Prison Snatch

by Cairo

  Sabina walked into the cell and saw Heaven with her head down, a hand holding her forehead. “Oh, God,” she drawled, plopping down on the foot of Heaven’s bunk. “Please don’t tell me you’re still all straitjacket crazy over what happened between us the other night. Get over it, girl. It was just a thing.”

  A thing? Yeah, okay—easy for her to say.

  Heaven lifted her head, turning a glare in Sabina’s direction. “You took advantage of me.”

  Sabina burst out in laughter. She couldn’t help herself. That was the most—well, one of the most—ridiculous things she’d heard in a while.

  “Ohmygod! You make it sound like I tongue-raped you or something. If memory serves me correctly—and it does, I don’t recall you putting up much of a fight. Hell, you didn’t put up any fight.”

  Heaven feigned shock. “How dare you? I was vulnerable and weak.”

  “Don’t go getting all self-righteous now. The moment you opened your legs, you gave me the go-ahead, the invitation to feast on that smorgasbord of goodness between your legs.” Ooh how sweet and tasty it’d been, too.

  Heaven blushed. Heat bloomed to her cheeks. “Well, that was a one-time thing. I’m not a lesbian.”

  Sabina rolled her eyes upward. “And neither am I. But it’s okay if you feel guilty for enjoying it as much as you did. Get over it. We’re both grown women. And I won’t deny that every now and again, I like to indulge in a little kitty-licking. Shit. Don’t label me. And don’t label what happened. All it was for the both of us was a night of well-deserved pleasure. Period. So don’t make it out to be more than that. And judging by how hard you came, you enjoyed it.”

  Heaven rolled her eyes. “Who wouldn’t,” she begrudgingly admitted. Damn, damn, damn. She felt like such a hypocrite. She’d turned down that Snake chick’s proposition, adamant about not going that way. Yet, she’d allowed Sabina to tongue-fuck the shit out of her. Lord, she hoped she wasn’t going to turn into one of those confused bitches that struggled with her sexuality.

  Heaven took a breath. “So I take it this is something you’ve done often?”

  Sabina shook her head. “No, not really. Not since I’ve been here. But home, yes—sometimes. I enjoy threesomes with my man.” She smiled. “He gets off watching me licking a pussy while he’s fucking me from the back.”

  Oh.

  Sabina patted Heaven’s hand. “Well, if it’s eating you up that badly that you had so much pleasure from it, then you’re more than welcome to return the favor.” She wiggled her brows. “Hint, hint. I’ll graciously accept your tongue, and come all in your mouth.”

  Heaven flipped her the finger. “Oh, I bet your freak-ass would. But not going to happen.”

  Sabina stood and shrugged. “Oh well. Don’t say I didn’t try to ease your guilt.”

  Heaven laughed in spite of herself. “Bitch, please. You wish.”

  FORTY-SIX

  The Way You Move . . .

  Heaven hurriedly stepped out of the showers donned in her prison bathrobe with her still wet hair wrapped perfectly in a white towel. Turban-style. She preferred showering when it was mostly empty. She liked to get in and out of the showers without all the distractions and chitchat, unlike other inmates who seemed to linger around, almost as if they were prowling. She wanted no parts of whatever they had going on.

  As far she was concerned, wash your ass and go—nothing more, nothing less. She could primp in her cell if she wanted. She looked over her shoulder making sure she left nothing behind, then shuffled off in her shower shoes just as two females were walking in.

  Reluctantly, they let her walk by. Then one of them muttered behind her back, “Bitch.”

  “Yup,” Heaven snapped over her shoulder. “And I’m a bitch you don’t want to fuck with. Now carry on.”

  She walked off, cursing under her breath for having said anything. That’s what the hating-ass bitch had wanted her to do. Feed into her miserable shit.

  And she had—for a slight moment.

  As she headed down the tier, she heard yelling coming from one of the cells. “Bitch, I know you stole it. Just give it back before you piss me off.”

  “Bitch, shut your dirty-ass up! I ain’t steal ya shit.”

  It was Clitina and her cellmate arguing.

  “You a fuckin’ lyin’-ass bitch! I want my silk scarf back.”

