Playing Russian Roulette.

“Piper Oakes here to see Ronnie Radke.”

The woman behind the glass shield glanced up indifferently. She inspected my face, going over my outfit and features like a fine tooth comb, all the while her fingers flying over her overly dated computer keyboard. A pen was stuck behind her ear, her faded brown hair was streaked with gray.

Her gaze lingered unnecessarily long on my arm as it rested on the counter lip. It didn’t take rocket science to realize my tattoo made her feel cautious of letting me passed the high security doors and into the visitation center.

High Desert State Prison had a rule never to let “strange” or “dangerous” looking people into the visitation areas, or even through the doors. Apparently the rule had merged from a string of attempted escapes by the same types of people: tattooed, long haired rockers.

I didn’t complain; the security kept the inmates at bay. But I came here every week, for heaven’s sake. It shocked me they didn’t know my name by heart.

The woman -- Betty, her nametag read -- peered casually over my shoulder at the long line of other women waiting to see their locked up men. Women who looked normal, with no piercings and weirdness. And most of them a ring on their finger.

The annoyance I felt had to be written across my face like a permanent marker. Visitation ended in an hour and a half. I needed to see him! I had huge news, important news that was imperative to relay to my boyfriend of four years.

Four years. Yeah. Four years of wasted time, of fights and arguments and questionable lifestyle choices and crushed dreams, all because of my stupidity. No one else’s.

“Have you been here before?”

“Hmm?” I brought myself back to reality. The woman now had her eyes looking at me instead of my tattoos. Her fingers were halted in position over her keyboard.

“Have you been here before?” she repeated.

I nodded quickly. “Every Wednesday for eleven months.”

“M’kay.”

Betty went back to typing on her ancient machine. Her bored expression started to wear thin on my nerves.

I tapped the toe of my stiletto on the flecked tiles beneath my feet.

I longed to go home. The wistful thought of my comfortable, homey townhouse across the city made my body tingle. The beautiful plush couches and chairs, the soothing calm colors downstairs and the bright, dramatic colors upstairs.

At this point, I probably would have given my soul to anyone willing to take it just to go home and take a long nap on the couch, cuddled close to my puppies.

My hands gripped the counter, my nails scraping the splintered material and leaving behind trails of white from my nail polish. Burning pain shot through my fingers.

A cringe passed over my face. I drew my hands away from the counter and swiftly stuffed them in the pockets of my city short. Hopefully no one noticed the slight outburst. I’m sure Betty would say my anger issues were “too risky” and I couldn’t see Ronnie ever again.

Betty scribbled something on a notepad…then continued her incessant, infuriating typing! What the hell could she be doing?! Giving a full report on every single one of my details? Down to my one blue eye, one brown eye, and the heart shaped birthmark on my right thigh.

Or maybe my dark brown hair, my six piercings, and five tattoos. That was the only feasible reason for taking an eternity to type something. Did she want my life history, how many times Ronnie and I had sex? How great he was in bed?

Many, many times and not as great as one would think, but why did she need to know that to let me in the prison visitation room?

Anger surged into my chest like a wildfire. I slammed my hands on the counter and arched forward until my face was an inch from the glass barrier. Oh, how lucky she was for that damned glass wall.

“Listen, ma’m. Sarah Duncan, the visitation guard, knows me. Can I please to speak to her? The people behind me are becoming angry.” As well as myself. “Please? To speed things along?”

Betty stared at me, her glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose. Her beady eyes bore a hole into my head.

I forced a sweet smile.

She sighed and, bracing her hands on her desk, pushed her wheeled chair across the small room to a tiny door and opened it. “Duncan, visitor wants a word with you!”

She let the door swing closed before resuming her seat at her desk. She grumbled a quick “she’ll be here in a second” before asking to see my ID. I fished around in my purse until I found my wallet. Yanking it out, I unzipped the top and held it against the glass for her to see.

She typed something in her computer.

By now, I knew the drill. She had to do a scanty background check on my name. No criminal defenses, so prior arrests, and I would be let inside to finally talk to my boyfriend.

Frankly, this was almost too much trouble for fifteen minutes with Ronnie. Waiting until he got out would be much easier, and well worth my time. I’d never have to step foot into this dank, depressing prison ever again.

I dreaded seeing him again, hearing his voice and his faux pleas of love and promises of marriage and children once he was out.

The heartless bastard.

The office door swung open. A plump brunette swaggered inside, one hand on the holster of her taser gun. Her brown eyes swept the room. She caught sight of me.

I waved my hand frantically.

Sarah Duncan grinned and shot me a salute. “Howdy, Miss Oakes. Here to visit Ronnie again?”

“That’s me.” I threw a smug glance at Betty, but she was still occupied with staring at the glowing computer screen. “Anyway, can you take me back to see him? This woman won’t let me through.”

“Of course.” Sarah swished her hips over to the desk and stopped beside Betty. She peered at the screen. “I see you haven’t been arrested since the last time you were here.” She patted the other woman’s back. “Call wing four, tell them to let Radke out for visitation.”

