Love Undercover

by Nana Prah

  “Ay Dios mío! Qué te paso, chica?”

  There was no need for the beautician to bring God’s name into it when she asked what had happened after her laughter abated. Her perfect Spanish accent always surprised Sarita, considering she came from Eastern Europe.

  Sarita pinned her hands to her hips and responded in English. “I got bored and became overzealous with the string. The mirror is deceptive.”

  Nadia grinned. “Did you forget it’s made out of plastic and is warped?” Her heavy Czech Republic accent made the words sound harsh. She’d been arrested at the airport last month when she arrived on US soil with a one way ticket.

  Sarita refused to cover the travesty she’d created. “Can you help me, Glad?”

  “Of course, but I’m trying to decide if I want to. Your face is too funny.”

  Sarita waited until the second fit of giggles ceased.

  “Give me some string,” Gladys ordered.

  Handing over the trouble-making thread, Sarita sat still as Gladys analyzed her eyebrows and then began shaping them. After a few minutes the woman exclaimed, “Much better. Next time, chica, come straight to me.”

  “Thanks, Glad.” Sarita touched her eyebrows. She’d have to wait until rec ended in order to check them out. “Have you heard about when they’re letting you go?”

  Sadness appeared in the remarkable violet eyes as Gladys shook her head.

  Sarita frowned. “I can’t believe you’ve been here for a year.”

  “And to the UK twice, courtesy of the US immigration system,” Gladys volunteered.

  “Why?”

  The two women went to sit in the TV area. Carter came to stand near them, focusing his attention on the television. Sarita angled her head up at the same time he looked down at her. Did a gasp escape his full lips? Was it because Gladys fixed her eyebrow blunder or had she made it worse? He watched TV for a few seconds before striding to the desk.

  Gladys leaned in and whispered. “He’s a hottie for sure. One of the good guys. But don’t get attached, chica. He’s too into his job to break any rules.”

  Sarita blinked, unable to come up with a suitable response.

  “Don’t play all confused with me. I know the deal. I’ve been in here so long that I consider you all live entertainment, almost as good as any show on Broadway. You see I’ve even learned Spanish?”

  Her small country in Eastern Europe had been a part of the former USSR. The perpetual transition of the area made it impossible to create a map which would be considered correct from one month to another. She’d come to the US on a visitor’s visa to be with her husband. Immigration had caught her at home when she’d overstayed.

  “I’d been in this luxurious palace--” Gladys waved an absentminded hand, indicating the unit. “--for 5 months before they put me on a plane. When we reached the UK, they refused to let me transfer. I was stuck at the airport for three days before they flew me back to the US.”

  “Were you alone?”

  Gladys relaxed into the couch. “Because of the scheduled layover, an ICE officer escorted me. I would have been happier if I’d gone alone. That guard was a real bitch. Anyway, they refused to put us in a hotel because of my situation. I guess they didn’t want to run the risk of me escaping and roaming wild and free in their country. After being here for another four months they shipped me out again. The same thing happened.”

  An eavesdropping Nadia asked, “What was the problem?”

  Private conversations didn’t exist in jail.

  “Once again the UK couldn’t reconcile my passport with my country so they wouldn’t let me through.”

  “That’s horrible!” Nadia exclaimed.

  “Tell me about it.” Her eyes shone like amethysts. “But there’s one good thing. I heard if you’re in here for one year and a month they let you go back into the US.”

  “For real?” Nadia asked.

  Gladys nodded. “That’s the rumor. I’m hoping it’s true.”

  Nadia’s incredulous expression indicated she thought the words were an old prison wives’ tale. “How long have you been in here?”

  “Tomorrow will be one year and one month.”

  Sarita couldn’t imagine remaining upbeat and positive after wasting a whole year of her life here. “Damn, that’s a long time to be in jail.”

  Gladys frowned. “It is.”

  “Rec time’s over,” Danso bellowed. “Back to your rooms.”

  Sarita stood. “Thanks for the fix-up.”

