by Dee Garcia
Fuck.
I hadn’t even seen him roll up on me. I’m tongue-tied and trying to figure out how to word my response correctly—because I’m not about to incriminate my ass outright—when he continues. “She looks good, I know. That’s why Mack’s got it out for her.”
“Who?” I’m trying to play it off, all the while wondering how him having a hard-on for her justifies his behavior.
“Birdy. Mack’s dick practically exploded for her since she was first processed four years ago, and since he can’t have what he wants, well, he plays the whole schoolyard bully bullshit with her.”
“Why does he call her that?” Yes, I’m blatantly refusing to acknowledge what he’s said because...really?
He can’t have her, so he fucks with her instead?
Another piece of information I file away to build a possible case, if necessary.
“Birdy, La Jefa…those were her street names. Full name is Benita Adriana Villanueva. Some of the girls call her Benni, but you’ll still hear Birdy thrown around more often than not.”
Benni.
She looks like a Benni.
And she’s looking at me again. Except this time, she caught me. Regardless, my chest inflates of its own accord, chin lifting proudly, more still when her lips quiver with a knowing smirk before returning to her conversation. Only one of the girls seems to notice the exchange—her bunkie. I think she calls her out on it, too, given the way her cheeks heat.
“Who’s her bunkie?” I ask, watching them as they huddle toward each other.
Danny makes this noise in the back of his throat, shoulders bouncing through a hushed chuckle. “Selena Reynoso. That girl is fucking nuts.”
My brow arches curiously. “What is she in for?”
“Assault and battery with a deadly weapon, fraud, harboring an illegal alien. There’s more, but I honestly can’t remember all of it now. Let’s just say she’ll be here a while.”
Hmmm...interesting.
“How is she not in red then?”
“She’s sassy as fuck and has a big-ass mouth, but she’s docile for the most part. Works hard, too, so they keep her in B Block,” he replies. “Did Mack fill you in on how the blocks are separated?”
I shake my head. “He started to, but then he got a call and pretty much asked me to show myself out.” The bastard made it seem so important, but his tone screamed booty call.
Rodriguez hums consciously. “Yeah, he’ll do that often. In any case, this is easy enough to explain. A, B, C are where most of the inmates with better work assignments are kept: kitchen, laundry, commissary, medical, and the beauty salon. D and E have the shittier jobs like maintenance and janitorial. They’re either lifers or known to be the more volatile inmates. F and G are elderly and those with any form of disability. Most of them are assigned to the recreation department if anything at all.”
Tearing my eyes away from Benni, I turn toward my colleague and nod in understanding. “Sounds pretty standard.”
And it is for the most part. Inmates can apply for any position that opens up, but that doesn’t guarantee they’ll get it, even if they were one of the first to put in their applications. Their chances drop more if they’re notorious for bad behavior and have consistent shots in their files. Can’t have a prime job when you can’t act right, feel me?
“If you have any other questions and Mack slacks, just let me know. I’ve been here longer than him.” He seems proud of that statement and far less bothered about it than I would’ve expected.
“Really? Why aren’t you at the head then?”
Rodriguez shrugs, hands clasping his belt over his obvious beer gut. “It’s a lot, honestly. Hours are longer too. Yeah, the pay is nicer, but I already spend enough time away from my kids. If I took the position, I’d never see them.”
Ah, a family man. Never would’ve pinned him as one, to be honest. “I can respect that. Sometimes the money isn’t worth what you’d be sacrificing.”
“Exactly, especially when it comes to kids. They’re only little for so long. I’ve missed enough as it is.”
I hum by way of response, but I can’t relate just yet. I don’t have kids. I’m tight as hell with my dad, though. I wanted him around for everything when I was growing up. I don’t see him as much these days after moving up here to take this position, but we check in at least twice a week.
“You’re a good man,” I tell Rodriguez, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Thanks, man. I try. Now let’s get ‘em lined up and ready for head count. Third lunch wave starts in about twenty.”
