That afternoon she’d sent the first draft of her novel off to her editor, and normally as a reward to herself, Katie would pour herself two glasses of wine, pull out her sixty dollar box Godiva chocolates, and soak in a steaming hot bath. Yet, here she was, on her way to a party she didn’t want to attend, being scolded about how she was dressed.
Teal let out a sigh, and then pointed to the glove box. “Look in there. I think there are some earrings that will match that pink, and since you straightened your hair and put it in that cute ass lil’ ponytail, they’ll look real good on you.”
Katie assumed this was Teal’s way of saying sorry, but she still wished she declined the invitation. Teal thought she needed to get out more and maybe even start dating again, but Katie wasn’t ready for all of that. Plus, most men weren’t willing to stick around and deal with her baggage.
Opening the glove box, she searched for the earrings. “Who is showing up tonight?” Katie hoped it’d be a small gathering, but with an event coordinator like Shea, there was sure to be at the very least fifty people showing up.
Teal gave Katie a sideways glance. “Now, you know good and well half the world is going to show up ‘cause of that damn blabber-mouth, Shea.” The car slowed, and Katie glanced up. “See?” Teal shouted. “Look at all those damned cars.”
Katie’s chest tightened and she sat back, abandoning the search for earrings. “What the heck?” She looked at her friend, whose eyes softened.
Teal placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a light squeeze. “I know you’ve been having issues with large crowds, but I’m here with you. You’ll be fine.” The SUV slowly started to move again, as she navigated the vehicle into a parking spot.
Katie was still staring at the amount of cars lining the street. Shea and her husband, Cuddy, lived in a nice neighborhood with a sprawling front and back yard. Though covered with snow, the lawn was packed with partygoers and smokers. Katie’s stomach dropped even lower when she saw Joe’s BMW parked out front.
She turned to Teal, and in that moment she wished looks could kill. “You said it’d be a small gathering of friends.” Katie jabbed her finger in the direction of the cars. “Does that look like a small gathering to you?” She knew her voice got louder and squeakier when she was angry, and the smile on Teal’s face only made her angrier. “Seriously, even Joe is here.”
Teal leaned forward, glancing around. “Where? I don’t see his pickup truck.”
Dryly, Katie responded, “He bought a BMW.”
Her smile resembled the Cheshire cat. “Dude bought a beamer?” Teal’s eyes located the car and Katie couldn’t do anything but curse under her breath. Pulling on her coat, she checked her hair in the rearview mirror. “Honey, that man is nothing but chocolaty goodness wrapped in a successful wrapper. You better not be a fool and let him get away.” Teal stopped primping in the mirror. “You do know that man wants you, right?”
Tired of this conversation—which had gone on for the past year—Katie grabbed the door handle and opened the door. “Yeah, I know, he’s said it before. And like I’ve said again and again, I’m not ready.” She hopped out the SUV, careful not to slip on the ice. In her mind, there was nothing worse than a man who thought the phrase “not interested” meant “please keep trying.”
They quickly made it past the small crowd of smokers and into the warmth of the house. Katie looked around for a corner or chair to escape to, but as soon as she moved in the direction of a chair, Teal hooked her arm into hers and pulled her into the middle of the fray. Everyone from Dadesville had shown up, and even a few from Capstone, which was the county over.
Katie struggled not to shoulder bump people as Teal dragged her toward the kitchen. There, she spied Joe leaning against a wall, talking to another female who was dressed more like she probably should have dressed. Her tight outfit hugged her generous hips and made her waist seem nonexistent. Katie would never have been caught in a dress like that. She considered herself flat chested, but Teal always pointed out that at least she wasn’t an A cup, like some women.
Once Teal had dragged Katie into the kitchen, she stopped to pat her on the back. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Katie gave her a withering glare and pointed to the array of alcoholic beverages there were to choose from. “If you take one sip, I’m driving us home and you know I can’t drive that big ass SUV.” Teal raised her lip in mock disgust and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the warm yet husky voice of Joe.