  “No problem.” Gladys pointed her thumb to her chest. “Next time, me first, okay?”

  “If the rumors are true, then there won’t be a next time.”

  “I’m not banking on it. See you later.”

  Sarita stood in front of the mirror as soon as she got into her room and admired the work Gladys had done to transform her face.

  If Hana didn’t arrive soon, Corinth would lose an agent to insanity. Nothing to do but wait, at least now she’d do it on the bottom bunk.

  ***

  Sarita leapt off the bed when she heard the door click open. She removed the headphones connected to the transparent Walkman Corinth had included in her canteen.

  Carter stood outside the doorway. “I brought you a new cellmate.”

  She tore her gaze away from his and stifled a frown. From the one briefing she’d sat through before entering the prison, she knew the six-foot-tall Black woman could not be Hana.

  “Cerez, this is Harris.”

  Her mind raced, trying to figure out how the giant figured into the equation. “Pardon me?”

  “This is Harris, your new cellmate.”

  The woman stepped into the room and plunked herself down on the bottom bunk.

  Sarita sharpened her voice. “That’s my bed.” No way she’d give up her easily accessible bottom bunk. “I heard her name, Carter. What I don’t understand is why she’s here with me.”

  The woman who’d sprawled out on her precious mattress reminded her of a man with her broad jaw and angled cheekbones. “I don’t want to be with you neither, heifer.”

  Sarita wasn’t surprised at the masculine sounding voice, but the lack of an accent took her aback. They must have put a criminal in with her. “What the fuck?” she mouthed at Carter.

  His shrug indicated he didn’t care, but the worried expression told her he did, and that warmed her heart. “The place is packed.”

  Her shoulders slumped. The system had a way of screwing people over. The click of the door as Carter closed it indicated the finality of the decision. She stared at the woman who’d gotten so comfortable she snored. Not petite snores, but ones which vibrated the bed. If she made the woman sleep on the top bunk, Sarita would be concerned about being crushed if it fell during the night. She made up the top bunk with the fresh sheets Goliathia had tossed onto the bottom bunk before crashing.

  Corinth’s ears would bleed when she called her later during evening rec. The door would open for dinner in less than an hour. Rather than struggle to climb the bunk, she sat on the window seat watching Sleeping Beauty and attempting to guess what crime had brought the bed stealer in.

  A brief touch of the window ensured her that the loud snoring wasn’t powerful enough to send vibrations through the glass. Sarita resisted rolling her new cellmate over onto her stomach to see if that would stop the aggravating noise. At least two other people would be needed to accomplish the task, anyway. The thought made her smirk.

  The spectacular panoramic view of Washington lay below.

  She’d lived in this city for the past five years without really appreciating it or life in general. What had she accomplished in her years on this earth? No one could deny that she was great at her job, but she had nothing else going for her. She’d been engaged twice, yet both times the relationship had fizzled out before they could get to the altar. It had been no one’s fault. The love hadn’t been sustainable, leaving her to wonder if they’d confused fondness for love.

  During her twen
ties, she’d known without a doubt that by thirty-two she’d be happily married with at least one child. Her life hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected.

  The hope of her idealistic youth had died. She’d probably be alone until she died. Of course she wanted to fall in love and do the whole happily ever after thing, but it wasn’t looking good and she accepted it. If it wasn’t for her huge family of four brothers and two sisters with their combined number of ten children, the loneliness would overwhelm her.

  Her parents had gone back to Columbia after retiring from government work last year. She’d scheduled a trip to visit them next month. The irony of her allegedly being deported to her birthplace wasn’t lost on her.

  The door clicked open, capturing her complete attention.

  She glared at Goldilocks sleeping in her bed. “Hey, Harris, wake up. It’s time for dinner.” The woman didn’t stir.

  “Hey, Harris,” she called a little louder. “Wake up.”

  Still nothing. She’d better not be dead. Sarita shook her shoulder. “Harris.”

