Lockup My Heart Chapter 2/8

[latertech]

Authors: later2nite, techgirl_on_ij
Title: Lockup My Heart
Banner and icon: Made by the amazing michira_70. Thank you!



“I’m sorry, Daphne. I thought I was prepared for the possibility of Justin getting jail time. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.” Jennifer willed her tears away when they threatened to make a comeback, touching up her lipstick in the vanity mirror on the visor instead. “God! Six months! I don’t -”

“Jen, stop. Please.” Daphne pulled her car out of the county courthouse parking lot into the late afternoon traffic, taking charge of the situation. “Dillman’s an asshole. Pardon my French, but we’re just gonna have to deal. That’s all we can do.” Briefly taking her eyes from the road, she looked over at Justin’s mom and attempted to smile. “It’s gonna be tough. The apartment’s gonna be so quiet without him. But we’ll get through it together, okay?”

Jennifer actually dared to believe she and Daph might help each other cope with the devastating turn of events. “Okay,” she nodded.

“I’m gonna check online to get the visiting schedule as soon as we get home. We’ll go see him this weekend. We’ve got to stay positive.” Ironically, a tear welled in the corner of Daphne’s eye at that precise moment, a quick brush of her hand banishing it away. “Otherwise, we’ll never make it.”

----------

“So . . . do I have to sleep with my back against the wall or something? Just tell me if I do, ‘cause it’s not a problem.”

“Huh?” Justin squinted into the darkness as his cellmate climbed onto his bunk, a thin beam shining through the bars of their cell door from the guard station down the hall providing the only light in the tiny space. “Excuse me?”

“Just thought I’d ask. I’ve heard the rap, you know. It’s all over this joint that you’re gay.”

“Are you gay?”

“Hell, no!”

“Then you’re safe. You have nothing to worry about.” Almost lashing out in ridicule, Justin decided to change courses, his basically polite nature winning out. “Oh, and I’ve been meaning to ask you . . . how the fuck do you stand it in here?”

His cellmate visibly relaxed. “I’m Eric, by the way,” he laughed, throwing aside his flimsy, threadbare blanket and lounging as comfortably as possible on the lumpy pad the county jail had the nerve to call a mattress. “I just had to get that out there on your first night locked up with me. I don’t give a shit what you are. And this . . . this . . . eight by eight dungeon,” he waved an arm disgustedly around their dingy cracker box, “just becomes Home, Crap, Home after awhile.”

“God!” Justin scoffed. “Good thing I’m not claustrophobic. And what’s up with all the gray? Are these people color-blind? I’m Justin and I am gay, but I don’t give a shit that you’re straight, so I guess we’re even.” He plopped down on his own lumpy pad, curious as to where his tattered blanket might be. “Um, where’s . . . uh . . .”

“They’re short on blankets. Word is, this cell block won’t get any more until February.” Eric stretched out and emitted a long yawn, relieved that his new cellmate was cool.

Justin fell backward, staring at the ceiling. It was a dull gray, of course. “Fuck. Me.” Dragging the back of his forearm across his face, he fought a dark depression for control of his brain. “Just an expression,” he mumbled in afterthought.

----------

“Get up!” Eric kicked at Justin’s foot as it dangled over the side of his bunk. “It’s almost time for breakfast.”

Still half asleep, Justin’s face was buried into his much-too-thin pillow. “What time does the restaurant open?” he muttered.

Eric snorted. “Chow hall.”

“Huh?”

“Chow hall, not restaurant. And they’ll come to get us in fifteen minutes.”

“But -”

“No,” Eric cut him off. “If you’re not up and dressed, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Justin slowly sat up. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“I remember my first day in here. I was fucking terrified. So many rules and codes. It’s complicated.”

Hurrying into his ash gray uniform shirt and standard-issue jailhouse blue jeans, the same clamor he’d heard the night before soon filled Justin’s ears. Random yelling and cursing from various inmates and guards shouting to shut them up mingled with the sounds of heavy metal locks clanging open and iron-barred doors slamming closed. There was no way to block it all out.

