Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
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Chapter 49 Jail Tattoo Maddox
The problem with jail cells isn't that you've landed yourself in deep shit—because let's be honest, that part's already clear the moment your ass hits the seat of the cop car. No, the real issue with jail cells is how fucken uncomfortable they make them. I get it, it's not supposed to be a vacation, but for fuck's sake, at least make it bearable. All this damn stone and brick makes it feel like I've been tossed into a medieval dungeon. They have to know people spend hours in here—sometimes the whole night—so how about being polite and adding a cot to the experience? Is that so much to ask? Because this metal bench is killing my back. I should stand up, try to stretch it out, but instead I stay put and complain to myself.
"Can I get my phone call now?" I shout to the empty room. I know she, the lady at the front desk, hears me. I can hear her, so she sure as hell hears me. Her stupid little phone game noises are driving me insane. Sounds like Candy Crush, but I can't be sure.
Oh, and did I mention she's a real bitch?
"No."
Point proven.
"A cup of water?"
"No."
"A snack?"
"No."
"One Cheeto? I'll give you a hundred bucks." I saw the bag on her desk when they dragged me in—Hot Cheetos. My favorite.
"No."
Bitch.
"What game are you playing?"
Nothing. No answer. So I try again.
"A bathroom pass for the lonely guy in here?"
The sound of her chair rolling across the concrete makes me cringe. A second later, she appears in the doorway. Her desk must be tucked around the corner, out of sight. But if someone walked into the station, I'd see them. Her face is all flushed with irritation, jaw clenched so tight I swear I can hear it grinding. "I don't know where you're from," she snaps, "but here, when you're locked up, it's probably for a good reason. And it's not your call what you get or don't get. Asking me a hundred different ways isn't going to change that." Her voice rises, sharp and fed up. "So sit down and wait until you're bailed out."
Really, I don't need half the stuff I'm asking for—except that phone call they keep denying me. But I've made it a point to keep asking. A million times, if I have to. Because the more they deny me basic shit, the more I win. These places are always monitored—video and audio—so every time they ignore my human rights, they dig themselves deeper. Kirsan's lessons are finally paying off. I used to think he was dramatic for gathering all of us and walking us through legal scenarios like some militant dad prepping for doomsday. But the moment that cop started acting like I was the threat, it clicked.
