by Dee Garcia
And disappear, and then reappear, and disappear again.
El pobre. Poor guy.
Chulo: Jesus Christ.
Chulo: You’re bad...
Me: Duh, look where I’m at lol. And what? Did you think I forgot about that? You did me a favor, so now I follow through with my end of the deal. That’s usually how deals work.
Chulo: Not necessary. I wanted to help you.
Not gonna lie. I melt a little despite the warning bells ringing distantly in my mind. Keep it light, Benni. Keep it light.
Me: Thank you for that. You really did help.
Chulo: I’m glad I could.
Me: So if you don’t want me to make good on my end, what do you get out of it then?
Chulo: Nothing.
Chulo: Unless you wanna count talking to you, ‘cause that’s a perk.
Damn him.
DAMN. HIM.
Me: How is talking to a felon a perk?
Legit question too. I’m genuinely curious to know what he sees in me.
Chulo: Because I know said felon wants me to talk to her.
He’s not wrong.
Me: Can I ask you something?
Chulo: Go for it, mami.
I cringe, literally cringe. Regardless of it being such a common term of endearment in my culture, Ángel ruined it for me. If I never hear it again, it’ll be too soon.
Me: Okay, firstly—nix the mami. My almost-ex ruined that for me.
Chulo: Almost-ex? Lol.
Me: Storytime for another day. My question is… Why risk it all for me?
Chulo: I don’t have a single reason.
Me: Tell me the reasons.
Chulo: I just wanted to help, Benni. I could see what the news was doing to you, and if I could help take some of that away, I was gonna do it.
Chulo: And like I said, talking to you is a perk, so there’s what I get.
My fucking heart again, man. I just...
Me: I can’t with you…
Me: Thank you a million times.
Chulo: Thank me with smiles. I don’t wanna see that frown again.
Me: If you kissed me, I probably wouldn’t frown at all.
I shouldn’t have, I know, but it’s the truth.
Chulo: ……
Chulo: Stop tempting me.
Me: But I like tempting you.
Chulo: You’re tempting enough as it is. Look what we’re doing right now.
Me: I thought you said it was a perk?
Chulo: Oh, it is, but that doesn’t cancel out the fact we shouldn’t be.
Me: Sounds like you’re warring with yourself as much as I am.
Chulo: I am, yes...
The subtle confirmation that he feels this, too, only adds fuel to the fire. Keep. Things. Light. Light and organized—that’s all we have to do. Easier said than done because if similar feelings in the past have proven anything to me at all, it’s that they can spiral into messy rather quickly. Shit—haven’t they already?
The vibe of another message pulls me from my introspection.
Chulo: I changed my mind.
Me: About?
Chulo: When you asked what’s in it for me…
Me: Lolll. Want me to pencil you in after all?
Chulo: Yeah, for a taste of your lips.
I’m biting said lips in anticipation as I type...
Me: That’s all?
Chulo: For now… I’ve been eyeing them since my first day. They look so soft.
For now…
Me: They are.
Chulo: I want them, even if it’s just once.
Me: When?
Chulo: I don’t know. Might have to be spur-of-the-moment with how limited time is.
Once again, he’s not wrong. Now that I think about it, this is the longest he and I have been able to speak in the time we’ve known one another. I can’t lie and say I’m hating the idea of spur-of-the-moment, though. Think of the thrill, that all-consuming free fall of your heart when you’re caught by surprise. That would only add to the moment, make it taste that much sweeter.
Me: You want them? Come get them…
Being bad did always taste so much sweeter.
♫ Got You On My Mind - NF
Once.
Just once.
I just need to taste her one time, and I’ll be good.
That’s the bullshit lie I’ve been telling myself since I text it to Benni at the beginning of the week. We’re going on Friday now, and after texting for hours on end the last four nights in a row, I’m more on edge than I was before. We’ve asked each other almost every question in the book at this point: How old are you?—she’s two years older than me. Where are you from?—she’s Cuban; I’m Colombian. What’s your favorite color, favorite food, hobbies, etcetera, etcetera? Don’t get me wrong, getting to know her has been the highlight of my week, but fuck has it made that much more difficult. It’s not so much the not being able to interact freely during the day like we do at night—although that does play a role—as it’s more of there hasn’t been a time for me to whisk her away and take what I want.
What we want.
Because there isn’t supposed to be a time. She’s an inmate, an ex-Queen-Pin who went down for a mass drug charge, and you’re a guard. This isn’t Love Island, that little voice in my head reminds me just as my dad’s booming voice erupts through the receiver.
“Andrés? Are you listening to me?” he asks, sucking me out of my thoughts.
Shaking my head, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and blow out a flustered breath as the light flips to green. I’m almost home. “I wasn’t, Pops, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. What were you saying?”
“Your mother wants to know if you’re coming down for the Fourth.”
Since when do we celebrate the Fourth like that? We’ve always grilled and maybe had some family over to blow up fireworks, but nothing huge. “I mean, I guess. I wasn’t really planning on it, but if she needs me there, I’ll make the drive.”
