Prison Promise (Prison Saints Book 1)

by Demi Vice

  Looking like a mess, I took a mental note to buy some necessities today and get a haircut. I used Ahri’s blow dryer to get my hair straight-ish and styled it back with the only hair product I could find. A non-brand hairspray that was almost empty. I gargled some mouthwash, and I couldn’t help but clean Ahri’s bathroom. I was about to throw the towel I’d used in her hamper when I noticed the sexy little blue panties she wore last night.

  Well, don’t mind if Jack does.

  The panties I stole yesterday smelled like her, but these smelled like our sweet aroma mixed together. I was going to have a small collection by the time I was done with Ahri. I knew it, and don’t judge me.

  Seven. Fucking. Years. Remember?

  I took one step out of Ahri’s bathroom and stepped into her kitchen bare-ass naked with a pair of blue panties stuffed in my mouth.

  My stomach roared at the sight of the stove. I haven’t eaten since my pit stop yesterday on my mini road trip. I scavenged through Ahri’s fridge. Depressing. Nothing but ketchup, mustard, and a half a Red Bull.

  Ahri’s cabinets were mostly used as storage space. One of which was stacked with comic books. The same comic books Fidget always talked about when we were working in the kitchen and the same characters he compared me to. I wasn't really into comic books. Never had the time…until now.

  Ahri didn’t even have much in the way of kitchen utensils or pans to cook with. There were only a few pieces of thrift store silverware, one bowl, and a mug. I drank some water from the tap, filling my empty stomach as I opened the last cabinet

  “Hell no.” I deadpanned the bulk size box of ramen cups.

  That’s not going to happen. I shook my head. Even when I was dirt poor, I wouldn't shove that wet spongy crap topped off with fake powder shit in my body. And neither was Ahri.

  I threw out all the ramen cups where they belonged—the trash. I made a mental note, on top of getting bathroom supplies, to get kitchen pans, utensils, and some groceries. I wanted to cook something edible that wasn’t filled with as much sodium as the fucking ocean.

  I grabbed my clothes off the kitchen floor. Put on my briefs and pants but refused to put on my shirt. I tossed it in the corner with the sex sheets from yesterday and began to look for anything wearable in Ahri’s back-to-the-past wardrobe rack. It greatly resembled what the cast of Friends would have worn. Or maybe the Saved by the Bell cast?

  I found a Where’s Waldo look-a-like short sleeve shirt that was long and snug. Definitely a man’s shirt. I wonder if it’s Fidget’s or…an ex’s?

  My stomach growled, jealousy. I’d never been into sharing my women. I was a selfish, possessive bastard. So, for my sanity and the other guy’s safety, I’m going to assume this was Fidget’s shirt.

  I took Ahri’s panties out of my mouth and added them to the same back pocket I had stuffed the other ones in. I finished my look with my boots and leather jacket, looking as edible as ever. I still had Ahri’s phone as well as my things, including the letter. I’m sure if she saw it I would’ve been exiled from not only her apartment but her life.

  Rechecking the phone, I made sure I changed everything I needed to change. The unknown caller who was the original apartment guy was deleted and blocked, and my number was inserted. I went through her other numbers, but she didn’t have that many people aside from work contacts and a girl named Felicia.

  However, what caught my eye was Luke’ old cell number and the prison number. Ahri thought about calling Fidget at one point, but she chose not to. Why? I don’t know, but I was going to figure it out.

  My stomach growled once more, this time begging for food. I took this as my queue to leave and put something inside of me before I turned into a raging, hungry bastard. Before I left, I made the bed, grabbed the trash, and dumped it outside. The smell of bread and pastries masked the dumpster.

  Perfect. The bakery was open, and I could hit two birds with one stone.

  I shuffled through the alley and went inside. The old school bell alerted everyone a new customer came in, and of course, everyone stared at me. Nothing unusual. I was an eye catch with my height, black clothes, and now my Where’s Waldo shirt.

  The chocolate brown haired woman blushed immediately at my eye contact. She couldn't stop staring at me even when she spoke to the other customers in Polish. I understood everything she was saying thanks to the only foster mom I’d ever had and loved.