“Ladies,” he said, yet kept his eyes glued solely on Katie.
“Hey, Joe.” Teal smiled and went in for a hug.
Katie waited for them to separate before she said, “Nice to see you, Joe.” She smiled warmly in greeting.
“Katie, baby.” She hated when he called her that. Terms of endearment were only for those in her life that she held close to her heart, and Joe was not one of them.
He cocked a brow at her. “Now, honey, I know I can at least get a hug. It’s been—what?” Joe glanced at Teal, but she shrugged and shook her head; he placed his hand over his heart as if he’d been wounded. “It’s been at least three months.” He moved in and wrapped his big arms around her.
Katie returned the embrace and placed her head on his chest. Joe always smelled good, and tonight he smelled like smoky vanilla with a hint of light sandalwood. She pulled away and placed her arms at her side. No matter how familiar Joe smelled, there was always something that held her back. He didn’t give her that warm feeling in her stomach. In fact, she felt nothing for him at all.
Teal cleared her throat. “I’m going to get a drink.” Katie threw her a sharp glance. Holding her hands up in mock surrender, Teal added, “Of water. You two want anything?”
Joe lifted his glass, of what Katie assumed was bourbon—his signature drink—and shook his head. “This is all I need for the night.” He regarded Katie. “You want anything, sweetheart?”
With a shake of her head, Katie declined the offer. Once Teal left, Joe hooked his arm with Katie’s and led her out of the kitchen. “It really is nice to see you again, Kay.” He led her down a hallway, easily maneuvering her past guests as they chatted in hushed murmurs.
“You, too, Joe.” Her heart thundered in her chest. Where was he taking her? It wasn’t like she was afraid of Joe; she just didn’t want to be alone with him. He’d ask her what he always did, and it was a question she’d been able to avoid for the past three months. She figured she’d preemptively apologize. “Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been busy with my book and stuff.” Whether it was true or not, it was her go-to excuse. In this case, it was the honest truth.
Joe stopped in front of French doors, which led to what looked like an enclosed patio. He opened the door, and a gust of warm air rushed over them. The patio was heated, and Katie made a mental note to see about adding one to her home. After leading her inside, he shut the doors behind him.
Guiding her to a loveseat, they sat down. “How is that little book of yours doing?”
Katie tsked and sat back in the seat. “That little book is doing just fine.” She was tempted to tell him that her “little book” was still on the New York Times bestseller’s list, or that the same little book was being translated into four different languages at the behest of fans all over the world. Not to mention, that little book had bought and fully paid for her house and a car, meaning she walked away with both, purchased outright.
Joe blatantly checked her out, and she tracked his eyes as they landed on her chest. “That’s what’s up. I’m doing good too. Not that you asked.” Joe pouted, causing her to laugh.
Okay, so she wasn’t interested in him, but that didn’t mean she needed to be rude. She loosened up a bit. “Okay, Joe. How are you doing, and what have you been up to for the last three months?” She didn’t even have to feign interest because she was actually interested to hear his answer.
Joe leaned in closer as he explained, “Well, as you know, I was offered a job as a Compliance S
pecialist with G.W. Savings and Trust. It’s good money and offers a bright future.” He grinned and added, “Now, I’m just looking for a proper woman to go along with everything else in my life.” He took her hand in his.
For the life of her, Katie couldn’t figure out why she didn’t scoop Joe up and let him take her out. It wasn’t just her past stopping her, but something more. He was handsome, but—as Teal would say—his game was off. Joe’s grin widened and his white teeth shone bright. The pearly chips were a perfect contrast to his dark chocolate skin and his angular face was more than a pleasant sight to behold, but that was it. Katie just wasn’t interested.
He tried too damned hard and his go-to was always his finances. Katie supported herself and didn’t need someone throwing their financial stability in her face all of the time. He was sure to make some other woman very happy, but she had better things to focus on than Joe and his need for a future wife.
