The sound of men shouting brought me out of my cell.

Since I had been assigned to a cell on the first floor of the two-floor holding facility,

I couldn't at first see what was going on.

I only saw a cluster of prisoners gathered in the middle of the common area, in between two

sets of bolted-down picnic-style tables with uncomfortable metal seats.

All the prisoners wore the ubiquitous orange jumpsuits, but some of them had tied their

sleeves around their waists, only wearing white undershirts or no shirts at all bright halogen lights

shone from high above as more and more prisoners approached to see what was going on

it didn't take a genius to know there was a fight brewing some instinct told me to

leave it alone to go back to myself God I wish I had listened to that instinct. If I had gone back

to the cell, I wouldn't be in the mess I'm in now. But I was still getting to know the

players here and trying to find my place in the pecking order, so I sauntered over to the gathered

men. I'm not very tall. So to see what was happening, I stepped onto one of the metal

picnic table seats and peered over the heads of the gathered shouting men. One guy I recognized.

He wasn't hard to spot because he was the only prisoner not wearing an orange jumpsuit.

Instead, he wore a silk Hawaiian shirt, board shorts, and flip-flops.

When I had asked Qasim, my new Selly, what prisoner ran the cell block, his answer was Tanner.

What does he look like? I had asked.

He's the only guy around here who dresses like an asshole, Kossum said from where he lounged on his bunk.

Suddenly, his dark eyes widened as he

met my gaze. But don't tell them I said that. Please, he's not someone you want to fuck with.

Just stay out of his way. Tanner looked like he had been a wrestler or M.MA fighter before ending up

...