King Lewis In Chicago Prison - the useless son of a Baker

Chapter 5

~Cafeteria, Chicago prison~

The morning temperature was low, freezing and the sun was nowhere to be seen. As it was winter season, the cold air stung the skin of inmates who had no sweaters on, but the smell of cocoa made the air feel fresh and bearable.

However, it was only for a few minutes before they would return to scrubbing the gutters in the frosty water.

The sweet smell of hot cocoa wafted in the air as inmates were served a cup for each at the big size counter. Behind the counter were cafeteria servers who helped in pouring the cocoa to disposable cups, they wore hand gloves and nose masks along with their light blue vest and pants.

In one of the pairs and rows table arrangements, Lewis was having his drink as he squeezed himself together, chasing for warmth. He was one of the many who couldn't afford a sweater. The sweaters they sold in the commissary were quite expensive for prisoners, so it was only the well-known OG's that were able to afford one for themselves.

Lewis blew his cocoa as steam emitted from his mouth. He was at the end of the table with his cellmates, looking outside the window. Since after yesterday's call with his brother, the little hope he had in his pocket had slipped away.

In all, his brother was the least person he had expected to turn his back on him. There

“Hey man, what's up? I was trying to get to you the other day but you snubbed my ass.”

“Anyway, my name is Nash from North Chicago, your punk rocker cellie,” says the guy from the opposite chair, sharing the same table with Lewis.

Lewis stopped for a while and decided to spare him a glance, the guy has been on his tail since his arrival to Chi-Prison.

He looked up at the slender guy with dirty blonde punk hairstyle, and a tattoo scribbled on the shaved side, smudges of dirt and charcoal plastered on his face. He has a black bandana tied around his scrawny neck. Lewis inwardly sighed, the guy appeared rough and unbothered, seemingly the type Lewis would not want to interact with outside. What was more eerie was the creepy smile on his face, showing off his brown teeth.

“So I heard your father was a billionaire, oops! Sorry, may he rest easy on the wings of eternity,” the guy's voice was tremulous.

Lewis glared at him, “Talking about him every minute would only disturb his spirit,” he sipped his cocoa.

The guy swallowed and most importantly, his infamous cellmate just replied to him for the first time ever. He thought that was a great improvement, and he went further to say,

“Whenever you feel suffocated, like you need a place to cool off, there's a temple at the back of our block. Not many go in there and it's a place of religious services, so it's mostly quiet and void,” The guys said while keeping his gaze locked with Lewis as if he just found a missing part of this place.

Lewis carefully examined him before asking, “So your name is Nash, right?”

Nash frantically nodded.

“I see, what else do you know about here?”

Nash thought that the infamous guy had found him interesting to listen to,

“Uhm, I know that the warden favors inmates who bring their sisters or female friends to him every visiting day,” Nash grinned as though what he said would win him a lottery ticket.

Lewis raised his eyebrow in question, he saw the guy was tattered, but now he is showing signs of a mentally unstable person.

“Well, what other things do you know?”

Nash picked his nose before drifting to rack his mind. That had Lewis squeeze his face, who the hell picks his nose while eating?

“Like how to change cellmates?” Lewis helped him by throwing the question.

Nash twisted his fingers and snapped back, he whispered, “The old man is a limpy, a bad luck. Everyone wants to change cells when they are transferred to our cell room, really I can tell how many powerful people I have lost because of him,” Nash said, glaring daggers at the old man who was quietly seated at the extreme.

Lewis just sighed and leaned back on his chair.

“That is all I know, and yippee, we have gala nights every Friday, it could extend to Saturday on long nights.”

Lewis waved him off, “Thanks for your company then, that's all I needed to hear,” he said and drew his seat back, standing on his feet to leave.

Nash noticed that the handsome gentleman was about to stand, he too grabbed his cup and stood up along with him. Lewis threw him a curious glance.

“Any problem, Nash?” Lewis gently asked.

Nash's lips moved but he suddenly appeared nervous.

“Uhm, I was thinking about the other day at the hall, Chu-chu-chun Li jabbed you. Uhm, I am sorry but when it involves Chun Li we have no option,” Nash fiddled with his fingers.

Lewis simply nodded before he spared a glance at the old man at the end of the table, who was shivering because of the cold temperature. Their cold eyes locked for a second.

****

~Courtyard, Chicago prison~

Lewis sat on one of the high benches. Snow covered the outside but some inmates were in the field playing and throwing snowballs at each other. Lewis stared at nothing in particular, or maybe wondering how the snowflakes covered the outline of some objects.

Some flakes fell on his shoes, he brought his hand closer to his body. He had another option to stay inside but inside was suffocating. He wanted a place with wide space and massive view, although all he could see from here were the high walls, gun towers with officers parading in them and the foggy sky.

In that private moment, he thought of how things were quick to change around him. This time of the year, customers would troop in and out of his shop carrying one or two coffee cups, and he would chat and crack jokes with children. He would gift them chocolate boxes and balloons.