“Get in the line!” Eric warned, pushing him through the opening as soon as their cell was unlocked from the outside.

Justin took his place behind his cellmate in the line to the chow hall, his stomach starting to grumble in hunger. Judging from the smell wafting through the corridors, though, they weren’t serving anything worth waiting for. It made him miss cooking for Daphne in their apartment, trying like hell but unable to remember what their last meal together had been.

Inching along, he was careful to keep to himself, yet he had to take a quick step forward when someone bumped into him from behind. Only seconds later, a push into the small of his back forced him to stumble into the guy ahead of him. Justin mumbled a flustered apology, nervously checking around for the guards.

He spotted Brian standing in the corner, a look in his eyes indicating he’d been tracking him the whole time. Just as the corners of Justin’s mouth twitched upward in response, he felt someone’s fingers settle on his hips and dig in sharply. Gasping out in pain, he turned around, quickly recognizing The Licker from the previous day’s bus ride. “What the fuck?!” he started, but before he knew what hit him he was knocked to the ground.

Brian reacted immediately, materializing in front of the scuffle with his night stick held high. Forcing the asshole away from Justin with striking blows to his wrists, he growled, “Don’t even think about hurting him,” to the inmates who’d closed in.

“Why do you care?” several voices taunted him at once. “Are you fucking him?”

Pulling Justin up from the floor, Brian dragged him away from the others, ignoring their laughter. “Stand still,” he hissed, returning to break up the mob. When The Licker shouted that his arm was broken, Brian roared right back, “It’s not broken! Do you want fucking chow, or should I take you back to your cell?”

Glaring at Brian, the unruly prisoner rejoined the line.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble?” Brian had made his way back over to a shaken up Justin.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I know, I know,” Brian nodded, trying to calm himself down. “You have to learn who to stay away from.”

Justin stared at him. “How the hell am I supposed to know who to trust?! You have no idea how confusing this is!”

Brian could hear his desperation. “Stop queening out. I’ll tell you who to stay away from.”

“Thank you.” Justin grinned widely.

Brian bent closer to him. “Don’t look so fucking smug.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Justin licked his lips, blinking slowly.

Brian shook his head. “You’re fucking dangerous,” he couldn’t help letting out, smiling at the innocent look in Justin’s eyes. “You need to go back,” he said, pushing him gently towards the chow line.

----------

“I’m fucking serious, Parker! You gotta get me outta here! The Licker’s stalking me. They’re short on blankets until February. Everything’s gray. And . . . and . . . the food is called chow! Fucking chow. Can you believe that?” Justin paused to catch his breath, the pay phone receiver in his hand the only link to the outside world he’d had in the past twenty-four hours. He knew he wouldn’t be allowed the privilege again for another week.

The voice on the other end advised him to just do his time with no trouble as there was nothing more he could do for him post sentencing. He was about to bring up how doing so might get him out early for good behavior, although Justin was more interested in raving than listening.

“What about indentured servitude?” he picked right back up with a vengeance. “I’ve already emptied every bank account I had for your defense retainer, but I swear to Christ I’ll clerk for you for free until I’m 80. I’ll mop your floors. Don’t your kids need a nanny?” Seeing that Brian hovered all ears a few feet away did nothing to curb his major meltdown; he was on a roll.

“I’ll talk to you next week, Parker,” Justin finally started to wrap things up. “Work on it, okay? Please? I’ll go mental if you leave me in here!” he shuddered at the thought.

“Don’t hang up.” Brian rubbed his palm over his mouth, deliberately muffling the directive.

Wrinkling his forehead in confusion, Justin kept the receiver to his ear. “Why? He . . . he already hu-”

“Don’t hang up,” Brian repeated, moving a little closer to the corner where the jail’s pay phone was located. He’d been on ‘Communications Patrol’ for the past two hours, which essentially meant eavesdropping on each inmate’s outbound call, insuring that he wasn’t making a drug deal with his connection or ordering a hit on the warden with his ties to Organized Crime. “Just keep talking as if you’ve still got him on the line. Your attorney, I presume?”

