Slammer

by Tabatha Vargo

  A moment of silence and then a single gunshot echoed loudly, making me jump, and that single gunshot was followed by many more.

  Chaos ensued once the silence settled in. Officers rushed my apartment, finding me handcuffed on my knees in front of the door. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, and the screams of a desperate woman lit up my living room.

  I glanced up just as Charlie filled my doorway, and that was all it took. I broke like a priceless vase—like a doll that had been laid on the floor and stomped on. I would never be the same again. I was altered so deeply that I was sure I could feel the cracks as they formed on my soul.

  CHRISTOPHER JACOBS LEFT this world in a blaze of glory. At least, that was how the news reporters said it. They liked to add that extra bit of drama for ratings. I watched the news on Diana’s flat screen and cried while the reporters went off about what a terrible criminal he was and how the world was safer without him.

  Little did they know he was only doing what he did best… he was protecting me. Sure, it was from himself, but he’d loved me too much to let the monster that hid within him get me.

  Charlie and the boys helped me pack up my apartment. I couldn’t stay there knowing what happened in there. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing Douglas dead on the floor or Christopher saying goodbye. It was too much.

  Instead, I put all my stuff in a storage, packed what I needed until I got back on my feet, and crashed on Diana’s couch, which wasn’t as comfortable as I’d hoped it would be seeing that she was dating a new guy who liked to come over all the time.

  Still, anything was better than the shadows that crept through my apartment, filling my sleep with nightmares, or the memories that hid in the walls, waiting to haunt me. Not to mention the terrible stained floor that was just beneath the new carpeting. I knew in the back of my mind that I was being unreasonable, but it didn’t matter.

  Nothing much mattered anymore. I didn’t have much to look forward to since I wasn’t sure I’d ever be as happy as I was when I was with Christopher ever again.

  The news on Fulton Rhodes Penitentiary broke days later. The warden was arrested for his crimes against the inmates, and a few COs went down with him. Apparently, he’d become a very rich man thanks to the fight club that no one talked about. Stories filled the TV screen. Ones about corruption and crime—about cover-ups and murder—stories about Christopher.

  I watched even though it broke my heart. I watched because they’d occasionally show a picture of him, and I’d get to see him once more.

  Charlie posted armed officers outside Diana’s house until the crap with the Rizuttos and the Lanzas died down. The green-light on me seemed to expire the second I stopped digging into Christopher’s case—the second he died and the family’s secrets were no longer at risk. They hadn’t set him up, but they still had things to hide. My digging for his sake had put those secrets in danger.

  It all made sense now. The puzzle pieces of Fulton and everyone involved in Christopher’s life fell into place. I didn’t like the image it was painting, and when the puzzle was completely done, I stared at a portrait of a very sad future. One without the man I loved. One that I wasn’t sure I wanted to live to see.

  Depression was real.

  Monsters were real, too. They didn’t live in our closets or hide under our beds. They squatted within us—coming out occasionally to destroy the things we loved—coming out to destroy us.

  EPILOGUE

  “LOOK, MOMMY, I’M a monster!” Christopher called out as he ran across the park toward me.

  He held his arms above his head and clawed his fingers like he was going to get me.

  I laughed and pretended to be afraid. “You are! You’re a scary monster,” I played along.

  He growled at me, reminding me so much of his father, before he ran away, laughing on his short, three-year-old legs. His brown hair flapped in the breeze, and his smile lit up the park like the sun above us.

  I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

  Who knew that two people were capable of producing something so wonderful?

  I liked to think that if Christopher knew what he was leaving behind, he would’ve stayed for me, but then again, I thought he knew how unstable he was. Deep down, I know that it wouldn’t have mattered how he left or when he left, he was always bound to leave. He was sick and had he not taken the route he did that day outside my apartment, he would’ve done so at a later point.

  Just thinking about him still hurt, but I had to move on. Especially once I found out that a tiny part of Christopher was growing inside me.

  Some days when I looked at my son, my heart ached. It was so full of love for him for one, and two, because his eyes were an exact match to his father’s, royal blue and so dark and mysterious that I could never figure out what he was thinking.

  His smile reminded me of my final night with Christopher and how happy he’d looked. How free he was in the moment. Little things, like taking longer in the shower or sleeping in a comfortable bed, had meant the world to him. But more than that, I felt happy knowing that his final night on Earth, he was at peace.

  Sometimes when I closed my eyes in a silent room, I could still hear his laughter. I’d only heard it a few times, but it stuck with me always. Occasionally before I fell asleep and my tiny, two-bedroom house was quiet, I could still hear his voice. I could almost make out the words I love you, and I’d fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  I wasn’t lonely, though. I had Christopher—my little man—my reason for everything I did in my life, and he was more than enough for me. He was all I needed.

  “Christopher!” I called out.

  We’d been at the park for over an hour, and the southern heat was starting to bake the top of my head. I stood, waiting for him to run back to me, but he was nowhere to be found. I moved across the sandy space, checking behind the equipment and dodging playing children.

