by Dee Garcia
And there it is...the shatter.
Everything just sort of implodes.
They were...onto me? And he knew?
“You k-knew?” I stammer, stomach churning violently. “You knew they were onto me, and you didn’t say anything?”
Please, God, tell me I heard that wrong.
“I was trying to. I wanted to get you out, mami. Wanted you by my side so I could whisk you away and protect you, keep you hidden from their eyes. But you were so stubborn...you didn’t want to leave with me and—”
“I was going to go after you, you fucking comemierda!” I whisper-hiss. These “calls” may not be recorded, but if I get too worked up, they’ll yank me out of here faster than I can blink. “Or maybe I’m the comemierda because I was literally going to drop my whole entire life for two weeks and go be with you, despite the fact I knew nothing about you except how big your dick is! Oh my god, I’m so stupid...” I mutter the last bit to myself, dropping my face into my hand to avoid breaking down.
I will, after this, no doubt, but I refuse to do it in front of him. He’s already made me enough of a fool. He doesn’t need to see me shedding a single tear on his behalf.
I should’ve just walked away...
“Benni, listen to me, please. I know how it looks, but I swear to you that—”
“Was anything you said even real?” I snap. Irrelevant at this point, I know, but I have to know.
“Every single word,” he vows.
The audacity...
Anguish morphs to acrimony with the flip of a switch, narrowing my eyes murderously. “Yet you waited until you knew they were onto us before telling me? Do you see why I’m finding it hard to believe? I just took a fucking plea deal for seven years! I have to be in here for seven fucking years, Ángel, because I didn’t rat anyone out. I kept you out of this shit. I protected you…fucking took the fall for you! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to scare you! Por meses pensé en decirte como me sentía, day in and day out I thought about it. But I knew asking you to drop everything for me was a lot. Knowing they were coming for you lit the fire under my ass, though. I thought I was gonna have more time to ease into it and win you over, but they snatched you up before I could.”
More time to ease into it?
Is he for real right now? Does he not hear how ridiculous he sounds? How it’s clear that everything from that weekend last month was all bullshit.
He led them right to me.
He knew they were watching us, and he led them right to me! Didn’t tell me shit!
I almost fly out of my chair in my fury, in the hell of his betrayal, but catch myself just in time, latching onto the edge for support. “Just stop,” I grit in disgust. “You’re so full of shit, Ángel, and I’m the biggest pendeja alive for even believing a spec of it. I knew it…I fucking knew I didn’t mean anything to you.”
Venom splices through my words, burning on their way up my throat. He deserves every single one of them—and so much more—but I’ll admit that deep down, it still hurts to spit them. Everyone warned me about him, and my dumb ass actually believed we’d never actually get here. I told him I didn’t trust him, but facts are facts.
I did.
And I was probably a little in love with him, too.
In the time I’ve known Ángel, I’ve never seen the man go so pale, ever. Well, I’ve never seen him pale, period...but he is right now.
Whitens like Casper the Ghost.
His eyes bulge in the realization that this ends right here, desperation consuming every commanding molecule of his existence so wholly that it reduces him to someone less than. Physically, he’s the same man he was five minutes ago, and yet, he’s not. I don’t know this man.
Shit, I barely knew him at all, so I guess I really shouldn’t really be surprised.
“Benita, please. Don’t do this…don’t think like this. Listen to me. Te lo juro, I swear on everything, I was trying to save you. I wanted you, wanted to be with you. I was trying to pull you out before they got you. Knowing they we’re watching woke me the fuck up, mami.”
L-O-L. Oookay.
I roll my eyes. “You should’ve just told me the truth and spared yourself the extra work. Why put in all that time for a bitch you didn’t give a fuck about?”
“You’re worth it all.” He’s clawing at the table, gray eyes alarmingly turbulent. “I meant what I said… I wanted you for me, I still do. I’ll wait forever for you, bebé. No hay nadie como tu.”
There’s no one like you, baby.