“Yeah. Parker McClain. I need him to get me the fuck out of here.”

“Where do you think you are?” Brian snickered. “Alcatraz? This is fucking county jail. No one does more than a year in here. You’re not some homicidal maniac on your way to the federal penitentiary to serve two life sentences.” He paused and raised an eyebrow, surprising himself by just how much he cared if that last statement were true or not. “Are you?” he blurted out, fixing an oblique stare directly onto the side of Justin’s face.

Justin shook his head, not quite sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. “I guess it’s not homicide if you don’t pull the trigger. But you’re still a criminal if you decide to avenge the wrongs you’ve had to endure for years,” he said into the dead phone line. “Well, I admit Petty Larceny of a Firearm and Assault don’t look good on your arrest record. Apparently, they kind of fuck up your chances of having the charges dropped. Dillman gave me six months.”

“Dickwad Dillman?” Brian covertly checked around for unwanted eyes and ears. “He’d send his grandmother to jail. Listen. I’m gonna bring you out of this common area, okay? Just go along with my lead.” Drawing his billy club out of his belt, he watched Justin play along by plastering a disgruntled look on his face.

“Okay, Taylor, that’s enough outside communication for one week,” Brian spoke out clearly and rather harshly, now practically inviting any nosy parties who might be interested in his activities to take notice. He placed a hand on Justin’s shoulder as he hung up the phone, steering him from behind toward his cell block.

“Are you gonna hit me with that thing?” Justin mumbled under his breath after a few paces, his discontented airs quickly evaporating. “Because I can think of a few other uses it might be good for. Just saying . . .” His brashness caught Brian by surprise at first, but soon served to open the door for a frank discussion, both men seeming to implicitly trust the other.

“I don’t know,” Brian spoke a bit freer as they turned a corner and started down a long hallway out of earshot from everyone else. “If you have no qualms about ripping off a deadly weapon, I should probably think twice before going all corporal on you.” He smiled broadly, and even though Justin couldn’t see it, he welcomed the gesture of friendship he absorbed in Brian’s tone. “You mentioned righting the wrongs you’d dealt with for years? Sounds like you were fighting for your dignity. And maybe your sanity, too?”

“What was left of my sanity,” Justin didn’t mind explaining. “A classmate of mine bullied me all through high school, making my life a living hell. When I ran into him by chance years later, he’d evidently graduated from the bullying phase, prodding me into a fistfight out in front of a bar I was leaving. He shoved me around a few times to bait me, goading me into fighting him. I’d never hit anyone in my life before that, but I was so pissed off I just started swinging at him.” Turning around to face Brian, Justin sensed their prisoner and guard dynamic giving way to something else. Allies against injustice? he wondered. Equal members of humanity? He saw something in Brian’s eyes that encouraged him to go on.

“I’d had a few beers, and I just shouted out to the guys with him how he’d let me jerk him off one time back when we were in school . . . how much he’d loved it. Christ! It was like he went ballistic! He whooped my ass right there on the street. It was over before I knew what the fuck had happened. He and his friends walked off, leaving me a bloody, banged up mess. I even have a few scars near my hairline where his ring lacerated my scalp.”

“I saw them when you were in the shower yesterday. Figured you’d tell me about it when you were ready. The one under your chin is pretty gnarly. His vicious uppercut?”

“Yeah. I didn’t stand a chance. I’m not exactly your standard Mike Tyson-type.” Justin found himself quietly laughing as they neared the end of the hall, the first time since he’d been pronounced guilty of his crimes - long before his sentencing - that anything had sounded even remotely funny to him.

Brian smiled again, too, not so much because he found Justin’s story humorous, but because it felt good to see him unafraid and devoid of anger. The same demeanor he’d slipped into the previous day when things had turned steamy after his almost cold shower, Brian thought. He ventured this was Justin’s natural personality - what he was like before he’d been arrested. Before he’d become imprisoned in the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections.

