Guarding Secrets

by Pat Tucker

  After I studied my reflection, I fussed with my hair in the mirror. My weave was loose enough for me to slide my fingers up underneath the stocking cap. I adjusted the packets underneath and studied my image in the mirror. Everything looked normal. But I was scared.

  My heart thumped so loud in my ears, it felt like I couldn’t think straight.

  I needed to look for anything that stuck out as odd. I had taken before-and-after pictures with my cell phone and studied those too. I made several adjustments until the after pictures looked as close to the before pictures as possible.

  I studied my reflection even more. You couldn’t tell. I mean, you could a little bit, but you’d have to stand there and stare at me really hard for a long time. I snapped two more pictures once I adjusted the packets and secured them again.

  My cousin Lena could be a real bitch, but when I needed her, she would come through, especially if she thought there might be something in it for her. Our relationship had always been one mixed with love and hate. She usually loved to hate anything that was right with me, and loved to make sure she told me. As I dialed her number, I prayed she’d be in a good mood.

  “I was just gonna call you. Why you send me these pictures of your head?”

  “Hey, Lena,” I greeted her cheerfully.

  “Hey!” Her response was flat. “Now what are you up to?”

  “I just wanna know how it looks,” I lied.

  “It looks like you need to get in the shop and get your shit tightened up; that’s what it looks like.”

  “Okay, but can I rock this for another week, til I get paid?”

  She chuckled. “Personally, I wouldn’t, but you could probably get away with that.”

  Lena thought she was better than somebody just because people always told her she was pretty. It exhausted me that I had to play the Robin to her Batman all our lives. They’d look at her lovingly, and shower her with compliments about her beauty; then, they’d look at me and say I looked smart. Like really? Who does that to two kids?

  We had grown up together by default. We’d lived with her mom, my aunt, and our grandmother. My mother was unstable for a long time. When she’d finally found religion, she wanted a do-over. But of course, no one gets to do it over. It worked out for me that by the time she was ready to be a mother, I was going through a hard time with my own kids.

  “So, it doesn’t look funny or anything?” I asked Lena over the phone.

  “Nah, it just looks like you need to get your hair done.”

  As we talked, I looked at my reflection in the mirror again. If it was grossly poufy or looked too bad, she’d be quick to tell me, for sure.

  “You sure I could get away with this for another week or so?”

  “Since when you care so much about the way you look?” I could hear the irritation in her voice, and knew it was only seconds before she’d start going off.

  “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Hold up a sec. Wait, I know you didn’t meet a new man, did you?” That was the first time she sounded excited since we’d been on the phone.

  Thoughts of DaQuan popped into my mind. “Bye, Lena!”

  “Now hold on a second. Who is he? Where you meet him at?”

  “Thanks for weighing in on my hair,” I said.

  Confident that all was good, I wrapped up the call with Lena and finished putting on my uniform. Once dressed, and ready to go, I went back to the mirror for one final glance.

  I twisted and turned, as I tried to look at my hair from every angle. I scrutinized every aspect of my appearance. Once I was convinced that I looked okay, and my hair could pass the test, I left for work.

  During the two dry runs, I had already done, I was more nervous about whether I looked suspicious.

  “You straight!” R.J. would tell me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, shorty, you straight. Trust me; we do this on the regular. I wouldn’t let ya go out like that if your shit wasn’t tight!”

  I understood him, but I was still nervous.

  “Besides, just focus on who’s doing the pat downs. If it ain’t nobody friendly, you might have to wait until they change shifts or something.”

  I practiced being and acting normal. Although correctional officers had to be screened, our screening process wasn’t extensive, so I felt confident that I’d be able to make it through security with no problems. Usually we were patted down by a coworker, and most of them were in on what was going on. Both of my dry runs went well, but I wasn’t dirty during those, either.

  My moment of truth came faster than I wanted, but I had practiced and worked with my hair so I needed to go through with it and get it over with.

  I calmed my breathing as much as I could and tried to make sure my hands didn’t shake. The breathing exercises I had practiced came in handy. As I walked in and saw the sheer chaos that was going on, it didn’t bother me one bit.

  People were all over the place. The entrance was busier than usual and I wasn’t sure whether I should abort. I wasn’t nervous, but the line was simply too long. Just when I was about to turn back and go to the car, one of the security officers called out to me.

  “Jones, you ain’t gotta wait. Don’t you have to punch that clock?” he asked.

  He waved me up to the front of the thick line and allowed me to walk through ahead of the person who was next. I swallowed dry and hard.

  “Your bag goes here,” the other guard said. “Now, just walk through. Keep your shoes on.”

  I followed his instructions and slid through the metal detector with no problems. No one even tried to pat me down. I was so relieved I wanted to jump for joy on the other side. My heart raced a million miles a minute. Just when I thought I had pulled off my very first job, something happened and I almost peed myself. Someone called my name again.

  “Yo, Jones!”

  The smile melted from my face and I stopped cold.

  Damn!

  CHAPTER NINE

  KENYATAYE

  I kept an eye on the clock and waited anxiously for my nightly phone call. He was only ten minutes late, but my mind raced with all kind of thoughts about why he’d be late.