  There were two people in front of me, and I already knew what I wanted. A Pączki. It was just a fancier way of saying a filled donut.

  “Cześć, how can I help you?” her English was good, but she still had an accent.

  The brunette was easy on the eyes. If I were honest she—by standards and society—was prettier than Ahri. She had a friendly smile, blue eyes, and pale porcelain skin with no scars or dark circles. She looked like she should be handled with care and slapped with a ‘Fragile’ sticker on her forehead.

  Too breakable.

  Too false.

  Too anti-Ahri.

  I liked that Ahri looked like life. More especially like the life I used to have. Endless hours and taking on every and any job I could. I rarely said no to a job unless it broke my only rule or if it made my stomach try to commit suicide. That’s when I knew to stay away from the job like it was the bubonic plague. But other than that, everything was game.

  Let's face it. Humans? We’re selfish motherfuckers. Some of us will do anything to survive and get money, which means throwing morals right out the fucking window while you’re going fifty over the speed limit in the car you just hotwired and stole.

  True story.

  I looked at the brunette in of front me but thought of Ahri. Ahri looked like the kind of girl I would’ve stopped on the street and ask for her number before I went to prison.

  “Give me the Pączki, one with strawberry filling and one with cheese,” I said, my mouth drooling and ready to flood the bakery.

  The girl went under the glass but kept her eyes on me while she grabbed my pastry. She smiled and blushed some more as she took my order. I paid for my donuts while taking a bite. Oh, my God. Sooo much better than I remember. That also could’ve been because Mama Baronski always got the donuts a few days stale since they were cheaper.

  “Where’s Wazowski? I need to talk to him?” I asked with a mouth full.

  “Can I ask for what?” She tilted her head.

  “To rent the apartment upstairs.” I finished my first donut.

  Her eyes got full and bold. She was probably excited that I was going to live upstairs, but all of my curiosity and obsession was already set on a feisty girl who was going to be my sexy new roommate.

  “Yeah, I can take you to him. I’m Agata,” she said.

  She offered her hand, and I introduced myself before we went into the back where they prepared the bread and pastries. Agata knocked on the open door frame to an old balding man’s office.

  “Tata, you have someone that wants to rent the apartment,” Agata said in Polish.

  His face fell to the ground. “No,” he said, shaking his head, determined not to change his mind.

  Agata tried to say something, but I stopped her. “Why don’t you let the grownups talk Agata,” I said in Polish. I winked at her, and she blushed, fleeing the scene of my soon-to-be victory.

  I’ve always had a way with my tongue.

  JACK

  “Table for two,” I demanded, looking around the semi-packed diner.

  Wazowski said Ahri would be here, but she was nowhere in sight.

  “Booth or bar stool?”

  “Give me the spot where the cute blonde takes my order.” I grinned at the Latina waitress with fire red hair.

  I followed her and sat down in a yellow upholstered booth near the window. Immediately, I picked the menu and skimmed through the menu to find something to eat. The Pączki was delicious, but not filling, and after my little victory, I deserved some real food. I also wanted to tell Ahri in person that I was going to be her bo
y toy until my obsession disappeared. Two weeks tops, give or take.

  “Welcome to Maddy’s diner. I’m Felicia. What can I get for you today?” a peppy voice greeted me.

  Felicia. The girl’s name on Ahri’s phone. I moved in slow motion, my eyes reaching a mocha-skinned girl with full round lips, brown eyes, and a blonde afro. I slapped my menu down, and we exchanged an intense glare. My eyebrows met in the middle, confused. I did say cute blonde, which she was, but she wasn't my cute blonde.

  Felicia looked at me like she knew me, a smile curled at the end of her lips. I sucked my tooth, tapped my fingers on the menu, and looked around the diner. Ahri was nowhere to be found.

  “I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t want you. I want the other blonde, Ahri. The one that doesn’t smile, has messy wavy hair, and cute pouty bottom lip.”

  She nodded with a huge smile and hummed, “You must be Jack.”

  I cocked an eyebrow and thumbed my lip. “Well, well, well, you know who I am?”

  “Yeah, Ahri told me about you.” She eyed me down like a hawk, pleased with how I looked.

