Brad

The morning is barely peeking through the single window in my space, but it doesn’t bother me since I’m awake anyway. The sunshine is welcome, but the ever-present sounds are not - the clanking of metal on metal, the slide of doors opening along my cell block, and the hourly grunts of self-love from my neighbors. I'm always awake before the sun comes up, thinking about sounds I used to take for granted.

My morning routine consists of taking a piss, brushing my teeth, doing as many pushups or sit ups as my body allows, and then trying to keep to myself. For the past three years, my days have been filled with a lot of working out, some reading, learning a new trade, and doing laundry. This prison is no Club Fed, but it hasn’t exactly been the worst experience as long as I kept my nose clean and out of other people’s business.

I’ve been housed in a minimum/medium security prison for the past 1095 days for lying under oath during a divorce trial, an act that cost me my entire life. I’d had opportunities to get out early, but I never pursued them and instead advised my attorney that I would stay in prison for the entire sentence. But now, due to overcrowding, I basically have no choice.

Today marks day one of a new life, a life that I’m not sure I’m prepared for.

I kind of owned up to my mistakes. I told my side of the story to those I had harmed and then disappeared. Since I’ve been in jail, I haven’t had a single visitor, which is partly due to the fact that everyone from my life prior to prison no longer gave a shit about me. Because of what I had done, I had been stripped of everything it meant to be a Maddox. While I still carry the name, it means jack shit.

So what landed me here?

I was a lovesick fool turned blackmailed idiot who didn’t know his ass from his face.

My cousin and I used to run wild in the cities that we visited, indulging in gambling, drinking, or women – usually all of the above. We weren’t just your average guys. We were Maddoxes. We were two of the three Maddox family members who spearheaded one of one of the largest fashion companies in the United States, with its reach extending slowly into Europe and other regions. That was my job function; I was in charge of finding and expanding into new overseas markets. I dubbed myself the “international marketer.”

It was a great job. I traveled a lot, and rarely reported to anyone. But I pissed it all away because I thought that a money-grubbing stripper was really in love with me. At least, she acted like she was until she learned that my cousin was a better catch than me because he is a true Maddox heir. That’s not to say I wasn’t loaded; it just means that I wasn’t the guy who could give her the notoriety that he could. With him, she thought she could have both the fortune and the status.

So, she strung me along and then ultimately went after the bigger fish: my own cousin, Jacob Maddox. She created an elaborate lie and told me that she would tell my secret. What I didn’t put together at the time, was that going along with her scheme was going to have the same effect that telling the world my secret would have done.

Ruin my life.

I will admit that what I did was fucked up. Ultimately, if I’d called Candy’s bluff and she’d spilled my secret, I would have avoided the jail time, but I’d still have lost my family and my place in the Maddox fashion empire. On the other hand, a small part of me hopes that, upon learning my secret, Tyson and Jacob would have welcomed me with open arms and loved me as the brother I have always been to them.

So yeah, my birth father is Tyson’s and Jacob’s dad as well, meaning that Tyson and Jacob are my half brothers. Mitchell Maddox had an affair with my mother, who worked for him at the time. Mitchell didn’t believe my mother when she told him I was his son – ignoring all obvious signs pointing to paternity – until a few years prior to his stroke. He never shared the information with anyone and no document, my birth certificate included, testified that we are father and son, at least that I am aware. No scandal ever erupted after his death, and I never bothered to seek out any proof on the matter. I assumed that anything relevant would be locked up somewhere, out of reach, with the rest of his skeletons.

Growing up, my mother never sought monetary support from Mitchell that I am aware of, but every few years she would offer him a chance to get to know his other son. My mother often spoke of the mystery man and continuously apologized for the fact that he refused to be a part of my life. She eventually met a man who was more than happy to be my father and her husband.

When Mitchell finally acknowledged my bloodline, I was twenty-four years old and had just finished college at San Francisco State University with a business degree and a minor in marketing. My mother had called to tell me I needed to take a blood test and provided me further information on what I needed to do.

Almost overnight, everything changed for me. Suddenly, I had a new father, someone rich and offering me the world with only one condition. I could have everything – the famous name, a glamorous job, the well-connected family – as long as I portrayed myself as his nephew, since Mitchell feared how his wife and children would take to the news of him having an illegitimate son and the potential scandal. Once I agreed, he explained to me how the rest of my life would work and basically set me up for a bright future. I was young, naive, and excited about the new opportunities at my disposal. Not to mention, I looked forward to building a connection with my father.

My mother and step-father tragically passed a year later in a car accident, which made the Maddox family my only remaining family. As promised, never once did I mention my true lineage to Jacob or Tyson. I’ve lived the past several years as their cousin, Bradford Maddox.

Even upon my release from jail in a few hours, I will still be Bradford Maddox. But now I am cut off from the illustrious Maddox family and separated from its global business, Mad Designs. My last name will no longer give me any pull. Upon my release, I’ll start with a clean slate and nothing else – except a criminal record.