“She doesn’t need you here,” he laughs, Colombian accent shining through a bit more than usual. “She just wants you here since it’s the first holiday en la casa nueva. You’d think we’re Americanos with how many people she invited.”
I’m not surprised. My mom loves entertaining, and they haven’t done anything since moving into the new house a few weeks back. If she could host something every weekend, she would. Flipping on my signal, I make a right off the main road into the gated apartment complex. “Couldn’t wait until Noche Buena could she?”
“No,” he laughs again, and it’s one of those fond, fully-bellied laughs. “No, she couldn’t. You should’ve seen her face when I suggested as much.”
“The sheer horror, I’m sure.” I chuckle too, perfectly envisioning Mama’s face as I roll down my window and hold my access card up to the reader.
“Tu lo sabes.” You know it. “So how's the new job?” he goes on, locking my jaw, teeth crashing and grinding together.
Oh, you know, the usual. I’ve got this thing I can’t explain for one of the inmates. Snuck in a cell phone for her so she could call home whenever she wants and not abide by the rules.
“It’s going good,” I lie, pulling into one of the empty spaces in front of my building. “Same shit, different location, really.”
“You don’t sound too happy about that.” He’s trying to pry, but on the surface, you’d think he’s just amused based on his tone. I’ve been dealing with this conversation for so long, though, I can read right through it.
“It’s work, Pops. Since when am I supposed to be happy about work?”
“If you hate your job, you’re doing it wrong,” he counters.
Here we go again.
Rolling my eyes, I shut off the Wrangler, grab my bag from the passenger seat, and hop out onto the pavement. “Doing what wrong? I’m damn good at my job.”
“Being good at it and loving it are two different things. Life’s too short to be stuck in a position you have
no passion for.”
He would say that. Why? ‘Cause he and Ma hate my job. They hate that I work in prison. This topic right here? He can revisit it over and over again, ruffling only my feathers in the process. And I get why he does it, to some extent. He wants the absolute best for me, always strived his hardest to give Ma and me a good life, but it’s like being in retirement has made him forget one fundamental concept. “Passion doesn’t always pay the bills. Not for everyone anyway.”
“Que es tu pasión?” What is your passion, he asks, bypassing the main point of my reply.
Starting up the steps to the third floor, I shake my head. “Same answer as the last time we talked about this, Pops. I don’t have one.”
My dad sighs, the distant sound of the ocean erupting somewhere behind him. “You need to find your purpose, Andrés. Don’t settle for a mundane life. La tienes que vivir.” You need to live it.
And yet, he settled. For as long as I can remember, my dad got up at the asscrack of dawn, went to work, was gone all day, came home, and then it was more routine from there. Dinner, shower, TV time, etcetera. “Last time I checked, our lives have always been pretty mundane, and I’m perfectly fine with that.”
“Which is why I want more for you. You deserve more than the little I could give you.”
Now it’s me who sighs as I clear the last set of the steps and cut a right toward my unit. “Pops, you know I love you, and I know you mean well, but it’s been a long day. I do not want to get into this right now. If I let you, you’ll go on until you’re blue in the face, and Ma starts yelling at you about boundaries.”
He laughs, but he knows it's true. This is where my parents are vastly different. She tends to go more silent when she doesn’t agree with something. Not that she hasn’t voiced how she feels about my career choice, but she’s a one and done kind of woman. She’ll bring it up once, state her respectful opinions, and that’s it.
“Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he concedes. “So, what do you want me to tell your mother about the Fourth?”
Fiddling around with my keys, I pull the one for my door and slide it into the lock. Somewhere behind me, I hear a hushed, “psst.” Sparing a glance over my shoulder, I find Kass poking her head out of her door, twiddling her manicured fingers at me by way of greeting.
This is the first time I’m seeing her all week, actually. We didn’t have our usual Monday meeting. She texted me to fill me in on the change of plans, but I was so caught up texting with Benni, I read the drop-down and swiped it away—something about they called her into work to cover a coworker who missed their shift without notice. She’s a bartender at one of the dives around here. I didn’t reply until early Tuesday morning, playing it off like I’d crashed after getting home.
Flashing her a grin, I push open my door and tip my head for her to follow. “Just tell her I need to check my schedule and make sure they don’t have me on for that weekend. If they don’t, I’ll try my best to make it down there, but I’m not making any promises.”
“That works. If you don’t want to come, hijo, it’s fine just—”
“I’m gonna try my best, Pops. Just give me a few days, and I’ll let you know.”
Kass squeezes her way inside and softly shuts the door as I’m wrapping up the call with my dad and ambling my way into the kitchen. She doesn’t say a word until I set my phone on the countertop and yank open the fridge.
“You busy tonight? I’m off since I worked Monday.”
“Nope. I’m not doing shit.” Retrieving two cold ones, I pop the tops on the edge of the counter and pass a bottle off to her.
“Can I not do shit with you, too, then?” Kass takes the proffered bottle and immediately guzzles down a nice swig. “Maybe we make up for Monday? Feeling kinda stabby without my weekly dick dosage.” That kittenish smirk of hers curls her lips, the one that promises lots of dirty things.
