by J. L. Beck
“Cohen.”
“What baby?” Fingers pumped deep, spearing me apart. I would be sore later, my body unprepared and wet but not yet there. It had been a good long while since I fooled around with anyone. In the time I’d been here, I never attempted to ease the ache in my bed alone, fearing I would be caught. His finger slipped out, and with it, a rush of dewy juice that coated his digits. Our eyes locked, and I watched him, transfixed, as he sucked on those same fingers tasting me, and keeping them wet. Cohen used the slickness from both of us to coat between my thighs spreading it out and rubbing back and forth pressing in with a second finger stretching everything to accommodate him.
“Kiss me, make me forget.” I craved oblivion and if he offered it, I would take it any way I could. I would let Cohen be my ultimate drug, my addiction.
“I’ll do more than make you forget.” His lips seared mine, and he pulled me up to reach him, his fingers sinking deep. His hand against my neck pulled me in a pumping motion against him. The power of his grip around me was more than I could bear. I flew over the edge, whimpering into his kiss. He sucked at my lips and licked my unexpected tears away. The sensation was too much and yet enough to see me through.
“Nene let me help you.” I came crashing back down to reality when a knock sounded at the door. I pushed back from him, and he let me slip away to adjust my clothes.
“Warden Shepard.” The voice belonged to Garcia.
“Just a minute,” he shouted, further jarring me back to a place I didn’t want to be. Back to prison.
“Cohen, I mean, Warden Shepard…” I corrected myself feeling self-conscious with the sticky dampness clinging to my thighs.
“Nene.” His hands cupped my cheeks, tender and sweet. It was the kindest gesture I’d received from anyone since my parents’ death. I could smell myself on him, the tang cutting into bittersweet memories. I turned my face and kissed his palm, licking the one that had rubbed me to completion a moment earlier. His eyes narrowed, darker if possible, and I pried myself away from his hold.
“Thank you. I’m not sure anyone can help me.” His hands tangled in my hair and he kissed my forehead sweetly.
“I will, if you let me.” Our eyes locked and I wanted to believe him.
“About the library?” I wondered why he used that to get me to his office in the first place.
“Would you like to work there? It’s quiet and away from the rec room where the Tribe hangs out.” Cohen’s hands rest on my shoulders kneading them as if I needed any convincing to get away from those crazy bitches in here.
“Yes. Thank you.” I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek suddenly feeling shy.
The knock on the door sounded again. It was Garcia.
“I’ll deal with him.” Cohen stepped outside the room leaving me inside. I hear stern voices and Cohen quickly opens the door walking in. Garcia winked at me from the hallway and my stomach felt gutted watching him saunter away.
“What did he want?” I asked.
“He wanted to talk about room shakeups for contraband.” Cohen husked frustrated.
“Should you be telling me that?”
He shrugged. “Probably not. I probably also shouldn’t tell you to tell your cellmate to hide her chocolate. You definitely didn’t hear that from me.”
“Uh huh.” I nodded wondering how the hell Sharee got her chocolate when the answer was staring me right in the face.
“Was the library really what you wanted to talk to me about?” I confront Cohen who backed me up against the wall again feeling me up.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this either, but the Tribe is connected to some shady shit inside and out of here.”
Of course they were, the Tribe was always being talked about.
“So if I heard something it would be helpful for you to know?” I wondered if that was why he wanted to know so much about my case and how I ended up here.
“Look forget it. I never said anything. I want someone to look your case over anyway. I do not want you messing around with those girls.”
“But.” I hesitate. What if I did hear or see something.
“Forget it Nene, let me call one of the female guards to take you back.”
Just like that our conversation forgotten and I waited for a female guard I hadn’t met before to escort me. She was quiet and I was thankful to have my thoughts to myself. If I was lucky I wouldn’t run into anyone, especially anyone from the Red Tribe. I had to remember that, no matter what, I’m in this alone. I got here alone, and I would get through this that way.
8
Cohen
“Any news yet?” James called regularly in the two months I’d been here, asking for reports every 2-3 days. Besides the inner workings of the prison, there wasn’t much to tell. As the warden, I found myself a bit removed from all of the action and depended on Maris to report back discreetly, but the only way she could do that was by stirring up trouble and getting herself sent up to my office. At this point, Garcia was bound to think I was having inappropriate relations with female prisoners if I kept seeing Maris every few days and sneaking ways to see Nene. The last thing I wanted was the Tribe to see Maris as a snitch or Nene as a troublemaker when things went down.
The Red Tribe was quiet at the moment, and minimal contraband had been confiscated in the last few room inspections. I traded Nene’s cellmate Sharee chocolate for information when she heard things but it didn’t get me much except who was hooking up in the showers or stealing from the kitchen.
My time had been spent overall reviewing a slew of paperwork. Plenty of bureaucratic red tape filled with board meetings and inspections for compliance issues dragged the days out. To say I was busy was an understatement, and I understood how this profession could cause burnout with the wrong person behind the desk.
I listened to James yammer on before responding. “No, but we’re working on it. Maris has gotten into the gang, but hasn’t gotten any real information to link the girls directly back to Hector. In fact she hasn’t even sat down with their leader who is real cagey with anyone new.”
