3 years ago

"Up!" A guard shouted, kicking the bunk bed. "Your lawyer is here."

The young man lying in the cot below raised his head, hopeful. "My lawyer?"

"No." The guard spat. "Adams." He kicked the bunk bed again. "Come on, princess, wake up."

Alexander slowly removed the book from his face, being careful to put the bookmark precisely where he needed it to be. The good thing about prison was that it gave him a lot of time to read and get the education he'd missed. Sitting up leisurely, he sent the guard a lopsided smile. "Come on, Hernandez, cheer up a bit, we're nearing Christmas."

"Move it!" The guard shouted, glaring.

Alexander frowned. "Are you sure you don't have the wrong Adams? I don't have a lawyer."

"Now you do. UP!" The man kicked the bunk bed once again.

Sighing, Alexander jumped off, adjusting his orange uniform. "When are you going to learn some manners, Hernandez?" He teased as he followed the guard outside the cell – after having been properly restrained. "Ladies don't like grim men." All he got in response was yet another glare.

For some reason, Hernandez was the only guard that didn't like him. Alexander had managed the impossible: getting the staff of a max security federal prison to deem a convicted parricide likable, yet this one here probably would turn a blind eye if he saw someone shank him in the showers.

When they reached the room where normally an inmate and their lawyer were able to get some privacy, the guard pushed him inside. In there, Alexander found the usual chairs and table, but sitting at the other side of it, was a classy young woman, someone he'd never met. "Uh ... hello?"

"Hi." She grinned cheerfully. "I'm Nancy Dorsey, your new lawyer." She introduced, standing up and stretching a hand for him to shake it.

"Uh ..." he hinted at the shackles on him, so she retrieved her hand with a light chuckle. "I didn't ask for one?"

"I know. But I've read your case and I think I can help you." She sat down and invited him to do the same, but he didn't.

"No offense, Miss, but you look uh ... very young." He eyed her closely – she couldn't be older than 25.

She smiled. "I graduated early. And I can assure you I have more experience than you'd think."

"Even so," he arched an eyebrow, "if you've read the files, you know there's not much room for interpretation."

"Oh, I believe there is," Nancy claimed, her grin unfaltering, "so, why don't you sit down and we can talk about it?"

"Listen, either you're a hoax – and I've got no time to waste –, or you're just as good as you claim to be, and in that case there's no way I can afford you." Alexander said firmly. "I've done my Math. I've served 6 years, in about 4 I can ask for parole, and if I'm lucky I can be out on good behavior soon enough."

If his father, with his record and what he'd done, had been able to get out so early, there was no reason why he couldn't, right? Alexander reminded himself. He just needed to make the time in prison count, not waste it in futile arguments and rivalries, but focus on getting an education and preparing for when he would be released. At the very least, he owed Delilah and his Nana that.

"But what if I told you that I can have your sentence reduced to 9 years for manslaughter and you can leave in a few months?" The young attorney claimed, excited.

He furrowed his brows. "I'd say you've got an angle I can't see right now; or worse, you're crazy, which, believe me, is not a good look on a lawyer," he looked her up and down for a moment, "especially not such a pretty one."

Nancy leaned in a bit, and clasped her hands together. She didn't grin or smirk – not with her mouth – but the look in her eyes was clear: someone determined to get her way, someone who wasn't much accustomed to losing. "Ok," she said, "let's be frank here, Alex, I-"

"Alexander." He corrected her, grimacing. "Don't ... I prefer Alexander."

She frowned for a moment, not understanding the difference, but then shrugged it off. "Ok, Alexander," she restarted, emphasizing the full name, "I want to be honest with you. Sit down."

"I'm good."

"Please ..." she said honeyedly, "sit down."

Albeit unconvinced, Alexander did as she said. The shackles around his wrists rattled as he clasped his hands on the table, as if to remind the young woman whom was she dealing with – chaining hands and feet whenever they left the cell was something that in that prison was solely reserved to murderers and in general to the most dangerous criminals. A bit exaggerated, he always thought, he certainly wouldn't compare himself to the likes of a serial killer or some gangbanger that had killed dozens of innocent people. The man he'd shot was far from innocent. "So?"

"I won't insult your intelligence by saying this is a pro bono case and I'll just do it for the sake of justice." Nancy said, her voice calm and determined.

He studied her closely. At most, she was 27. Likely born rich in a family of lawyers like her, she probably worked in daddy's firm, he thought. And yet, even though she looked like she hadn't seen a single day in court and that the worst criminal she'd ever met was some petty thief, Nancy Dorsey wasn't intimidated.

