CLANK!

It was a familiar sight.

Shotcaller donned his orange Shelby County Jail uniform and walked through the room’s doorway.

All the new guys here wore orange, but those who stayed long enough and got “job release” were able to wear blue button shirts and blue dickies.

With his hands and ankles both cuffed, he shuffled his feet across the cold concrete floor of the meeting room. Just as last time they met like this in LA, GPW Parker Meloche had a stern, black man in a suit sitting next to him.

“Aw fuck,” sneered Shotcaller, who was certain GPW was already done with his ass.

He had just got caught on a new charge dealing drugs, and Parker was livid for missing his match at Gold Rush.

“Sit down, Shotcaller,” demanded Parker, pointing at the empty seat on the other side of the table.

Shotcaller sat down and rested his elbows on the cold metal. His wrists ached from the tight cuffs; not the tightest they’d ever been in his life, but he still hated it.

“Listen, buddy,” Parker said flatly. “When we got you off the hook last time in LA, we were able to do it with a sound, legal defense.”

Parker looked over at the dark-skinned lawyer next at him.

“And did we even ask for a dime?”

The black lawyer simply shook his head while looking straight at Shotcaller.

“Sorry cuz, jus-” began Shotcaller, who was quickly cut off.

“Don’t bother with a ‘sorry’ for this one,” Parker snapped. “This time I’m not going to be so friendly about it, because of what I have to do to get you out of here.”

Shotcaller cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow.

“What’s good then?” Shotcaller asked. “What’s the deal, dawg?”

Parker shook his head and looked down for a moment before lifting it and staring Shotcaller straight in the eyes.

“I told you if you messed up again, you would be mine,” Parker answered. “Going forward, you are going to do what I say, when I say to do it. And if you don’t, then I only need to make one call and you’re back in here for good.”

Shotcaller shifted in his seat momentarily and thought.

Ain’t got no options… fuck.

He took a quick look over at the GPW lawyer, who simply looked back at him with a strong, emotionless face.

“Alright, homie,” Shotcaller replied. “Just tell me what I gotta do in Season 2.”