Not the first time he’s told me that. What both occurrences have in common?
They don’t mean a damn thing.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to—”
I cut off his rambling with a lift of my hand, face contorting in distaste. I’m done…can’t bear another minute of this shit. I’d rather go rot in my cell than have to endure another minute of more lies and manipulation. “Save it. I don’t need or want you to do anything for me. I never want to see your face…ever again. Don’t come see me, don’t write to me, nothing. Forget I exist.”
“Mami, don’t—”
“Don’t mami me.” I’m out of my seat, teeth bared as I breathe through the new wave of tears welling at the surface. “You could’ve had it all, so much more than just money…but that’s all you care about. I hope that money is gonna love you and fuck you as good as I did, you asshole. Have a nice life.”
Click.
And then I walked away like I should have all along.
♫ Chances - Jill Barber
Four years later…
Know what’s one of the things I miss most about home?
Masturbating in peace.
Letting your inner-hoe flag fly free while you fast forward through the majority of your favorite porn for the right frame, and go at it until said inner-hoe is satisfied.
Yeah, I miss that.
Peace is the furthest thing you’ll find behind these walls. And privacy? About that... The most privacy you get is while you’re sleeping, and even that’s not guaranteed.
I will say, there is that small thrill of getting caught by your bunkie—a higher dose if you get ballsy and try that shit somewhere else—but it’s not the same as lying full starfish at home. Resources are limited, too, meaning if you’re vibe-dependent—you either learn to use the fingers Papá Dios blessed you with, or you might as well kiss coming goodbye.
Or you can get creative.
A lot of these females think bananas are creative. Personally, I don’t. They’re the oldest trick in the goddamn book, but I guess desperation does funny shit to people, right?
And I feel that; I do. I’m desperate myself—miss being pinned down and dominated beneath a trunk of a man. Think about it at least once daily.
Still not enough for me to shove a banana up my pussy.
So here I am, hand between my legs, fingers rubbing at my clit in a frenzied attempt to sate the ache spurred on from my dreams. Thankfully, my bunkie’s passed out, probably somewhere en el quinto sueño with her snoring ass. All I want to do is come and roll over again for a bit before the sun rises.
I’m close, focusing on the buildup, chasing it with meticulous strokes. Eyes clamped shut, my mind cycles through past encounters—all the “bests” I had over the years before getting thrown into this hell hole.
Right now, it’s Santi. God, he was yummy. Dominican, curly locks I could run my fingers through, gym rat, a thick dick. That man used to throw me around like a rag doll and tie me up. Breath play with him was the best, too. Just thinking about it has those sparks shooting up my spine like a flame burning through the cordage of a bomb.
A distant click meets my ears.
Then that annoying buzzer.
And then… Slam!
The door to my cell flies open. “Ladies, wake up! It’s sweep time!”
“What the fuck!” I’m yanking my hand from under my nightshirt at the same moment
Lena’s snoring abruptly stops.
Mack, the head guard comemierda, squats to peer right at me and says, “In the hall, now, Villanueva. Night-night time’s over. We’re sweeping.”
I don’t get another word. He’s reaching for me and yanking me out of bed. Selena’s pulled down right behind me. We’re shoved toward the door lightly in warning, sounds of similar protests breaking out from other cells.
Another day of this shit.
“It’s too early for this,” I mutter, dragging my socked feet into the hall.
“Hear that boys?” Mack shouts amusedly behind me. “Miss Villanueva here seems to think, and I quote, ‘it’s too early for this shit.’”
“Does she?” That’s Jordan—juicer, playboy, wannabe bodybuilder—aka the STD-infested little bitch on roids.
He fucking wishes he was a bodybuilder.
“Her exact words. She’s not wrong, really. Kind of ridiculous we have to sweep at this hour, to begin with. Shall we tell them why?”
Another shove.
My back hits the gray bricks beside the door, and again, Selena’s right behind me, glaring daggers at Mack as he nods at his colleague. One by one, everyone else on our block assumes the same position, questioning—and irate—sleepy eyes bouncing around the room.