  “Christopher, where are you?” I called out loudly.

  Panic moved in, but it dissolved immediately the second I spotted my son playing in the sandbox beneath the slide. I moved up behind him, listening as he talked to no one. It was kind of cute.

  I moved closer, ready to tap his shoulder and playfully pull him into my arms, but I stopped when I heard exactly what it was he was saying. My heart slammed against my ribs. Surely, I was hearing him wrong. He was only three. Three years olds didn’t think like that.

  “No,” Christopher said adamantly. “I don’t want to hurt Mommy. It’s my job to protect her.”

  I gasped, earning his attention. He turned my way with worried eyes before he smiled at me. The corners of his mouth lifted and his cheeks puffed out, but the smile never really reached his eyes.

  “Oh hi, Mommy, are we leaving now?” he asked.

  I swallowed over the sandpaper in my throat and nodded. “Yeah, baby. It’s time to go home.”

  He stood, shaking the sand from his shorts. “Good, because I don’t want to play with the monster anymore.”

  I felt dizzy. He words were so close to the last ones his father had spoken minutes before he basically took his own life.

  “What monster, baby? I don’t see anyone.”

  Christopher laughed, his baby soft cheeks reddening and his dark blue eyes glistening. “You can’t see him, silly. He’s inside of me, Mommy.”

  If you or someone you love has been a victim of rape or any other form of abuse, please seek help at http://www.joyfulheartfoundation.org

  If you or anyone you love suffers from a mental disorder and you feel like that person might be a danger to themselves or the people around them, please seek help at your local mental health institution.

  KEEP READING FOR MORE FROM

  TABATHA VARGO

  COMING OCTOBER 27TH

  SACKED

  When Sawyer Reed wants something, he gets it.

  And I WANT her.

  She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine.

  Her resi
stance is futile because once I start a play, I always follow through. And I ALWAYS win.

  Nothing, not even the deep-seated hate I have for my rival, Jacob Byrd, is going to keep me from my end game.

  And my end game is Gretchen Cole.

  But I have to keep my head in the game. Everyone knows what happens to a quarterback when he loses focus. He gets SACKED.

  ALSO BY TABATHA VARGO

  THE CHUBBY GIRL CHRONICLES

  On the Plus Side

  Hot and Heavy—Coming in 2016!

  THE BLOW HOLE BOYS

  Playing Patience (Zeke)

  Perfecting Patience 1.5 (Zeke)

  Finding Faith (Finn)

  Convincing Constance (Tiny)

  Having Hope (Chet)—Coming in 2016!

  CO-WRTTEN WITH MELISSA ANDREA

  Little Black Book

  The Wrath of Sin

  The Procedure

  Jack Hammer

  STALK TABATHA VARGO

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  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thank you. Yes, you, the reader. Without you I would still be writing in notebooks and hiding my stories under my mattress. You’re awesome and I can’t thank you enough for taking the time out of your life to read my work.

  A massive THANK YOU to R.D. Douglas for giving me a hand with Slammer. The storyline for Slammer has been stuck in my head for almost two years. It was nice to finally get it out and R.D. was there for the whole ride. So thank you for being an amazing and supportive friend.

  To the lifer who wished to remain nameless: thank you for your hardcore honesty and attention to detail. You’ve lived the prison life for many years and your knowledge was needed. May the rest of your life be easier and may you finally get a decent piece of chocolate cake. You’re not an innocent man, but being locked behind the cinderblock walls of prison has made you an honest man. Thank you for taking time out of your life to help me with this book.

  To the correctional officers, who also wished to remain nameless: thank you for your help with Slammer and also for having the balls to do your job. You boys make the world a safer place and for that, you kick so much ass. Thank you.

  To my beta readers: Melissa Skoog, Paula Kaesberg, Michele Wiegert, and Tonia Cardenas. Thank you. You girls got it rough, which is fine since I know y’all secretly like it rough. Hehehe

  To my fabulous author friends, Ella James, M.S. Brannon, J.M. LaRocca, and Vanessa Booke, who took Slammer for a spin and gave me honesty… THANK YOU!

  Regina Wamba, the designing genius behind the dark and sexy cover for Slammer, you’re amazing and I love you. Thank you.

  To Nadege Richards, my formatter and adorable friend: I love you. That is all. Every time I see your face I smile and that means so much. You’re freaking amazing and genuine. That’s rare. I’m happy to call you my friend.

  To my kick ass street team: you girls ROCK my face off. I love each of you for taking time out of your life to pimp me. I can’t thank y’all enough for everything you do for me.

  To Cassie Chapman and Danielle Linhart: thank you for always hooking me up with gorgeous swag. You girls are effing awesome. That is all.

  Finally, to my hubby and my daughter: thank you for being understanding when I shut the world out to finish a book. You are the reason behind everything I do. I love you more than words and I’m so blessed to have you in my life. Mini, mommy loves you more than love.