Chapter 7: Call on Me
Jail smelled like ass. Plain and simple.
When you think about it, it makes sense, too. You know, with everyone being everyone's bitch and whatnot.
The whole layout of the place was creepy as hell. First you open these double doors to get inside, and there's this tiny 4x4 room that you pass through that's decorated all pretty and happy-like. Then there's this long ass hallway. Metal on the walls, metal beneath your feet. I'd be lying to say this wasn't my first time walking down this hallway.
Finally, you reach a receptionist desk at which point a lady usually comes out and asks you all sorts of questions, but the bottom line is that she wants to know if you've brought drugs, explosives, or both. Then you sit in the chairs-feel free to skip that step-and then after waiting seemingly for days, the lady will help you.
In my case, this was much harder.
"Damon Salvatore...I'm his brother?" I flinch at her gaze but try to hold my own.
"Jacob Salvatore?"
"Yes."
"Only his lawyer is allowed in the cell."
I sigh. "Fucking great." she gives me a pointed glance, "Can't you hook us up to those telephone things?"
"I need to see your license."
I mutter some expletives under my mouth and pull my wallet out. Bright blue eyes meet mine as I open it, and I stroke my pinky over the wrinkled picture of my daughter.
Fuck, I missed her.
I pull my license out and hand it to the lady. She inspects it quickly, but her eyes wander openly to the picture of my Mini.
"Is that your daughter? She looks just like you. So adorable."
I smile proudly and nod, inching the photo even closer for her to look. "That she is."
She types some bullshit into the computer and hands me a green pass along with my license. "It's booth 69."
I try not to laugh and she scowls at me.
When I see Damon, I laugh even harder. His jet black hair had become overgrown and he was sporting some serious stubble, which I know he wasn't a fan of. As if he could read my thoughts, his hand grazes over his jaw and he juts it out in a defiant pout. He glares at me as I doubled over, but I could see the hint of a smile forming.
I pull out the chair and slouch down in it, only reaching my lazy right arm out to grab the phone. A burly guard in the corner watches me carefully, so I try to look as innocent as possible. He eyes me for a moment, and then returns his attention to the door.
"Hey."
"Bonnie told you I was here." he states. He runs a hand through his hair, and a jolt of familiarity runs through me.
I shrug and he continues to watch me curiously. "You actually came? I'm surprised."
"I can leave." I say with a smirk.
His blue eyes widen in alarm. "Jacob, don't."
"Then quit fucking with me." He gives me a nod and I resume. "Why the hell are you in jail?"
"Why the hell do you have a baby?" He retorts.
I freeze, my insides shrivelling up. "Bonnie."
He smiles crookedly,"What can I say? My girl has a big mouth."
I squint my eyes and lean back in my chair, pressing my lips into a tight line. He mimics my motions. "What?"
"Don't call her that when you don't mean it."
