by Dee Garcia
“Sounds like I need to go harder, make you forget about him altogether.”
Oh, if only. If that were the case, the man wouldn’t be haunting me this many years later. “You can try,” I offer quietly. “But he’s a big part of my baggage.”
Andrés shrugs, seemingly unfazed by the abrupt turn of events. “Everyone has baggage, bebé. Some worse than others.”
Yeah, and after all these years, Arcángel still takes the motherfucking cake.
“Close your eyes,” he continues, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Take a deep breath for me.”
“We can’t. We don’t have time.” And yeah, that’s true, but I’m just done.
This is too much. What we’re feeling isn’t something we can “keep light.” I’ve been telling myself we could for days, had convinced myself we could, but the point of the matter is, the similarities have been there from the very beginning, and I should’ve heeded their red flags.
Andrés and Ángel are two different men, complete and polar opposites, but what I feel with both of them? It’s scarily similar.
“Just do it, Benni. We’ll leave as soon as you do.” The softness of his stare promises as much, shutting my eyes as I inhale a long, deep breath. Leaning in, his lips settle beside my ear. “Now let it go, and let him go with it.”
“Andrés, it’s not that—” I start, but his fingers seal around my jaw, jamming the words in my mouth.
“Let. Him. Go. Let him go, bebé, and relax. I don’t need you to think about tomorrow or a week from now or what you think I deserve. I know I can’t have you right now, that I might never get to have you at all. At least let me have this one time...”
When he releases me, our stares collide anew as I take another breath and let it go.
Is this real life?
Am I really falling for a guard right now?
“Why does it feel like one time won’t be enough, though?” I whisper, drawing a sure smile on his lips.
“Because it probably won’t.”
♫ Loco Contigo - DJ Snake, J Balvin & Tyga
The next morning, I’m still riding the high from that kiss. Did it go according to plan? No, but even with the sudden downhill plummet, it’s been hours since then, and I can still feel her in my hands, can still taste her on my lips. She was absolutely right—one time would never be enough. I knew before, but it’s crystal clear now. Whatever this is, whatever we’re doing, it’s not one-sided. It’s not a figment of my imagination or vice versa. It’s fucking real with the potential to explode in our faces, and that’s what makes it scary.
But it’s exciting, too—tempting—and we’re at the point where there’s no tamping this down anymore.
She wants it. I want it.
We already crossed the line, so why not? It’s not like we can go back now. My dad is always wanting me to live my life, to never settle, right? Well, this is me listening to him. The circumstances surely aren’t what he meant, but everything is good. No one knows what happened, our secret is perfectly safe. And if we’re careful enough, we can do it again, and this time—I will have her.
Whoever that almost-ex of hers is, I’m going to fuck him out of her system until all she can focus on is this.
Us.
“Oh, Bala, did you happen to take a look at this?” Mack’s voice erupts behind me as I’m putting all my shit into my locker.
There’s a few of us in here, but I’ve not said much other than “Good morning.”
I spare him a look over my shoulder and drop my gaze to the paper he’s holding out to me. My eyes quickly scan its contents, and the further I read, the more intrigued I become, the proverbial lightbulb flickering at the possibility. One of the third-shift dudes, Zhao, needs someone to cover him for a week. He’s going on vacation to visit family in China and promises he’ll cover a different week when he returns. The catch is he originally had coverage from one of the D Block guards, Ryker I think his name is, but he just got suspended while they investigate him—something about sexual misconduct—so now Zhao is SOL.
Hmmm—this could work. Aside from the time, third shift is easy.
It’s quiet.
And it’s dark.
See where I’m going with this?
“I might be able to swing this,” I tell Mack. I need to talk to Benni first. “My parents just moved to the Keys, and they’ve been dying for me to make the drive down for a visit. Let me check the dates with them first, and I’ll let you know.”
Mack claps me on the shoulder, rooting a fist in the air. “You’re the man, Bala. Thank you.”
