“Yes and no.”
“What the fuck? That makes no sense.” She never cursed, but today be damned. She was going to use whatever language she wanted. Logan had the nerve to chuckle; she assumed it was at her choice of word, but she wasn’t sure.
“No, I mean any other race than our own.” He said it as if that was the end all be all of everything.
Katie had to take a seat before she passed out. How could she have let this man into her life? When did her lonesomeness make her a fucking blind fool?
“You still there, baby?”
Never had him calling her baby disgusted her, but now the word hurt her ears. She was black, and the man that had kept her from drowning in her own sorrow didn’t like black people.
Katie could hear the desperation in her voice, but was too powerless to stop it. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now.”
“It’s not a big deal. It’s easily done. I’ve done it my whole life.” His words came so effortlessly and calmly, as if being a bigot was okay and normal.
She had suffered at the hands of blacks and whites, but she’d never placed the blame on an entire race. “You don’t understand—”
“Don’t worry, that person who came in your home acting and sounding the way she did, doesn’t need to be in your life. She’s a bad example, and needs to re-learn the English language.”
That person was Teal, who had a college degree and was doing great for herself. Katie forced herself not to puke. She could feel it coming. “No, you don’t get it—”
He interrupted her again. “I do, and I assume it’s going to be rough at first. It wasn’t for me, but—”
“Logan, stop. Just stop,” she pleaded, tears escaping her eyes. There was nothing worse, she thought, than crying over a man who didn’t want you based on the color of your skin. Teal was right, Logan had been hiding something—he was a fucking racist.
Logan couldn’t tell if Katie was disappointed or just angry, but he didn’t want to let her speak until he could explain. He was adamant that he wasn’t like Trent, or his old cellmate, Aaron, when it came to other races. He didn’t intentionally go after them like Aaron had, and he never used racial slurs to hurt a person like Trent had. Logan was just watching out for his own ass, and his method had been pretty successful over the years—especially in prison.
“Katie, you know I care about you, and I want to be with you when I get out of here, but it’s an inflexible part of this relationship. It can’t be any other way. Hell, it’s not so bad, really. You know my childhood. After I met Trent and started working out, the black kids left me alone and the Mexican kids didn’t have anyone to watch get beat up. I kept to my own, and I haven’t had any issues since then.
“In here, every race keeps to its own and that is one of the more promising facts about this hell hole.” Logan could hear her breathing into the phone, but she didn’t speak. He waited, but there was nothing left to say because as he’d said before, it was nonnegotiable. “What do you think of that, Katie?”
The tears in her voice surprised him. “I think I made a big mistake when I wrote you. You are a racist, and I don’t know how I didn’t see it before now. Those little hints that you dropped . . .” A humorless laugh escaped her lips.
He wanted to stop her right there, but he let her get it out.
“I should have caught them, but I was so caught up in being with you . . . hell, being with anybody at that point, that I let you and your lies infiltrate my heart.”
He wasn’t sure where her tears were coming from and what lies she was talking about, but her next words echoed in his ears.
“I’m black, Logan. My mother and father are both black. You know, those people you hate?” she spat.
Her words sounded like a swarm of bees in his ears. Something in him told him she wasn’t lying about her race, and his anger flared. His face reddened. She had the nerve to call him a liar when she’d lied about her race. Logan thought he was more than clear about how he felt long before today.
He knew all traces of warmth had left his voice. “You called me a liar and I have no clue what you are talking about, but I think that’s the kettle calling the pot black, don’t you?” He heard the irony in his words as soon as they’d escaped his mouth. “You lied to me!” he snarled, and this time the other inmates turned around, but Logan didn’t give a fuck. “Your last name, the way you act and speak, all a lie, right?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you kidding me right now?” she all but screamed. “That is all me, no lies, but what about your buddy Jason coming over here to warn me about your fiancée? And all the other women you write to?” She did scream this, and Logan was tempted to tell her to shut the fuck up, but something inside of him told him to temper his anger.