Jordan makes a show of clearing his throat and reaches into his pocket. “Seems one of you left this…,” he lifts a powder-filled baggy into the air, “…in the bathroom. Not sure how exactly you little b—”
That obnoxious buzzer rents the air once more, drowning roid boy out in an instant. All attention drifts to the now open gate and the man stalking through. At a first distant glance, it’s clear he’s a CO based on the uniform, but he’s not one I’ve seen here before. Tall, broad shoulders, tree trunks for arms nearly busting the seams of his navy-blue shirt.
Wonderful, another juicer is all I can think to myself. Until he comes closer into view, and my jaw nearly hits the floor.
That face.
That fine-as-hell baby face. Dark hair, dark eyes, cheekbones that promise dimples. Squared jaw—check. Plush lips—check.
Holy fuck.
“CO Bala, right?” Mack questions.
The man tips his dark head. “Yes, sir.”
Mack hums, low enough, I’m sure only Selena and I can hear as he snaps his gloves in place. “I wasn’t aware you’d be coming in today, but nonetheless, welcome. We’re just in the middle of a sweep if you want to wait for us in the office over there.” He points to the bulletproof room a short ways away, an action the new CO follows.
“Do you need some help?”
“Nah, it’s your first day, don’t worry about it. Besides, we have a specific method around here which you’ll likely need to be trained for.”
Bala seems confused but offers Mack another nod. “Sounds good. I’ll head to the office while you finish up.”
“Actually, you know what?” Mack blurts just as he turns on his heel. “Can you keep an eye on them while we finish turning everything out?”
The new CO pivots back around, his expression completely even. “Sure, no problem.”
Mack thanks him silently and strolls out a ways more for everyone to see him. “Ladies, you know the drill. If you have anything in your bunks we should know about, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
“Now, ladies!” Jordan echoes right behind him. “You’re lucky we didn’t bring the K-9’s in!”
Silence resounds around the block.
I know who that baggy belongs to—we all do—and yet, no one utters a word. They know better. I’ll handle it later.
“He is fine as hell,” Lena whispers in my ear, mirroring my thoughts. “Like, damn, papi.”
Yeah, he is, and he knows it, too. Sees all the little heart eyes popping off around the room.
“Apparently, you’re not the only one who thinks so,” I chuckle.
Lena scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, please, half of them wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“But you do?” My brow arches.
“You fucking know it. Let me suck him off for five minutes…you’ll see.”
Rolling my eyes, I stifle the laugh bubbling in my throat. Typical crass Selena. She’s worse than me. That girl doesn’t have a single hair on her tongue. She’s blunt, straight to the point, gives absolutely no fucks, and the best part? She’s a loyal bitch. I love her something fierce, would do anything for her.
Not that you could tell right now with how preoccupied I am. It’s kind of stupid, really. I mean, I know I’ve been dick-deprived for years, but I’m staring at this man hella hard.
Hard enough he must feel it because, from one moment to the next, our eyes lock.
I nearly gasp, embarrassed he’s caught me looking, but I hold my ground, keeping myself steady as we stare each other down. My heart thrashes wildly, stomach doing this ludicrous flipping act like a trapeze show at the circus, yet the longer this little match continues, the more intent I become on not backing down first.
He may be the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, but I am not weak.
And if the cocksure, sexy-as-fuck smirk that hikes up one corner of his mouth—and includes dimples—says anything at all, it’s that he knows it, too, and he’s game for the challenge.
♫ MAMACITA - Black Eyed Peas & Ozuna
Goddamn, she’s beautiful.
That’s the first thought that hits me after I catch her looking at me. The immediate second?
Why the fuck is she in here?
She’s still in her sleep shirt, but they’re coordinated to their everyday uniforms. Light blue means she isn’t dangerous and she’s got a job assignment, so what then?
Larceny? Theft? Fraud? Possession? A public order?