My eyes want to narrow, but I keep my poker face on tight. “No problem.”
As soon as Mack’s out of the room, Delfino blows out a whistle. “Speaking of Zhao, did you guys hear about Ryker?”
I guess it’s not common knowledge yet. The only reason I know is because Walker and I saw him being escorted to the Warden’s office. Later in the day, Walker filled me in on the details.
Birks and a few of the other guards shakes their heads, prompting Delfino to go into story mode.
I’m not staying.
Shutting my locker, I snap the lock in place and head out in the same direction Mack went, treading the halls that lead to B Block. I think Benni’s off today, which gives me several different times throughout the day to quickly pull her aside and lay out my idea, maybe even steal another kiss to sate the raging need.
I’m about to make that last turn toward B Block when the counselor knocks on his window, stopping me dead in my tracks. Judge motions for my attention with a crook of his finger, prompting me to stick my head through the threshold of his office.
“Everything okay, Judge?”
“Oh yeah, we’re good,” the round man agrees, taking a sip from his “#1 Dad” coffee mug. “You’re mostly in B Block, yeah?”
I nod.
“Excellent. When you get clocked in and all of that good stuff, would you escort Benita Villanueva down here, please? I only just realized as I’m clearing off all this paperwork that I never spoke to her after last weekend’s fiasco.”
I forgot all about that, too. After telling her I’d get her the phone, our little cyclone morphed into an EF5 tornado, tunneling us in this crazy whirlwind of a ride. Now that he’s brought it up, though, the wheels are spinning again. I was curious as to what he needed to see her for then, but I’m all the more curious now. Unless completely necessary, inmates aren’t required to meet with the counselor. They can meet with him if they suffer from anxiety and depression, considering he’s licensed to treat them and recommend prescriptions, but most of the time, you only see them in here if it’s by Judge’s request. Most of the time it’s due to an excess in behavioral issues, or after they’ve been released from the hole. If they’re awaiting trial or there’s a change in their sentence, you’ll see them down here more frequently, too.
So why does he wanna see Benni?
“Yes, sir. I’ll have her down here in about five minutes or so,” I reply, taking my leave as he dismisses me with a tip of his balding head.
When I make it to the cellblock, I let myself in, the buzzer alerting everyone of my incoming presence. I can feel Benni’s stare from one of the tables, but I just keep on for the box. The faster I let Mack know she needs to be somewhere, the faster we can be alone, even if it’s just roaming the halls to Judge’s office.
Mack’s the only one in here, and from the looks of it, he’s actually logging in his paperwork. He drags his gaze my way in acknowledgment and goes on about his business promptly thereafter.
“Judge needs to see Villanueva,” I state, maintaining my place by the door.
“Ah, perfect.” He smiles, clicking through a few screens. Moments later, the printer starts up, shooting out paper after paper. “I need to drop these off to him anyway, so I’ll take her. You can either stay here or post up out there. Your call.”
No.
No, no, no. I was supposed to take her. Judge asked me.
&nbs
p; “You sure? I don’t mind passing it along to him,” I try, hoping he’ll take my offer.
But I should’ve known… This is Mack we’re talking about. He’s as obsessed with Benni as I am, if not more.
“Nah, I’ve got it.” He waves me off, jumping onto his feet. “You’ve been working hard as hell, and I appreciate it. Enjoy the quiet while you can. You know they get rowdier around lunch.”
Fuck.
There’s literally nothing I can do. Mack may delegate a lot of the work around here—because God forbid he do any as the man on top—but he’s still the Head Guard. What he says goes, and that’s the end of that.
And now I’ve gotta watch him stroll out into the block and take Benni with him while I’m stuck in this fucking box wishing it was me instead.
♫ Bad Idea - Ariana Grande
Every hair on my body is stiff at attention as I make my way out of the block with Mack’s comemierda ass and his stack of papers. Andrés came striding into the block with this oddly determined look in his eye, leading me to believe that wherever I’m going is somewhere he had every intention of escorting me to. Mack, in turn, took it upon himself instead.
