It was nearing night and Michael never returned to his cell which made me anxious. I knew he was working on the Taj Mahal for Pope, but that couldn't have taken as long as he had been gone for. I was growing anxious and needed to find out. - Geary, - whispered as I stood at the bars. The guard walked over, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
- what do you want? - he spat.
- I'm looking Michael Scofield. I haven't seen him since this afternoon and it's nearing lights out. Do you know where he is?
Geary raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting lazily over before he snorted. - you think I keep track of every inmate here? Why don't you mind your own business?
- I just need to know where he is. Please. - Geary's eyes flickered to the bill, a slow smirk creeping across his face. He glanced around before leaning in slightly.
- Scofield, huh? You're little boyfriend? I guess I can tell you. Double it.
- 150, - I whispered, tightening grip on the money, hesitating for only a second before pulling a little more from her pocket. - where is he? - I asked again.
Geary took the money and shoved it in his pocket, his smirk widening. - Scofield got himself into some trouble, - he said, his voice low. - got sent to solitary this afternoon. Must've pissed off the wrong guy.
My stomach dropped at the words, solitary. The one place Michael wouldn't be able to plan or even think straight. Hours, maybe days, alone in a tiny, dark cell, with nothing but his own thoughts to torment him. - why? - I demanded, - what did he do?
- didn't ask. He'll be in there for a while, though. - Geary said before walking off.
I sat at the edge of the table, staring blankly at the uneaten food on the tray. I haven't touched it, my mind consumed with worry. He had been in solitary for hours. Every scenario played through my mind: What if he was hurt? What if the guards were messing with him? Or worse-what if he was losing hope in there, all alone?
Across from me sat Westmoreland, C-Note, and T-Bag, their conversation fading into the background. I barely registered C-Note nudging my shoulder.
- Yo, you're not gonna eat that? - C-Note asked, nodding toward my untouched tray.
- no, I'm not hungry.
Westmoreland leaned forward, his face creasing into a concerned frown. - you need to keep your strength up, especially with everything going on, - he said kindly.
- yeah, you ain't gonna do Michael any favours starvin' yourself, - C-Note added, crossing his arms. - we need you sharp.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I tried to focus on the present. - yeah, I know. I just... Solitary can mess with your mind.
Westmoreland gave her a reassuring nod. - Michael's strong. He'll get through this.
But we have to focus on the plan. If we're gonna get him out, we need to stay on track.
- Westmoreland's right, - C-Note agreed.
- we've still got that problem with his cell going up for auction. If we don't get it, all his work's down the drain. - I sat up straighter, a spark of determination lighting in my eyes. - I've been thinking about that too. How are we supposed to get the money? The guards aren't just going to hand it over to us.
- that's where things get tricky, - Westmoreland mused, his voice low. - the auction isn't exactly public knowledge. It's all done through the guards and a select few inmates with money. The only way we're gonna get in on it is if we can scrape together enough cash.
- we could hit up the poker game, - T-Bag chimed in, a devilish grin tugging at his lips. - It's risky, but some of the boys in here got money to burn. If we play our cards right, we might just be able to outbid the competition.
- poker? - i repeated, my tone shifting with interest. - I can do that.
C-Note arched an eyebrow. - you play?
- my father is a mafia boss, and my mother's dead, he was bringing me along with him. - i uttered, confidence blooming. - I don't just play .. I'm good. Really good.
T-Bag chuckled, amused by her sudden confidence. - what makes you think you're gonna waltz into a high-stakes game and walk out with enough stakes game and walk out with enough dough to buy Scofield's cell?
I leaned forward, locking eyes with him, smirk tugging at my lips. - 'cause I've done it before. Plus my father taught me that along with other things. Colour me intrigued. Didn't peg you for a card shark.
C-Note exchanged a glance with Westmoreland, his scepticism slowly fading. - You serious? - he asked, leaning back in his seat. - you really think you can pull it off?
- i don't think, i know. If it means getting Michael out of this mess, I'll do it.
T-Bag's grin returned, wider now, as if he were savouring the possibilities. - well, sugar, looks like we got ourselves a plan. You clean house, we get that cash, and buy Scofield's cell right out from under the bastards.
C-Note chuckled, shaking his head. - I gotta say, I didn't see this coming, but I'm down. We're runnin' out of time, and this might be our only shot.
- let's do this - i said, my voice steady.