♫ STFD - TeZATalks
I’m shuffling the dominoes around later on that evening when Kori Kovitz—aka Koko—catches my eye. Given the fact this is the first time I’m seeing her today, I’m willing to bet she was pointedly avoiding me around work hours and yard time. She knows she’s in some shit after this morning’s sweep, that’s why. Just like she knows she’s “the plug” in here ‘cause I allow it. If she’s gonna start slipping up and fucking shit up for everyone else though—me especially—then, she’s gonna have to find a different way to keep the cash flow rolling in for herself.
Well, for us, really. You think I’m gonna let her risk my time and not take a cut?
Yeah, right.
“Ey, Kori.” My voice carries over the different strings of conversations. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Kori stills a few tables away. When she pivots to face me, she’s wearing her usual mask—the one that gives off that vibe like she isn’t affected by me. Then again, that’s the name of the game around here. Can’t let nobody see vulnerability.
Weakness.
The slightest hint of fear.
Bouncing my stare down to my girl Mari, I motion for her to come to sit beside me with a tip of my head so Kori can plant her ass. As soon as she slips out, I’m offering Koko her seat, animatedly tapping the tabletop. “Go on, sit. I’ve been looking for you all day, girl.”
Kori drops onto the bench—reluctantly, I should add—and cuts her blue-eyed gaze around the table. All eyes are on her and that curly blonde mop she calls a messy bun. She’s not an ugly girl....she’s just an addict, a hardcore one at that. Meth mouth, rail-thin, usually looks overly tired with deep, dark bags under her eyes. The erratic knee bouncing tells me she’s high as a kite as we speak.
It looks like I’m about to ruin it.
Oops.
“So the baggy from this morning… That was yours, right?” I ask, selecting seven tiles for myself.
Gia and Quinn do the same, so does Kori. “Yeah, but there’s no way they would’ve found it without a tip. Someone snitched.”
I have to subdue both the urge to laugh and roll my eyes. She’s so full of shit. “Ain’t no one on this block gonna snitch, Koko. They know better than that. Besides, at least two-thirds of them are your clients.”
“Not our block, B. I think it was one of those bitches on the Southside.”
Southside, as in D and E block. Could she be any more stupid? “Because they know where your hiding spot is? Please.”
They don’t even use our bathrooms, comemierda.
Kori twitches in place just slightly, examining her combinations. “Well, no, but Franca was asking if I knew any connects last week during yard time and—”
“And, let me guess, you told Bellini you could hook her up for a price?” I should’ve known this chick wasn’t that smart.
“I mean, yeah.” She shrugs. “She’s cool people and—”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me. Nobody told you to open your mouth and incriminate yourself. You did that shit all on your own.”
“I need the money,” she grits.
“Bitch…” My hand freezes midair on my first move. “We all need money, which is why I let you start bringing this shit in, to begin with. Work assignment pays dick. If you’re gonna start to slip up and sell to those crazy-ass putas down there, though, then I’m cutting you off. I am not going down for you
r crackhead ass.”
Light snickers erupt around us, narrowing Koko’s blue eyes. “Wanna cool it on the name-calling, Birdy? I own up to my shit, okay? If they catch me, I’m not gonna pin it on—”
“What’s wrong, Koko?” I cut her off with a smirk, laying down one of my tiles. “Hit too close to home there? Maybe you like puta better? Or pendeja? What about comepinga? ‘Cause I mean, that’s why you’re here, right? Whored yourself and other females out for another hit?”
Kori’s expression darkens all the more, drawing my smirk into a full-blown smile. Her angry face isn’t doing much to rattle me. I’ll slam her crackhead mug against this table if it comes down to it.
Repeatedly.
“Can I ask why the fuck you’re being such a bitch?” she tosses back, dragging her tile in place after Gia. “You on your period or some shit?”
“Are you deaf, or did you choose to ignore everything I said thus far?”
“Nah, I heard you. I’m just trying to figure out why you think selling to Franca is a bad move. Do you not realize that’s more money coming in?”
