One Chance, Fancy (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 5)

I snorted. “It’s unseemly to treat a rapist differently than a pot distributor?” I asked, wanting clarification. “I’m sorry but correct me if I’m wrong. A man that was busted selling pot to stupid seventeen-year-olds is a little different than a man that was busted with his cock in a thirteen-year-old.”

Gunther pursed his lips. “I realize that the two aren’t even remotely in the same realm law-breaking wise, but you cannot single them out. This man that I’m speaking of is a prominent member of society—”

“Was a prominent member of society,” I stood up. “I will not listen to your justifications on the matter. I’m treating him how he deserves to be treated. End of discussion. If you want to do something about it, please talk to a lawyer.”

Gunther wouldn’t talk to a lawyer. We all knew that he’d find nothing. The man was just trying to get things to be better for his friend.

Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be. Not in my prison.

Rapists, cop killers, child molesters? They were all treated how they deserved to be treated.

“Fine,” Gunter stood. “But I tried. I can say that I tried.”

“You can say that you tried,” I agreed. “And your brother will not be treated any differently, Gunther. The man raped a teenager—multiple teenagers, actually—and the prison population knows it. Even if I wanted it to be better for him, I couldn’t make that happen. Controlling those men is like controlling the ocean’s tide. It happens whether I want it to or not. Remember that next time your baby brother complains to you that he’s not being treated fairly.”

Gunther burst out laughing.

Gunther as a whole wasn’t a bad guy. He was a pompous ass at worst, and he cared a little too much about a brother that wasn’t a redeemable man.

Though, I’d heard much the same about my own sister.

Brielle, although annoying at times, was my little sister and always would be.

I’d been protective over her since I’d met her at the age of fifteen. She’d reminded me of me, and I couldn’t help myself. I’d had to take her under my wing and help her navigate a life that wasn’t easy to navigate for people like the two of us.

Sure, Brielle wasn’t diagnosed with Asperger’s like I was. Brielle was schizophrenic—at least mildly. Hers was controlled by a small amount of medication as well as diet, exercise, and therapy.

Something that she followed through with religiously because it enabled her to hold down a job.

“Have a good day, Gunther,” I said to the man who was now standing as well. “And don’t think I won’t notice if you ignore me.”

Gunther shrugged apologetically.

“You, too, Warden,” Gunther drawled.

I rolled my eyes at him, causing him to laugh.

That eye-rolling thing was something that O’Malley had taught me.

“Roll your eyes. Say whatever. Snort. Fidget.”

O’Malley had taught me how to have conversations with people so that I appeared to be normal when in fact I was fighting to be accepted as the weirdo that I was.

To help me fit in he’d taught me how to appear as if I belonged there in any given social setting.

After making my way to the footpath that would lead me back to the prison, I’d completely disregarded the entire meeting with Gunther. My mind had fully switched to its next task, and I almost didn’t stop when I heard Gunther’s voice.

“Oh, and Beauregard?” Gunther drawled.

Years and years of answering to my last name in the Army was the only thing that caused me to stop almost automatically at this point.

I could be completely and utterly in my head, thinking about something—anything—that really didn’t matter, and I’d hear my name and immediately come to attention.

That was also something O’Malley had instilled in me.

I looked over my shoulder at Gunther. “Yeah?”

“Tell Brielle I said hi,” he called.

Brielle and Gunther had briefly dated, but it hadn’t lasted long. Both were very selfish people.

I wouldn’t be doing as he asked, and he knew it. But, some part of me actually wanted to tell Brielle after the shit she’d pulled today.

If anyone else had made me late, I would’ve lost it. But since it was Brielle, my sister, I couldn’t fault her.

At least, that was what I was telling myself.

Lately she was a trying woman to be around.

Ever since Hoax, my cousin who Brielle and I were very close to, started dating a woman seriously—the same woman that had caused Brielle stress at an MC party years ago—she’d been acting oddly. She’d been treating both of us differently, and it was honestly getting on my nerves.

She was making it harder and harder to care about her feelings based on the way she was acting.

Pru, Hoax’s woman, had wormed her way into my life and actually made me somewhat care for her.

When I’d first met her, Pru had been yelling at Brielle—at least that was what Brielle said—I’d learned that the story might’ve actually been different from the truth that Brielle knew it to be only lately. At first, when she’d moved in across the street from me, I’d been wary of her. I never forgot a face, or words that were said, so Brielle’s accounting of the story had instantly put me on edge when it came to Pru. But it appeared that Pru had never intentionally set out to hurt Brielle, and I’d come to really like her over the last few months that she’d been dating my cousin.