  “Eat my ass, bitch! I don’t even wear silk, ho! So fuck outta here!”

  Heaven shook her head and kept walking.

  “Miss Heaven,” Clitina called out, sticking her head out her cell. “You hear this bitch, tryna say I stole her fuckin’ scarf. If I’ma steal some shit from a bitch, it ain’t gonna be no fuckin’ old-ass dirty scarf. This bitch dumb as fuck. I steal new shit.”

  “No bitch, you dumb. And so is your retarded-ass mammy for givin’ you that fucked-up-ass name. You—”

  Clitina charged back inside; all Heaven heard after that was, whap! Whap! Whap!

  Then came the sound of loud tussling, and threats. “I’ma kill you, bitch!”

  “Not before I kill you, you bum-bitch!”

  They were both going to find their asses in lockup if they didn’t find a way to fight more quietly.

  Though she wanted to turn back and say something to them, she took a deep breath, and kept on walking. She had her own shit to deal with.

  When she finally returned to her cell, Sabina had the privacy curtain up and was still on the phone, supposedly talking to her boyfriend (you know, the bastard on the streets living his life while she rotted away in prison for his shit) in the same spot Heaven had left her, sitting Indian-style in the middle of her bunk.

  “What you mean you can’t come see me?” she whispered. “Why not?”

  She looked over at Heaven and shook her head as she mouthed, “This black fucker.”

  “This black fucker?” Really?

  Heaven frowned.

  “A warrant? For what?” Sabina rolled her eyes. “Mmhmm. Interesting. But whatever,” she hissed. “Anyway, I need you to send me money . . . I don’t know, like two, three, hundred . . . whaaaat? What you mean you ain’t got it? Where’s all your money? You sell drugs, nigga. I know you got it. So stop playing with me . . . uh-huh . . . Well, what about a hundred. I haven’t asked you for shit . . . so do you think you can handle that? It’s not like you’re accepting my collect calls. I was nothing but good to you on the streets, nigga . . .”

  Heaven cringed inwardly, shooting her a sharp look. There was something about hearing a white person using that word even if it wasn’t used with the “E” and “R” at the end of the word.

  The bitch still had no right to use it, or speak it. She didn’t give a damn how many black dicks she sucked and fucked. Now she wanted her ass off her phone. She wanted to yank it from her ear and slap her in the face with it. But she had to grit her teeth and let it slide until she was done with her conversation. Then she’d confront her ass.

  She knew it wasn’t any of her business how the two of them communicated or argued. Still, the shit irked her. Maybe he accepted that shit, but she didn’t.

  And she planned on telling her so.

  She angrily applied cocoa butter cream all over her skin, then slipped into a pair of commissary-bought pajama bottoms. She turned her back to Sabina, slid off her robe, and put on a tank top.

  Then stared at the television—arms folded, and waited.

  “Whatever, Raheem,” Heaven heard her huff. “Fuck you. Whatever bitch you out there fucking; keep fucking her. All the shit I’ve done for you and you can’t even send me a few fuckin’ dollars? You ain’t shit. I hope that bitch you screwing is lovin’ the dick . . . black motherfucker! Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever . . . like I said, fuck. You.”

  “Arrrrgh!” She slid off her bunk, then handed Heaven the cellphone back. “I can’t believe that motherfucker hung up on me. I should have let them fry his ass. But, no—I take the weight because I’m supposed to be his ride-or-die bitch. Ugh! All the shit I’ve do
ne for his black ass, and he—”

  Heaven cut her off. “Um, let me ask you something. What part of the game makes you think it’s okay for you to refer to him as nigga?”

  Sabina blinked. “Excuse you?”

  “I said what makes you think it’s okay for you to call him a nigga?”

  Sabina’s eyes widened, her face turning pink. “I didn’t call him a nigger.”

  Heaven’s nose flared. “I didn’t say you called him that. I know what you called him. Don’t play stupid, Sabina. What I want to know is, why?”

  “That’s how we talk,” she stated, shrugging. “If he isn’t bothered by it, why are you? I’m not racist if that’s what you’re implying. I have lots of black friends. That’s all I hang with.”