“Justin, victims don’t get six months in county jail,” he pried further into the situation, “perpetrators do. The gun?” he flat-out asked. “The theft?” Brian took an enormous key ring from his pocket and unlocked the door to the guard station past Justin’s cell. Glancing around stealthily, he swept his charge inside and hurriedly closed the door. “I’m not passing judgement on you,” he kept talking. “My job is to keep order in this zoo. But I’m really fucking curious. From where I stand, I don’t see a thief . . . or a weapon-toting criminal . . . or a threat to inflict substantial bodily harm on anyone.” He stood face-to-face with Justin in the cramped room, the symbolism of what an ordeal he made out of tucking his night stick back into his belt not lost on either of them.

Justin looked away, the desk up against the wall in the corner suddenly the most fascinating piece of furniture he’d ever laid eyes on. “I’m not proud of what I did, you know?” he said softly after several seconds of hesitation. “Brian, he beat me to a pulp and got away with it scot-free. It took months for me to recover - physically and mentally. These scars you can see aren’t the only ones I had to cope with. My head was messed up for a long time.” He paused again, looking back at Brian as he dredged up the painful past. “The six-shooter was my father’s. I’d gone over to his house to talk to him about making good on the back child support payments he owed my mom for my little sister. I didn’t think I was stealing the fucking thing. I knew he kept it in his nightstand drawer. When he excused himself to take a phone call, I went into his bedroom and borrowed it.”

“I get that.” Brian’s hand crept toward Justin’s. His fingers latched on loosely at first, gradually closing around it.

“I needed it to join this vigilante group that I’d wanted into so badly. I wasn’t fooling myself, though. I knew from the start that I was going to use it to scare the shit out of Hobbs. Literally.” Justin kind of laughed again, Brian gently squeezing his hand. “Revenge,” he went on. “I just wanted him to feel the fear I’d felt when he was using me as his human punching bag. To feel defenseless. To feel like the breath he’d just taken might be his last. That’s all I’d felt the entire time he was beating me up.”

“So you hunted him down like prey, chasing the closure that pointing the gun at him would give you?” Brian wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t have done the same in similar circumstances.

Justin blinked slowly. He’d come clean on every detail so far. He saw no reason to shy away from the grand finale. “I made him get down on his knees at my feet and open his mouth. Then I forced the revolver between his lips and demanded that he suck on it. It was like my alter ego took over and wasn’t satisfied until my enemy was sobbing like a little girl. I felt ruthless. I felt powerful. I felt even. Like I’d finally tied the score in our ongoing battle,” he confessed, winding his free arm around Brian’s waist.

“Kinky,” Brian simply said, truly not passing judgement on the actions of a young man who’d been bullied for years and who’d actually been the assault victim first - if you wanted to get technical. He ran his fingers through Justin’s hair, flinching slightly when he found the scar next to his ear. Tracing it with the tip of his index finger, he continued down to his throat, feeling the one under his chin. He tried not to think about how much pain Justin must have been in over the last couple of months, not just from the beating.

Brian’s hand landed on Justin’s chest. Stroking over his nipples, he pinched them just hard enough to make him squirm. Bending down, he licked over his lips, smiling when Justin opened up and let him inside. The kiss was long and drawn out, the time spent with tongues exploring each other’s mouths and hands getting to know their bodies.

Justin’s lips were red and swollen when he parted them from Brian’s for a second to look at him. “You taste great,” he whispered, stepping closer and pulling Brian’s head down again. “Take me,” he mumbled, sealing their lips back together as he worked on the buttons of Brian’s shirt. Finally undoing them, he separated his t-shirt from his pants and sighed when he felt the warm skin under his fingers. “Please.”

Gripping Justin’s hip bones, Brian rubbed their crotches together, groaning at the sensation of Justin’s hard cock against his. “God, I want you.” Fumbling with the prison uniform that stood in his way, he deepened the kiss and scraped their dicks together harder.

