rough after his dad walked out on us about two years ago. Not that his dad leaving was a huge upset to me, but to Jack it was because I guess he felt like he did something wrong. Of course he didn’t, his dad just couldn’t handle being a dad, and chased the little 18-year-old down the street a few states away. Jack spent a lot of time with my mom when I was going through nursing school, but I had to do it to better our lives. I knew he was scared because whenever I would pick him up from her house he had this look of relief like he didn’t think I would come back. Of course I would, he is my rock star and my life, but I could still see the trepidation in his eyes when I would leave. My mom though is a saint for putting up with our crap for the last few years. Nursing school was hard, but it was worth it to provide a better life for us. Now, I work full time at the prison and things couldn’t get better for me and my little man.

  The prison, March Correctional Institute, although a very dangerous place to work at, has been good to us. My co-workers understand that I am a single mom and that Jack’s dad is nowhere to be found. Some of them have even become like family to us. The prison itself is one of the worst in our state. We are a level three maximum security prison with a special death row unit. Our prison houses the worst of the worst, and it is my daily job to have in your face interaction with them. Of course, we have some weapons that we carry, and we are always wearing some kind of bulletproof vest and shield on our faces. Most of them treat us with respect, but that does not make them any less dangerous. I know that, but, I still go out of my way to make sure they are given a little bit of dignity.

  After everything is ready and Jack has gotten his school stuff together, we make our way out the door. Jack goes to school right down the street so I get those mere few minutes alone with him before we head off to start our day. We sing along to some cheesy song that if the windows weren’t rolled up Jack wouldn’t sing along to.

  “Have a good day, baby boy, learn something!” I yell as he is rushing to get out the car and away from his embarrassing mother. I like to embarrass him whenever I can. Even though he seems to hate it, I always wonder if that is real.

  He runs down the car line, and I see him meet up with some friends and one very cute girl. He looks over at me and sees that I am still watching him, and he hangs his head in embarrassment. He knows he will get a “mom talk” tonight at bedtime. He’s growing up so fast, and sometimes I wonder to myself whether he needs a man in his life to show him the man ropes. Sadly all he has is me and mom. We try our hardest, but sometimes we can’t do it all in that department.

  After stopping off for my morning soda, I head on to work. Every time I get close enough to see the barbed wire fence, I can’t help but think back to my first interview there. Shaking in my shoes is an understatement, I thought for sure the warden, Rhonda, would hear my knees knock together. Once that gate closed behind me. I was petrified. I sat on a bench in the lobby and just kept looking at two things. The barbed wire and the metal detector. I was fresh out of nursing school and definitely green in my way of thinking. I always knew that I wanted to work in a prison because I am definitely far from the girly-girl type. But, being behind the fence walls made it all too real that this was a place that people have done bad things and were paying their price. I never forget that, every day that I work.

  Walking up to the first gate and waiting for the front guard to buzz me in, it shakes me from my thoughts and takes that nervousness away. Already having worked here for a year, I get the nerves still but not nearly as bad as the first day. I give the guard, Teddy, my badge and he swipes it and tells me that there seems to be electricity in the air. I can feel it too after he says it and can’t help but get a shiver down my spine. The last time I got that feeling, we had an inmate shank another and then try to attack the guards who were trying to get them under control. That incident cost me a pair of scrubs because they were covered in pepper spray from where the guards sprayed him. Let’s just hope that today is not that kind of day. We do alright for ourselves, but we don’t have money to just throw out whenever we want.

  Saying my goodbyes to Teddy and going through the first gate, I head on to the metal detectors. I see a new guard whom I have never seen before manning the detectors, and I give a smile because he looks extremely nervous. Memories come back of my first day when I screwed up and didn’t know all the rules yet. I tried to get my soda through with the label still on it. Luckily the guards were great and helped me along when it felt like my stomach was going to fall out of my butt!

  We have a strict policy at the prison. Upon entry, we have to remove our shoes, of course, anything metal, and all outside food must be inspected. Once the pat down is done and I have my shoes on and things collected, I stand in front of the door and wait for the guy in the control room to open it for me. I can’t see who is in there yet since I have to get through the door first, but as soon as the heavy door opens I see that it’s Josh manning the controls today. He sits in his central location in front of a huge panel and monitors, watching everyone go about their day. His domain is the brains of the prison. He can see all cell blocks, the yard, and any other room that prisoners have access to. Making my way to be buzzed in the multiple doors, I think maybe it’s time I take him up on his offer of a coffee date. He’s been after me for months now, but he has a lot of hoops to jump through before I’ll bring him around Jack. Stepping into the corridor between two doors, I am waiting for Josh to buzz me in when the loud speaker buzzes.