This all came about because I mistakenly shared my real identity with a stripper after one too many drinks on one of my trips to Las Vegas with Jacob. My true parentage was the secret she held over my head to get me to commit perjury against my cousin, my best friend, my brother… and ruin my life.

* * *

According to the prison therapist and the powers that be, the actions taken during the first three days of freedom are crucial for felons being released back into society. Based on research, I would tend to agree, but I’m not the average ex-con. My house is paid up and still sitting quietly in the outskirts of the city of San Francisco. I have no mental illnesses or drug habits that need any tending, and I was lucky that my driver’s license won’t expire until the end of this month, which I learned recently the system would assist with.

Since I’d had time prior to going into the system, I had put plans into place to make sure that upon my release, I would be okay, or as close to okay as your normal individual. My house is the house I grew up in, which I had paid off with my mother and step-father’s life insurance. I had a bank account set up to auto-pay the utility bills and home insurance while I was behind bars, and had closed out any additional accounts that I wouldn’t need aside from the credit card I came into the system with. I prepared as much as I could.

Now, I sit in the back of a cab headed to the airport so I can catch a plane back to San Francisco. I am holding the belongings that I came here with, shifting my wallet nervously from one hand to the other, while my jacket, which no longer fits my newly bulked-up shoulders, is draped across my lap. My knee is jumping as I count down the minutes of this hour-long drive.

I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get home, other than the simple things I haven’t been able to do for the last few years: shower in private, take a shit with the doors closed, and masturbate without my cellmate sleeping above me. There are so many formerly unappreciated joys to experience again. But most of all, I want to sleep in my own comfortable bed and not on some hard, germy surface with a small, scratchy blanket and a single, lumpy pillow. I have an appointment with my parole officer tomorrow afternoon. After that, the world is my oyster, in reality as much as it can be for someone just released from jail and starting his life over from scratch.

While I was behind bars, I spent a lot of time reading. I also took software development courses online and got my certification one month prior to my release in the hope that I could find a job in that field since my previous career is now a no-go.

When I sided with the stripper, I lost everything I had going for me. Everything that Mitchell Maddox put into place for me had been wiped away. Having the Maddox name would do nothing for me now, so I couldn’t lean on it like I had before, since I had no right to it even though I had every right to it. I do want to see Tyson and Jacob again, but I know that would not be something to rush into. My number one priority is to get my life in order and to do that, I needed to meet with my parole officer and find employment.

* * *

Walking into the house I’ve called home since I was a kid feels surreal. I have always lived here, aside from long visits to Las Vegas. I have tried to stay true to my roots, regardless of the change of my name and financial status. Still, it seems almost impossible that I am the same person who lived a simple, unexamined life in this house just a few years ago. I never brought chicks back here and the life I had here was as different from the life I later led as a jet-set Maddox as it could have possibly been. It occurs to me that I never brought Tyson or Jacob here to see this house. I wonder which of my disparate selves I was protecting.

Slowly, I make my way through the living room and into the galley kitchen, touching everything I pass along the way. I had upgraded all the appliances and modernized the electricity several years ago. The spirit of my parents is still in the bones of the house, but the interiors are all me now. Except, as I stand here now, I’m not completely feeling sure of that. My eyes scan the decor – hyper-masculine furniture in sleek leathers and stark metal, the abstract wall art, the sharp edges – and I think to myself that some things may need to change around here. It’s not a priority, but it’s on my list of things to do. Nowadays, I’m more interested in comfort, rather than sleek and fashion-forward.

My hand runs across the Galactic Gray paint on the wall in the hallway as I saunter to my bedroom. I throw my jacket on the king-size bed and sit at the edge. My elbows lean on my knees as my hands hold my head.

What am I going to do first?

Mika

I’ve been waiting for Reed for a solid forty minutes and already I feel like my head is going to explode. Not one thing has gone right today, but I assume that’s the standard for Mondays. So far, I’ve put my underwear on inside out, I discovered a hole in the big toe of one of my socks, and I nearly took a nose dive as I was walking to my car this morning. It’s a good thing I have today off, or I wouldn’t be considered a fit for any task my job as a cardiac nurse requires of me.

On my days off, I like to hang out here at my brother’s work at the probation department and wait for him to treat me to lunch. It’s a thing that we started after I finished school and accepted my first job in cardiology at SF General. I’ve also become friends with Janet, who sits on the main floor and checks people in. She’s the ultimate gatekeeper.

Since Reed is usually powering through new clients on Monday mornings, I’m pretending to be an employee and silently rating the individuals who walk through the front door. Janet’s partner at the front desk is absent today, so I take her seat without anyone noticing. It’s probably something I shouldn’t be doing, but what else am I going to do on my day off. At my job, patients are usually under general anesthesia because their tickers are damaged and need surgical repair, so I can’t help but be sympathetic for what they’re going through.