“Where are you taking me?” I dare ask, noting we’re heading toward the front of the prison.
“Judge wants to see you,” he answers evenly.
This again? What in the world does that man need to see me for? I haven’t been to his office since I was first transferred to the Annex after my trial four years ago.
“Any idea why?” I press, but Mack simply shakes his head, lips puckering indecisively. “None. Hey, by the way…I’m sorry about the other day with Reynoso. I was having a shitty day, and I took it out on you.”
Anyone who doesn’t know Mack would think he’s being genuine.
But I know better.
An ill shiver racks its way down my spine like jagged shards of glass. Every time Mack apologizes for one of his outbursts or unnecessary instigations, something crude and disgusting always follows. Sometimes I wish he’d actually act out and put his hands on me so I could report his ass to the Warden and get him the fuck out of here, but that would involve me letting him. I don’t think I could stomach an encounter.
Sweeps and searches are bad enough as it is.
He always searches me longer than necessary, rubbing his fingers along my pussy one too many times for it to be considered normal or standard procedure.
“All’s good. We all have crappy days,” I reply curtly, nervously side-eyeing the small space between us.
We’re the only ones in this hallway right now...
Mack hums, the stack of papers in his grasp slightly crunching as he tightens his hold on them. “I know, I just get so jealous sometimes. They all get to hug you; they get to talk to you, and I can’t. It’s not fair. Birdy. It’s just not fair. You know how much I want you, how much I crave that tight, little pussy of yours.” He releases this creepy laugh, almost like a deep, malevolent Woody Woodpecker type of thing. It’s dark and guttural, bordering on maniacal, and the prison is still so quiet, the bone-chilling sound somewhat echoes off the walls, doubling back to my ears over and over again.
I’m disturbed to my core but manage to keep my head held up high and my legs moving forward, all the while breathing through the roiling in my stomach.
“You’re lucky we’re here. Otherwise, I’d be hauling you into the break room,” he continues in my silence. “I’m usually so much better about this, but my self-control is starting to give. Not sure how much longer I can hold out without feeling you. One of these days, Benni. One of these days, I’m going to rock your world. You just wait and see, baby.”
That’s the last thing he says to me with this diabolical, wicked grin before knocking on Judge’s door and slipping the stack of papers into the box hanging from it. He doesn’t follow me inside, thankfully, merely waving to the counselor through the wall of windows as he continues on his way to wherever the fuck he’s going. Judge waves back and turns his attention on me, smiling warmly.
“Miss Villanueva, so nice to see you. Sit, please. I’m just wrapping this up, and then I’ll be right with you.” He extends a hand toward the seats facing his desk.
I do as instructed, though I’m still cringing on the inside after my little walk down here with Mack. I don’t doubt he’ll follow through with what he said, which means I’m going to have to watch my back all the more now. It also means Andrés and I are going to have to be that much more careful. If Mack catches onto the slightest hint that Andrés is invading “his” territory, it could get uglier than we originally thought.
Because it wasn’t ugly and hard enough already, right?
“Sooo, is everything okay or…” I trail off, hoping that’ll prompt Judge to speak. I’ve been in this chair for less than a minute, and the silence is quickly wreaking havoc on my nerves.
“Everything is perfect.” He shoots me a knowing glance over the rim of his glasses, then refocuses on the paper before him. “Almost done here, and then I’ll explain everything.”
Nothing is alarming about his tone—literally nothing. The evenness is what’s disturbing really, making it hard to sit still. Crossing my arms, I recline in my seat—knee bouncing a million miles per hour—and force myself to take a look around the room as a distraction. That same, faded pale blue paint of the old janitorial closet coats the walls, along with all of his framed diplomas and tacked pictures of what I presume is former inmates who’ve followed up with him after serving their time. The wall behind me is a giant bookcase filled with encyclopedias and other books pertaining to the laws. In one of the corners—right beside his filing cabinets—he’s got a mini-fridge and a single-serve coffee maker sitting on top, dry creamer, and at least three canisters of sugar lined perfectly beside it.