  Was he talking to that bitch Clarkson?

  Was that bitch Jones trying to throw it at him?

  Was he with someone else?

  Being involved with a man behind bars wasn’t supposed to be stressful. He was supposed to be close to the perfect man. There was never a reason to question his whereabouts, because where else would he be? He’d call daily, because he needed the connection to the outside world, and theoretically, it wasn’t like he’d be able to cheat on me, or so I thought.

  DaQuan had debunked every single one of those myths about being with a man who was behind bars. He had brought so much stress into my life, at times, I wondered whether he was worth it.

  Still no phone call.

  Now if I’d been late to take his call, he would’ve been ready to bust out of prison to hunt me down. I waited patiently because I was sure he’d act like it was no big deal anyway.

  As I waited, I thought back to the disaster that unfolded when I told him about the baby—our baby.

  We had just walked into our spot when he immediately turned and started to take down his pants.

  I motioned to stop him. “Hold on a second, baby. I need to tell you something.”

  “Really?” His eyebrows inched up slightly.

  “Yeah. I need to. I mean, I don’t want you to hear it from anybody else.”

  “What? Ya getting transferred or something?” His face held a frown, and he watched me numbly.

  “Nah, it’s nothing like that.”

  DaQuan tugged at his pants again. He really pissed me off because he acted like that couldn’t wait until I’d said what I needed to say.

  “Look, if ya not shipping out, anything else can wait. I need some head,” he finally said.

  “DaQuan, this is important. We need to talk about this.”
/>   “Okay, then spit it out! Shit! Ya know we don’t have a lot of time. We could talk on the damn phone. I don’t come in here to talk,” he felt compelled to point out.

  “I know. I know,” I said. My nerves were bad and his reaction hadn’t helped.

  “Well, c’mon with it then.”

  The mood had changed. I should have waited until we were finished because now he seemed agitated with me. That was no good way to deliver the kind of news I had.

  When he snapped his fingers a few times to hurry me along, I couldn’t get mad. I knew I had tried to stall.

  “DaQuan, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m pregnant,” I blurted out, before I lost my nerve again.

  Blank stare.

  The room fell into an awkward silence. I had forgotten how to breathe. It felt like forever before he said something, and when he finally opened his mouth, I wished he hadn’t.

  “Say what?”

  He frowned.

  “I am pregnant,” I repeated.

  Both his eyebrows danced up on his forehead and his expression seemed stuck between bewilderment and confusion.

  “Wait a minute-” He held his hands up in surrender, and took a few steps back.

  Before he finished the thought or the sentence, I cut him off.

  “It’s yours. I’m sure of it,” I sputtered in confusion.

  “Wait, that’s not what I was gonna say. Hell, it better be mine.”

  In that split-second, I was so happy I didn’t know what to do. But my joy didn’t last long because he cocked his head to the side and asked, “But on the real, ya being pregnant, is that a DaQuan problem or a KenyaTaye problem?”

  When the phone rang, it pulled me back to the present. His call was nearly thirty minutes late, but I didn’t dare complain.

  “Heey, Daddy!”

  I silently begged God to soften my tongue because I wanted to let his ass have it. But I knew we needed to finish the conversation about the baby and what I didn’t need was his attitude or his slick tongue.

  “Aey,” he grunted.

  It was obvious that time had done nothing to change his mind about the baby news I had delivered earlier.

  “Listen, DaQuan, I understand you probably stressed out ’cuz you locked up, okay, but I am too.”

  At times I felt like he forgot I was essentially doing time right along with him. I didn’t date. I worked, came home, waited for his call, and coordinated shipments. He needed to understand it wasn’t just about his damn life. My shit was all twisted too.

  “You locked up and I’m fucking pregnant again. Like really, who the fuck does that? Only my dumb ass do shit like that, for real. I can accept that I fucked up. I know I did, but I did that shit cuz I wanted to. I don’t regret it.”

  He just held the phone.

  “DaQuan, I don’t know what you want me to say. I know you probably scared and shit,” I said.

  That was when he found his voice again.

  “Scared?” He chuckled. “Baby, I’m a man! What the hell I’ma be scared of? Scared?” He huffed.

  That single word triggered more of a response from him than earlier when he asked whether my pregnancy was his problem or mine. What I needed him to say was that he had me and we’d be good no matter what.

  There I was on my third kid, and although I knew DaQuan would handle his, I was still more than a little mad at myself. Not even two weeks ago, I was fed up and frustrated with him over his lack of affection for me. Now the only thing that had changed was the fact that I was knocked up.

  He still behaved like I was just another one of his workers.

  “DaQuan, say something. I need you to talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I ain’t thinking shit. I’ma let ya handle this. Ain’t nothing changed. Ya know I got ya, so what’s what?”

  “But that’s my issue, DaQuan. The fact that nothing’s changed is an issue for me. A few weeks ago, I tried to tell you how I was feeling and you didn’t even blink an eye.”

  “KenyaTaye, what ya expect me to say? Ya sit up and call me a liar and a cheat and a bunch of other shit. What ya expect me to say?”

  “I expect you to try and do better. We’re in this together,” I said.

