by Dee Garcia
“No.” I shake my head, hugging my knees tighter.
Lena’s in my bunk faster than I can blink, trapping my face in her palms. The furrow of her brows shows the full extent of her worry. “What happened?”
My mom’s going to die, and I’m not going to be there with her.
“I talked to Noely,” I rasp, willing back the new wave of tears threatening to break free.
I haven’t cried yet and don’t intend to. Not right now. If there’s one thing you need to remember about prison, it’s that, regardless of what the circumstances may be, showing vulnerability in any form is a no-go.
Don’t let them see you sweat.
Don’t let them see you break.
Point blank.
When I don’t continue willingly, Selena smooshes my face tighter, shaking me lightly while she’s at it. “What did she say, B? You’re scaring me.”
That makes two of us. “It’s my mom. They just found out she has stage-four colon cancer, and she’s refusing any sort of treatment because it’s so fucking expensive. Without it, they’re giving her less than a year.”
Lena’s expression flares in shock. It feels like an eternity passes as she regards me, unmoving, speechless, her stare flickering back and forth between my eyes. What she’s searching for, I don’t know, but the longer she looks at me, the harder it becomes to keep the tidal wave of emotions at bay.
“Oh my God, Benni.” She pulls me against her when my lip trembles, trapping me in her arms. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to say, Lena. She’s gonna die, and I’ll still be in here.”
“Well, well, what’s going on in here?” Another voice rings out abruptly from the doorway.
It’s Mack.
Fuck.
♫ Play with Fire - Sam Tinnesz & Yacht Money
Benni didn’t look so hot when she got back from the phones. Pale and one-hundred percent zoned out in some zombie-like state, she headed straight for her cell without acknowledging anyone who tried to stop her along the way. I haven’t been here long, and even I know that’s not normal for her.
Something's up.
I wanted to go after her, to check on her and make sure she’s okay, but I can’t. Not unless there are obvious signs of illness or clear hints of suicide on the horizon.
Seeing Mack blocking the doorway has me feeling a certain type of way, though, the magazine in my hands crinkling from the force of my grip. This motherfucker literally got up from his desk and dipped out of the box to go over there when he buzzed Birks in from the phone hall. I didn’t notice it much the first few days, because, you know—Benni. But once I forced myself to focus on the job, I started seeing it.
Rodriguez was right.
Some days it’s more obvious than others, but Mack always has a reason to “apprehend” or “question” her about something.
Right now, it’s very obvious.
Why was that necessary? All she did was check-in and go to her cell. What could he possibly assume she’s doing in there that warrants such a reaction?
From my spot, I can see his shoulders bouncing through a laugh.
I wish I could hear what he’s saying to her.
“Bala,” Jordan’s voice rings out before the slam of the door. “I need to take my fifteen. Can you man the block?”
Don’t need to ask me twice.
I’m not really feeling his little roid-fueled attitude, but he couldn’t have chosen a better time to take one of his many breaks. That’s one thing I’ve learned about Jordan. He takes more breaks than the rest of us combined. It’s kind of ridiculous. Claims it’s ‘cause he needs to eat to keep his metabolism moving, but I wouldn’t put it past him to lock himself in one of the broom closets for a quick jerk.
To be honest, I don’t care what he’s doing. He can jerk it as much as he wants.
All I care about is getting out there and parking my ass right in Mack’s vicinity so I can listen in.
“Yeah, man, I got you.” Dropping the shitty magazine onto the table, I push out of my seat and stalk past him out the door as casually as possible.
The block’s pretty damn quiet, I’ll say that. There’s chatter and bouts of laughter, but nothing too extreme, making it easy to maneuver my way around without a single interruption. I’m not even that close, and I can already hear him threatening her with a shot.
“Are you serious right now? We were hugging!” Benni snaps at him.
My jaw tightens, teeth grinding at what she’s just voiced. Some prisons have a no-touch rule, meaning the inmates can’t even hug. It’s considered “sexual misconduct” and after three shots, you can get hit with a Free World Charge and have to register as a sexual offender, all for hugging a fellow inmate. The Annex doesn’t have this rule, but Warden Kent has implemented a rule for the officers to use as a rule of thumb. If it looks like sexual misconduct, it likely is. Otherwise, don’t dehumanize them.
He’s a good guy, honest to God.
These women may have made bad choices, some worse than others, but at the end of the day, they’re still human.
“That was a little too touchy-feely, Villanueva,” he counters, this sick swirl of amusement dripping off his tone.
I don’t get it; I really don’t. What does he benefit from treating her like this? And not just her. Any of them. Our job can be taxing enough as it is. Why would you want to tack on the stress of provoking, and essentially, harassing, an inmate?
Because he wants her, and he can’t have her, my subconscious reminds me.
The thought straightens my spine as I take my spot at the head of all the benches, about twenty feet away from Benni’s cell. That is part of Rodriguez’s story, too. Mack’s drowning in bitterness. He can’t have her, so he’s resorted to harassing her.
A worrisome fact because I want her too.
