I didn’t spend those six months in solitary confinement feeling sorry for myself, hell no! Instead, I focused on getting stronger, meaner and craftier. When I was locked in my cell, I spent every waking hour working out, using my own body-weight as resistance. I was only allowed outside for one hour a day, but I made the most of it, using the gym equipment, come rain or sunshine, mentally and physically preparing myself for the day I walked out of this god forsaken place.
At first, I could hardly do one rep without my arms quaking with the attempted effort, but it was the steely resolve within that enabled me to ignore the snickers and taunts from the guards, that kept me going. When my muscles screamed with fatigue and tears burned the back of my eyes, I forced myself to do ten more reps.
I ate every scrap of food I could get my hands on. It wasn’t difficult to put on weight in prison, the food mostly carbs and saturated fat. But, turning it into muscle took time and discipline. I had both.
When I wasn’t lifting weights, or doing endless squats, I was shadowboxing in my tiny four-foot by the six-foot cell, working on my technique and speed.
In solitary confinement, I could read as many books as I wanted. Although they limited my book choices, no martial arts or boxing how-to books, I found ways to get around it by reading biographies on Evander Holyfield, Royce Gracie, and Muhammad Ali. I was even able to get my hands-on books about Pilates and tai-chi and adapted their moves to create my own unique fighting style. I was determined to be ready when I was moved back into general population. I was relentless in my pursuit of strength, speed, and power, and for a good reason.
My skills were tested the first night back in my normal cell, and a few times after that. But this time I held my own. I had managed to put on twenty pounds of solid muscle but more importantly, I had improved my speed and my agility. I quickly made a name for myself as being dangerous and ruthless. That reputation had served me well.
Dwelling on the past wasn’t something I liked to do; it was the one closet full of skeletons I would rather keep locked up. I took one last look at the place that had been my own personal living hell. There was nothing else left for me there. Determined to close the door on Kenworth just like it had closed the doors on me, I turned my back and headed down the road toward the rundown bus shelter that sat across the street a few yards away from the prison. The vestibule had seen better days and reeked of stale cigarettes and urine. Not much different to prison. I chose to lean against the frame, figuring it was the least contaminated spot as I waited.
There was no bus schedule posted on the shelter, and I had no watch to tell me what time it was, but the bus ticket in my front left pocket read 8 pm. Besides the clothes on my back, a piece of paper with the name and phone number of my parole officer and an old wrinkled photograph were the only things I was taking with me upon my release.
The sun was beginning to set, and it would be dark soon. As if on cue, the lone streetlight flickered to life, emitting a dim glow. They had begun processing my release at 5 pm, and that had taken all of fifteen minutes. Assuming it had taken another fifteen minutes to walk through all the security checkpoints and the gate, I was in for a long wait. It wasn’t like I wasn’t good at that. These past eight years, I’d had a lot of time on my hands and patience became my best friend. For many months, hell even the first couple of years, anger and hate fueled my determination. It lit a fire in my belly and kept me focused. I would lie in bed plotting my revenge on the people that had doubted my word, the court system that had failed me, and the people who had failed to protect my baby sister from that child predator.
Gladys Winston’s pinched face came to my mind, a withering old crone. The rage that I thought had long been suppressed threatened to boil to the surface at the thought of that old hag. I refused to think of her as family, despite her son Wallace Jr., having married our mother a few years after our father had died. I blamed her for ending up in prison in the first place. She just couldn’t believe that her one and only son could be such a monster. She had blatantly lied under oath to protect the sick bastard, claiming that I had violent tendencies even as a child. Fake tears had trickled down her cracked cheeks as she claimed to have desperately tried to persuade her precious son Wallace to send me to a home for wayward boys. To get me the help, I so desperately needed. But his kind heart wouldn’t allow him to give up on me. The lies just flowed freely from her thin, dry lips after that. She went on to claim that I had not had the best male role model growing up, implying that my biological father had been an alcoholic and that’s why he had died. The jury had eaten it up like sweetcakes at a fair.
It probably didn’t help my case when I had jumped up from the defense table and screamed that she was a lying cunt and that she was just as sick as her sick bastard of a son. It had taken the bailiff and two officers to restrain me. The judge finally had me removed from the courtroom. My state-appointed attorney never bothered to call me to the stand in my own defense. The jury had come back with a guilty verdict in less than thirty minutes. I had been sentenced and convicted of manslaughter and given fifteen years with the possibility for parole after serving seven.
None of that mattered now. I had served my time. I was a free man. I had done what needed to be done to make sure that my sister didn’t have to face that monster ever again. I only wished that I could have stopped him in time. But, she was safe from him now. He would never hurt her, or anyone else, ever again.
The thought of Jaime gave me peace. Three and a half years younger than me, she was a pesky teenager always committed to sticking her nose into my business. But, I would have walked through fire for her. And that I did. I pulled out the old wrinkled photo that I had carried with me everywhere for the last eight years. The colors were faded, and the edges were worn down from the constant wear and tear of keeping it tucked in my pocket. I always kept it on my person, not daring to leave it in my cell. I never trusted the other inmates, or even the officers, with that precious photo. Wallace’s family had influence, even at Kentworth, and I wouldn’t put it past Gladys to have them destroy anything and everything I held dear.