“We only have a few months of clearance unless you two can provide more details and reasons to stay undercover inside the prison.” My gut clenched because every day we were here meant potential for Maris to get hurt and shit to hit the fan. I thought about the girl, Benedicta—no, I reminded myself—Nene, who was serving five years for manslaughter. Instinctually, I knew the system had done her wrong, but that wasn’t enough to overturn her conviction. The urge to help her was taking over my thoughts and time. I figured James might be able to help with a little quid pro quo. I’d played this game before.
I led in with, “One of the inmates here, I think she might have been wrongly convicted.”
“Aren’t they all?” James was reluctant to discuss it, but when I thought about Nene stuck here I got a terrible feeling.
“Is there any way to look over her case? Maybe not reopen it per se, but at least make sure things were handled correctly. Chain of evidence, burden of proof…” I asked while James impatiently clicked his pen in the background like I was wasting time on this.
“Cohen, don’t get all soft and mushy on prison pussy. Stay focused on the goal and get out of there.”
“But James, there’s so much that doesn’t add up.” Not like I knew shit about her case besides the bare bones file, but when stuff didn’t add up, it usually meant there was something missing from the equation.
“It rarely does, but to turn over a state conviction is going to take a shit ton of manpower we don’t have to devote to it. Unless she’s going to turn over evidence or rat on the Tribe to help bring Hector down there’s not much we can do.”
“So we just ignore it?”
James sighed.
“Hand it over to the Innocence Project and see what happens.” As if they weren’t already overworked.
“Don’t they deal with death row inmates?” James was great at delegating when he wanted to drop something
. Too bad for him I didn’t.
“Look, beggars can’t be choosy, and you already have a job to do in there. Don’t borrow more trouble than you already have. Now, get me evidence to connect the Tribe to Hector.” James wasn’t going to help me on this unless I could give him something in exchange. I doubted Nene would cooperate. Heck, I couldn’t get her to answer a direct question without attempting to jump into her pants.
“I’ll call if anything comes up.”
“Thanks, and Cohen…”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good guy and a good officer; don’t let this shit cloud your head.”
“Thanks.”
I had hung up the phone when the lockdown alarms sounded. Blaring sirens and red lights flashed from the hallway. Guards ran from posts down the hallway. Reaching into my desk I pulled out my service revolver and put it into my shoulder holster. I wasn’t bringing a plastic spork to a knife fight in here. Garcia barged into my office looking grim.
“Fight in the yard,” he said before running back out.
I went to the window and looked at the flurry of limbs flailing. It was a gang inspired fight for sure. The Sunshine Sisters had yellow threads, probably confiscated from the laundry room, woven into their hair. The ladies from the Red Tribe had pink bands around their wrists made from shit stolen from the rec room. Both gangs brawled, fighting over god only knew what. Guards were already peeling women apart tossing them on the ground.
I had to make sure Nene and Maris were okay. Before I could turn away from the train wreck, I heard it. Bleating screams that sounded like someone had been stabbed. It was too far for me to see much except dots of dark color staining orange cotton. I’d seen wounds before in my work, but this was different. My preconceived notions of women’s fragility had been bent and broken in a place like this. They were fighting to survive as much as the next person and difficult circumstances yielded unexpected results.
In the span of seconds, I watched guards rush in only to retreat. Tasers were discharged and three bodies fell back, wiggling in the dirt. I hoped none of them were Nene and Maris. My legs burned running down from the office into the yard trying to get to them as quickly as possible.
“Warden Shepard.” One of the female guards called over to me, holstering her stun gun. She’d been the one to escort Nene from my office.
“Officer Pettigrew, what happened out here?” I searched for their faces, but the guards held me back, and I had to refrain from breaking through and calling out to Nene and Maris.
“Looks like a verbal altercation that went south. Someone had a paper shank and stabbed another inmate. I had to stun one and then the bitches got crazy.”
“That puta shanked my girl!” An inmate I recognized as Evangelina Corazon held up one of the inmates in her lap whose dark hair covered her face. My gut cramped, knowing those curves intimately.
Maris.
Fuck me.
“God damn it,” I yelled, clenching my fists. I kneeled down in the dirt looking her over. Maris’ eyes were squeezed shut in pain, and the bloodstain bloomed wide against the orange. “Call a fucking ambulance transport.” Guards rushed around and pushed inmates back.
“Get the women back to their cells. Now!” I yelled. We needed to get medical personal through.
“Who did this? Who is responsible?” I scanned the yard. The remaining women and guards stood silent.
“She did it, that fucking coconut skank.” Evangelina pointed with a bloodied hand over to a body facing away from me and curled up in the dirt. I walked over and leaned down. She’d been tased and an EMT checked her pulse. Her cheeks were flushed, and bright red blood covered her hand, the paper shank clutched in her grasp. She said nothing and kept her eyes closed, damning her credibility.
Nene.
Fuck me.
Garcia stood outside the circle arms folded and waiting. “Warden?”
Beyond pissed there was nothing I could do except hopefully banish her to a place safe enough and far enough away from the chaos.
