by Pat Tucker
“We having one too,” I said bitterly. “So what?” My tone was as stiff as an upper lip.
She had an innocent face, but the tattoo on her wrist that spelled DaQuan’s name in perfect cursive reminded me of the one on the back of my neck. I knew she intentionally had come without a watch because she wanted me to see it. I wondered who else carried his mark. For a quick second, I thought about how many times she had probably had these types of meetings.
“He takes care of me and my other kids,” I said. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to tell her that, but something made me want her to know I meant more to him than she probably thought.
“So you’re gonna keep it then?”
Rage tore through every cell in my body, but I looked at her with a straight face and told myself to ignore the question. For me, nothing had changed. I knew whom I was dealing with when I got involved with DaQuan, so very few things about him surprised me.
“You keeping yours?” I shot back, with an eyebrow raised.
Her face clouded over, and she said, “Of course!”
“Then I guess there’s nothing left to talk about.”
The whole time she stood there, I boldly scanned her up and down, but told myself I needed to retract my claws; doing anything to her still wouldn’t change a damn thing.
She was free to have child number three for DaQuan if that was what she wanted to do. I couldn’t do nothing to stop DaQuan from screwing C.O.s no more than he could stop me from being me; it was who he was. It pissed me off and made my heart crumble, but what could I do?
“Well, you and your friends should cut down on all the dirty little whispers. I had him first.” She could barely mask her disdain, but I didn’t care.
Deep down, I knew she was right. She did have him first. She had two other kids and one growing in her belly to prove it, but obviously she hadn’t done something right, because despite all of that, he still came to me.
The life that grew inside my own stomach was evidence enough that I didn’t need to tell her that. It was obvious that after years with her, he wanted something different. Me and him had been kicking it for almost two years.
“We’re all grown. I don’t tell grown people what to do,” I said.
She seemed taken aback, but still nodded slightly.
“Well, I need to get back in; my shift starts in fifteen,” I said.
It didn’t matter if she had something else to say, I was done with her and the conversation, so I turned and made my long trek back into the building.
The minute I stepped back into the crisp, cold, air-conditioned building, Bishop and Edwards were waiting for me. I prayed the tears in my eyes wouldn’t fall.
It was all I could do to face C.O. Clarkson without having a complete meltdown. And now that I’d made it through the face-to-face with DaQuan’s baby mama, I didn’t want my girls to think the meeting had reduced me to a puddle of tears.
“What did she say?” Edwards asked, as they approached.
“Yeah. You tell her you pregnant too?” Bishop asked in a whisper.
It wasn’t common knowledge that I was with child, so I appreciated that she tried to keep her voice down on that part. I confirmed it after my period was a week-and-a-half late, but that was only two weeks earlier.
“I’ll bet that made her want to upchuck,” Bishop added. “What’d she say?”
I didn’t want to talk about it, but I knew I couldn’t avoid the conversation. We were like the Three Musketeers and they’d been on the journey with me since day one. They worked for DaQuan too, but I still didn’t want to talk about it.
It was stupid that me and Clarkson were pregnant at the same time by the same damn inmate.
“KenyaTaye, don’t start acting all brand-new now,” Edwards said. I knew she definitely sensed my hesitation and for sure, she wouldn’t give me a pass.
“She’s right. What that bitch say; why you trying to hold out now?” Bishop chimed in. Bishop didn’t usually say much, and I wished this was one of her quiet times.
“It’s not like that. But this whole situation is so foul. He ain’t shit!” I said, disgusted over the position he’d put me in.
Edwards stopped walking. She looked at me and said, “Do he take care of you and those kids that’s not even his? What you pushing out in that parking lot? And what you carrying around on your shoulders?”
I sighed.
“Look, I know DaQuan got dog-like characteristics, but real talk, he’s holding it down better than a lot of these other dudes who are out on the streets.” Edwards shook her head. “I don’t know what ‘ol girl told you out there, but if I was you, I wouldn’t let my man go without a fight.”
“She’s right,” Bishop said.
I knew they were both right. As we walked to our side of the building, I replayed the meeting between C.O. Clarkson and me. I left out the parts where I compared myself to her, wondered what he saw in her, and wondered whether he treated her the same way he treated me when we were alone.
“She’s having his third baby! Wow!” Edwards said.
“And she’s not the least bit fazed by me. She stood there just as calmly as ever and didn’t even bat her lazy eye when I told her I was pregnant too.”
“Damn! DaQuan ain’t no joke!”
We turned our heads at the same time, and much to my horror, two male correctional officers fist-bumped each other.
“What that make? Three? Four?” the male officers joked to each other.
Alarm settled into my nervous system. Nobody was supposed to know about me being pregnant. But what could I do? Sooner or later, everyone would know anyway. It was already widely known among the male C.O.s that I was DaQuan’s girl. His name inked across the back of my neck had a little to do with that, but it was known more because of the way he marked his territory.
We waited for our coworkers to pass before we spoke again.