Betty grabbed the phone again.

With a grin, Sarah jabbed a button on the wall, unlocked the knob, and opened the latch to let me in.

I stepped inside the office. Sarah locked the door behind me, latching it back and pressed the security button again. She turned.

“Follow me, Miss Oakes.” She wiggled her fingers over her shoulder in a gesture to follow her lead.

In dead silence, I trailed behind her down a narrow hallway where several doors and small, barred windows were visible. At the end of the expanse was a small, dull beige entrance reading “Permitted Visitors Only.”

Several other jailers and security guards were walking with ambition in different directions. A few acknowledged me with nods of their heads. Most were simply being friendly, but some I recognized from the extensive time I spent at the jail in eleven months.

They probably thought I was insane wasting so much of my time in this place. I was only twenty two years old! And my life was passing me by, four worthless years of it. Years when I could have been following my dreams or raising a family.

But, on the contrary. I spent four years picking Ronnie up from parties because he was too drunk to stand; breaking up one of his dangerous fights; caring for him while he was sick due to one of his drug kicks…just wasted time.

Sarah opened the visitor room. With a hand on my lower back, she led me inside to the furthest box at the end of the room, the box Ronnie and I always visited each other in. Three other inmates were already there with their wives/girlfriends.

I sat down in the plastic chair.

Sarah patted my shoulder. “I’ll be at the door. You got fifteen minutes once he shows up. Have fun.”

I waved goodbye. As she neared the end of the room, I turned in my plastic chair to face the empty seat on the other side.

A heavy-built jailer appeared through two double doors in the corner a few minutes later, courting a handcuffed Ronnie behind him. The jailer said something I couldn’t hear, and Ronnie pointed to me. They moved over to the box and the jailer unlocked the handcuffs binding my boyfriend.

Ronnie sat down opposite me, an excited smile on his face. I picked up the phone on the divider and placed it against my ear. He did the same.

I took several seconds to take in his appearance. He looked the same. Cleaner, surprisingly. Clean shaven, his hair washed, but slightly tousled atop his head. He had bruises and cuts covering his arms and neck; nothing new, even when he wasn’t in jail.

Love burned deep inside the pits of my abdomen. I loved him beyond the normal limits of people in the same situation. Sure, I played a big game around my friends, telling them that I would do anything ot break up with him, but all those negative thoughts changed when I looked at him.

I loved him. I honestly loved him to the deep depths of my heart; loved everything he did, the way he looked at me through the glass dividing us from one another, or the way he held himself.

With a sigh, I rested my elbow on the countertop and leaned my head against the divider blocking me from the woman beside me.

“Hello,” I greeted with a grimace. My voice sounded so fake. It made me feel sick in my love filled stomach. “How are you feeling, Ronnie?”

“Fine, I guess.” He wiped a hand across his face. “Tired and sore. I almost got in a fight with some fuckin’ asshole yesterday, but I stopped myself before it got nasty. I knew they would take away visitation.”

Lucky day!

“Why did some guy pick a fight with you?” I asked, leaning into a more comfortable position. “Not like your face or something? Which, I can’t understand. You’re so cute.”

“He asked about the picture of you I have in my cell.” He clicked his tongue loudly. “I told him it was my girl. And he said you were probably necking with someone else. ‘Cause that’s what whores do.”

I saw the anger in his face, and I no doubt should have been flattered. He stuck up for me! The other inmate could have killed him, but he had to stick up for me, his dear darling.

I laid my hand on the glass. He mimicked my movement so our hands were mirroring each other.

“Besides, I know for a god damn fact you would never cheat on me.” Ronnie grinned widely. “Eh, Juliet?”

My heart caught in my throat. Eh, Juliet? His words repeated over and over in my head. The way he formed the word Juliet made sparks of intense adoration explode inside my chest like fireworks. Although he was not the first person to call me that, the way he said it always made me feel funny. Numb, almost.

I had gathered the nickname Juliet years ago, back in high school after I got chosen to be Juliet in the epic Shakespearean play and blew the crowd away with how well I did it. My best friend of eleven years, Devin Reilly, started it by calling me the famous name one day in class.

From there, it simply stuck, and Ronnie refused to call me anything besides the nickname.

“That’s right, Romeo,” I finally managed to whisper. “You’re my number one. I love you way too much!”

I did love him. Right? The feeling I felt was love, it had to be. I didn’t know how else to explain the way I felt around my boyfriend. Or maybe the feeling was nothing more than familiarity. Our relationship was going on four years in July.

Ronnie had been my first real boyfriend. I knew nothing else in relationships besides what consisted in Ronnie and mine. The fights and broken promises seemed so normal to me now.

“That’s my girl.” Ronnie lowered the hand on the glass back to his lap. “What about you? How are things going on the outside, with Ghost and Kit Kat?”

A smile fluttered to my lips briefly. My Boxer dogs were my life; the closest thing I had to companions in Las Vegas, and I had Ronnie to thank. He bought me a two year old Boxer for our three year anniversary named Kit Kat. A month ago, she gave birth to a litter of puppies, which I sold all of except one.

