Pete sighs, cleaning his nails with his shiv like he’s prepping for a date with murder. “You know, I’m really starting to get pissed about being locked up for a crime I didn’t commit.”
“Join the club,” Sly says, putting his letter away neatly, trying to gently smooth out the creases. Unlike my pages, his were pristine. I didn’t need the pages to be perfect to feel close to my girl. I accomplished that by shoving the letters in my pants while I jerked off to thoughts of her.
Of course, it was a little difficult to picture her when I’d never seen her, but I knew she had black hair and sort of resembled snow white, with pale skin and blue eyes.
When she first wrote to us, we thought it was some sort of trap to make us confess to something or get information from us, so we had Mugs look into her online, thinking she couldn’t be real. She had no social presence, but she did appear to be a real person, a real looker, too, according to Mugs.
And since she never seemed to pry much into our pasts, we quickly realized she was who she said she was—a twenty-five-year-old woman from upstate.
Why she continued to write to us, I’ll never know. What I do know is that one day, she’s bound to wise up and meet someone who isn’t currently incarcerated. She’ll get married, move into a big house with a white picket fence and two-point-five kids. She’ll move on.
And I’ll still be here. Sitting in my cell. Holding a letter she wrote as if it were the most valuable thing on Earth.
Because to me? Itis.
CHAPTER FOUR
WREN
Setting down the plates of grilled cheese with black truffle butter and artisanal cheeses in front of Robert and Ivan, I step back inside to grab my own salad, my mouth watering from the delicious smells of the food I don’t get to enjoy.
I take a moment to breathe before joining them on the patio. Ever since my birthday ten days ago, when we had dinner together, Ivan has joined us for every meal. His eyes are constantly on me, making my stomach roll with unease. Since Robert hasn’t arranged any more dates with him, I’m hoping that he finally understands that I don’t want to be with him. I’m just praying Robert’s business with him will be over soon, but I know better than to ask him; it’s not my place.
Lifting my chin and trying to relax my shoulders, I step back outside and take a seat across from Ivan and beside Robert. At least this way Ivan can’t touch me. Even an accidental brush of his arm against mine makes my skin prickle.The man is old enough to be my father, and the more I get to know him, the less attractive he seems to be.
“Wren, we need to leave to take care of some business this afternoon; we’ll be back late. You don’t need to cook dinner for us tonight,” Robert tells me.
I try to hold in my excitement at having a night off, not only from cooking, but from having his eyes on me.
“Okay,” I reply calmly, taking another bite of my salad.
“You can practice that new song Ivan gave you, yes?” he asks, referring to some sheet music Ivan gave me three days ago. It was hard not to groan when he handed it to me. I’d be happy never to touch a piano again.
“Yes, that sounds lovely,” I tell him, lying through my teeth.
“Perhaps tomorrow you can play it for me?” Ivan asks with a smile.
“Of course,” I respond politely, before dipping my eyes back to my plate. I hope Robert will be there too. At least with my brother present, Ivan seems more restrained.
Peeking out the front window, I see the vehicles pull out of our gated property, before they swing back, closing tightly behind them. A squeal escapes me as I jump up and run to the back door.
Yanking it open, I don’t even make sure it closes before I run out into the backyard in my bare feet. I smile, tilting my head up to the sky and twirling in circles, my arms wide as I soak in the short freedom.
Next, I do a couple of cartwheels before throwing myself down on my back, feeling the fresh cut grass between my fingers. It’s not like I can’t go outside when Robert’s home, it’s just that he’s always telling me to act ladylike, and he’d be really angry if he saw me right now.
Lifting my head, I notice a couple of guards patrolling the perimeter, as usual. But with Robert gone, all his usual guys, like Carlos and Theo, are gone with him. The skeleton crew he leaves with me is my favorite. I don’t even know their names. But they don’t look at me, or speak to me, and it’s a reprieve from the constant stares of his close-knit group, who feel like they’re watching my every move.
When I feel like I’ve got enough sunlight, I head back inside and debate what to do next with my small amount of freedom.
Once, last year, I found a music player in Robert’s office. I might have been snooping for some snacks or games when I came across the small device. It didn’t take me more than five minutes to figure out what it was when music streamed from the small earpieces attached to it.
Of course, I had put it back where I found it, terrified of what he’d say if he knew I had snooped in his office.
But he’ll be gone for at least a few hours tonight. I grin wildly, an idea coming to mind. I’ll bring it to my ballet studio, and instead of pirouettes and pliés, I’ll dance the wayIwant for once.
The hallway to his office is clear, and I quickly make my way there and slip inside, unseen. I move behind his desk and open the bottom drawer, where I found the music player last year. At first, all I see are a bunch of folders. I pull up the edges of some of them to see if it’s hiding underneath, but several fall out, spilling ontothe floor.
“Darn it!” I grumble, kneeling to pick up the pages.
