Page 59 of Driftwood Daffodil 3

“I won’t touch any guys either.”

What? Did he just say… No, I didn’t want to know. I was curious about this bet though. Atlee’s confidence wasn’t boding well with me. I needed better parameters.

“I’m not going to blindly do everything he says.”

“Pfft. Of course not. That would be boring as fuck. You just have to play the good girl role for twenty-four hours.”

“Twenty-four hours?”

“That’s right.”

That didn’t seem so bad. Gio kind of already took what he wanted in the sex department, and it would be amusing watching Atlee walk around with blue balls for a month. However, there was one very important piece missing for this bet.

“What happens if I lose?”

A smile spread across his face. “Then you have to call me Sir for a week.”

Oof, that was harsh. I wanted to throw up just thinking about it. I’d be washing my mouth out with soap all week, but if Atlee thought that would detour me, then he highly underestimated my competitiveness.

“Two months.” I countered.

“One.” He countered back.

Was it worth it? I did enjoy the suffering of others, and I tormented myself on a daily basis, but having to call him sir was over the top.

“Hey,” Atlee sat back and waved his hand. “If you’re afraid of losing…”

If he thought calling me chicken would work, then he was right.

“Fine. I’ll take your bet.”

If the smug look on Atlee’s face wasn’t enough to make me nervous, then the large stone building surrounded by fences that came into view, was.

Louisiana State Penitentiary was the largest maximum security prison in the country and aptly called the Alcatraz of the south. I hated coming here, not because it was a prison, but because it was too organized. Yet not at the same time.

Clean white buildings sat evenly spaced amid grass that was cut in some place, and wild in others. Everything else was straight and even, from the fences to the roofs, but not the landscaping. Don’t get me wrong I didn’t expect a prison to be pretty, but they could’ve kept it cohesive. Those long patches of grass were just confusing.

Atlee looked out the windshield at the guard booth. “Oh good, Mark’s on duty.”

Mark?

My eyes snapped over to Atlee. “When were you here?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean don’t worry about it?”

“I mean don’t worry about it.”

Telling someone not to worry about something, was like telling a starving man not to eat the food in front of him. Now all I could wonder was why Atlee was on a first name basis with the guard? Had he been here before, and if so how many times. Also, why was itgoodthat Mark was on duty? Not that he would answer any of those questions. I’d probably get another, don’t worry about it.

I shot Atlee a dirty look and drove up to the booth.

Normally I’d have to explain why I was here and show ID – which I had ready. But apparently I didn’t need it. Mark the guard looked in the truck, nodded at Atlee, and waved us through.

Suspicion narrowed my stare as Atlee gave me a smug grin. “I don’t like you very much.”

“That’s too bad,” he tsked. “It’s gonna make our fake relationship difficult to maintain.”

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