That puppy, whom I named Ghost Hunter Oakes, was my baby in every sense of the word.

“Ghost is fine, hyper. He’s starting to hump everything in sight, though.” I giggled.

Ronnie laughed, tilting his head back a little.

“He greeted Devin like that the other day. He almost died, and Stefan is still making fun of him for it. And Kit Kat is staying with Dad in LA now.”

“Why’s that?”

I gritted my teeth together, mentally punching myself in the face. I dug my grave. Now I had to tell him the news.

My fingers idly played with the strings winding from the bottom of my purse. “I actually need to tell you something, Ronnie. It’s kind of important, and I do not want you getting mad. Promise me you won’t be angry.”

“I won’t be angry.” I heard his voice change tones. Another promise he couldn’t keep.

“I got a call from my boss yesterday. She said she wants Devin and I to cover Warped Tour, the entire three months of it.”

Ronnie’s eyebrows arched. “Really? That’s amazing! Isn’t that like…your dream job or something? Why would I be mad at that?”

If he would let me finish…

“Do you know the band lineup this year?” I figured he might had looked it up on the jail computers. They allowed him access to Myspace, so…who knew.

He shook his head.

“Well, the band is going to be there. Robert…and Bryan…Max, and Mabbitt.”

Ronnie’s face lit up like a match. The hand holding the phone began shaking.

I scrunched up my nose. “Ronnie, please. You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“That was before I knew you were going to be around those sick ass bastards!” he retorted, becoming angrier by the second.

“I haven’t even agreed to take the job. I have until tomorrow to accept or decline.” I tried my best to keep cool. Overreacting and screaming in the middle of a prison didn’t seem smart for some reason.

“Decline. I don’t want you around them.”

I mulled it over. So many scrambled thoughts whizzed through my brain that it took a few moments to sort them out and assess the situation at hand.

Ronnie didn’t want me around the old band. Why not? It wasn’t their fault he got involved in a murder. And they were my friends, too!

“I’m not declining, Ronnie. Like you said, this is my dream job. You can’t stop me from taking something that is my dream just because you are mad at them.” I could almost see his anger level rising. “I want this more than anything.”

An awkward silence filled the air around us.

Ronnie broke the silence moments later.

“More than anything, huh? Even more than us? You want a fucking job more than you want our relationship! The hell, Juliet! You can’t do this, not now.”

“I can and I will, Ronnie. What do you have against them? They didn’t do anything, they didn’t get you in this mess. Your asinine self did!”

“Just trust me! I don’t want you around them or Mabbitt! Especially Mabbitt!” He kicked the wall of the divider. “Come on, Piper. You don’t even like Max!”

“So?” No, I didn’t like Max. I frankly thought he was a shallow bastard. But that had nothing to do with our current conversation. Nothing at all. But I did like Bryan and Robert. They were like brothers to me.

“So you shouldn’t take the job! Why do you want to be around people who hate you and who you hate right back? It’s just stupid.”

I stood up, the chair legs scraping and squeaking loudly on the floor. “Goodbye. Don’t expect me to visit anytime soon.” I slammed the phone back into its holster and turned my body toward the door.

Sarah stood there just like she had promised. She held out her hand, gesturing for me to come over to her.

I dropped my chin to my chest and walked calmly to the door. Without a word, she wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led me back through the straight hallway. I kept my eyes pointed to the ground the entire time, up until I saw the familiar surroundings of the front office from peripheral vision.

Sarah pulled her arm away when we reached the exit. She pressed the security button, then opened the door to let me out.

And I quickly exited the premises, winding around the long line of still waiting women and men and children to the double doors of the side entrance of the High Desert State Prison. I pushed them open and rushed out into the parking lot.

My white Bentley sat on the first visitor’s space. I dove into the passenger’s seat and slammed the car door shut as hard as I could, rocking the entire car back and forth.

A certain girl, she took her hand and put it in my lap. That’s way too, shh! She said. Once you have me you always come ba--

With a scream of frustration, I slammed the palm of my hand into the large round button on the radio, ceasing the familiar song.

Devin turned to look at me. “Jay, is everything alright?” he asked as he turned the key in the ignition.

The car roared to life.

I shook my head. “No. I’m far from alright, Devin. Ronnie Radke is the biggest mother fucking bastard I have met in my entire life!”

“Why this time, my dear?” a strong Australian accent asked from the backseat.

I glanced into the rearview mirror at Stefan Cubbins, Devin’s beloved boyfriend.

“We had a huge fight about the job and I don’t know if we’re together anymore,” I answered quietly, turning to stare out the windshield.

“Oh, are you okay?!” Devin questioned.

“Far from it.”

But one good thing did come from the argument and fight. And I had to act on that good thing immediately, before it was too late.

I stuffed my hand in a side pocket on my handbag and fished out my cell phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I saw the desired name. Pressing in the enter button, I raised it to my ear.

“Hello. Rachel Winters of Buzznet speaking, how may I help you?”

“Rachel, it’s Piper. About covering Warped Tour…I accept.”