  “Soooo, Ahri talked about me?” I lick and bit my lip, my ego bursting at the seams. For someone who thought I was a ‘mistake’ she sure was happy enough to talk about me.

  “Only after I spotted that huge ass hickey on her neck. Girl hasn't gotten any action for four years, and you come in here sucking on her like you’re Count Dracula.”

  Damn, four years? Holy shit, we were both fucking virgins last night.

  I laughed.

  Felicia had the same vulgar humor as me. I took it as a good sign for me if this was Ahri’s friend.

  “How about you bring her to me. I wanna talk to her and give her something,” I said getting comfortable in my booth. I extended my legs long on the opposite side of the booth and spread my arms like an eagle across the top of the yellow fake leather booth.

  Felicia tapped her pencil on her pad. “I’m taking care of her shift right now for a few minutes while she’s on a music break,” Felicia said.

  “A music break?”

  “She sits in the back alley and blasts her music to relax. I call it a cigarette break. She calls it a music break. Tomato, tomato.”

  “I’ll be back. Save my table. Order me anything with meat.” I stood up and walked out of the diner to find Ahri.

  Ahri was sitting on a wooden crate in the wet alley near the diner’s dumpster with her elbows on her knees, her palms buried in her face as she took long deep breaths. There was a beer can holding the door open, loud yelling from the kitchen, the chef most likely, and the sound of the old AC hard at work. Even through all of that, Ahri stayed in her little world with earbuds attached to her like they were part of her body.

  She looked stressed, but then again, I had a feeling that Ahri always looked stressed.

  Ahri looked cute in her bright yellow dress and white apron that hugged her waist. Her sky-blue socks were rolled down and her not so white shoes, tapped to the beat of the song she was listening to in a small puddle.

  Before I went over to her, I pulled out my phone and took a picture. I would’ve remembered this moment with my photographic memory, but I wanted it on paper. The wet, dark-colored alley with the girl who looked like a ray of sunshine. She made this shithole look bright, even though I could see Ahri’s long, hard and exhausting day at work take a toll on her.

  Snap.

  I moved over to her, only a foot away, but Ahri didn’t notice me. Her music was on full blast like no other volume did her songs justice. I squatted in front of her and caressed the side of her calf. Ahri jumped and almost hit me in the face before I dodged it. She pulled her earphones out, face all red and tense.

  “WHAT THE FUCK! STOP—” Ahri’s face plummeted when she locked eyes with my shirt. Her shirt. She spoke calmly and furiously through her teeth. “Take it off. Take it off the shirt. Now!” She grabbed my shirt, standing tall, her headphones falling in the wet puddle.

  “Damn, I didn’t know you wanted me that badly.” I chuckled. I stood up, her hands still death gripping the shirt.

  Ahri ground her teeth, her black-brown eyes somehow getting even darker and her half-moon lip trembling with anger. She looked like she was plotting a way to kill me.

  “I needed a shirt, and this was the only one that looked like it could fit me.” I shrugged. I uncurled her shaking hand off the shirt and held it. She was so tiny; I could swallow her hand in my fist.

  “Why is this shirt such a big deal?”

  “’Cause it was my brother’s. Now take it off!”

  “I’ll take good care of it,” I said in a calm voice, Ahri’s eyes bouncing on my serious face I rarely pulled.

  “You really take ‘make yourself at home’ to the heart, don’t you?” she gritted, ripping her hand out of mine and taking a few steps away from me.

  I nodded. “What did you mean by was my brother’s?” I pried for an answer I already knew.

  “I meant what I said. Was, as in past tense.” Ahri pulled up her earphones off the ground and cleaned the buds with her white apron.

  “What? Did he die?”

  Ahri looked up at me through her thick eyelashes that had no makeup. “No. He’s just away.”

  “What? Like at a summer camp?”

  “Sure, let’s go with that. The all-season kind of camp for the next thirty-two years.” Her face made of stone and her tone so dry I needed water.

  Sarcasm at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.

  Ahri played her music, but nothing came out. She let out a frustrated sigh, ripped her headphones out of the device, and threw them in the dumpster.