  “Good morning, Olivia.” Of course, it’s Josh.

  “Morning Josh, how’s it going today?”

  “Be even better if you let me take you on a date.” I just laugh to myself, he is so shameless! See, there are those dimples that I like so much, come on just one date?”

  “I’ll think about it, now get back to work and buzz me
through the door before you make me late!”

  Making my way through the door and out into the walkway, I see the transport van going through the gate and know that today we are getting some new inmates. Medical has to check out every inmate that walks in, they are subject to blood draws for diseases, cavity searches for weapons and general health questions. It’s long and tedious, but it helps us cut down on diseases through the inmate population. A lot of these guys are lifers so they depend on us to keep diseases out. Doesn’t always work, but we try our hardest. Transport days always go one of two ways, good or bad, never the in between. The good inmates just let us get our job done without giving us problems, the bad are the ones who either don’t give a shit or have something to prove like you always see in movies.

  With a sigh, I reach the next door that I don’t have to be buzzed in for and walk inside the medical ward, I immediately put on my face. Some call it the resting bitch face, I call it the “I don’t take shit from anybody” face. It works for me, and most inmates will greet me with a “hi Olivia” and let me get on my way. Even though they have done some truly heinous things, it doesn’t mean I have to be a bitch to them. I would like to think that me treating them as human beings and not garbage has saved my ass a time or two. Last year, we had a nurse get hit with a sock that had pieces of concrete that an inmate had been chunking off from the wall. Broke her nose and the lacrimal bone around her eye. That situation was my lesson learned. After that, I put on my resting bitch face or rbf for short, and it stays in place whenever I have any inmate interaction.

  “Olivia, can you come here for a moment and help me?” A voice echoes through the room. Great. It’s my boss, Mary. She’s nice enough, although she doesn’t take shit from anyone, inmate or employee. She has worked here for quite a while, and last month she was presented with a celebration of being the longest employee at the prison. Some 30 years or so, and she has no hard time bringing up the fact that she has been here since as some of us were in diapers. I wasn’t born yet, but she doesn’t seem to remember that.

  “Let me put my stuff down first, then I’ll be right in,” I yell back. Mary is a nice lady when she wants to be and she perfected her rbf a long time ago.

  “Of course, I’m in the med room, so come find me.”

  I put my stuff away in my designated cubby in the break room that only medical staff has key access to, then make my way to the med room. It’s got one of those old-timey keys you see on movies, the big ones on the guards giant hoop keyring. There is only one key to this room, so we have to be extra careful with it. When the room is vacant we have to hold it on our body, but if the room is occupied we pass it through the slot underneath the bulletproof and shatterproof glass window. This where we keep all inmate medications, needles, scalpels, plus our gear. Our gear consists of a bulletproof/stab-proof vest, and a riot gear helmet with a spit shield. All of it combined weighs 13 pounds, so it’s no wonder that I have lost 20 since working here.

  Mary is crouched down on the floor filing the new meds into the inmate storage bins that. I can hear a few ‘fuck this shit’ come from her and chuckle because you know if you hear Mary cuss then something is really wrong.

  “What’s going on?” I ask her when I reach the window and wait for her to pass me the keys. On a start she nearly jumps out of her skin because she didn’t hear me approach.

  “Bitch, you almost gave me a heart attack!” she shouts as she passes me the keys.

  Opening the door, I see all the meds scattered everywhere and immediately regret telling her I would be there to help. She’s a nice lady but has a little problem with organization. It’s going to take me hours to get all these meds organized. Luckily, I’ll have some help once my other co-worker and seriously awesome friend Cori gets here. She is the light of my work day sometimes, and we can always make each other laugh. She is the only person who I see outside of work on a regular basis, she even helps me with Jack sometimes or comes over to share a bottle of booze with me. I guess she has kind of moved on to best friend territory.

  “Today we have a big transport coming in, including a state to state transfer, so you will be busy today. I leave early so we called in Ryan to help you and Cori get through them all. A few violent ones, so be careful,” Mary says and I groan because I would seriously think this is Monday instead of Friday with us having a big transport. Normally Mondays are our days to get new inmates.

  I just shake my head at her because what the hell else am I gonna do? I’ve only worked with Ryan a handful of times, and even though he works somewhat hard, he still is smarmy as hell. He’s somewhat handsy, but one day some girl is gonna get fed up with the creeper and kick him in the balls. Hell, it might just be me, and that will be a good day! He is one of those people who has to touch everyone he comes in contact with, like a subtle graze of the elbow or soft stroke of the hair. I can’t stand people like that, and since I am short, he always ruffles the top of my head. Like I said, creeper and needs a kick in the balls. One day.