Alexander pursed his lips when she paused, knowing full well that she was playing cat and mouse with him. She probably counted on her good looks to swindle him and get what she wanted – whatever that was. It would take way more than her pretty face, he told himself.

"I will do my job and have you out of prison in a few months," the young lawyer claimed, grabbing a stack of papers from her suitcase, "all I ask in return is ... a favor."

"Of what kind?" The inmate asked, grabbing the papers when she handed them to him. It was a pretty big stack for just a favor.

"Well, favor might be the wrong word," she pretended to muse for a moment, then grinned, "let's call it a ... quid pro quo."

"Lady, if you think that your Latin terms are going to fool me, you're sorely mistaken." He interrupted, mildly offended.

"Oh, no, I know you're way more than a regular punk." Nancy said sweetly. "What I'm saying is, we can come to an arrangement of sorts." Before he could speak, she added: "Time in exchange for time."

"What?"

She stood up, and started pacing the small room. "It's the only currency someone in your ... predicament has to offer, don't you think?" She walked to the high barred window and crossed her arms over her chest. "You've got time, I need some."

"I don't understand." Alexander leaned in, frowning. "How is my time beneficial to you?"

"I'm going to give you freedom, Alex, all I ask in return is 3 years of your life."

He would have corrected the nickname again, but it wasn't the right time. "3 years is a long time." He commented. "I could be out of here by then and be free, without owing anyone."

"Come on, now, let's not be coy," Nancy gave out a short laugh, turning around, "3 years in prison aren't exactly 3 years, are they? There's a lot of things that could go wrong."

Immediately, he stiffened, sitting up straight, getting on the defensive. "Are you threatening me, Miss Dorsey?" He'd managed to serve 6 years without making enemies, who was this woman now?

"On the contrary," she said, "I'm giving you a choice." Nancy turned around, arms still crossed.

"With all due respect, Miss, a different owner is still just that, an owner. Now, the US Department of Corrections, I can trust it because I'm just one more cog in the wheel. But you," he tilted his head to the side, "what tells me you're not playing me?"

Her smile widened the slightest. "I guess you'll have to trust me."

Alexander mirrored her, amused. "Oh, I'm afraid I'm not much good with that." He said, then hinted behind his back. "Last time I trusted someone, I got burned. Literally."

Nancy walked back to the table. "That's why there's a contract." She hinted at the papers still in his hands. He glanced at them, albeit skeptical, but didn't say anything, waiting for her to explain. "You see," she sat down, "I come from a very powerful family, and I'm part of a great law firm. Hence, a lot is expected of me. Including something I cannot give at the current time."

"Which is?"

"A relationship."

"A what?" He gasped, truly taken off guard. This whole secret meeting, the contract and everything, were just for this woman to get a boyfriend?

Nancy grabbed the stack of papers from his shackled hands, and opened to the third page. "I want 3 years of your life," she explained in an alluring voice, "during which we will be together."

"Define together."

She smirked. "A couple, sweethearts, if you prefer. Sex is not included, no worries."

"Right, because fake boyfriend sounds better than gigolo." He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"I have plans for my future. Clear plans that entail specific milestones." Nancy said sharply. "And I will not fail just because said milestones include something as trivial as love is."

Alexander blinked his eyes, marveled. Let alone the fact that she could switch tones so easily, go from sweet and kind to sharp and threatening, the determination in her gaze was somewhat scary. It was way beyond simple ambition, the underling obsession that would eventually take over was all too clear.

"Think about it," Nancy said, "all you'd have to do is act like a boyfriend for 3 years. In exchange you get your freedom back."

"Giving you 3 years of my life without even getting paid sounds a lot like slavery to me." He argued, albeit pondering his choices. In one thing she was right: 3 years in prison weren't the same as in real life. And, he had a feeling that this pretty young lady was not much used to being denied, and her response to rejection might make his life quite complicated. At the same time, 3 more years laying low were doable, unless adverse circumstances presented themselves.

"Isn't freedom a good enough payment?" She countered.

Alexander pursed his lips. "Clean slate." He said after a few moments of silence. "I don't want just freedom, I want a clean slate."

She let slip a light triumphant sneer. "You want my help to conceal your past?"

He shrugged, leaning back against his chair. "If you're as powerful as you make it sound, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Shall I take that as a yes to my ... proposal?"

"Let's call it a ... quid pro quo."