  “What are you doing here, Jack?” Her tone was agitated.

  “Well, I wanted you to be my waitress, eat some food, give you your phone back…” I pulled out her phone and handed it to her. “…and I wanted to give you some good news. Say hello to your new roommate.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

  Ahri’s eyes were glued to my white and red chest until she let my words seep into her mind. “Wait? You got it the okay from Wazowski?” she asked, a little shocked.

  “Easy-fucking-peasy. Wazowski practically creamed in his pants when he found out I spoke Polish. I also told him I would get him a new bread mixer.”

  “You know Polish?”

  “And Spanish. I know Polish from Mama Baronski, she was my foster mom until I was eight, before she got deported.”

  Ahri hummed. “So, you’re here for three months?”

  “Most likely less depending on where life takes me.”

  “What do you mean? Like job wise?” she asked, tilting her head.

  “Yeah, something like that. I’m unemployed.”

  But in Jack terms: I’m retired.

  “You got the ‘ok’ from Wazowski, but you don’t have a job?” Ahri’s eyes narrowed.

  “That’s where the bread mixer comes in play. Part of my little bribe, since he doesn’t rent to people who don't have jobs. Even though I told him I have some money saved up.”

  Some, as in my Wazowski rent was worth a penny of my money. Literally.

  Ahri walked away from me, arms crossed, and leaned on the cold brick wall. She sucked on her whole bottom lip, leaving it wet and glossy when she released it.

  “I believe in the whole ‘never ask a question that you don't want to know the answer to,’ but today I’ll make an exception. You pulled a hundred fifty dollars out of your pocket yesterday after the fight like it was nothing. So?” Ahri let her one-word question linger as her eyes ran laps on my body.

  I took two steps to get to Ahri and leaned my hand against the brick wall beside her head. I lowered my head, my eyes at the same level with her eyes.

  “If you’re wondering if it’s legal. It is. I was a chef for a while, and with the help of a friend I invested in a small company.”

  Sue me for not going into depth. I doubt the details of my incrimination were going to benefit me in this situation. It was easier to lie at this poi
nt since telling the truth would fuck me in my own ass. I wouldn’t get what I want—the details of the letter and Ahri’s sweet body—so let’s continue with the rules for my game. No prison talk. No Fidget talk. No talk about my past (pre-Chicago). And no money talk.

  Simple.

  Ahri hummed, “Invested?”

  “Yep. I invested in a small company which specializes in community security and safety.” I smirked, stretching the truth. I think I’d perfectly summed up the sugar-coated version of prison.

  Ahri paused and examined my face to see if I was telling the truth. I’d always been an excellent liar, so she was not going to find a spit of lie on my face. She bit the inside of her cheek and gave a soft nod. Ahri believed me.

  “The less I know, the better.” Ahri shrugged.

  Couldn’t agree more.

  My phone in my back pocket vibrated. It was Agata, but I still checked her text. I looked up to see her at the far end of the alley, giving me a shy wave. I held up a finger, asking her to wait, and looked at Ahri who was tightening her jaw and pushing out her pouty lip, death staring Agata down.

  Was that a touch of jealousy I see? But Ahri claimed she didn’t get jealous. Oh, you better believe I’m going to push it and see how far I can go.

  “Agata’s here for me. Her dad thought it would be a good idea to take her to lunch then go shopping for a bread mixer. You can think of it as a date.” I grinned, playing with my food and mixing it together to get a new flavor.

  “Great.” Ahri clenched her teeth, her eyes were a black hole ready to suck in me and kill me in a second.

  I like the new flavor, but can I make it spicier?

  “I might even take Agata’s offer and give her a tour of my new apartment. Maybe make some music on my bed.” Ahri slapped my stomach, hard, and I winced, feeling my heartbeat on each muscle. “I thought you said you did get jealous.” I laughed, but not for long without my abs feeling like they were going through a shredder.

  “Jackass,” she muttered.

  Ahri crossed her arms so tight I thought she was going to snap them in half. I pinched my baby girl’s little chin, covering that small little freckle, and lifted it up. Our lips only a few inches away from me. I knew very well Agata was staring.