Edwards looked at me with empathy in her eyes. “If you know like I know, you’d better tell DaQuan about this baby before they do!”
She was right. I should’ve told him the last time we were together, but I had other things on my mind. Ever since I’d found out I was pregnant, my emotions had been all over the place.
The last time, when we were in our private place, all I could think about was letting him know how much he’d hurt me. He had two kids on the way, by two different women, and he was locked up!
My life was a hot funky mess!
But I laughed when Bishop said, “Whoa, hold up, his baby mama; the trick got a lazy eye?”
CHAPTER SIX
CHARISMA
“Yo, you ain’t gotta slip it in your coochie or nothing like that, but what I’m saying is, you gotta get creative. The more you think about it, the better the ideas you’ll come up with.”
I looked at R.J. like he was crazy. The thought of sliding a cell phone up in my twat to sneak it into a prison was too much for me. I wanted in on some of the cash flow, but I didn’t want to do anything too stupid. And that sounded real stupid.
“How do the other females do it now?” I asked. “I mean, besides up in their coochies?”
“They sneak baggies in their weaves, in their shoes, their underwear; man, you just gotta get creative. Or,” he looked at my lips, “maybe you not cut out to be a mule; you could do other thangs.” He sucked his teeth and grinned.
The way he stared at my lips made me feel dirty. R.J. was a trustee, which meant he had a job in the mail room and had more freedom than the average inmate.
Basically, he and a few others had the freedom to roam the facility as they pleased. We were near one of the back doors.
“So how am I supposed to make extra money if I don’t join the team?”
“There are other ways.” The gleam in his eyes told me I probably didn’t want to know what those other ways were.
“Like what?” I asked anyway.
“Inmates pay a hundred-fifty dollars for blowjobs. Have your name added to the wall, and yo
u could start making paper real fast. Yo, I’m jus’ sayin’, you got nice lips,” he said and laughed.
“Inmates pay one-hundred and fifty dollars? Where they get that kind of money?” I was stunned.
The fact that female C.O.s were tricking didn’t surprise me as much as the fact that the inmates actually were able to pay. How could they afford that kind of money?
R.J. looked all around. “Baby, there’s paper flowing all over this place. You’d be surprised.” He winked.
“I think I’ll stick to the other kind of contraband,” I said.
His shifty eyes held some disappointment. But I didn’t need a man; I needed extra money.
“Your choice; it’s up to you.” He shrugged.
“So it seems like pills would be the easiest. I think I’ll stick with that. What’s the best thing to get?”
“Well, you said you had a lead on something already. Whachu’ got?”
“Percocet and Xanex.”
My cousin Lance worked at one of those old people’s homes and he couldn’t wait to offload some pills. I knew he’d be a good connect.
“Ooh. That’s the good shit. Yeah; those will go for at least thirty bucks a pill.”
My eyes grew wide and I nearly lost my train of thought.
“Whhaaat?” I lowered my voice.
R.J. laughed. “Damn, what’s up, baby? You don’t know nothing, huh?”
As I talked to R.J., my mind did some fast math. I couldn’t believe a pill that might cost ten dollars on the streets went for three times that amount behind bars. My mind was completely made up; I’d leave the cell phones and the weed for the other chicks who didn’t mind stuff up in their vaginas.
My side hustle would be smuggling pills.
“Yo, you straight?” R.J. asked.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks. I’m good.”
“Okay, well, practice that, yo. Then step to me when you think you got something.”
Thoughts ran through my mind as R.J. walked away. I knew for sure that if I was able to pull off a successful job, that would get DaQuan’s attention.
There was nothing I wanted more than to get his attention. For the rest of my shift, all I thought about were ways that I could sneak pills into the prison.
When other female correctional officers entered my space, I studied them from head to toe.
Edwards was tall and kind of lanky, but shaped oddly. She also wore her uniform really tight. I seriously doubted she’d be able to smuggle anything in those pants, but I couldn’t be sure.
“What the hell you looking at?”
I didn’t realize I had stared at her so hard until she spun around and barked at me.
“Jones, you got issues with me?” Edwards asked as her head swiveled like a bobble-head doll.
Before she could say anything else, I got up and walked out. I wasn’t about to start any shit. On my way out, I thought about how KenyaTaye must’ve smuggled all kinds of stuff all up in her nasty pussy!
As I imagined her hitching up a leg and jamming things into her twat, all I could do was laugh to myself.
Then, I hoped something would get stuck up in there and she’d have to explain to the ER doctor why a cell phone, a bag of weed, and some Xanex pills were stuck up in her coochie.
Thoughts of her in that situation dominated my mind as I rounded a corner and ran smack into DaQuan.
“Oh—”
“Aey, watch where ya going, ma,” he said jokingly.
“Uh, Bossman, I’m sorry, my head was—”
“Yo, ma, no worries. But ya bet not let me catch you slipping around the way,” he said, and winked.
His touch sparked something in me. I liked everything about DaQuan. We were already friends and talked quite a bit, but being so close to him made my heart flutter.
