I shrug and pick up my tray again. “I’d say that was a new experience for me...but I’d be lying.”
Snickering again, Zen follows me as I continue back to the food. The rest of the inmates in line are still paused, watching me. They’re blocking the goods, though, and I really am hungry, so I start to elbow my way between two of them as they watch me, shuffling over awkwardly. “I’m just gonna slide past you and get some of that coleslaw.”
I serve myself, piling up the creamy cabbage deliciousness in one high mountain. I don’t know what it is, but I just love cafeteria food. I flourished in elementary school. “Mmm. Perfect.”
One of the cafeteria servers comes up and dumps down some tuna casserole next. I fill up the rest of the plate with that and some red Jell-O. Ilovered Jell-O.
Pleased with my collection, I turn to figure out what table I’m going to sit at, but Zen stops me as I pick out a small carton of milk. “Can I get some strawberry milk instead?” I ask the servers. The female in the hairnet rolls her eyes and dumps more plain milk into the barrel. I guess that’s a no.
“Come on,” Zen says to me. I notice she’s opted for a plate full of cornbread. I respect that. “You can sit with me.”
“Which one is your group?” I ask as I follow her.
“Does it matter?” she asks, cocking a brow at me.
I nod. “It does. It’s very important to assimilate myself in the correct prison gang on my first day,” I explain. “It has to be a group strong enough that the other gangs won’t fuck with us, but not top dog because then that would mean we would always be fighting for dominance, and that shit is exhausting.”
“You’ve thought a lot about this.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been getting ready for prison for months now. I had to up my time table last-minute though, so I’m not as up-to-date on all the pruno recipes as I’d like to be, but it is what it is,” I tell her on a shrug.
Zen eyes me for a beat before she chuckles and jerks her head in the direction of a cement picnic-style table with a matching cement bench on each side. Immediately, two inmates grab their trays and move, clearing the way for her. She gestures for me to have a seat, her golden eyes gleaming. I cop a squat and take her in with a new light.
Hmm, Zen issomeonehere. I can tell by the way the other inmates react around her.
I shove a massive spoonful of coleslaw into my mouth and chew while I wait. She’ll either explain the deal around here, warn me, challenge me, or continue to size me up like she’s currently doing. Surprisingly, I don’t get a threatening or even a dominant vibe from her. But it’s clear by the way others are side-eyeing her that she should be added to mydo not fuck withlist.
I try the tuna casserole next, and I can’t help the face I make or the noise that sneaks out of my mouth. “So damn good,” I chirp as I swallow the delicious bite down and immediately shove in another. I know I should be getting the lay of the land right now, but this is delicious.
Zen chokes on the bite of cornbread in her mouth and gives me an incredulous look. Huh, maybe the cornbread sucks here? I make a mental note to avoid it.
“What’s your name?” she asks after she clears her airway of the offending bite. She opens a carton of milk and downs it.
“Sinclair,” I offer around another massive bite of tuna casserole and coleslaw. Man, this combo is fucking glorious. “But if you’re handing out nicknames, I’m a fan of Rainbow Dash, because...color, and let’s be honest, she’s by far the best pony. Or, if you want to go the other direction, I’m a personal fan of Baby Shanks. Speaking of, can you point me in the direction of someone who needs to be shanked? I have a sentence I need to get tweaked. I also want to get a shank shack going. Think people would pay good money for some nice shanks in here? I need funds for snacks.”
Zen stares at me like she’s not sure if I’m serious or not. Why do people keep doing that? Is it so hard to believe that someone might actuallywantto be here? I mean, with food like this, it can’t be that far-fetched of an idea. I take a bite of my pretty jello and groan. Yep, I’d shank a ho for this jello, no questions asked.
Zen smirks like she just heard that thought. She leans back and gestures over to something and starts to talk, but a flash of fluorescent green snags my attention. I watch as several guards enter the room and take up position where the guards who carried out Beast were previously standing.
Each of them wears crisp navy blue uniforms with their names stitched in white on Velcro-attached name tags over their left breast pocket. Their pants are tucked into black combat boots, and their waists are circled by utility belts with all kinds of goodies attached.
Some of them are beefy as fuck, and some are the definition of dumpy, but the one with the bright hair who’s slowly circling the perimeter of the lunch room has my entire focus. His hair style is trendy, a short crisp fade on the sides and a nice disheveled coif on the top, but the color is blowing my mind. It starts out fluorescent green at the front and graduates ombré-style into a darker jeweled green tone, then into turquoises, electric blues, and finishes as a deep royal blue at the base of his skull.
Those colors are drool-worthy. But as my eyes track down, I notice his tail, his scaled tail with the feathers on the end...just like I have.
Fuck.
I’m immediately drawn in and sucker punched. Because whoever this guard is, he’s a cockatrice, and that is a serious fucking problem for me.
I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything. My kind doesn’t associate much with other cockatrices outside of our lounge. We have a get together every five or so years where lounges come from all over the world so we can keep an eye out for potential mates, but I’ve never seen this guy.
I’d remember him.
Bronze skin, forearms I want to lick, tall and muscled with a straight white smile, bright turquoise eyes, and fucking dimples. Dimples! What sort of female can go up against that?
I’m immediately on guard. My tail twitches with both interest and annoyance, and I sink down and hope I’ll continue to go unnoticed by him. He lazily makes his way around the lunch room as my synapses fire off with all the possibilities that could explain his presence here.
Could he be an Alpha Bowen henchman? Or someone my mat and pat hired to get me out of here and bend me to their will? Is the ether blessing me with eye candy? Or is his presence a simple coincidence, and I’m reading into it because that’s what I’ve had to do my whole life in order to survive? I simmer in my thoughts and paranoia, wondering what the hell I should do.
