Prison Blues

9 - Who You Are

Blake took Adam into the shower. It caused Adam's anxiety to ratchet into high gear, but Blake was a gentleman. He asked Adam to take his arm out of one sleeve, handcuffed him to the rail, and then turned his back, giving Adam privacy to shower. Adam was able to undress, quickly wash, dry, and dress in a clean prison uniform without Blake even once turning around.

Blake took his time, seeming to enjoy the feel of the warm water on his skin. And Adam didn't feel guilty at all about watching him. The big man stood under the spray, letting the water wash over his face and hair. It tamed his hair and even settled down Blake's beard. That made him look young, very young, maybe even not much older than Adam himself. He'd thought Blake was at least in his early 50's. Now, though, he thought that he'd overestimated Blake's age by at least a couple of decades. Beneath all the hair, Blake's features were surprisingly symmetrical. The big inmate might actually be good-looking!

Adam swallowed, letting his eyes rove over Blake's body. The man had the longest legs Adam had ever seen, terminating in the deep V of his hips. He had a nice package, and a nicer ass. He also had decent muscle tone. There was an odd-looking tattoo on one of Blake's forearms. Adam would have to ask about it later. It was the only tat Blake had. Adam was covered with them. It was interesting. Based on that fact alone, one might think Adam was the convict and Blake the corrections officer.

Adam thought again about what Blake had told him. What must that have been like for him, to come into that laundry room and see Adam with a belt around his neck half-strangled, after Brandon had hung himself with his belt? And then he'd looked at Blake, not knowing that a little boy had once looked at him the same way... But could Adam even trust Blake's story? Carson's words were echoing through his head as he watched Blake rinse off. This man was manipulative. He'd try to sway Adam to his side, and what better way to do that than to tell Adam a story like that? Who was this man he was looking at now? Was he Blake Shelton, the naive band leader who'd done what he had to do to survive in prison after being framed for a crime he didn't commit? Or was it Big Country, the manipulative convict who only wanted to use Adam for his own gain?

Can I believe him? Adam thought to himself as he watched Blake. Blake's got every reason on Earth to lie to me. That story he told me, he's had plenty of time to make it up. Not like I can check any of his facts from in here! But the way he told it? The pain in his voice, his eyes! Is he really innocent? Or is he just playing me?

Adam didn't know. And the uncertainty was driving him mad.

"You like what you see?"

Adam startled out of his thoughts to see Blake grinning at him. Without the hair hanging in them, Blake's eyes were remarkably blue, like the summer sky. They twinkled in mischief as Blake dried off, not trying at all to hide his body from Adam's gaze. Adam blushed fiercely and looked away. That brought a chuckle from Blake.

Blake had just finished dressing when they heard shouting outside. Looking concerned, Blake quickly uncuffed Adam from the rail, cuffing his hands behind his back and pulling him protectively close. And a moment later, three men, one of whom was carrying a gun, came in. "There you are! Shelton, we're taking Levine."

"Like hell you are!" Blake growled, wrapping his arms around Adam.

The three exchanged an exasperated look. "Listen, Big Country, we don't have time for this shit right now with you, alright? The fucking Death Squad's making a move, and if we don't get Levine, they'll take him for sure!"

"Neither one of you is getting him. Told you, he's mine!"

Gangs were nothing if not predictable. Adam had thought it interesting that two different gangs had been working together when he'd been brought up to the roof to speak to his father. He should have known it wouldn't last. It was inevitable that one gang would try to double-cross the other, make a play for power, even though the logical thing to do would be to work together towards a common goal. No, gangs did not work that way. Despite what they said to recruit members, at their hearts, gangs were selfish and short-sighted. In the end, they always worked primarily towards short-term self-promotion. And what better bargaining chip than the warden's son?