  Harris snorted and sat bolt upright, hitting her head on the top of the bunk. The scary rapid movement of her eyeballs as she attempted to get her bearings caused Sarita to backpedal closer to the door. “It’s dinner time. Let’s go.”

  Sarita could tell the exact moment the giant realized she’d gained new accommodations. She stood and raised her arms above her head with a huge yawn.

  Sarita bit her cheek to ward off the giggle. Harris reminded her of the Jolly Green Giant, only not jolly, nor green--more of a grumpy brown giant. She opened the door and allowed Harris to exit in front of her.

  Helpless to stop her gaze from roaming around the room, she found Carter talking to Greene, the other guard on duty. Carter’s head snapped up as if she’d touched him on the shoulder.

  It had to be a crush. That’s all. She’d get over it soon enough. Nobody else believed her lies. Why should she?

  She showed Harris where and how to get her food, not wanting to leave her alone. To be honest, she had no desire to be anywhere near the woman, but she remembered her first day in the joint and how helpful Monica had been. Even though Sarita had a purpose for being in jail, she’d been tense, not knowing what to expect.

  Her new cellmate chewed like a cow. Smack, smack, smack. Sarita glanced at Nadia, who sat across the table.

  Nadia’s eyes gleamed. “Who’s your new roommate, Sarita?”

  “Her name’s Harris.” Sarita said. “What’s your first name?”

  Her mouth chomped the food, reminding Sarita more of a camel than a cow.

  “Criminal or detainee?” Nadia asked. Always the first question.

  Sarita shrugged. “What are you in for Harris?”

  More grinding, no words.

  Finding their efforts useless, Sarita and Nadia gave up on the inquisition.

  A huge belch from Harris a few minutes later made them jump. She had captured the attention of everyone in the room. She stood and lumbered back to the cell, shutting the door behind her. At least the chick had done one good thing. Now Sarita would have to ask Carter to let her in. After finishing her food, she went to the desk. “Why the special gift?”

  Greene chuckled.

  “Is she a criminal or a deportee, Carter?”

  He looked everywhere but at her this time, more as a way of avoidance than surveillance. “Both.”

  She stood with her hands balled up into fists on her hips. “What do you mean by both? What’s the story?”

  “She’s being deported to Jamaica after being arrested.”

  “What for?”

  “Spousal abuse,” he mumbled.

  She flinched, not sure if her surprise came from the answer or the fact that he’d responded to the question. Guards sharing information about inmates was frowned upon by the system.

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What now? Did you say spousal abuse?”

  He scratched the side of his head with his pen and finally looked into her eyes. Her stomach flipped, but her annoyance had risen to such dangerous levels that she didn’t pay it too much attention.

  He nodded. “She only gets abusive after drinking and getting high.”

  She threw her hands up in the air, not bothering to stop them from smacking her upper legs when they fell. “Uh, that’s sparkling news. Fantastic.”

  “Carter tried to do a room switch,” Greene volunteered. The mirth in his voice irritated her. “But they declined it. Sleep with one eye open, Cerez.”

  Carter’s face hued pink at Greene’s revelation. If she hadn’t been so weirded out by the situation, Sarita would’ve smiled at his adorableness. “Sleep? Don’t tell me you couldn’t hear her snoring from out here? Nobody could sleep with that noise.”

  The guard’s chuckle didn’t make her feel any better. She stared at Carter’s smiling lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss them. If she were to initiate it, she’d nibble on the full, cushy, pink bottom one first, moving to his firmer top lip to glide her tongue against it. A chill ran through her.

  She leaned forward, stopping when the desk hit her belly. Standing straight, she cleared her throat. Desire shone in the eyes that focused on her as if he could read her fantasy. Her heart tumbled over each beat. Greene’s presence made the whole situation embarrassing instead of sensual.

  She hitched a thumb in the direction of her cell. “She locked me out. Can you open my door please?”

  Carter reached under the desk and pushed a button without losing eye contact.

  “Thanks.” Walking away, she entered the room she now called the abyss of hell.