Dirty things I would’ve been more enthused about just a week or two ago.
“I’ll be honest, I’m tired as fuck. Had a long-ass week of work and—”
“I can help,” she interjects, taking another swig before setting the bottle down and sauntering toward me. One of her hands falls flat to my chest as she inches up on the tips of her toes and places a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Let’s get you relaxed, shall we?”
I haven’t so much as opened my mouth, and she’s sinking to the floor, effortlessly undoing my belt. The button and zipper come undone just as quickly, same as her fingers stealing beneath the waist of my briefs to free my cock.
Fucker jerks the second she wraps her small palm around it.
“Kass, you really don’t have to—”
Her tongue flicks out against the tip, drawing an involuntary hiss between my teeth. “What were you gonna say? I don’t have to what?”
When I don’t answer, that smirk of hers reappears as she repeats the same motion and drags along the underside. “C’mon, you know you could use a good suck and fuck, Andrés.”
She doesn’t stop there, though, locking her lips around the tip. Ever so slowly, she takes me into her mouth, working the base with her hand as her tongue caresses the shaft. The more my dick hardens against her ministrations, the more I start to relax and forget about anything that isn’t this. Fingers threading into her blonde locks, I cup the back of her head and take control of the rhythm. Kass’s hum of approval drops my head back and sends my eyes for a spin, the very tip hitting the back of her throat.
It’s right about then my brain plays the nastiest trick on me.
And I do mean the nastiest.
Suddenly, I’m not at home in the privacy of my kitchen. No, I’m back at the Annex, stealing five minutes with a woman I have no business lusting after. For a moment there, I’m so deep in the fog that I actually believe it’s Benni on her knees—those plump lips wrapped around my dick, tongue expertly massaging the shaft like her life depended on it. I’m high as hell, I swear, tightening my grip on her hair into a fist, guiding her through the new tempo as my hips piston. It’s so fucking good…
Until it’s not.
Kass’s moan eventually breaks the spell, jerking my head up in a nanosecond as the imaginary veil of my very conscious fantasy disappears into nothing.
What the hell was that?
Given Kass’s highly confused expression as she lets my dick slip free from her mouth, she’s wondering the same thing. “What happened?”
Benni. Benita Adriana Villanueva.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, trying to play it off through a fresh wave of frustration. “I thought I heard something.”
Yeah, a moan that sounds nothing like what Benni’s would, that little voice in my head taunts.
Motherfucker.
I can’t even let another chick suck my cock without this girl leaking to the forefront of it all. I haven’t kissed her, haven’t felt her pussy wrapped around my dick. Hell, I haven’t touched her, period.
What in the actual fuck is it with this girl and me?
What is it about her?
Why do I want her like this?
Kass and I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch after she rode my brains out because the loud ping of my phone wakes me up to Kass sprawled on my chest. Yeah, I finally fucked her. I had to throw down a few beers and shoot back about three tequila shots to erase Benni from my mind, but I finally did it.
How fucking pathetic is that?
I needed alcohol to focus on pussy, and I’m definitely feeling it now. My head’s fucking swimming, on the verge of pounding if I don’t get some water and Ibuprofen in my system stat.
Groaning, I slip out from beneath Kass’s limp body and snatch my phone off the coffee table. I’m still so groggy, I have to lift the phone to my face. The first thing I note is the time. It’s two in the morning. Below that? Three missed texts.
They’re all from her, starting at about eleven.
Benni: I feel like I barely saw you today. I hate when Walker sticks you w
ith Birks and Delfino.
There’s another one around midnight.
Benni: I guess you fell asleep early. I’m gonna crash too. Sleep well xoxo
The last one coming in is what woke me up.
Benni: I can’t sleep…
She’s awake…
My gaze flicks to Kass’s naked form on the couch. I’m not exactly mad she stayed the night; I’m just not used to it. She always goes home regardless of the time. Seeing her lying there after reading Benni’s text, though, feels oddly wrong.
I don’t like it.
Just like I don’t like knowing Benni was waiting for me, and I was too busy letting Kass drop her ass on my dick to remember.
My grip tightens almost murderously on the phone. “Kass,” I murmur, waiting her out a minute or two.
When she doesn’t stir even slightly, I stalk into the kitchen for some meds and a glass of water, not bothering to be quiet as I do it. But none of that wakes her either, leaving me no choice but to grab my clothes off the floor and amble—butt ass naked—into my room.
Fuck it.
I’m not gonna be the dick who wakes her up just for her to stumble down the hall and pass back out. It’s pointless. I’ll hop in the shower, wash the night off me, and hop back into bed with Benni for a couple hours. If she isn’t gone by the time I have to leave for work, then I’ll wake her.
Shutting the door behind me, I toss my clothes into the hamper beside the dresser and make a beeline for the connected bathroom to turn the shower on. It’s a Jack and Jill type of thing—one door leading from my bedroom, the other leading out to the short hallway.
While the water’s warming up, I open Benni’s text and type out a quick reply.
Me: I’m up. What’s wrong? Are you okay?