Lewis had no friends back in the city, because he never thought about that or rather it never crossed his mind. If contentment was a place then it's Lewis's shop.

Someone took a deep breath beside him, snapping him back to reality. He turned and found the old man climbing to sit on the high bench.

Lewis offered his hand for help, as he saw him struggling with placing his foot on the concrete but the man pushed the hand aside, Lewis carefully retreated his hand back to his side.

The old man successfully climbed the bench and inhaled.

Line of steam emitted from his mouth. He crookedly laughed.

Lewis wondered what was funny.

The old man said, “Look, soon the constellation will appear in the sky.”

Lewis looked upward at nothing but thick clouds. He returned his gaze to the older man who continued smiling sheepishly.

Sitting up close, he noticed the gray mustache on his age up face. Over the course of the years he had spent behind bars, little white hairs had started to appear on his hair, signifying his rapid advancement in age. The old man might be the oldest person alive in Chicago prison.

“What was your crime?” Lewis asked.

The old man moved his eyes to Lewis, he gave him a sizing glance and moved his eyes back to the front.

“It does not matter because you will doubt me, like a mad man.” The man said in a dry voice.

“Pardon me, at first you looked ill and I was doubted too…before coming here,” Lewis gave him a piece.

“Your family doubted you?” the old man who was also Lewis's cellmate asked.

Lewis nodded, “Yes, they accused me of something I didn't do.”

“I guess we are equal. Years ago a dead body was found in my office. It got me here but my family was to testify in the court that I didn't murder anyone. On that day, none of them showed up. After days, the court gave their verdict and here we are,” The old man explained. Not an ounce of emotion lingered on his face.

“So, what was the term?”

“LIMP.”

Lewis furrowed his eyes, “What is that?”

The old man looked into his eyes and replied, “Life imprisonment.”

Lewis's heart skipped and his eyes furrowed deeper, wondering how it felt wearing the old man's shoes. He at least knows that his offense would never land him a life sentence.

“With parole?” he further asked with concern.

The old man shook his head, “No parole, it was a billionaire's daughter,” the man heaved a relieved sigh, “Guess those are perquisites of the rich, guilty or innocent, provided that someone is taking it like a man to compensate for the lost one.”

Lewis thought about that, he was almost in the same condition as the old man except that he wouldn't be staying there for a long period of time or so he thought.

“What about your wife? Children?” questioned Lewis.

The old man smiled, “Wife? Children? I never got to marry. Ha, children,” the thought of having kids excited him as that might be what he would be doing if he wasn't there.

If the old man never married that means he was imprisoned at an early age. Lewis wanted to ask more but he felt that would be him prying into someone's life, so he shut everything else.

Here he was thinking the universe was conspiring against him but there is the old man who probably would never see how vibrant the outside world is. He felt pity for him.

“I have a coffee shop outside, on days like today, I am swamped with work, orders from customers. I missed that life,” Lewis ventured in a low tone.

Looking at the other side of it, the longer he stayed in the prison, the clearer the picture became. It's like that peaceful life has been taken away from him.

“Oh, you sold coffee?” the old man cheekily said.

“Yep, I once did.”

He sighed, “So, what shall I call you? Abuelo?” Lewis suggested.

The old man curled up his lip in a smile, “Abuelo?” he asked, not knowing what it meant.

Lewis nodded and rubbed his palms on his thighs, “Abuelo it is.”

The old man laughed heartily, “Hahaha! Abuelo, it is nice.”

Lewis smiled back, although the smile didn't reach his eyes.

******

*****

~Office block, Chicago prison~

Inside this minimalist wabi-sabi styled office were two men who appeared to be around the same age, both wearing striking custom-made suits. One of them sat on his office chair and the other was sitting across the wooden table but their focus was directed to the TV planted on the wall.

It displayed Lewis who was chatting with the old man in the courtyard. Their voices were mute but the camera was set towards them as it showed their mouth moving and their giggly expression.

“We must use him for this assignment, don't you think so?” the man sitting across said in gritted teeth. He fisted his hand on the table as he watched the handsome cool guy on the TV.

CEO Connor gave him a side eye, laid-back on his reclining office chair.

“Duke, you must understand that what you ask of me is against the law, part of my oath was to ensure the safety of these inmates,” CEO Connor relayed to the silver bearded man who had not stopped calling his phone line since the arrival of Lewis.

“There's no other person who will bring us close or halfway close to this if not him,” Duke picked his wine glass, “Chill out, it's just for some time.”

“But this young man is innocent, he deserves to testify at the court,” CEO Connor argued.

“How do you know that he is innocent? We saw the stolen necklace in his shop before he was arrested. Moreover, whoever put the necklace there threw us a Christmas candy,” Duke grinned.

CEO Connor gave the man on TV one last glance before sighing and coming to the conclusion, “I hope this works,” he poured himself a glass of wine.

Duke smirked and relaxed on the armrests.

“We will use this man and get to Taylor and once we have Taylor in our palms, you know what that means?” he cocked his left brow.