Dutch III: International Gangster

by Teri Woods

  “Golden, you got a visit,” shouted CO Starks down the block.

  Kimberly paid her no mind, busy folding her uniforms and organizing her locker at the head of the bed.

  “Golden, you got a visit. Hurry up before count,” shouted the officer once again.

  Lorraine looked at Kimberly sitting on the top bunk as if she had nowhere to go.

  “Don’t you hear the guard calling for you?” asked Lorraine.

  “Me?” asked Kimberly, forgetting her last name was Golden.

  “Yeah, you got a visit. She’s been calling for you. Better hurry up before they start count.”

  “Oh, shit,” said Kimberly, jumping off the top bunk. I got to listen for my name, Patrice Golden, Golden, Golden, she reminded herself.

  “What took you so long,” asked CO Starks.

  “I was half asleep and I didn’t hear you calling for me,” she responded, all smiles. “I wonder who’s here to see me?” she said, excited about her first visit.

  “Oh, hold your wild horses, it’s just your lawyer,” said the officer.

  Lawyer? I don’t have a lawyer, Kimberly thought to herself, wondering who it could be.

  Downstairs in the visiting room were four doors to four small nine-by-nine rooms. Each room had a table and two chairs. Kimberly sat in the room patiently, wondering what was going on. Just as she was about to get up and go back to the guard’s station, Director Burns walked in, closing the door behind him.

  “Director Burns, what are you doing here?”

  “Counselor at law—call me counselor,” he whispered, holding his pointer finger up to his lips, not sure who, if anybody, was listening.

  Kimberly looked up at the ceiling, realizing they could be watched or wired, as he indicated.

  “Counselor, I’m so glad to see you.”

  “So, how’s it going?”

  “Well, not really all that good, sir.”

  “Not good, why? I put you in a cell right next to her. How can it not be going good?”

  “She won’t talk to me. I can’t get close to her at all.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead-ass, sir. She won’t communicate with me. I’ve tried everything.”

  “It looks like we’ve got a real serious issue on our hands. The word is that a rival from a Dominican gang is looking to take Alvarez out; they’re planning a hit on her.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Kimberly.

  “One hundred percent, and our source on the inside said it looks like it’s going down tonight. That’s why I’m here, dressed in this suit, pretending to be your lawyer. You can’t let them take her out; we need her alive. She’s our only way to get at that Dutch character, who I personally cannot wait to get my hands on.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Keep your eyes and ears open at all times, and don’t let anything happen to Alvarez.”

  The director opened the door, finding a correctional officer in his face, standing less than two feet away. “And I’ll get the corrected papers for you to sign,” he lied as he smiled at the officer, waved, then walked away.

  “Great,” she said as the correctional officer led her out of the visiting area and into the back where she would be stripped, searched, then taken back to A block.

  Walking down the hall she peeked into Angel’s cell.

  “What the fuck you lookin’ in here for?” Angel spat at her.

  “Oh, my bad, I was just looking for Lorraine,” lied Kimberly; she was checking on Angel, making sure the Dominicans hadn’t gotten hold of her.

  “What the fuck you looking for her in here for?” Angel snapped, knowing Lorraine wasn’t playing with a full deck and figuring neither was her new roommate, and that’s why the institution had put them together in the same cell.

  “You’re right, why am I in here?” Kimberly said as if she was in a daze, and stumbled out of Angel’s cell, leaving her alone. She is mean as hell; this assignment isn’t going to work at all.

  Dinner was at four-thirty and afterward the facility conducted a count of all the inmates. If they missed one person, they would have to start the process over again. Technically, by the time you ate dinner at four-thirty and did count, it was easily six-thirty, close to seven. Not to mention, the lights would be out soon, at nine-thirty. To say the least, it wasn’t a lot of personal time. After count anyone who had a visit, wanted to shower, use the phones, or watch television could do so until lights out.

  “Hey, Patty Cakes, guess what? It’s Elvis night on American Idol,” screeched Lorraine. “I can’t wait, can you?”

  “No, I’m actually on pins and needles,” Kimberly replied, playing along.