Could this be something that ends up happening to me as a result? I mean, going day in and day out feeling this intense vibe with someone and not being able to do anything about it would have to take its toll, right?
Then again, in Mack’s version of our sordid tale, his affection is also unrequited.
I may not know what the hell this is brewing with Benni, but I can tell you it, without a doubt, isn’t one-sided. She feels it as much as I do.
“I’m just gonna go,” Reynoso states. “This is stupid as hell.”
I’m expecting Mack to stop her as she brushes past him, but he doesn’t. He just stands there staring Benni down. I can’t see her; he’s blocking her out, but the amount of animosity that surges from that side of the room puts me on high alert.
That is, until a soft “Psst” meets my ears, cutting my eyes toward the sound. It’s Reynoso. She points behind her curvy frame with a subtle tip of her head and mouths, “Get him out of here.”
I swear to you the blood in my veins freezes over almost instantly.
For one, she definitely knows why I’m suddenly right here in this very spot, and two, the fact that she feels like someone needs to intervene Mack is shooting up all kinds of red flags.
Again.
I will snap that motherfucker in half if he has or ever lays a finger on her.
Fuck professionalism right up the ass at that point. If he’s hurting her, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep a lid on it.
“Hey, Mack,” I call out evenly—with absolutely no plan whatsoever other than to get him away from her.
The way he tenses only heightens my newfound suspicions. He barely turns all the way around, peering at me from over his shoulder.
“Everything okay in there? Need some help?” That’s all I’ve got off the top of my head, but it works nonetheless because that gets him moving.
He shakes his head as if breaking free from some invisible hold, takes one last quick glance at Benni, and then walks out. “No, I think we’re good. These two were a little too close, but I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt.” Stopping not far away from me, he
cuts his eyes around the room, immediately noting Jordan’s absence. “Where’s Jordan?”
“On one of his breaks.”
“Right.” He surveys the block a second, then proceeds to motion around us. “You got this out here?”
Really?
Takes every ounce of respect I can muster not to contort my expression and give him some smart-assed remark. “Pretty sure, man. Not my first day.”
Okay, so still smart-assed, but it’s a helluva lot better than what I could’ve said.
He gets it, though, his stare narrowing just slightly. Sliding my hands into my pockets, I lift my chin a fraction. What’s he gonna do? Fire me for it?
Wouldn’t fly, and he knows it.
“Right, my bad.” He shoots a finger gun toward the gate. “I’m gonna run down to the bathroom. I’ll be right back. Gotta take a piss.”
Oh yeah, they’re definitely fucking.
“No problem, take your time,” I reply, tamping down the chuckle itching the back of my throat.
Mack takes off into oblivion, leaving me in the burning wake of Benni’s gaze. I can see her through my peripherals, all but begging me to spare her the tiniest look. Even after I gave her my reply, I’ve stuck to the plan, to remain professional and do everything in my power from fueling this thing any further.
But today—today, I’m not that strong.
The need to check up on her was visceral enough as it is, but after Mack and his bullying bullshit, I have to look at her, need to see with my own two eyes that she’s okay. It’s not going to be easy, I’ll tell you that much. After so many days of purposely avoiding her and keeping her at arm's length, I have no doubts connecting with her again is going to knock the wind right out of me.
Might even drop me to my knees if you want me to be real.
Papá Dios, dame fuerza. Dear God, give me strength.
Bracing myself for impact, I turn my head ever so slowly toward her cell, and there she is, curled up at the edge of her bed, regarding me with these sad doe eyes that get me right in the feels.
So much sadness, so much grief. Why? What the hell happened?
My brain’s yelling at me to move—to traipse these floors until I’m in her space—when I see her reach into her shirt and retrieve a piece of paper.
She replied.
My chest constricts, eyes widening at the sight of it in her hands. A part of me had hoped she would despite me telling her a paper trail could get messy. And it’s true, it can, but this is the last one. I won’t reply after this.
I can’t.
Benni crooks a finger at me, the somber shading of her expression brightening with mischief. I have to hold back a smile. She’s naughty by nature; that much I know for sure.
Shaking my head as faintly as possible, I turn back to scan the area. You know, so that it looks like I’m doing my job and not out here playing with fire. But I can still see her from my peripheral, rising from the bed.
Ambling to the door.
Don’t do it. Please don’t—
“CO Bala?” she calls out, all seemingly innocent and shit.
She did it.
Fuck. My. Life.
Sliding my most even mask in place, I pivot my head toward her, heart hammering in my chest. She flashes me another one of those dick-twitching smiles and crooks that little finger again. “Can we chat for a moment?”
No.
“Is there a problem?” I assert, full-on in my expected role, widening Benni’s smile.
“Actually, there is.”
This girl really is fire. Puro fuego. Candela. She’d ruin me if I let her. “Well, go on then, let’s hear it. What’s the issue, Villanueva?”
I don’t get a vocal answer—of course not. She spins surely on her heel, expecting me to follow her. Kind of have to now. If other ears picked up on the exchange, it’ll look sus if I don’t.
