Miranda POV
My mind keeps wandering back to the letter I received even after I completed my nightly routine of taking care of my dog’s needs and chatting up Amanda so she doesnt run off and do something crazy, like call over some stranger she met on social media. Ever since her break up with her long term boyfriend, David, she has started meeting men through different social media apps and even some dating or hook-up apps. It doesn't really bother me. I mean, to each is his own and her sexual business is just that-her business. I’m a strong believer that no one should be shamed for who they are attracted to and/or if they have any kinks or fetishes as long as everyone involved is a consenting adult. As long as it does not include any vulnerable populations or animals, then their preferences are their own to manage. I've got enough of my own life to manage, to worry about judging others.
The only worry I have about Amanda is that sometimes her actions seem unsafe. Just last weekend, she called me from a hotel after hooking up with two different men on the same night (no judgment on that part). She called because she was scared the first man was going to return to the hotel and find the second man in bed with her and get upset and possibly get violent. I told her to leave but she decided to stay and thankfully the first man never returned so I guess, no harm done. Regardless, it's just not something I am interested in so I avoid her when she is on the hunt for some D. I prefer to not get myself into any uncomfortable situations.
My phone rings and I flip my phone over to see my brother's ornery face staring at me. I wonder what he wants. He only calls about once a week to give me his band schedule of what clubs they will be playing at in case I have friends that are interested in watching him. He thinks he is a bit more of a rockstar than what is reality. He plays lead guitar for a band that plays consistently at several of the clubs in the Anchorage area. They play a pop/reggae style with both cover songs and originals and recently got hired to play for a club in the Seattle area, so he was pretty excited about that and thus, increasing his already cocky attitude for holding superior sibling musical abilities.
“Hey, Mik.” His full name is Miklos, which is Hungarian for ‘people of victory’. I'm not sure why my parents named him that since no one in our family is Hungarian and we have won no notable victories, but I guess it's better than being named after the Fifth Amendment constitutional right to remain silent.
“Hey. I was just calling to let you know where I’m playing this week.” How did I know? Mr. Rockstar can't wait to rub in his local success.
After listing off all his band gigs along with the monetary amounts each gig is paying, Mik adds, “What's up with your friend Amanda?”
“What do you mean?” Oh, God. I hope he doesn't want to date her or something. That would be terribly uncomfortable when they broke up, which I guarantee would happen within a few short months.
“I saw her out a lot at the clubs this last week. Every night with a different dude and some of them were shady characters, too. I hope you are not spending too much time with her. As a matter of fact, you might want to reconsider hanging around her at all with the reputation she’s getting.”
“Reputation? What is it? The fifties? Geez, Betty Sue, if the boys see you necking in the back of Billy’s Thunderbird...”
“You know what I mean,” Mik interrupts.
“Well, her personal life is her personal life. I try not to intervene.
“Okay. Well, if I see you out slutting around with her, I'll put an end to it one way or another. I don't want my sister associated with that. People talk and it could even affect my gigs.” Ahh, and there it is. That's ultimately why the long speech and the real reason for the long conversation about Amanda’s behavior. He doesn't want me out making a bad impression that could carry over to him.
“Got it. Don't worry I have no plans to go out with Amanda and I'm not even dating right now.” Quickly changing my tone to urgent, “Oh, no! Beebs needs to go out so I've got to go. Bye, Mik.”
I lay in bed, my mind pondering my interactions with both Amanda and Mik tonight. Between my faltering friendship with Amanda, my brother's possessiveness, my holiday depression, and lack of my own sex life, I feel frustrated and lonely with no one to talk to. In the moment it makes perfect sense and I decide I will write my new penpal back and tell him all about it and get some of these feelings I've been experiencing finally off my chest.
On the way to work the next morning, I drive through the post office and drop my letter in the drop box. As soon as it leaves my hands, I immediately regret it. ‘Oh God. That letter was a complete overshare.What have I done?’ I tell myself. Even I know, no amount of begging will convince the postmaster to let me get my letter back. I cover my eyes with my hand, grimace, take a long, deep breath, then head to the office for a day of word analysis.