I ran my thumb over Jaime’s sweet face, as I had so many times before. The picture had been taken during happier times before my mom had remarried. It was a picture of me, Jaime, and her best friend Ally at Waukegan National Park. I had been twenty at the time. Jaime and Ally were both eighteen and in their last year of high school and practically like sisters. Ally was full figured with curves in all the right places, and although I always caught myself staring at her, it was awkward considering she was the babysitter’s best friend.
I still remember the look on her face when I caught her watching me have sex with a girl. She’d been red-faced and embarrassed at being caught, but I could also tell she was aroused. She had tucked her bottom lip under her teeth and her eyes had been almost fully dilated. The pupils so large I could barely see the creamy jade of her piercing eyes. Her nipples had also been hard, stretching her already snug t-shirt tight across her chest.
My dick twitched at the thought of her in my arms. I knew I should have left her alone, but I just couldn’t help myself. She was just too tempting.
The sound of a car approaching drew me out of my reverie, and the memories of that day faded. I shifted uncomfortably against the vestibule as I tried to adjust my hard-on. The best I could do was put my hand in my pocket to hide it. I tucked the picture into the back pocket of my jeans as I waited for the car to pass by. No reason to linger over the past. I doubted Jaime and Ally were still friends after all these years and everything that had happened.
Jason
The car came closer. It barely took a minute or two for the car to crest over the top of the hill. It was a small silver four-door Toyota Yaris. For some reason, I got nervous standing here, practically an open target, especially when it slowed down as it came towards the prison gate. I watched curiously as it got closer and the headlights no longer restricted my view of the driver, who looked like it may be
a woman with long black hair and a cap tucked low over her eyes looking over towards the entrance. She was most likely a visitor, which I found odd since visiting hours ended at 3 pm.
Either way, it was none of my business. Shifting to the side, I tucked myself back into the bus shelter trying to make myself as small as possible, which was a little difficult, since I now topped 6’3” inches and 220 lbs. I heard the car engine purr as it moved forward. I squatted down pretending to be preoccupied with my shoes and waited for the car to pass.
But I would be so lucky; instead it rolled to a stop in front of the bus shelter. I chose to ignore the car and driver, but curiosity gnawed at my gut as I forced myself to keep my eyes down, willing her to just leave. A moment passed and then I heard the unmistakable squeak of the window rolling down. Shit.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” The woman’s voice had a hint of laughter, a very distinct, very familiar sound.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I looked up. The brunette casually rested her chin on her arm as she smirked out the window at me. She had pushed the cap back on her head to reveal chocolate brown eyes that were currently full of mischief. Even if I didn't notice the twin dimples that came to life when she smiled, I would have recognized that cap anywhere. Not many people would dare to wear a faded Nebraska cap in Okee country. Especially one as worn and faded as this one, with the fish hook still stuck on the brow. I knew this because it was mine. It had been my favorite hat, a gift from my dad. I had worn it everywhere.
A grin split my face, as recognition hit me. Warmth spread through me for the first time in over eight years at the sight of my baby sister. But she had lost that innocence she once owned, she had grown up, we both did.
“Jaime?” I said as both shock and surprise catapulted my earlier mood out of orbit. She was the last person I would have ever expected.
She squealed in delight, barely remembering to put the car in park before she got out and launched herself into my arms. I caught her before she could knock us both to the ground and held her tight to me as I swung her around in a circle. She squeezed me tight, burying her face in my neck and I just held her against me, reveling in the fact that she was actually here. I hadn’t told anyone about my release, and I wasn’t sure if she would have wanted to know. When started my sentence, she came to visit me twice a week, that changed to once every other week, and after mom died, all visits stopped. I set her feet down on the ground.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
I tried to remove her arms from around my neck, so I could step back and get a good look at her, but she held on tight.
Her shoulders were shaking, and at first, I thought it was from laughter, but then I felt the tears against my neck.
“Hey…” I said quietly, “What’s this all about?” I tried for nonchalance, but I couldn’t keep the concern from my voice.
She sniffled and sucked in a breath before pulling back looking up, her large brown eyes red and rimmed with more unshed tears, and filled with sorrow.
“I’m sorry, I told myself I wasn’t going to cry,” She said softly, “I just can’t believe you’re really here. I never thought this day would come.”
I gently wiped the tears away with the pads of my thumbs and then held her at arm’s length, just drinking in the sight of her. It felt so good to have a family again. Studying her, I could see that she had finally gotten some of dad’s height. When we were kids, she barely came up to my chest, but now her head skimmed the bottom of my chin. No small feat, considering I was a respectable 6’3”. Gone were the chubby cheeks of youth, her face had thinned out, and her cheekbones were defined but not in a gaunt way. I was happy to see that she was a healthy weight, hadn’t fallen into society’s norms of girls being wafer thin and sickly.
“How did you know I was getting released today?” I asked curiously.