  Heaven’s lids flapped open and shut several times. “Oh, so you only hang with blacks so that makes you black by proxy, is that it?”

  Sabina huffed. “Bitch, I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is, I’m not a racist. So don’t make me out to be one. And as far as I’m concerned, I talk to my man however I want to.”

  Heaven sneered. “I didn’t say shit about you being racist. But don’t think because all you fuck are black men and smoke and drink and chill with a bunch of black women that it’s okay for you to use that word.”

  Sabina rolled her eyes, her hand flying up on her hip. “Why? Because I’m white?”

  Heaven tilted her head. “Exactly.”

  “Ohmygod! What does the color of my skin have to do with anything? I’m from the hood too.”

  Heaven gave her an incredulous look. “Bitch, being from the hood and spreading your legs, fucking black men doesn’t give you some free pass to let the word nigga fall from your damn lips. I don’t care in what context you used it.”

  “Oh, bitch, please,” Sabina snapped back. “You’re blowing shit waaaay outta context. Why is it okay for other blacks to call each other that, but someone who identifies with the culture, can’t because they’re white?”

  Heaven stared her down. “Trick, the only thing you identify with is the whole ‘once you go black, you don’t go back’ slogan.”

  “Unh-uh, bitch. Answer the damn question. Why can’t I—a white chick—use the word in the same context as blacks use it? It’s not said as a diss to what black men have gone through—what they still go through. It’s just a damn word; it’s not that damn serious.”

  Heaven felt like hopping up and slapping her around the cell. She tucked her hands under her thighs and sat still in fear she’d leap up and claw her tongue out. “Because obviously, bitch, you don’t know shit about what the black man has gone through. So, no, bitch. If you want to call your white men that publicly, then do so. But—around me, don’t use that word, referring to anyone with the same color skin as me. Period.”

  What she really wanted to say was, “You white bitches start fucking black men and think your asses are the damn door prize.” But the truth was, she truly didn’t care whom white women, or any other woman, fucked as long as it wasn’t her man. And she didn’t care how another woman talked to her black man. She could call him as many black motherfuckers and niggas as she wanted. But she didn’t need to hear it.

  Sabina stared her down, eyes wide and wild. Her whole body shook from the inside out. She wasn’t in the mood for this bitch’s self-righteous bullshit.

  Heaven stared back. “Bitch, move along. Don’t fucking look at me.”

  “Kiss my”—she tooted her backside and slapped it—“white ass, bitch!” Then she snatched down the privacy curtain and stormed out the cell.

  “Yeah, whatever, Becky,” Heaven yelled at her retreating back. “And the black motherfucker ain’t even your man! So go fuck yourself!”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Yeah, I Said It . . .

  “So, like really, dude,” Sabina scoffed, standing in front of her—arms folded, head tilted—blocking Heaven’s view of the television. “So you’re really still not speaking to me?”

  Heaven stared at her. “Hell no, I’m not speaking to your ass,” she snapped. They hadn’t spoken since their nasty argument almost a week ago. Both women basically ignored the other, while trying to stay out of the other’s way (utterly ridiculous considering how tiny their cell was). “Now move the hell from the television.”

  Sabina rolled her neck. “Absoooolutely, not. Not until we clear the air.” She stabbed a finger in the air at her. “You had no goddamn right talking to me the way you did. I felt disrespected. And to even suggest that I’m racist was fucking ridiculous and hurtful.”

  Heaven sat on her bunk staring at her incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me? You felt disrespected? How about how I felt hearing you use the word nigga talking to your so-called black man—or whoever the hell he is to you? And don’t fucking tell me in which context you used it, or meant it. The fact is, you used it. Then turned around and called him a black motherfucker? And you don’t see anything wrong with that picture.”

  She scowled. “No, I don’t see anything wrong with it, because I’m not a racist.”

  Lord Jesus. This ignorant bitch still doesn’t get it, Heaven thought as she stared at her blankly. She sighed. She had bigger battles to fight than trying to educate Sabina. She liked her, but she was giving this ho the side-eye.