Pulling her hand from Joe’s, she ignored the frown on his face. “Joe, we’ve talked about this, and I’ve told you—”
He pulled away abruptly and stood, straightening his pants. “I know, I know.” He looked at her, and his soft brown eyes burned with anger . . . no, annoyance. “You know, Katie, when your damned dad begged me to ask you out, I had to admit, I almost laughed.”
She shook her head, and her stomach filled with dread. Katie had no idea what Joe was talking about. “What?”
He paced to the window, and perched on the edge. “Yeah, you can imagine how surprised I was when he came into my office, begging me to take out his baby girl.” Joe’s voice had taken on a cruel edge. “You know what I was thinking as he sat there explaining why I should take you out?” His eyes were dark, and even though Katie knew that he wanted his words to cut her, she was powerless to get up and leave. All she could do was sit there and listen to Joe explain to her how her father had tried to play matchmaker. “I was thinking that I wasn’t the right shade . . . if you get my drift.”
Katie let out a humorless laugh. “Excuse me? What the hell makes you say that?” She’d heard it before, but never from Joe. Men always assumed she only dated white men. It was hurtful and confusing, but she still wanted to know why he felt that way.
He sneered. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. You always walk around here like your shit don’t stank. Like you’re better than the rest of us niggas ‘cause of that white man who saved you and your momma from the ghetto.”
Katie’s eyes widened with shock, and she finally stood. “I’ve never acted that way!” What the hell was he talking about?
Joe laughed. “The fuck you haven’t!” He strode to her. “You dress, act, and speak like a damn white woman, and everyone knows your black ass wishes you were white.” Katie threw her hands in the air and screamed. She was so sick of hearing this shit, but before she could open her mouth to tell Joe how she felt—before she could curse his ass out—the French doors were flung open. Teal stood in the doorway looking ready for war.
She glanced between Katie and Joe. She must have seen the hurt on Katie’s face because she turned to Joe and snarled, “What the fuck did you do?” She marched into the room on her six inch heels and got into his face, but he softly pushed her away.
He placed his hands in his pockets. “You and Jan-Erik got a lot on your hands with this one.” Katie’s eyes narrowed at the comment. Had Teal and her dad tried to set her up? “Too much for this brotha’ to handle.” Joe left the room, cursing under his breath as he went.
Teal eased over to Katie and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go.” When Katie didn’t budge, Teal nervously asked, “What?”
At first Katie thought she was going to cry, but then she wanted to hit something. First, she needed to ask the question she truly feared the answer to. Before she even opened her mouth, she could see the guilt in Teal’s eyes, changing her question to an accusation. “You and my dad set this up from the start.”
Scott,
802-654-5555
Let’s form a connection.
-Kris :)
Even though kitchen duty sucked, Logan was damn glad to be on that detail. Still, getting patted down and strip-searched every Wednesday and Friday—before and after he entered the kitchen—felt degrading. His job for the day was to cut the potatoes for the massive pot of mashed potatoes he was preparing. Logan pushed aside what he’d just finished cutting.
“Danko, you got some more peeled and ready?” he asked the Russian inmate whose job it was to peel. Just that . . . peel. He peeled any and everything that needed to be peeled, and he was also the only inmate in the kitchen who wore a hot pink jumper. Logan’s white pants and white shirt were a sign that he was well behaved, so the stewards knew they didn’t have to worry about Logan sticking his dick in the homemade peanut butter or showing it to any of the female stewards. Danko, on the other hand, was a damn freak. He enjoyed whipping his shit out for laughs, which only ended up with him on restriction or in the tombs.
Danko passed Logan the big bowl of peeled potatoes under the ever-present eyes of Steward Jones. Danko had yet to show her his dick, and that might have been because Steward Jones promised him that she’d, “take that lil Vienna sausage, put it on a bun, eat it, and shit it out a day later.” That’d been three weeks ago, and Danko hadn’t so much as readjusted his junk in front of her.
“Da, I like with skin on,” he muttered as he walked away. So did Logan, but when it’d gone up for voting, the prisoners had decided they wanted them peeled.