He glanced around. “Who? I’m not—”
She was past crying and to the point he thought she’d jump through the phone if she could. “The name Dawn ring a bell, asshole?”
At the moment it didn’t. He was so incensed that he disregarded the name and went defensive.
“Oh, and I never lied, I never once gave you any clues as to my looks. I didn’t think I had to tell you my race to pass your sick ass test!”
Just as Logan was about to speak, the dial tone assaulted his ears, leaving him to boil in anger without a soul to take it out on.
Katie,
I know we said we wouldn’t exchange pics, but now that you’re my woman, the only man I want you picturing is me and not that Colin fucker.
Logan
Most of Katie’s adult life she’d shed tears; she was no stranger to hurt or abandonment. She’d wept for her mother’s pain and suffering, she’d cried for a man who’d left her, she’d sobbed over the death of her unborn baby . . . and now, here she sat, shedding tears for a racist son of a bitch who had her cursing like a sailor.
Yesterday, when she’d gone to make sure her PO box was clear and to cancel it, she found the letter with a picture inside. Tempted to burn it, Katie came home, gathered all of Logan’s letters, and started a fire in the hearth. It was still cold out, as the snow in Lakewood seemed to last until March, and even sometimes into April. “If you don't like the weather, wait a few minutes," her father used to say. It was an old New England saying. Katie had thrown in every letter, but couldn’t bring herself to part with the picture.
She picked it up again. At the moment, she was a masochist. Every time she looked at the picture, she didn’t see the racist Logan proved himself to be. She saw a man with crystal green eyes that sparkled in the flash of the camera. He had such chiseled features, Katie found she couldn’t stop looking at him. His nose was nice and straight, his face wide, and he had a strong jawline with a bit of hair on his face. He didn’t look at all like Colin Farrell; while he had the same dark hair and dark looks as Colin, Katie would liken him to Joe Manganiello, which was odd. She’d always thought Joe looked mixed a bit with Asian. Logan’s skin was tan, his arms were big and wide, and she could see a few of the tattoos on his wrists from beneath his shirtsleeve.
Throwing the picture down, she placed her head onto her pillow. Katie felt like a fool, ashamed that she couldn’t turn her feelings for Logan off, and she couldn’t believe that it was just loneliness that had put her in this situation. She really cared for Logan and was ready to try a relationship with him when he got out. It tore her to the bone that she could look beyond his past and not judge him for his previous actions, yet he couldn’t do the same for her. She picked up her phone and dialed Teal’s number.
“Teal Lofton.”
Teal was at work, but Katie really needed to talk to her. No more hiding the truth, and no more sitting at home in a puddle of tears. “You were right.” The words weren’t easy to say, but Katie was okay with admitting when she was wrong . . . and boy, had she been wrong.
“Right about what? You know me, I’m always right about stuff, so you’re gonna have to be more specific.” She laughed.
Katie wasn’t i
n the mood. “Logan’s secret is that he doesn’t like black people. He didn’t know I was black, and when he found out, he accused me of lying to him.” She didn’t feel like going into the Jason situation.
Teal moaned. “I was hoping I was wrong about that. I told you, you can’t trust these damned crooks, not for one second.” She sighed. “What now? You didn’t give him your addy, did you? I mean, you can always change your house number if you have to.” Katie didn’t think that was necessary; Logan would never call her back.
Katie sat up, grabbed the water bottle she’d been nursing, and took a big audible gulp. The water was tepid, but there was something about crying that made her incredibly thirsty. “Not necessary, as I’m sure the yelling and cussing I did will keep him from calling again.” She set the bottle down by the picture of Logan. “I just want to forget him,” she lied. “Just want the memory of him out of my head for good.”
Yet, as she stared at his picture, Katie couldn’t help remembering the pleasant conversations they’d had, the way she felt when he called her baby, and his concern for her. Could she have been mistaken or imagining the whole connection they’d formed?