I mean, she looks lethal, but she doesn’t look like she belongs in this hell hole.
She looks like she belongs beneath me.
That’s thought number three, one I see reflecting back at me in those velvety chocolate irises from across the way. My grin wides.
Yeah, mami, I see you.
I shouldn’t. She’s an inmate, but damn—look at her. The girl is completely bare-faced, dark hair thrown in a messy bun, rocking an oversized prison sleep shirt, and she still trumps chicks out there who have their freedom.
And she’s staring at me.
Can’t stop while she’s at it, apparently. A fact I like a little too much, which is exactly why I finally break the spell and snap my gaze elsewhere.
She’s too fucking sexy. Those tats on her arms? Fuck me. I’ve never been huge on heavily inked girls, but damn, she’s got me rethinking my whole life right now.
Cell by cell, each one is turned upside down: sleeping mats, sheets, and pillows were thrown out the door in piles. I’ve never seen a sweep like this. I wouldn’t go as far as saying it’s excessive because these girls will hide shit anywhere, but it does seem unethical.
I keep my comments to myself, though, and continue scanning the room from one end to the other. Aside from the rustling caused by my colleagues, it’s virtually silent. The inmates remain in place beside their cells, each of them silent, some with their eyes shut as though they were sleeping.
I glance at my watch. It is early, almost five now. They don’t usually get up until six.
“Eh, Mack, you find anything?” one of the guards shouts.
He seems to be the ass kisser around here. Guess we’ll find out as the day goes by.
The head guard comes stalking out of her cell, shaking his head. “Not a damn thing. You?”
Ass kisser shakes his head as well. “Nothing.”
Mack scoffs a laugh and removes his gloves, kicking the heap of bedding back into the cell. He brings his face so close to hers my fingers actually twitch, nearly curling in a fist. “I don’t know where you’re hiding it, Villanueva, but I’ll find it soon.”
“It isn’t mine,” she snaps irately.
“Whose else would it be then, Birdy?” The dick is so close t
o her, my blood picks up speed.
“Could be anybody’s, but I’ll tell you right now, it isn’t mine.”
He holds her stare for just a moment longer, then eases back, retreating with slow, purposeful steps. “Ladies!” his voice projects as he spins around. “Clean up your messes and get ready for the day! Head count in thirty!”
Teeth sucking and groans of protest ring out, followed by the rustling of sheets.
Birdy, as he called her, shoots him the deadliest glare, sinking to the ground to snatch up what remains of her bedding.
Does she have to deal with him on the daily?
Our eyes lock once more as the question fogs my thoughts, a question that must be all too clear on the surface because I swear those deep mocha irises answer me with a silent, “Yes, I do.”
A hand grips my shoulder, effectively dragging my gaze away from her. “Ready for your first day, Bala?” Mack questions, flashing me an egotistical grin.
I’ve only been doing this for almost five years, but… “Yes, sir.” I nod, trying to ignore the little red flags waving about in the recesses of my mind.
I didn’t learn anything I didn’t already know. Their procedures are nearly identical to the last prison I worked in, so I’m not quite sure what Mack meant about these specific methods.
Unless he was admitting to just how unethical their interactions with the inmates are.
I’ve clocked so many in the last three hours, I’m actually torn between taking this to a higher-up and sitting back to watch more of this shitshow unfold. Escalating this issue would require hard evidence, though, and I definitely don’t have any yet.
Here in Chow Hall, at least, it doesn’t seem to be too bad. Granted, it’s only CO Danny Rodriguez and myself, but he’s not said a word to the girls other than a reminder of how much time they have left. If anything else made it out of his mouth after the fact, I’m not aware. My eyes have been glued to Birdy since she walked in with three other women. Cancel out the orange uniform, and you’d think she was at lunch with some friends.
“Don’t let Mack catch you ogling her like that, bro. He’ll be all over your ass about it in a minute,” Rodriguez chuckles, shaking me out of my pointed stare.