Logan picked up his knife. The number six engraved into the steel as well as the plastic handle reminded Logan of the cage in which he resided. He couldn’t wait for the day when he could go into a kitchen and make a sandwich, without having to sign out a knife or ask a person to unlock the pantry. He felt like a toddler, constantly being watched and scolded, but it was still better than maximum-security lock up. Logan looked up at the white washed walls and the steel cabinets; cold and impersonal. Logan was no sissy, but hell if he didn’t wanna see color in a kitchen; some photos on a wall, or something.
“What are you staring at, Whyte?” Steward Jones asked. Logan glanced up at her and noticed that her eyes were still on Danko.
Logan continued cutting. “Nothing,” he answered. Even if he thought Jones was nice to him, he still wasn’t about to open up and tell her how he missed the smell of biscuits in the oven, or the pictures that lined the grimy wall in his old apartment back in Kentucky.
“You sure? You got that look in your eye.” She leaned in a bit. “The one that says you got someone at home you can’t wait to get home to. You comin’ up for parole, ain’t you?” Logan knew she knew the answer to that, so he didn’t respond. “I know you can’t wait to get the hell out of here. Shit, I know I can’t wait to clock out every day.”
He only grunted in reply, but Jones was right. He was ready to leave, and the words “overpopulation” had never sounded so good.
Logan held the letter in his hand. He could see that there was very little writing on the page, and he wasn’t sure it that was a good or bad thing. Maybe she’d caught on to the fact he wanted her to call him and it pissed her off. She did say at least twice that she wanted anonymity, but Logan knew that she could still have that even if she called him.
Placing the letter on the bed, he sat down. He’d been on his feet for a good part of the day and his back was sore from his work out, but Logan found familiarity in it. He enjoyed the pains of a job well done.
Logan heard Iggy shuffle in the cell.
“Every time I come in here, you got yo ass laid out on the bed with fuckin’ letters spread around you.” His cell mate chuckled and hopped up on his bunk.
Lights out was in thirty minutes, and Logan had gone the whole day without kicking Iggy’s ass, but as the man lay above him rapping some dumbass rap song, Logan had had enough.
“I don’t know how you’ve survived so long in this place.” Sitting up, Logan scrubbed his face with his palms. He was tir
ed and needed take a piss, so he went to the little toilet—if you could call if that—in the corner.
Iggy was quiet for a moment, and Logan was more than grateful.
“Whatchu’ mean, man?”
Logan finished using the toilet and turned to the sink. “You know what I mean. It seems to me like you are confused.” After washing his hands, Logan dried them and leaned against the sink as Iggy sat up in the bed, now giving him his full attention.
“Oh, I see what this be about,” Iggy shook his head.
Logan smirked. “Do you now? You know what I’m talking about?” Iggy didn’t respond. “You’re a white boy. Your ass better realize that shit, and you better get back over on this fuckin’ side . . . and do it real quick.” Logan was used to using his height and weight as intimidation. He’d only been in one fight since he’d been in jail, and he assumed it was his icy demeanor that kept other inmates at bay. Iggy was a skinny white kid who needed to be reminded of his ancestry.
Seemingly unfazed by Logan’s intimidating stare, Iggy burst out laughing. He actually held his stomach and lost his breath to the laughter. Once he calmed, he wiped the tears from his face and straightened. “My man, that is not the first time I’ve heard shit like that in a place like this."
Logan was sure that was the truth, but he didn’t find it funny. “Then you might want to heed that shit.” He shoved away from the sink and yanked his shirt over his head in anger.
Iggy cracked his knuckles just as the first warning for lights out sounded overhead. “Fuck dat shit. You don’t know me, man.”
Logan could tell that Iggy was serious, but now it was his turn to laugh. He thought back to his time in the ghetto when he’d gotten his ass handed to him by the black kids more times than he could count. Those black kids would just as soon beat the shit out of Iggy before they accepted him into their hateful ass group.
Incarcerated: Letters From Inmate 92510 Page 4