It could be all the money in the world, but those Southside bitches can’t be trusted. “You must want more time, huh? Those hoes will do whatever it takes to bring us all down and ensure we don’t get to walk free. I don’t care how cool you think Bellini is… At the end of the day, she’s D Block, and she’s not your fuckin’ homie. She’ll turn on you as fast as the rest of them,” I remind her because, clearly, she needs a damn reminder of how things work around here.
“So what do you propose I do then? Kinda too late now. I already told Franca I had more shit coming in next week.”
“Like I said…” I drop another tile. “Sounds like a personal problem to me. Just make sure you figure it out, Koko, and make sure you figure it out real good, ‘cause if Mack comes for me again, I’m coming for you.”
Her sudden outburst takes me by complete surprise. Tossing all her tiles to the middle of the table—which ruins the fucking game—she shoots up from the bench, fists curled at her sides. “Are you fucking serious right now? I haven’t done shit to you!”
Oh no, not at all.
I’m the one with the mass drug charge in B Block, meaning any substance found in here is automatically assumed as mine, hence Mack’s adamant commentary this morning.
I don’t get to respond, though. CO Rodriguez is out of the guard box before I can so much as blink. He doesn’t rush her, but he’s got his sights set on her defensive form from the door, hands clasping his belt. “Better cool it, Kovitz, before you get yourself sent for lights out early.”
“Yeah, better cool it, Kovitz,” I parrot, resting my chin in my palm as Quinn flips over all the tiles to reshuffle. “Or you might find yourself missing a few teeth before bedtime. I am not the one; you should know that by now.”
Kori squares her shoulders and lifts her chin assertively. “I am not af—”
“I’d take her word for it if I was you, Koko.” Selena’s voice comes out of nowhere. Ten seconds later, she’s dropping into the other empty space beside me, steadily eyeing Kori. “Check yourself before you wreck yourself, blanquita.” White girl.
She and Koko have never gotten on too well. In fact, when I told her I was letting Kori bring different shit in from her connect on the outside, she was quick to voice how she didn’t think it was a good idea. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t my best idea, but here’s the thing: old habits die hard, and where there’s a possible profit involved, I’m there. The girl has potential, too, and with her history, she’s got the exact hustle we need to make more than a few bucks.
Besides, it’s not like there aren’t consequences she’s fully aware of.
“Last time I checked, this conversation was between Birdy and me, Lena, so why don’t you go back the way you came and mind your damn business.”
Lena chuckles quietly, scoffing a little laugh through her nose. “I don’t know? Maybe because I don’t feel like it? Contrary to what you seem to be thinking right now, this,” she motions around the table, “has to do with all of us. You weren’t the only one who got swept, and if I’m remembering correctly, your turnout was a hell of a lot easier than ours. So why don’t you settle the fuck down, have a seat, and listen to what B has to say before you end up in medical.”
Silence.
Well, as silent as it can be with other conversations still going on around us. Koko’s stare bounces around the table, mostly between Selena and me. Gia makes a few comments under her breath, tucking a wayward dark strand behind her ear, and Quinn snickers, as do a few of the other girls not too far away. The tension continues to rise, especially as more and more eyes fall on us. Rodriguez is still watching, and I’m more than positive the other guards are, too, from behind the one-way glass.
“Sit the fuck down, Koko,” I grit through my teeth. “You’re drawing unnecessary attention over here for no reason other than you don’t like being called out. They’re gonna start putting two and two together in about three minutes, and then I’ll really be fucked. So unless you’re looking to lose those teeth… Sit. The. Fuck. Down.”
“She might as well let you even that grill out. Shit’s a hot mess in there. Then again, that’s what happens when you like the hard shit,” Selena quips amusedly.
Kori’s reaction is instantaneous. Her cheeks heat in what I can only assume is a combination of rage and embarrassment. Next thing I know, she’s flying at the table, whacking her entire arm across the domino tiles. “Man, fuck you! All of you!”