I spread my hands against my thighs and then straighten my new shirt, a shirt my mother bought me over the weekend in a shopping spree she decided I needed because it had, and I quote, “Been too long since I’ve taken my baby clothes shopping!” Paired with my new paisley print top, I am wearing a sleek pair of not quite jeans, but not quite slacks magenta capris. I feel clean and polished in my new clothes, especially since it’s rare that I’m wearing anything other than scrubs.

My attention settles on the gentleman who walks in. The first thing I notice about him is his height. I’m not an expert on how tall people are, but I know for sure that he is taller than I am at 5’5”, he’s got to bed as tall as Reed. He has short brown hair, hypnotizing blue eyes, and a thin upper lip with a plump, bitable lower lip surrounded by a a 5 ‘o’clock shadow. His style is classic: black zip up jacket that’s not too dressy and not too casual looking, white V-neck t-shirt underneath, dark fitted jeans. This man isn’t smiling, but who really is when they walk in the front doors here. The scowl he wears matches his look perfectly, and his walk displays a confident swagger as his long legs stretch out, one in front of the other, as he approaches the high desk.

Just before speaking to Janet, his scowl turns into a smile, which lights up his beautiful face and elevates him to absolutely mesmerizing. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes and flashes of his white teeth catch more of my attention. His upper lip disappears and all I want to do is use my tongue to search it out. I become aware that I’m staring, so I try to divert my eyes, but they return to his handsome face immediately. He flattens his hands across the faux-granite on the reception desk.

“I’m here to meet with Reed Crutcher.”

“And your na-a-a-a-me, sir?” Janet stutters.

“Brad Maddox,” he says gruffly.

“Have a seat, sir. I will alert Mr. Crutcher that you are here.” Janet busies herself calling my brother to let him know about his client, while I watch him nervously sit down in the ugly office chairs set up along the wall.

“He’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen come through these doors, and that’s saying a lot. There are some fine specimens with bad boy written all over them. But this one, holy smokes, it’s like I’d forgotten English when he came in.” Janet gushes quietly after hanging up her phone.

“He’s cute,” I reply, watching him out of the corner of my eye while I pretend to look out the front doors.

“Cute! Cute? Shit, girl, he’s the type of guy who’d want to throw you up against the wall and have his way with you. He’s the type of guy who will demand you take off your underwear in public and you won’t even question that shit. He’s fucking hot!”

“Okay, okay. He’s hot. So what? He’s my brother’s client.”

“So that means you can get the 4-1-1 on Mr. Maddox over there.”

“Why does his name sound so familiar?” I think out loud.

“I think he’s a part of that fashion company based here in town, Mad something-or-other.” Janet shrugs, not at all hiding the way she’s staring at him.

“Oh yeah. Wait… Him! He’s the one who disappeared!” I recall hearing the chatter on the local celebrity news about the other Maddox. The one who had destroyed his relationship with his family and was removed from the company. I look over at him again and can’t recall if I’ve ever seen him before. Not that it means anything, I’ll openly admit I don’t follow the local news very much.

“Well, if he disappeared, I’m thinking we now know where he was.” I theorize.

“Huh? Where’s he been?” Janet asks me, her eyes wide.

“Um, duh. It’s Monday so he must be a new client of Reed’s, which must mean he was in jail or something.”

“Oh yeah. I actually forgot where we were.” She laughs as I roll my eyes.

I laugh with her. Janet is funny, a little off sometimes, but she’s a nice person and we get along well.

My brother Reed is a massive man, who towers over my 5’5” frame. You wouldn’t know that we’re related at all since I’m the only good-looking one in the family. My entire family is unsure where Reed’s red hair came from since neither of our parents have any ginger-like features. Our mother’s wavy hair is blackish brown and my father’s hair, while now gray, was black back in his heyday. I have their same black hair, so I am unsure if my older brother was the son of the milkman or just an anomaly. Or he could very well be from another planet, or adopted. The jury's’ still out on this one.

Reed commands attention when he enters a room. He reminds me of the Hulk, but I wouldn’t dare say that to his face. He looks over to Janet and me, he does a double take and then adjusts his original path heads toward us.

“What the hell are you doing down here, Mika? Did you change jobs and not alert anyone, you know you shouldn’t be sitting here, right?” he jokes.

“Oh, shut up. It’s Monday and we have a standing lunch date. And Janet looked lonely.” I smile.

“You mean the weekly meal that I buy for you without complaint? I’ve got one last client before lunch. Shouldn’t be too long, first meeting and all this case is going to be quick with just defining rules and such.” big brother says.

“He looks familiar.” I tilt my head in the direction.

“Yeah, his family is a big deal around here. Guy lost his entire life for making some bad judgments. He had it pretty cush too. Now he has nothing.”

“He has you.” Janet says earning a snort from me.

“So Hallmark of you,” I tease. “You should put that inside a card, STAT.”

Reed eyes me, giving me the don’t feed the pigeons look and heads over to his client. I watch as the two of them disappear into the elevators.