“Everything okay over there, C.O.?!” someone yelled.
“Yes. It’s good.” I waved my coworker off.
DaQuan turned his head and tossed a dirty look in the officer’s direction.
“Don’t worry about that. He’s just doing his job,” I said. “Besides, what are you doing walking around here alone, like you own the place?”
DaQuan stuck his chest out. “Yo, you betta ask somebody; I run shit around here.” His eyes were filled with heat. “When problems break out, they call me before they call the warden. Ma, ask somebody!”
I shivered with excitement, because I knew he told the truth.
Our eyes locked, and my heart thudded. I wanted him.
Then all of a sudden, he strutted around me, boldly slapped my ass, and moved down the hall. His swagger was irresistible. The look he tossed over his shoulder made me want to give it to him right there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KENYATAYE
My mind was overrun with getting back into the closet with DaQuan. How could he stay away from me for so long and not even miss me? It drove me crazy at work and at home.
I tortured myself because I constantly replayed our last time together in my mind. If only I hadn’t gone off on him all at once like that.
A constant battle brewed in my mind. While I was happy I had gotten it all off my chest at first, the more I thought about it, the more I wished I had just kept my mouth shut.
As I contemplated my next move, a C.O. whose name I couldn’t remember bum-rushed the booth.
“Hey, Dunbar, I got something for R.J. and I can’t find him,” she said. Her voice was shaky and she was very fidgety. Blankets of sweat covered her face and she trembled as she stood with her hands in her pocket.
“What’s your name again?”
“Erin, er, I mean, C.O. Sheppard.”
I knew exactly who she was, but she looked a hot mess. I wanted to tell her she needed to go somewhere and get cleaned up.
“You got a direct line to DaQuan, right?” she asked. This time her voice was lower than before.
“I need to see somebody. I got this cell phone, actually two of ’em, so you want ’em or what?”
My eyes lit up. I couldn’t believe she put the business out in the streets like that. She knew how we operated, but yet she acted like her life depended on finding R.J. or DaQuan.
“Are you okay?”
“I just need to offload this contraband. Now if you don’t want it, I don’t know what to do with it, but I don’t feel comfortable walking around with it on me.”
She looked around the area.
It was hard to tell if that’s what her nervousness was really about. It seemed like she was hooked on that shit, but I had problems of my own. I needed her gone so I could focus on what was important to me.
“Go to the mail room. R.J. is usually hanging around over there.”
She scurried off without saying anything else.
I needed to talk to DaQuan about how he brought people into the business. If he didn’t watch it, he’d fuck it up for us all.
Maybe that was the line I needed to use to get to him. He cared about his business and his paper. Maybe my approach had been all wrong.
• • •
Hours later, I was still vexed as I sat at the guard’s station and looked through paperwork. My eyes took in the words and letters on the paper, but my mind was elsewhere and everybody knew it. So they gave me space; there weren’t too many questions or requests, which was cool with me.
Images of my last time with DaQuan flashed through my mind—his selfishness, and how cold he behaved when I poured my feelings out to him.
In the weeks since our last hook-up, I thought about all the things I should’ve said and done.
He needed to act like I meant something more to him than just another mule. I was tired of the lopsided relationship with him. But obviously, that had been the wrong approach.
I realized if I had talked to him about how I thought he might be putting the business at risk, versus talking about my feelings, maybe he would’ve been more apt to listen.
A few of my coworkers stood off in the other corner of the booth and talked. Than
k God they didn’t try to interrupt me or my thoughts. All was quiet for a change; no drama on the cell-block meant I had nothing but time.
There was time to think, and pick apart everything that had gone wrong with DaQuan and me and how I could fix it.
I worked so hard at me and him because I didn’t want to end up all alone like my mother, Mary. I had already crapped out twice, so the third time, with DaQuan, had to be my charm. It just had to be, no matter what it cost.
I wondered if C.O. Sheppard had found R.J., then decided that was her problem, not mine. I was about to return to the paperwork when something pulled me in.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the monitors flash images of different parts of the facility like a slideshow, and nothing was out of the norm, at first.
But suddenly, one image in particular caught my attention. At the sight of it, I felt my body stiffen, my mouth dry. I blinked, and forced myself to focus on all of the monitors.
It took a few minutes for the image to come back around in the rotation, but when it did, it was vividly clear.
“This bitch don’ lost her ever-loving mind!”
“Who?” C.O. Edwards asked. She and two other C.O.s rushed to my side. “Whassup?” Edwards asked as we all focused on the screen.
When the image popped back onto the screen, a collective gasp floated up from us all.
“Is that who we think that is?” C. O. Bishop said more than asked.
“Yeah, that’s her ass!” Edwards confirmed.
There it was, right on the screen, right in front of the camera for all eyes to see.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHARISMA
Three weeks after I had done what DaQuan had told me and connected with R.J., I felt I was ready. My time with DaQuan had been limited. We still talked a little at work, but mostly we talked when he called late at night.
He and I never discussed my training with R.J. But it had been going really good.