  “Me, too.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Kimberly, watching Lorraine humming to herself as she walked back out of the cell.

  She got her shower bag together, her toothbrush, soap, and shampoo to wash her hair. She needed to get some underarm deodorant but kept forgetting to grab some at the commissary. She peeked into Angel’s cell, on her way to the shower.

  She was just in here. I wonder where she is.

  Angel was in the shower, and a stall over was Rosalie, another inmate who had been on the block since Angel started her bid. Rosalie turned her water off and walked out of the shower room as three women wearing their blue prison uniforms walked by her.

  “Hey, what are you doing in here? You not from this block,” said Rosalie purposely, so that Angel would hear.

  “Shut the fuck up and mind your fucking business,” one of them hissed at her, threatening her, exposing a handmade wooden shank.

  “Oh, my God,” said Rosalie, bowing her head and turning away, not saying another word.

  Just as Angel turned around to see who Rosalie was talking to, she saw Johanni, Eliza, and Morena turn the corner into the shower room. The Dominican women in the prison stuck together, and from the first time Angel set foot in FPC Alderson, they had vowed to take her out because, one, she was Puerto Rican and, two, she was a street legend. Eliza kicked in the shower stall door as Angel jumped back so that it didn’t slam into her. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but there were three of them. And when she looked down she could see Morena holding the wooden shank in her right hand. Eliza and Johanni weren’t holding at all. Angel figured it was because they were the ones who would try pinning her down so Morena could stab her. She grabbed Eliza’s head and dug her thumbs into her eye sockets as hard as she could, ramming Eliza’s head into the tiled shower wall. Johanni quickly grabbed Angel, but her wet, naked body made her hard to hold. The water still running, Angel swung her around in a circle, trying to push her into Morena. But the wet tile caused her to slip and the two women fell to the floor. Angel bit into Johanni’s hand, drawing blood, as Eliza picked herself up off the floor, blood pouring down the side of her face. She looked down at Angel rolling around on top of Johanni, kicking her ass, and as hard as she could, she kicked Angel, cracking three bones in her rib cage.

  Angel screamed in excruciating agony as her body tightened. She rolled off Johanni, her naked body curled up in a ball, and that’s when they went in, hard. All three women began stomping Angel’s naked body. Her arms, chest, sides, head, and legs were being stomped just as Kimberly walked into the shower room.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” she asked as she saw Angel lying on the floor. “Get off her,” said Kimberly, her first instinct to protect and serve.

  “Mind your business.”

  “No, leave her alone, before I go get the CO and you end up in the hole,” snapped Kimberly, as if she would tell on them in a heartbeat.

  “Coñaso, y quién se cree esta tipa que es? Hablando mierda de el hoyo de alguien! Yo te enseño el hoyo que tengo estúpida!” said Johanni, looking at Kimberly standing in front of them wearing nothing but a white towel.

  “No lo sé pero ella se va a joder, eso esta seguro,” said Morena, pulling out her shank and charging toward Kimberly with it as Kimberly fought her off, losing her towel. Angel lay on the floo
r unable to move, unable to get up, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. The cracked rib had punctured her lung, and her internal injuries were becoming life-threatening. She opened her swollen black eyes as best she could. Barely able to see, she watched as a naked Kimberly swung around and kicked Morena’s head in midair like Chuck Norris. Morena’s body dropped to the floor instantly. She did the same to Eliza and crushed Johanni’s windpipe, instantly hitting her Adam’s apple with a Shuto-uchi karate chop. Then she ran over to Angel, brushing the hair off her face.

  “Oh, my God, are you all right?” she asked Angel, who wasn’t responding. “Oh, please, God, please don’t let her die, please.” She felt her pulse; she was barely alive. Kimberly called for help, never leaving Angel’s side. She cradled Angel’s head in her lap and held her, brushing her hair lightly. “Can you hear me? It’s going to be okay. They’re coming for you, Angel. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” And Kimberly stayed with her until help finally arrived and Angel was taken to the infirmary. Her injuries were so severe she was transported to the local hospital and returned five days later to the infirmary where she stayed for over one month.