Justin lowered his mouth to Brian’s chest, his tongue brushing downward to the muscles on his hard stomach in a long swipe. He smiled when Brian shuddered in response, creeping his hands around him and running them over his smooth back. He’d missed feeling another man under his fingers, having someone react to his touch. Slowly removing Brian’s shirt, Justin was just about to pull his t-shirt over his head when the door opened unexpectedly. “Shit!” he hissed, taking a step backward and scrambling to collect himself.

Brian yanked his tee back down.

“Kinney, what are you doing?” another guard asked, his eyes darting between them.

Brian shrugged. “Talking.”

“Talking? In here? You know you’re not supposed to talk to the inmates.”

“And you’re not supposed to sell them cigarettes,” Brian calmly retorted.

The guard turned and stomped out with an exasperated huff. “Fuck off!”

“Will he be a problem?” Justin asked.

“Williams? No, don’t worry about him.” Brian grabbed his wrist and dragged him close again. “But we have to be careful not to get caught,” he said softly, nuzzling Justin’s neck.

Justin nodded, a breathy gasp escaping when Brian plunged his tongue back inside of his mouth, kissing him roughly before letting him go.

----------

Eric observed with a smile as Guard Kinney unlocked the door to his cell, depositing his cellmate back where he belonged. He heard him murmur a ‘later’ before turning and rapidly heading away. Within five minutes, though, he was back.

Justin was dumbfounded when Brian unlocked the cell again and dropped a blanket on the foot of his bed. He tried to thank him, but Brian walked out, relocking the cell and hurrying away.

“So, you’re already dating the hot gay guard?” Eric grinned when Justin blushed and denied it. “What did you have to do to get a fresh blanket?”

“Shut up!” Justin muttered, yet he couldn’t help but laugh when Eric asked if it might be worth it for him to turn gay to get some benefits of his own in the hell hole they called home. “We didn’t do anything. Well, we did some, but we got interrupted by another guard. And I didn’t do anything to get benefits. I just wanted to get laid.”

“Instead, he gave you a blanket. He must really love you.” Eric ducked when a shirt came flying his way.

“You won’t rat us out, will you?” Justin got serious. “It was probably just a one-time thing . . . or, I guess you could call it a two-time thing. Please don’t say anything.”

“I won’t. But . . . two times?! For someone who’s only been in here one day, you’ve really managed to get around.”

“I have not! It was just . . . yesterday . . . the intake process . . . one thing led to another . . .”

----------

“You made it!” Justin laughed, the sight of his mom and Daphne on the other side of the glass a pleasant surprise. “You guys came to see me after only one week? That’s so great!”

“How are you, honey?” Jennifer needed to know. “I’ve been so worried about you. But you look . . .”

Daphne touched the barrier that separated her best friend from her, wishing more than anything she could give him a hug. “You look . . . um . . . better than I expected.” She smiled when Justin put his open hand opposite hers, even though the thick slab of glass prevented any real contact. “So how’s life on the inside?” she tried to make light of the situation.

“It sucks, but, uh, I guess it could be a lot worse.” Justin shrugged. “I’m kind of getting used to it now.”

Jennifer studied her son thoroughly. Seeing him and hearing his upbeat voice, she realized, did help to ease the fears she’d been having about his well-being. “It’s so good to see you, Justin,” she sighed, relaxing for the first time in a week. “You really do look okay. I’m relieved.”

“I am okay, Mom. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But gray sure isn’t your color!” Daphne didn’t hesitate to point out. “I’d go crazy looking at everyone in that uniform all day long!”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Justin rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me started.”

The fifteen minutes he was allowed with his visitors passed quickly, Jennifer and Daphne somewhat less frantic about the following six months at the end of it than they’d been before they’d talked to him. Happily, their good-byes were stress-free and tearless when a tall, nice looking corrections officer informed them their time was up.

“You ladies have a good day, now,” Brian heard himself say, smiling at them as he courteously held the door open. One thought raced through his mind when he made eye contact with the prisoner they were leaving.

‘I had a feeling you were going to be dangerous.’


Chapter 3