That’s all she wrote.
Oh, and the tall fake palm under the middle of three windows that give a view of the fenced-in parking lot.
Cutting my stare back to Judge, I study him as my brain shifts back into overdrive. What does he need to tell me that he’s called me down here twice now? He can’t know about Andrés. It hasn’t even been twenty-hours for one; and two, there wasn’t a soul in sight when we went in and out of that closet. Andrés assured me the cameras don’t pick up on that corner, either.
Could Koko have opened her mouth then?
Seeing as she’s working with Franca now, I wouldn’t put it past her, but nah…it’s not likely. Mack wouldn’t have escorted me over here so breezily if he did. There would’ve been a sweep; I would’ve gotten pushed around and roughed up. He would’ve taunted me about how he knew it was mine all along or that I was involved.
“All right, here we go,” Judge cheerfully says as he goes about signing the bottom right corner of the paper. On the last flick of his wrist, he slides the sheet toward me and flips it around with the tips of his fingers. “Have a look at this.”
At first glance, it looks like nothing more than an official letter of some sort.
And yeah, that’s what it is—but what I end up reading?
To say I wasn’t expecting it would be the lightest term possible. My breath catches, stomach flipping at least six or seven times as the legal jargon and what it means begins to sink in.
“I’m… I’m getting out early?” The question isn’t directed at Judge. I’m thinking out loud, trying not to burst out of this seat and get my hopes up before I know the whole entire story.
“Yes, ma’am, you are. Six months on the money.” He sounds genuinely happy for me, chuckling when my mouth pops open and closed for a good minute.
Six months from now is right before Christmas.
I’ll be home...for Christmas. That’s my mom’s favorite holiday.
“You’re sure this is for real? That this is for me and not someone else?” Setting the letter back on his desk with shaky hands, I drag my gaze up in time to see the old man nodding.
“That’s your name on it, isn’t it?” he counters, tapping th
e tip of his fancy pen right above my full name. “You’ve earned it, Villanueva, and deserve the chance to show the system you can keep this up on the outside. You’ll need two years on parole to mark your time as completed, of course. Still, there’s an opportunity for early release there, too, if your parole officer sees it fit.”
You’ve earned it.
Of everything he just said, that’s what sticks out the most. Wow. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that? How long I’ve been waiting to finally get the validation that all of my efforts to stay on track haven’t gone unnoticed? I’ve worked so hard for this, so damn hard, that when the floodgates burst wide open, I don’t try to stop the emotional deluge.
Fuck vulnerability, fuck what anyone thinks. I let it all go, every little thing that’s built up inside me since the day I got arrested, and thank Papá Dios for finally hearing me.
For answering my prayers.
“T-thank you.” I’m not sure he can hear me behind the safety of my hands as my body folds in on itself, shoulders shaking, breaths erratic. “Thank you so much for this. Y-you don’t understand what it m-means.”
Hold on just a little longer, Mama.
Yup, I’m sobbing, afraid that if I so much as move or blink or even breathe that I’m going to wake up from some sick dream, and none of this will be real.
I’m going to be home for Christmas.
“Oh, don’t cry,” Judge says sympathetically, sliding something across his desk. “This old man isn’t good with tears.”
I’m not either; I hate them, earning him the softest laugh as I focus on breathing and regaining control of my emotions. When I finally pick myself back up and wipe away the wetness clinging to my face, I realize it’s a tissue box. I take a couple and clean myself up some more, blotting my eyes and then blowing my nose.
“I’m sorry,” my voice quakes. “I just wasn’t expecting this at all. I’ve been praying this day might eventually come around. Didn’t think it would happen, though.”