A slight frown marred her pretty features and she pouted her lips, “Well, it’s not like I heard it from you big brother,” she said and playfully angry.
But as always, she was more bark than bite. I did feel a little bad for not having contacted her to let her know, but then again, in my defense I had no idea where she was.
“I’m sorry Jaime. I really am.” I hesitated, not sure what to say. “It’s just that we hadn’t had any contact after mom died, and I just kind of figured it didn’t matter. Besides, I wasn’t even sure if you were still living in town.”
“You thought it wouldn’t matter?” The expression on her face quickly changed. Playfulness was replaced by hurt, “Of course it mattered. You’re my brother.”
She looked away and sighed, “I’m sorry. I know things were…difficult and strained when mom died. I didn’t handle it very well.”
I put my hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at me, “James,” I started using my old pet name for her, “I should be the one apologizing, not you. You were barely 19, and you were left alone to deal with her death and all the arrangements by yourself.”
Regret washed over me. I had missed so much in the years spent in jail that I never once thought about how much she would have to do all on her own. The only thing that mattered to me at the time was what I had saved her from. Never once giving thought to everything else she would have had to endure once the dust had settled.
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, flashing one dimple, “It’s not your fault Jason. And besides, I got through it; at least it made me grow up faster. I had no choice really, I only had Ally, and I couldn’t depend on her forever.”
At the mention of Ally’s name, my mind drifted to earlier memories. Immediately, I could feel the blood rush below and my groin tighten uncomfortably. Now was NOT the time for this.
Abruptly changing the conversation back to my initial question, I asked, “But that still does not explain how you’re here, how did you find out I was being released early?” I tugged on a lock of hair affectionately, “Don’t get me wrong I’m glad you are I am just curious how you found out.”
“Oh, well, a little birdie in town told me.”
I could always tell when my sister was lying. She would never look me in the eye, her eyes darting anywhere but my face, while tucking her bottom lip under her teeth.
I chuckled and crossed my arms cocking a suspicious brow. She shuffled her feet, still refusing to make eye contact. But, I knew how to wait her out.
With a huff, she finally blurted it out, “Okay fine! I found out from the old bitch Gladys.”
Gladys. A name I had tried to burn from my memory. I could feel the familiar burn of rage simmering just below the surface of my skin. After all the pain and hurt her and her family had put us through, it killed me to hear that she had any part in my sister life or our blissful reunion. Refusing to let it mar this occasion, I suppressed my anger and kept my tone blank,
“What do you mean you found out from her?”
“Well, I know she didn’t mean for me to find out, that much was clear.” Jaime began to pace back and forth, gesturing wildly with her hands.
“I had been in the county office, paying the back taxes on the house…”
My teeth inadvertently clenched and my jaw tightened at the mention of her having to handle back taxes, but I remained silent, allowing her to continue uninterrupted.
Eyeing me warily, she continued, “The clerk at the county took me around back to her desk to verify the amounts owed. So, I was half-hidden behind her cubicle wall when I heard her voice, you know, Gladys’s? She was obviously irritated about something because she wasn’t even trying to keep her voice down. I was trying my best to ignore her until I heard you name.”
I loved my sister, but she tended to be long-winded. I tried not to show my impatience as I willed her to get to the point. She must have sensed my agitation because she rushed through the rest of her story.
“Anyways, she was talking with the Sheriff about your release. She was trying to get it denied and threatening the Sheriff’s job and throwing aro
und her family name and so on.” Jaimie rambled on, getting all worked up again, hands waving around as she explained what happened, “So I stood up and made my presence known. Gladys immediately turned red and accused me of spying on her. I don’t know what came over me, but I was tired of being bullied by that woman and her family. So I blatantly told her that if she hadn’t wanted the whole world to know, she shouldn’t be shouting it from the rooftops, like a banshee.”
Jaime managed to look both proud and a little sheepish at the same time, “I may have also mentioned that she may have been able to buy the judge and jury of this little town, but that her influence stopped there.”
I hated that I hadn’t been there to protect her from Gladys’s sharp tongue, but I couldn’t help but admire the fierce young woman she had become. I smiled at her proudly as I put my arm around her.
“I’m proud of you. You’ve managed to rise above everything and thrive despite that family, and what they did to us.”
“Eh, I did what I had to,” she said and shrugged, “Come on, let’s get you home.”
As we pulled away from the desolate bus stop, I forced myself not to look back at the prison. For the first time in years, I felt light. I felt hope.
Ally
I finally managed to get a moment to just catch a breath, happy hour was over and most of the patrons were heading home. Te, and although the place was still reasonably packed with a few stumbling die-hards, who insisted on having just one more drink for the umpteenth time. My toes were numb from standing so long, and the fact that I was so distracted didn’t help at all. By now Jamie would be on her way back from prison, a bombshell she decided to drop on me just this morning and boy was I gobsmacked. It’s been years since I last saw Jason, and to be honest I never thought I would see him again, but that never stopped me from reminiscing about him.
Mafia Daddy: An Older Man & A Virgin Romance Page 13