  I hear a loud bang and have just enough time to look up to see a couple of unfamiliar guards bring in a line of inmates. The inmates are all cuffed at the wrist with a circle of thick chain wrapped at the waist that shackle their feet together. Linked at the center of the chain is a handle for the guards’ convenience. At any point that an inmate is being treated, whether in medical or out in the yard, a guard will be holding that chain. It gives the inmate a little moving room but allows the guard to remain in control at all times in case the inmate becomes unruly. One yank and the inmate will be planted on his ass.

  Seeing the inmates hobbling through the corridor in unison with guards at their side, I know the transport van is here and med organizing will have to wait. Mary instructs the guards where to place each inmate as we make our way out of the room and into the waiting room. The unnerving sense that I am being watched comes over me and it’s enough to make the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turn around and look down the line. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, even though dealing with inmates is way out of the ordinary for most regular people. I see the normal badass persona on each one of their faces, except one. I see the top of someone’s head. Hmmm, maybe too many nights of watching crime shows on TV with Cori after Jack goes to bed has gotten to me.

  I continue setting up for the inmate checks, and I run into a huge problem, well problem for me anyways. Being only 5’3 has its disadvantages, like now, when I have to reach for some paperwork.

  “Need some help small stuff?’ I hear behind me. I hate being called small stuff, short stack, little girl, you name it and I have probably been called that. When I was in school, I used to take karate on a weekly basis because my parents were scared I would get bullied for my short stature. I never did, I had a good personality that took me far. Cheerleading, dance, and all the typical stuff helped with popularity. Until I met Jack’s dad that is and got pregnant my senior year of high school. Then I became the pregnant girl, and everyone seemed to forget who I was over night.

  Gritting my teeth, I face the name caller and say, “Nope, all good,” because I realize it’s a guard I have only seen a few times. His name starts with a B, I think. Nice looking guy with a nice smile, even if he is a little older. Shit, I need to get laid. It has been since way before Jack’s dad left that I last got some! Here I am thinking about hopping on a man I have never met before when my body instantly goes on alert because the feeling of being watched comes over me again.

  I look around at the inmates and instead of seeing the top of someone’s head this time I see a pair of bright blue eyes looking at me with contempt. Eyes that look like the water you see on commercials for faraway places I will never travel. Just a crystal clear blue staring back at me, his eyes full of a deep hatred. I dunno why, and honestly I don’t care. But this man, he is the definition of sex, strong jaw, short black hair and those eyes. Aquamarine eyes would be the best way to describe them. The kind that can see your secrets and act as a human li
e detector. My insides instantly start to heat up and boil to a mush, even though he is looking at me with absolute disgust. He is still the most breathtaking man I have ever seen. That whole ‘I need to get laid’ thought is dancing in my mind right now as my lady parts are screaming at me to jump on it. What a long flipping day this will be with Mr. Dark and Broody over there glaring at me. I redirect my attention to the task at hand silently hoping that Cori gets here soon. She can deal with Mr. Hateful eyes over here because I feel like if he keeps staring at me, I might catch fire from his hatred

  “Did you hear what I said lady?” the guard asks.

  “Yeah, and I said I didn’t need your help, but thanks.”

  “No, about the transferred inmates,” annoyance drips off of his words.

  I must have dazed off in my cock-fueled day dreams and missed whatever this guy had to say. “I’m sorry, I missed it.”

  He looks even more annoyed but keeps giving a side-eye to Mr. Blue Eyes and Dangerous, because after looking over at him the guard seems to change his tone. It’s then that I know that this Friday will be different from all the Fridays in the past.

  The guard repeats about the transfers, something about one of them being extremely dangerous and we should make sure that we use extreme caution with him. I tune him out after that because blue eyes is looking my way with a knowing smirk as if he knew we were talking about him. The heated blaze of blood rushes to my cheeks making me blush. I feel like a heat lamp is shining down on me and turning me into a sweaty mess.

  Around that time I hear Cori come in, grumbling about Starbucks ruining her order. She looks up when she realizes that all the guards’ eyes are on her and instantly puts her face on and gets to work. I look back at the guards, they all look like they are drooling. Cori is beautiful and she knows it, but she’s not a bitch about it.

  I get supplies ready to get the inmates checked one by one, then I call out the first name: Xavier Richards. Scanning over the paperwork briefly, I see that he is in for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, serving 27 months. He is a stocky man with tattoos running up and down his arms. Sigh, tattoos, love them and even have a few of my own, but I have to now catalog all of his tattoos for any discernable codes. Yes, that’s right, codes. Some gang bangers will put codes onto their bodies before committing a crime that they are sent to do so they can funnel in codes for the higher ups in their gang that are serving time. Plus, this way, they know which unit to send him to because if he has gang-related tattoos then he cannot be put with other gangs.