“Check her over in the infirmary, then put her in solitary until I get back to deal with her.” Dust kicked up from my legs, and I headed back inside. This wasn’t the sort of call I wanted to make to James, but I had to let him know about Maris and see how he wanted to proceed next. We needed to know how these women were fueling Hector’s gang before more people got hurt.
Nene would have to wait.
9
Nene
The rumors about solitary were true. It was a place you didn’t want to be, especially when what you wanted or needed was to escape the place in your head. You couldn’t escape anything in solitary, not when you were already your worst nightmare. I thought about everything leading up to being here. Could it have panned out any different? Maybe not, but still… I let my body shut down and close in on itself as I waited it out, feeling like eternity and time was passing me by in a slow loop.
I had been fighting against myself, the system, and all of the injustices I’d faced for so long, that I’d forgotten how to fight when it counted. That witch of a gang leader, Evangelina, had it out for me from day one. No matter how much I tried to mind my own business and stay away from hers, she always seemed to find a reason to search me out and give me a hard time. I was sick of pussyfooting around her but a bit scared she would kick my ass if given the chance… and that’s how I found myself being dragged down the hallway, bars rattling and screaming my head off at the unfairness of it all.
She had called me the equivalent of a rotten cunt if my Spanish was anything to go by, and for some reason, it set me off. I allowed myself a moment of weakness, and she goaded me to respond. I tossed the book I was reading down and jumped the table ready to throw a punch I didn’t know I had in me. Guards gave us space to throw a few hits back and forth and when we grappled with each other, wrestling to the floor in a flurry of limbs and screeching like alley cats, they all jumped on us, inmates and guards both, pulling us apart and egging us on.
In the confusion, a gang member was stabbed, and the bloody weapon was shoved in my hand, obliterating any prints that weren’t mine. I hadn’t done it but it didn’t look good for me. I gripped the weapon so she couldn’t pull back and stick me with it. A savvy guard had other ideas and shocked the shit out of me with a Taser.
Evangelina spat profanities and lashed out with her jagged nails, catching me across the cheek in a last ditch effort to wound me. It stung something fierce, and I knew I was going to need something to clean the shit out. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the filthy bitch put her hands in toilet water before attacking me. I’d have preferred lemon juice in the cuts.
That was how Cohen–fuck me, the warden because there was nothing personal between us now or ever—found me. My cheek pressed into the dirt, shallow, painful breaths exiting my lungs, and physically messed up in the yard. I couldn’t speak; my tongue was swollen from having bitten it when I got zapped by the Taser. I was sure I’d probably pissed myself, and I couldn’t seem to care.
His shadow standing over my body was enough as he ordered my punishment and left.
Three days in the hole.
Three days in the dark.
Three days of no sleep because every little sound kept me on the edge of my sanity. It was enough for me to question everything from the beginning feeling squirrelly with my reality. I can’t say I wouldn’t have hurt myself given the opportunity. I swore I lost touch with reality here and there, and had it not been for Garcia sneaking me food, I would have starved since I rejected the normal shit they shoved through the small window twice a day.
I didn’t understand why he was suddenly being nice to me. He was almost befriending me in some twisted way. I knew Garcia would expect something out of it. I could have told him he was wasting his time, but he obviously had other ideas.
“Get up Cruz.” He kicked at me like I was less than an animal. I leaned up from my corner, eyes squinting and sensitive from the lack of light. The half opened Bibl
e had pillowed my head in the dark and my arms shielded me until my left was grabbed and I was pulled up in a punishing grip.
I had the system screw me over. I had my lawyer try dicking me around. There was no way I was going to let this guard mother-fuck with me now.
“Lay off, Garcia.” My voice was a gravelly mess, and I yanked my arm back forcefully. He let go of me, and I stumbled back against the concrete wall. Sharp edges jammed into my back and protrusions from the uneven surface nicked the back of my head.
“I think it’s time you paid up for the extras.”
“What fucking extras? Bread and canned soda?” A backhand to my face left my mouth smarting and my scraped cheek pained while a trickle of blood sparked the corner.
“I wanna know if you taste how you look. That skin of yours reminds me of a caramel latte.” Garcia grabbed the back of my head and pulled me forward. The sting on my scalp made my eyes burn while his hips ground against mine suggestively. That familiar feeling of bile bubbled in the back of my throat. There was nothing gentle or kind in his intent to grind his stubby dick in to me. This was the shit that could kill you in here. The stuff that fucked with your mind and the choices that were merely between the lesser of two evils, nothing won and nothing gained. I could stay present in the moment and try to fight a losing battle or I could drift off to that warm place, my abuela’s arms on a sunny day in that small Mexican village where nothing and no one could possibly hurt me ever again. It was an addicting alternative and one I contemplated surrendering too. My time here might only be temporary, but it was sure to change me irrevocably.
Turning my head away, disgusted, I said nothing as he gave me a forceful shake. I was mentally slipping away and I could no longer hold onto the edge of my consciousness.
“Enough, Garcia.” That voice outside the door pierced through me. My savior had returned, stiff and angry, but I would suffer that all the same to be free of Garcia’s punishing hands. There was no cavalry, but his presence helped me realign and shift back to reality.