Joel POV “You dicks ready to get out of lockdown?” the CO barks as he walks by finishing count. “Really?” Shotgun asks hopefully. Me, I never get too hopeful. When it comes to the COs in my pod, I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ve been disappointed more than once and have learned the hard way not to be too optimistic when it comes to promises from the ones in charge around here. Once the CO has passed, I flop back onto the bottom bunk and turn on a television show. Not so much for me, but Shotgun doesn't have a television and I know he will want to kill some time watching something before they hopefully let us out for breakfast. The entire prison is sectioned into pods that hold around eighty men. There are two floors of cells that circle an open area in the center. On the bottom floor, the center circle holds two phones, two televisions, and two kiosks where we can plug in a tablet and download games, music, and emails from a secure email site. The showers are also on the botto
It almost feels like freedom, to be out of lockdown, to be walking around again, even if it's just in our own pod and around campus. It's dinner time now, Shotgun and I are standing in line for chow, talking while waiting for the doors to the cafeteria to open, when the COs escort in a large-built, light skinned cat. We both recognized him from other pods as it's pretty common to be moved around a lot. He goes by the name of Richmond. Shotgun and I both look at each other knowingly. The word is they moved him because someone in his pod set up his younger cousin, but we’re pretty sure the narc he’s looking for is in fact, in our pod. We know something is about to go down by the way he’s carrying himself and looking around. Richmond carries his property into the cell that is empty, continuing to look around. Shotgun and I shift ever so slightly to keep whatever is about to happen in front of us. We know he is part of a group of friends, or what the COs refer to as a ‘gang’ and a hand
Miranda POV I’m happy to report I was able to make it through Thanksgiving without being further traumatized by scarecrows or anything with the words pumpkin-spiced attached. Thanksgiving turned out to be a nice lunch with my mom, step-dad, and brother. It was practically painless and really, who can complain when my mother’s blueberry pie is involved. I just got off work and ran to the grocery store and of course I am assaulted by the holiday regalia the second I walk through the sliding doors. I maneuver as fast as I can around a gray haired man wearing scraggly jeans, ringing a bell over his empty money bucket for a corporation that claims to be religious and non-profit, but I know better. They make the public believe they use the donated money to help poor children and recovering alcoholics when what they really use it for is to pay their executives fat Christmas bonuses. Shame on them pretending to be santa. ‘They should rename their whole corporation Satan's-Army’ I think
Miranda POV Its true, I do feel comfortable writing to Joel; more so than I have ever felt with anyone else in person or via mail or rather email since I haven't actually written a hand letter since I was in second grade and Mrs. Sendrick wanted us to learn about the history of the United States Postal Service. I should be thankful to her now that I have the skills to properly write and letter and address an envelope, but I can't forget how she mocked me, calling me “poor baby Miranda who lost her new crayons.” Those crayons were the one thing I wanted for Christmas back then and she laughed when they went missing. I’m pretty sure mean Bobby White stole them as he had the whole sixty-four color pack mysteriously show up in his desk the next day and I seriously doubt that his parents bought him those crayons when he never even had a lunch. Even after he stole my crayons and called me “poor baby Miranda” for the entire year, I still snuck granola bars into his desk when he wasn't loo
Joel POV We stopped and I looked up at the house from the front seat of the car. It was a traditional two-story colonial style home with a well manicured yard. I remember it was yellow because I wondered who on earth would purposely choose to paint their house yellow. My heart started to beat faster as we quietly opened the car door and stepped into the sidewalk. It's almost as if I could feel that something terrible was about to happen, yet I was powerless in stopping it. "His house is the second one up there." she said as she pointed to the house on the right. "What we are going to do is go up there and I will ring the doorbell. You stand off to the side where the bushes are so he can't see you. When he opens the door, I will ask if I can come in so we can talk. As I step in, I will turn him around, his back facing the open door and give him a hug. That is when you will come up behind him with the gun." The closer we got to his house, the more my heart raced and I started
Joel POV It's two o’clock am and I am still tossing and turning. It isn't anything that is really bothering me, it is just sometimes my mind will not silence itself. Am thinking of Miranda a bit too. Honestly, I am simply intrigued at her openness and intelligence. I sent her letter off about a week ago and she has yet to respond. I wonder how long it takes for mail to get to Alaska. I am a little worried that maybe she will lose interest in writing when truthfully, it's so nice to have someone to talk to besides my mom and the fools in here. I don't know what I’m even saying. I know thinking about whether or not she wants to continue as my penpal is not going to change the outcome but it still isn't hard to think about either, especially at two in the morning when my mind won't stop racing. I smile, remembering things she talked about in her last letter. I could imagine her blushing at what she felt was an over share. Yet she doesn't realize, in here there are no real boundar
Miranda POV Damn! Joels’s hot! Not cute or a little good-looking either. I'm talking straight up, drop my panties on a first date smoking hot. I did not expect that. I’m not exactly sure what I expected but tall, dark and handsome was definitely not it. He is tall with a scattering of tattoos from what I can see and his form is filled with thick muscles, no doubt a result from the prison workouts that are displayed in just about every media portrayal of prison inmates. It's not just his body; his facial features are strong with a chiseled jawline and deep mahogany eyes that stare through the internet. I can only imagine how much more handsome he appears in person rather than on a computer screen. I browse around the internet a while longer, looking for more pictures. After I finish writing the letter, I am able to complete my work and the day goes by rather quickly although I am often distracted by a desire to pull up his pictures again and have another peek. I tell myself it
Joel POV I tapped the bottom of the bunk and handed Miranda’s pic reluctantly up to Shotgun. I've shared so much with him over the years and this should be no exception. ‘I can give him a moment to live vicariously through me,’ I snickered to myself; but for that first moment, I felt selfish and greedy. I didn't want to share this hottie with Shotgun. I know it sounds crazy, but I didn't want to share her with anyone. It fucked with my head because Shotgun is like a brother to me, but for once, I just wanted something for myself."Sorry man. Didn't mean to come off like that." I told him."It's all good brother," Shotgun responded. "I kinda get it and after all she wrote you man, not us.""She is pretty, man." Shotgun said as he handed back the pic and crawled off of the bed. "You’re fucked brother. She is smart and pretty.""Yeah." Joel said, just looking at the picture in his hand and letting his thoughts drift to some of the things she said in the letter.The doors opened and Sh