“I know what will make you feel better.” Teal’s voice held more elation than Katie could handle, and she prayed her friend didn’t think she was dragging her to any parties. “We can go and hang out with Joe and Iris at Club 4-8. There’s a live jazz band called Blue Fin playing tonight. You can get all prettied up and come and hang out. You know, get your mind off that convict.”
Katie still hated it when Teal called him a convict, but what she hated more was how little it seemed Teal knew about her. “I am not going out. I’m going to rent Oblivion with Tom Cruise, and sit here with some popcorn and ice cream. I may or may not be mixing the two together, and eat them with my tears. You are more than welcome to join.”
Teal heaved an over exaggerated sigh. “I guess. But if you start crying, I get to punch you . . . hard.” Her remedy for heartbreak was pain. Not kill you pain, but focus elsewhere pain.
Katie pinched her thigh, but got nothing except a broken heart and a stinging thigh.
Dear Logan,
Here’s hoping I can soon see your smile, but until then, I’ll smile for the both of us!
Missing your voice,
Katie.
Logan had at first refused to look at Katie’s picture. He’d resigned himself to never knowing what the woman looked like, and almost tricked himself into thinking it was possible to ignore her. That was until a week later, when the ache in his chest still hadn’t gone away and his longing for her voice had left him so tortured, he thought it was punishment for breaking his rule. He wasn’t a fucking racist.
When he opened the letter and looked at the picture of Katie, he nearly collapsed. There was no woman as beautiful as she. The hazelnut-brown skin shone in the sunlight, and her curly hair fell around her shoulders in beautiful waves. Her eyes were closed, and she had a smile on her lips that spoke volumes to her happiness. Her body made his dick stir and stiffen in his pants the second he’d seen through the sheer dress-like top she was wearing to the pink panty-like bikini. Never had Logan lusted after a black woman, but he could almost feel the warmth between her legs and hear her soft voice in his ear.
The other picture seemed more current. Her hair was longer, her body fuller, and her face held time, all in a damn good way. And that smile. Her lips were lusher than any woman he’d dated, and her nose was wider. Logan could admit that those two features, and the color of her skin, were the only noticeable differences between them. However, Logan knew the issues of interracial dating, and he couldn’t bring himself to accept that drama in his life.
He stood and pushed the pictures of Katie under his pillow. He had a lot of things on his mind, and lifting weights always seemed to lighten the load.
Leaving his cell, he headed past the guards to the weight room. He needed this . . . needed to let off some steam, to get his fucking head on straight. No matter what, Logan had a code he lived by. He’d learned earlier on that breaking that code would place him in a world of hurt; it always did. As much as Logan hated his and Katie’s differences, he could admit that it wasn’t fair to either of them that it placed a wedge between what they could have had.
Logan should have known that something wasn’t right. Unfortunately, he was in his head and didn’t notice how unnaturally quiet the hallway was, or how there were no guards. It wasn’t until an arm wrapped around his neck and smashed his head into the wall that he knew something was terribly wrong.
“So I hear you like niggers,” Aaron’s unmistakable accented voice entered his head, “I hear you like to write ’em.” He accompanied his words with a knee and a fist to Logan’s gut.
Aaron moved away and stood somewhere to the side of Logan. He couldn’t tell where, since an unidentified man still held Logan in a sleeper hold. He was losing air, and fighting back was becoming harder and harder. Another hit to the gut had Logan choking and gasping for breath. He fought harder, keeping one hand on the man restraining his elbow—hoping to get some air—and the other warding off Aaron’s attacks. Blood, from the wound Logan felt on his head, was seeping into his eyes, making it hard to see. Then, he caught a fist to his nose, blurring his vision. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and felt like he was choking on his own blood.