  Her first day back to the block, everybody cheered for her. Word had gotten around the prison that Angel Alvarez was dead, and that Morena, Eliza, and Johanni had beaten her so badly that they killed her. She would be respected even more now that she was back on the block and had survived the attack. Morena, Eliza, and Johanni would be spending the next two years of their sentence in the hole, thanks to a phone call by Director Burns of the FBI. How dare they mess with his prime suspect? Anybody think of touching one hair on Angel Alvarez’s head could kiss her ass good-bye. The Feds weren’t having it, at least not until Angel led them to Dutch.

  “Thank you,” said Angel, standing in the doorway of Kimberly and Lorraine’s Elvis-inspired cell.

  Lorraine and Kimberly were playing a never-ending game of I Declare War with three decks of cards.

  “Oh, wow, you’re back, huh? How are you feeling?” asked Kimberly, standing to face her.

  “Better, now—a lot better,” said Angel, for the first time paying attention to all the Elvis memorabilia.

  “Lorraine, you did all this?” asked Angel, staring around the cell in disbelief.

  “Sure did,” shouted Lorraine, peeking out from the bottom bunk. “Don’t you just love him? He is the King.”

  Kimberly looked at Angel and twirled her pointer finger next to her head as she and Angel shared a moment.

  “Can I talk to you?” asked Angel, leading Kimberly out of the cell.

  “Hey, Alvarez, can’t you see we got a very important game of I Declare War going on over here? Can’t that wait?” asked Lorraine, not wanting Kimberly to go.

  “Lorraine, I’ll be right back.” Kimberly smiled. “We can take a break. I been playing cards with you for four hours,” said Kimberly, not realizing how much time had passed sitting around playing I Declare War with Lorraine in her Elvis love nest.

  “I just wanted to really thank you,” said Angel, staring at Kimberly face to face, examining her. She looked just like she remembered. “You know, a lot of people would have turned away, like Rosalie, and hauled ass out of there not saying a word. But you didn’t. I probably wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you,” said Angel, confessing a life’s worth of gratitude.

  Kimberly knew that this was her moment, her one and only chance to get close to Angel. All she had to do was play her cards right and she’d be on the top of Angel’s list, the very top.

  “You don’t have to thank me,” said Kimberly in a quiet, reserved tone.

  “No, really I do. You don’t understand, when I was lying there, I really thought they were going to kill me. I thought I was going to die. I never been stomped like that in my life. Are you kidding me? I couldn’t even talk. I could barely open my eyes. I don’t even know how I was breathing, but the whole time, I could hear you.” She stopped for a moment, a tear in her eye. “I could feel you holding me, and rubbing my body, and it was like the whole time I was in the hospital, I could still feel you and hear you telling me I was going to be okay.”

  “I was so scared, Angel. I thought you were going to die. I couldn’t leave you,” said Kimberly, wanting Angel to really feel what she was saying, so she’d believe in her.

  “How the fuck did you fight off big-ass Morena?” asked Angel, holding in a laugh.

  “I don’t know, that bitch is big. What the fuck? Where did she come from?” joked Kimberly.

  “What is your name?” asked Angel.

  “Patti Golden, well, Patrice, but everybody calls me Patti,” she said, smiling at Angel.

  “Angel Alvarez,” said Angel, making a formal introduction and offering a handshake.

  “I know who you are,” said Kimberly enticingly, embracing Angel’s hand, letting her know in that brief handshake, by not letting go, that she was down, completely down for her. “You don’t have to tell me your name,” whispered Kimberly.

  “Yo, I saw you, like not everything, because I couldn’t lift my head, but I saw you fighting them. You took them all down, singlehandedly, really quick, too. You was in there on some Matrix shit. Where the fuck did you learn that?” asked Angel, letting Kimberly know she had seen her fight game.

  “I have a black belt in jujitsu.”

  “Wow, I always wanted to fight like that,” said Angel, admiring Kimberly’s body. “Seriously, though,” she said, staying focused. “I really do thank you. I owe you. I owe you my life. Anything I got… it’s yours. If you need anything, I got you,” said Angel.