  Chapter 7

  Sarita tried a Snickers chocolate bar peace offering from her canteen, attempting to endear herself to the giant. Harris wolfed it down without a thank you.

  “My name’s Sarita Cerez. I’m from Columbia. What’s your name?”

  Harris hesitated. “Lucinda.”

  Sarita smiled at the progress they were making. One candy bar and the woman had moved a step closer to gregarious. “Where are you from?”

  “Boston.”

  Since she’d been forthcoming with those two answers, Sarita tried for a third with renewed optimism. No matter how tough they appeared to be, didn’t everyone enter this place scared? It helped to talk about their situation.

  “What got you in here?”

  Lucinda’s hands trembled. “The devil.”

  Not what Sarita had expected. Maybe she’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

  “The devil. He always trying to set me up.” Lucinda’s eyes widened. Her already near baritone voice deepened. “He forced me to beat my husband and it got me locked up. The devil.” She shook a raised a fist in the air. “He causes everything wrong in my life.”

  The growl at the end had to be the worst part of her little diatribe. The lady was either a religious fanatic or mentally unhinged. Either way it would lead to a bad situation.

  Before Sarita could ask another question, Lucinda spoke. “You see, he always trying to get me in trouble. He told me to beat my husband senseless, because he’d throw me into the flames if I refused. I didn’t want to burn.” She shook her head so vehemently Sarita thought it might continue spinning. “He here now,” Lucinda continued. “Go away! Go away! Go away!” She concentrated the full force of her glazed eyes on Sarita before putting her hands over her ears and rocking.

  The chill that ran down Sarita’s back scared her almost as much as the ranting. A sheen of sweat appeared on Lucinda’s skin. Sarita was no psychiatrist, but her encounters with an alcoholic uncle told her the woman was probably going through detoxification combined with a touch of mental instability.

  A peek through the window in the door revealed that the night-shift guards had arrived. Dammit. Just her luck to have Atherby and Donnelly working tonight. She had no respect for Atherby, and Donnelly hated her for no apparent reason. Sarita knew she shouldn’t take it personally because Donnelly didn’t seem to like any of the inmates, except fo
r that kiss-ass flirt, Jessica.

  The giant rocking herself on the bed mumbled incoherent words with intermittent outbursts of, “Go away, devil!”

  Five minutes until evening recreation. Sarita would wait it out. What could happen in such a short amount of time? From her training and field experience, she’d observed atrocious things occur within less time, but she’d remain optimistic.

  She filled her lungs until they were close to bursting, and then released the air. When she went out, she’d explain the situation to the two guards. There must be a cell where Harris could go insane by herself.

  Sarita gentled her voice when she asked, “How are you feeling, Lucinda?”

  No response, only rocking and mumbling. Sarita sat on the window seat unwilling to turn her back on the potential threat. The setting sun cast a pale pink light in the sky.

  She should be on the other side of the glass, where she’d have never noticed the sunset or the meaning of freedom.

  The door clicked open. “It’s time for evening rec,” Sarita said.

  Incoherent muttering.

  “Why don’t you come out and meet the other girls? They’re a great group of people.”

  Lucinda became quiet and still, but didn’t attempt to look at her or get off the bed.

  “I have to close the door once I leave. Those are the rules. If you don’t come out now, you’ll have to stay in here for the whole time.”

  The rocking started up again. “You can’t make me do it. Get out. I don’t want you here. Get out now! You can’t make me!”

  Sarita made the sign of the cross as she rushed out the door ass first. She refused to spend the night locked up in the same room with her. She caught Gladys’s eye and waved her over. Her friend escorted her to the guard’s desk without a question. Sarita never spoke to Atherby without a witness present or, at least, some support.

  All the stories she’d heard and his horrible attitude contributed to her distrust of him.

  After raking his eyes over her body, Atherby smirked. “I see you have a new cellmate, Cerez.”

  At any other time, she would’ve given him a scathing look and walked away, but she needed his help to get Big Mama out of her room.