More than half of the pieces clatter onto the gray silica floor as she whirls around to take her leave, but Quinn’s too quick, taking her by surprise. What’s funny is she’s often underestimated as the quiet chick.
Quinn’s not quiet; she’s selective.
With lithe movements, Quinn flies from her seat and fists the back of Kori’s uniform, yanking her backward with such force, her head smacks against the floor upon landing.
And I mean smacks.
That shit echoes, painfully so, dotting my skin with ice-cold goose bumps as the other inmates jump onto their feet and authoritative hollers from the guards erupt.
“Holy fuck, she’s out!”
“Is she dead?”
“Damn, Dennings, you didn’t even have to lay a finger, girl!”
That’s just a few of the comments that meet my ears as Rodriguez skids to a stop and hurriedly drops to his haunches beside Koko, pressing two fingers to her neck. “She’s alive. We need to get her to medical, though. She’s definitely going to have a concussion,” he voices over his shoulder just as Mack and Jordan come rushing up behind him.
Jordan joins him on the ground while Mack points his hard gaze around the table. When it lands on me, he crooks a finger and tips his head toward the box. “Let’s chat, Villanueva.”
Wonderful.
♫ She Is My Dream - The Tads
From my spot inside the box, I catch Mack and her ambling this way while Rodriguez does his best to get Kovitz off the floor and keep the other inmates contained. I’d be out there assisting however necessary, but Mack told me to clock out and go home before he ran out the door. So, here I am, watching this shitshow unfold as I punch out on the computer, my knee bouncing restlessly.
It’s taking forever.
The damn server keeps glitching, playing on my impatience all the more. Knowing Mack’s got Benni alone put me on an immediate edge after what Rodriguez shared with me during lunch—aka Mack’s not-so-lowkey obsession.
“C’mon, c’mon,” I mutter, repeatedly clicking the mouse over the “End Shift” button, but the hourglass just keeps spinning and spinning and fucking spinning like the Zipper at the fair.
“All right, ladies, seems like you’re getting a few extra hours of sleep tonight. Lights out, let’s go!” Jordan’s voice drags my attention away from the screen.
Much like this morning, teeth sucking and groans of protest ring out as they drag their asses to their cells. Shit, I�
�d be pissed, too, if I were being sent to bed at nine rather than eleven.
Moments later, the buzzer blares through the cell block, and in come two of the guards assigned to medical with a gurney. They rush right over to Rodriguez, who lifts a comatose Kovitz off the ground, and places her on top of the stretcher. Aside from her current Raggedy Ann state, she seems fine. I’m honestly surprised there isn’t blood pouring from her head or anywhere on the ground. Inmate Dennings yanked her back so hard and with such speed, none of us saw it coming until Kovitz was down for the count. Mack actually thought it was Benni who was gonna take the first hit before it all went down.
It’s inmate Villanueva, in-mate Vi-lla-nue-va. Get your whole shit together and stop calling her by her name before you get your ass into some shit.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I blow out a heavy breath and shake my head at myself. What the hell is happening right now? I get one look at the girl—albeit a beautiful one—and suddenly I don’t know how to do my job? The fuck?
The thought doesn’t sit well with me, but I force it to the back of my mind for now. This isn’t the time or the place for me to sit and mull it over. I need a beer and a long shower before I delve into any part of that and give myself a much-needed pep talk. It’s been a long-ass day, over twelve hours. Fifteen hours and twenty-five minutes to be exact as per my time stamp now that the system stopped glitching, and I’m officially clocked out.
Hallelujah.
Rising from the light pleather office chair, I make a beeline for the door and amble out into the silence of the block. All of the inmates are in their cells, prompting Jordan and Rodriguez to go through the motions of the final head count before the doors lock and the lights go out. It’s not until I start toward the block’s exit gate that I remember Mack had pulled Benn, er, Villanueva aside. They’re right beside it, chatting quieter than would be deemed appropriate.