Suddenly, the man behind him dropped him to the floor and both men started kicking Logan for what seemed like eternity. He mustered up the strength to grab a foot, and pulled hard enough to send an attacker to the floor. The man cursed and stood up over Logan. The racial slurs thrown at him, the punches, and maybe even an extra year added to his sentence, all stemmed from one beautiful person. One person he wanted so badly, but wouldn’t bring pain or blood into her life. Finally, as Logan slipped under, the last thought on his mind was that he didn’t bring this hate and pain into Katie’s life only to die in this prison, unable to protect her.
Katie made the last corrections to her manuscript and sent it to her editor. Her inbox was full of messages from fans, and she felt guilty once again for signing out without responding or at least reading one. She opened up her email again and sent a short message to her agent about getting an online personal assistant. Cheryl, her agent, had mentioned it to her before, but at the time Katie was caught up with her emails, writing, and promoting, and thought it completely unnecessary.
“I should have said yes,” she muttered.
“Should have said yes to what?” Joe came from around the corner with a towel in his hands, drying off his shirtless chest.
Katie quickly turned away.
“No need to be shy, Katie,” he crooned.
“Why are you half naked? You only had to fix the sink.” She pretended to be searching through her emails even though she wasn’t planning on opening anything. Her father had sent Joe over to fix her sink after she’d asked him not to. Now she was going to have to call the plumber and cancel the appointment last minute, since no one thought to tell her Joe was on his way over that day.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding not the least bit apologetic, “I got wet. Can I put this in your dryer?”
She was tempted to say no, but even though the snowstorms had passed the temperature outside was still in the mid-thirties. She stood and moved past him, to get in the kitchen. “I’ll do it. Where’d you leave it?” she asked, glancing away again, but not before getting another look at Joe’s chocolate brown chest.
He was built in all of the ways a man should be; he had a tall, lithe body, which Katie was sure required time in the gym. Joe pointed to the wet mass on the table, and she quickly grabbed it, then scurried to the laundry room.
Joe had apologized to Katie for the things he’d said to her, but Katie wasn’t trying to hear it. She could forgive, but she wasn’t going to forget. His words had hurt her and he’d meant them to. Looking at the shirt, Katie could see that there was a small wet spot, nothing that actually warranted a trip to the dryer. She rolled he
r eyes and headed back out to Joe.
“Here.” She handed him the shirt and led him to the front door.
His eyes heated in anger. “You’re welcome,” Joe snapped, snatching his coat and hat.
Katie quietly walked him onto the porch. “Yes, thanks for coming over uninvited and trying to strip down naked,” she said sardonically, but he only smiled and shook his head. “Bye, Joe.” Katie watched as he got in his truck and drove away.
Back in the house, she picked up the phone and dialed the plumber’s number. As soon as Katie placed the receiver to her ear, a gruff voice filled the line.
“Hello?” The voice seemed confused.
And so was Katie. “Kirk? Is that you? I was just calling you! You sound different.” Katie plopped down on the couch. “I don’t need you to come by, my dad sent Joe to fix the sink. Although, I’m not even sure he did it right.” She laughed, but was greeted with silence. “Damn, did I hang up on him?” she wondered out loud.
“No, you didn’t hang up on me.” The voice sounded a bit more familiar, but she still couldn’t make it out.
“Wait, who—” She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the caller I.D., but it was blank. Placing the receiver back to her ear, Katie waited for the caller to speak.
“You still there?”
The voice was clearer now, and Katie knew exactly who it was on the line. A shiver shook her body and she had a good mind to hang up on him.
“You’re there, I can hear you breathing.”
She held her breath for a moment, and then realized how silly it was. There were a few things she wanted to know, but she started with what she thought was the easiest. “Why do you sound like that?”
Wheezing, Logan replied, “My nose is broken.”
The anger fled her body, and much—to her own disapproval—worry took its place. Unable to help herself, she shot up from the couch. Even though she didn’t think he deserved it, she worried for him.
Incarcerated: Letters From Inmate 92510 Page 10