Having never visited a prison before, Tasha found it both scary and fascinating at the same time. Security seemed to take forever to get through but after being processed and having all the rules explained to them Jim and Tasha were led into a room where a jaded, thinner and sad looking Sam Bailey sat waiting. He attempted to get to his feet as he saw her approaching him, but handcuffs, shackles as well as the prison guards instructing him to sit down prevented it.
“Are those really necessary?” Tasha came to a standstill about three feet from her father and gestured towards his binds.
“Yes, ma'am,” replied one guard. “We have rules to follow and one has already been compromised by you being in an open room with no screen.”
Jim shook his head. Had she actually just asked if his shackles were necessary? Yes, yes she had. This man who was currently bound had repeatedly allowed others to hurt her in the worst of ways. He himself had physically punished her all of her life, and then, with the offer of money he had tried to kill her and yet, his beautiful, kind and loving wife had questioned the need for him to be restrained in such close proximity to her. She really was something else. He recalled her saying that Mickie had asked if she was reallythat nicewhen she held her captive. Yes, yes she was. Mickie would undoubtedly have seen that as something negative, a weakness and whilst it did frustrate him at times, with it allowing others to take advantage and potentially hurt her, Jim loved that she was indeed,that nice.
“Sorry, thank you,” she muttered to the guards, not sure which sentiment she really intended to express.
“Take a seat please,” said the other guard who gestured to the seats for her and Jim with just a table separating them from her father.
With his hand in the small of her back Jim guided Tasha to take a seat before sitting next to her.
“You look well, Natasha.”
The flatness of Sam Bailey’s voice unnerved Jim slightly as he’d expected a more humble or angry man to greet them, but the man before them was nothing like anything he’d expected.
“Thank you.” Tasha could have kicked herself for extending polite words of gratitude. She reminded herself that this man, father or not, had no concern for her health or wellbeing. If he had, he wouldn’t have tried to kill her never mind all the things he’d subjected her to and facilitated others to. Even with the reminder of that she found herself twisting her wedding ring around her finger nervously and smoothing down the plain white blouse she wore over black Capri pants.
“I wasn't sure you'd come. It's been a while.” He spoke as if they hadn't seen each other for just a few weeks and previously been on good terms.
Tasha stared across at him while Jim looked between his wife and this man, unsure if he should say or do something, but the truth was he was unsure what was happening and had no clue how Sam Bailey could sit calmly and speak to his daughter without some kind of—what—an apology for trying to kill her? This was beyond fucked up.
“I'm not really sure why I did, but if you're going home I suppose this is the last chance for us to talk.”
“You could visit at home.”
Her father’s suggestion, if that’s what it was, surprised Tasha. Jim tensed beside her leaving her in no doubt that the mere suggestion had irritated him at best.
“I live out here now.” Tasha thought this experience was far more reasonable than she'd expected but surreal all the same.
“I know, and you're married, with a son I believe.” Her father remained expressionless.
“Yes, sorry, this is my husband, Jim. Jim, my dad.” Tasha formally introduced the two men, somehow oblivious to the ridiculousness of their surroundings and situation.
“I'd shake your hand, but I'm indisposed.” Sam smirked across at Jim, his mask slipping slightly as he shook his handcuffs making Tasha feel uncomfortable while Jim looked ready to punch him.
“Honestly? I wouldn't accept.” Jim’s tone remained cold, completely over any intention or desire to continue dancing to the tune of reasonableness that his wife and her father appeared to be moving to.
Sam laughed in a way that chilled Tasha to the bone. The same laugh she’d heard countless times just before he hit her, or when he was about to point out that her objections to his plans for her were worthless and futile.
“I don't think your American husband likes me, Natasha.”
Unsure what to say in response Tasha was relieved when Jim replied, “Don't like you? I despise you for everything you did to your daughter, each and every disgusting liaison you facilitated and how you used and took advantage of her; but most of all I hate you for trying to take her away from me, for taking money from Mickie in exchange for trying to kill my wife. However, most of all, I pity you for losing the people you should have held most precious.”
Tasha watched as the two men stared for long seconds and then with a blink of his eyes Sam turned back to his daughter. “So, my grandson, is he here with you?”
Tasha felt as though her lungs had just had all the air punched out of them with that question. Why would she have brought Connor here and why would she allow her father anywhere near him regardless of where they were? And why was he claiming her son as his grandson?
“He's at home,” she managed to mutter.
“Your mother writes often. She’d like to see you at home, Natasha, your real home and she could do with some help and support. She'd love to see her first grandchild.”
“I—erm—I don't—erm—” she stammered, feeling the all too familiar panic and bile rise in her body at being faced with her father’s unreasonable demands and she was in no doubt it was a demand he was making.
“Never gonna happen,” intervened Jim. “My son is at home, safe. He will not be visiting prisons, nor will he be meeting you or your wife and as for her needing help and support, well, what goes around comes around because there was a time when Tasha needed her help and support and she left her to rot. So, like I say, never gonna happen.”
“I suppose you have a team of nannies and servants, you and the rich yank,” sneered Sam. He stared across at Tasha, but still ignored Jim. “You have no idea what it's like bringing a baby up in the real world. Most people don't have a string of lackeys cleaning up after snotty, shitty, ungrateful kids that winge and cry.”