Sighing, I head in her direction and stop right at the threshold of her cell, my hands gripping the sides of the doorframe for dear fucking life. “Spit it out. What’s the supposed problem?”
Benni eyes me from her perch beside the desk, twirling the stool in a complete circle. “My mom’s sick.”
There it is—what had her so upset prior to Mack’s appearance. Overall, she seems candid about it at the moment, but I can see the deep-rooted heartbreak in her eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Now, what’s the problem?”
“That is the problem,” she stresses. “She’s sick, and I need a phone.”
Must be because I’m reeling from the actual face-to-face conversation, but what she’s asking for? Goes right over my head. “You already made your call today. I’m sorry your mother is sick, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to speak with her again.”
“Oh, you poor thing. You don’t get it, do you?” Scoffing a laugh, she rises from her seat and makes her way toward me with that natural sway in her full hips.
My throat bobs, not so fucking subtly. Despite the loosely-fitted uniform, I can just make out the curves of her body. Almost too clearly. And let me tell you...what lies beneath them—fuck me.
The short hairs at the nape of my neck prickle like a livewire the second she’s in my space, craning her head back to look me in the eye. “I don’t want a phone call, Andrés. I want a phone.”
That’s when it hits me, right over the damn head, kind of like the chancletazos my mom used to give me growing up. I can all but feel the proverbial slap of the sandal at the back of my head.
She did not just ask me to get her a phone...
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Benni chuckles softly. “And why is that?”
My head ticks back. “Do you not realize what you just asked me? Who I am?”
“I could be asking you for way worse. It’s a tiny little phone, a way for me to keep tabs on my mom and my sister. Please, Andrés...it’s bad. Stage-four colon cancer and she’s refusing treatment because of how expensive it is. My sister can’t afford it, either. She can barely manage to pay the bills after burying my brother.”
Wow, that’s not just sick. That’s heart-shattering is what it is, and she’s refusing treatment? My chest aches at the image she’s painted out for me. I can’t imagine hearing my mom tell me she’s refusing to battle the beast because of finances. At the very least, I’d still get to be with her in her final days. I don’t know how long Benni’s supposed to be here, but I’m guessing she may not get the opportunity to say goodbye.
Damn it.
I want to help her, I do, but there’s no way in hell I can do this.
“It’s CO Bala,” I remind her, tone stern. “And like I said, I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that.”
I’m pushing off the doorframe, needing to walk the fuck away before I do something stupid, but I’m tugged inside and tossed into the dingy wall before I can blink, her small hand fisting the front of my shirt.
“I’ll suck your dick,” she blurts, eyes cutting out the door to ensure we’re not being watched. “We both know you want this, so let’s make a deal; you bring me a phone, a cheap little phone with WiFi that I can use to call Ma daily, and I’ll suck your dick whenever you want. Hell, you can fuck me, too, if that’s what it’ll take, though I should warn—full bush currently, and it’s not by choice. But if you’re into that, this pussy’s yours.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
My dick reacts to her offer, kicking beneath my slacks in agreement. Just the mere imagery of Benni on her knees with my dick in her mouth is enough to undo me right here.
“Benni, I—”
“You owe me,” she cuts me off, pressing herself against me. “Like I said, we both know you want this. All I need you to do is bring me that phone and boom—all-access pass.”
The shit playing in my head right now is not helpful—not helpful in the slightest. Not when it’s combined with our current positioning or the fact that her scent’s making me lightheaded like a motherfucker. She
smells so good, deliciously sweet like I could toss her onto that bunk, eat her alive, and still be hungry.
“You know damn well we can’t,” I grit, gaze flicking down to her lips.
I can all but taste them, feel how pillowy soft they are. I just wanna run my thumb right along that seam, maybe dip it into her—
“I’ve never been good at choosing between right and wrong, obviously—that’s why I’m here. I know we can’t, but that doesn’t make me not wanna do it any less.” Releasing my shirt, she reaches down for my hand and slides the note against my palm. “I’m down for whatever. Ball’s in your court. If you want me to be honest, I could use the distraction, and well, I haven’t had dick in years. Could use a good fucking.”
I’m not usually short on words, but goddamn, she’s left me speechless. She’s quite pleased about it, too, shamelessly holding my stare as a slow grin appears.
“Take the deal, Andrés...it’s a win/win for both of us.”
What’s funny is she said she’s never been good at choosing between right and wrong. Apparently, I’m not either because this has to be one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make in my life. There’s so much at stake.
But how long can we really fight it?
♫ Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande
“You did what?” Lena hisses in amusement from her bunk.
It’s dark as fuck, only the tiniest sliver of moonlight peeking in from the small rectangular window. The lights went out hours ago, but I haven’t been able to fall asleep. I guess the loud rustle of my tossing and turning woke her up a little while ago, and when she asked me what was wrong, I finally unloaded. Literally word vomited every single detail of the last almost two weeks on her.
“I told him I’d suck his dick,” I repeat, biting my lip at the memory of his face when the words left my mouth yesterday. “Told him he could fuck me, too, if that’s what it would take to get him to agree.
“And? What did he say?” she presses excitedly.
“That I know we can’t.”