  “Anything?” asked Kimberly provocatively, staring into Angel’s eyes, letting her know that she wanted to make love to her.

  “Anything,” Angel answered back, as Kimberly pulled her shirt off and closed in on Angel, kissing her gently on the lips, finding their way to the bottom bunk and under Angel’s blue blanket.

  And that was how Kimberly Reese, special agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, got it in with Angel Alvarez and how the two fell in love on A block doing a bid. It was also the beginning of how she would eventually infiltrate Dutch’s entire organization, bringing them all to justice, even Angel, or so she thought.

  FREE AT LAST

  Angel watched as Kimberly packed a box of her belongings and items she’d collected over the past two and a half years, then walked back into her cell. She couldn’t stand to see her girl go.

  “Wow, I wish I could make parole. Every time I go, they deny me,” said Lorraine, hoping her luck would change.

  “You will. Just be strong, Lorraine,” said Kimberly.

  Lorraine had caught a murder one charge for killing her cheating, constantly beating, and always drunk husband, William. And to this day she loved him with all her heart; he would always be the only man she’d ever be with for the rest of her life, not just because she was behind bars, but because he still held her heart, even in death. And she was sorry for what she did. It didn’t matter, though: The parole board, psychiatrists, and other professionals had all rendered their findings. Everyone knew she was a borderline wacko nutcase with at least three personalities, and the penal system couldn’t afford to explore the possibilities. The chances of Lorraine making parole were zero to none.

  “It has been real nice having you for my cellmate. I’m really gonna miss playing cards, singing Sonny and Cher, and dancing to Elvis with you. You’ve been the best friend I ever had, and I’ve had like six other cellmates, and I’m telling you, you’re like the best out of all of them,” said Lorraine, bobbing her head, not wanting to cry in front of Kimberly.

  “Aw, Lorraine, don’t worry. I’ll write you all the time and I’ll get you some new Elvis posters and I’ll find you a Patsy Cline one, too,” said Kimberly, embracing her and rubbing her back.

  Lorraine pushed her back. “Don’t play, Patti Golden. Don’t you play with me.”

  “I’m not playing. I will.”

  “Oh, my Jesus, please, t
hank you God. I’ve been so good, I’ve been doing everything right. Oh, my God, when do you think you’ll get me the posters?”

  “As soon as I can, okay?”

  “Okay, you promise, and you’ll write every week.”

  “Um… how ’bout once a month, okay?” asked Kimberly, not wanting to make promises she couldn’t live up to.

  “Okay, deal,” said Lorraine, hugging Kimberly one last time. “I got to go if I’m going to get the phone, and I really want to call my aunt and talk to my kids. Don’t forget to write,” she said, missing Patti Golden already.

  Kimberly peeked into Angel’s cell. Angel was sitting on her bed, lacing a pair of sneakers.

  “Hey, I just packed my box,” said Kimberly, twirling one of her locks in her fingers. When she had arrived, she wasn’t able to perm or straighten her hair, so she went au naturel and grew the locks. Now that she was going home, she had every intention of getting her hair done the way she used to before she went in.

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving,” said Angel, shaking her head, never picturing it ending like this. “I can’t see me in here and you out there,” she said, the reality throwing her sideways.

  “I can always pick up another charge and be right back here. You want me to? I will, you know I will,” said Kimberly, squirming up into Angel’s arm, feeling her body next to hers as she reached between Angel’s legs and gently played with her pussy.

  “Naw, don’t you dare. I need you out there more than in here,” Angel said, knowing Goldilocks, as she had nicknamed her, was crazy and would be right back in her cell next week if Angel told her to. “If this fucking lawyer would come on, I would’ve been out of here.”

  “Okay, so don’t worry about nothing. I got your lawyer information; I’ll be on top of him. I got your books, so you’ll be straight. Remember I told you about that little bit of inheritance money I got to go collect?” asked Kimberly, lying about where the money came from that she would use to flood Angel’s books once she got out.