  “Bitch, I’m not calling you a racist. I’m calling you out on the fact that when I hear a white woman call a black man she’s fucking nigga, all I hear in my mind is the word nigger, whether you meant it that way or not. Personally, I don’t care what the two of you call each other in the privacy of your own shit. But, bitch, doing that shit in earshot of others could get you dragged and stomped; that’s all I’m saying. Be mindful of what you say, and where.”

  “So you’re telling me, you’ve never gotten mad and called your ex—or any other man—and called him a black motherfucker or used the N-word—with an A at the end—out of anger?”

  Heaven sighed. “Bitch, go have a seat. I’m black . . . he’s black, so why would I need to point that out to him if I’m calling him a motherfucker, huh?” But in truth, Heaven had been guilty herself in the past of calling men she’d been pissed at black (with more emphasis on the word black) motherfuckers at one time or another in her life.

  It was wrong, but she’d done it.

  “But yeah, I have been guilty of it,” Heaven finally admitted.

  Satisfied, Sabina smugly stepped away from the television. “As I thought. So tell me this. Why the hell you mad with me—a white chick, for calling her man the same thing you and nearly every other black woman has called her man at some point?”

  Well, she had a point. Still . . .

  “I should be able to talk to my man however I want. IF he doesn’t check me on it, then why should you or anyone else? I am not apologizing for what I said to him. He pissed me off. But I will apologize to you if what you heard offended you in any way.”

  Heaven twisted her lips. “Well, apology accepted. Still, bitches like you who do that shit make it out to be about race when you choose to point out that he is a black motherfucker. You knew he was black before he stuck his dick in you. Now get it together, because someone else might overhear you calling your black man—whether he accepts it or not—that and they might be ready to stomp your kidneys out; that’s all I’m saying. Now what’s for dinner, bitch?”

  • • •

  “Now that we’ve made up and we’re back talking,” Heaven said, leaning her elbows up on Sabina’s bunk.

  “Wait. Shouldn’t we hug or something,” Sabina joked.

  Heaven playfully rolled her eyes. “No. You might try to fuck me.”

  Sabina laughed. “Bitch, not.”

  Heaven gave her a “yeah-right” look. “Anyway, moving on. Riddle me this: how many COs you think are up in here fucking inmates?”

  Sabina pulled her earbuds out of her ears and pursed her lips as she let the question roll around in her head.

  “Hmm. Does sucking count?”

  Heaven rolled he
r eyes. “Yeah, tramp. Getting sucked or getting licked. It’s still sex.”

  She sniggled. “Girl, you know—wait for it—eating ain’t cheating, right?”

  Heaven gave her a blank stare. “Is that what they’re teaching these days? I’ll pass on that, hon. Speaking as a woman who has been cheated on, if a motherfucker is getting his dick sucked or has his face stuffed between some ho’s legs, then sorry boo, his ass is cheating; especially if he’s doing it behind his partner’s back. Come again.”

  “Ohmygod! Wait! You’ve been treating me so shitty lately, I almost forgot. Did you hear about Struthers?”

  Heaven tilted her head, kept a straight face. “No. What about that fucker?”

  “Girl, he’s been out on leave. And I overheard he’s retiring.”

  Heaven shrugged. “Good for him. One less freak to fry,” she said dismissively. But inside she was smiling. She’d gotten him out of there. And she’d been able to get the warden to agree to making sure women had access to more sanitary pads and toilet paper each month, along with getting fresh uniforms weekly. And—for those inmates who came into the prison with no money and wearing no underwear—new packages of underwear when they first arrived in prison.

  “Now back to the question,” Heaven stated.

  Sabina playfully rolled her eyes. “Cranky, eh?”

  “No. Curious. Now talk.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the door, then lowered her voice bringing her gaze back on Sabina. “You’ve already fucked two of them, no?”

  Sabina grinned mischievously. “Something like that.”

  And Heaven had already fucked two, sucked one, and still had another few possibilities. But she had no intentions of sharing that bit of news with Sabina. The best dirt done was always alone. No secrets told. That was her mindset.

  “Okay. So that’s two off the top; that you know of. So how many others you think?”