  “Aey, do me a solid.”

  His entire tone softened and I felt a little hopeful. I released a breath that had been trapped deep down in my chest during the whole time we’d been on the phone.

  “Anything,” I said with conviction.

  “Cool, go outside real quick.”

  I got up and walked out of my front door.

  “Okay, what’s up? Somebody coming by?” I expected someone to pass through with a shipment or something.

  “Nah, nothing like that. I need ya to look in the driveway and tell me what you see.”

  I was so fucking mad at DaQuan.

  “Wait! I don’t hear you. KenyaTaye, is that pearl-colored 2012 BMW 3 series Coupe still parked out there?”

  I stormed back into the house, highly pissed. I slammed the door so hard it rattled a few pictures on the wall. My mother rushed out of her room. I waved her away, and pointed to the phone. She knew I was on my daily call. So she shrugged, looked around and went back to her room.

  “Oh, can’t talk right now, huh? Well, that’s cool. But dig this. When I met ya ass, ya and yo kids was riding the bus. Hell, ya was living in the damn projects with yo mama! Them two broke-ass baby daddies ya got ain’t done shit for ya or they kids!”

  I was so glad we were on the phone and not in each other’s presence. He continued.

  “Don’t come talking no shit to me about trying and doing better! From where I’m sitting, yo ass is doing better because I’m making it happen. So the next time ya got some shit ya wanna unload on me, make sure it’s related to my damn money, or my business. Otherwise, ya keep that shit to yo damn self!”

  I was stunned silent, which was probably okay because soon thereafter, the call ended.

  He had hung up on me.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHARISMA

  I thought back to that moment at work when I just knew I had been busted. The adrenaline that flooded my veins made me nervous. Frozen in place, I pulled in a rugged breath and slowly turned my head after they’d called my name.

  “Yo, Jones!”

  When I looked over my shoulder, C.O. Franklin said, “You forgot your bag!” He dangled it in the air for me to see. He frowned and gave me a look that said he thought I was absentminded.

  “Oh, shoot! Thank you,” I said.

  I quickly grabbed it and ran off to remove the plastic bags of pills from my weave.

  Yes! I had done it.

  I’d smuggled in my first load of contraband, and I couldn’t wait to see DaQuan’s reaction once R.J. told him I had done it. I slipped into the bathroom and waited for two people to leave.

  The moment the door closed, I checked the bottom to make sure the stalls were empty. Once I finished, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and started to remove the plastic bags from my weave.

  It didn’t take long to remove my bags. Once I finished, I went to make the drop. If I had it my way, I’d deal directly with R.J., but there were times when I had to go to Dunbar instead.

  Unfortunately for me, R.J. was nowhere to be found. I didn’t want to take the chance and hold on to the pills for longer than necessary, so I went and found Dunbar.

  Her face twisted at the sight of me. If I didn’t need money the way I did, I wouldn’t be bothered with her.

  “Dunbar,” I said as I stepped to her.

  She looked at me, but didn’t respond.

  “I have some stuff.”

  When she acted like she didn’t want it, I was tempted to go find R.J.

  “We need to go to the bathroom?” she asked.

  I glanced around in both directions.

  When I slid the plastic bags to her, Dunbar took them and eased them somewhere under the desk.

  There was no way I wanted to h
ang around for fake small talk with her, so I turned and left.

  She didn’t say anything to me and I didn’t utter another word.

  As I walked away, I thought about all I’d been told about Dunbar. For a sergeant, she seemed pretty dumb to me, and her stupidity told me that anybody could advance at that job.

  My shift had finally ended and I couldn’t wait to leave the prison. The smell of the place followed me home and seemed to seep into my skin.

  My cell rang when I got into the car. I prayed it was a call back about the job I’d done for DaQuan and the pay I desperately needed, but it wasn’t. It was my pathetic baby daddy, sorry-ass Corey McCray.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Yo! I’ma have to get that money to you next week,” Corey said. I rolled my eyes as I listened to his lies. I could never ever count on his trifling behind, and I knew that.

  “The cable is off. I ain’t got no food. And I’m short on the rent. When I let you hold that money, you said you’d have it back early, Corey.”

  “Look, I know what I said, but something came up. I’ma make it up to you.”

  Corey must’ve thought I was a fool. If I waited on him, I’d be hungry and homeless.

  “Whatever, Corey.” I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me.

  “For real,” he insisted.

  The rest of his promises fell on deaf ears. I didn’t have time to wait around for him and his lame promises. I needed more money than what I made at that pathetic job. My neighbor’s cousin, Tiny, had told me the prison was hiring at the Carl Vance Unit. She said if they hired her, she knew for sure they’d hire me, so I applied and they called me in for an interview.

  I had only been working there for a month-and-a-half, but I was so far behind on all my bills, everything had piled high.

  “So, I’ma come through later so I can talk to you and explain everything,” he said.

  “Don’t bother, Corey. I don’t wanna see you unless you got my money.”

  I meant it too. He didn’t know what I had to do to make ends meet and I was sick of depending on somebody who only cared about himself.

  Corey was the reason I’d sent our kids to stay with my mom in Georgia. I could barely take care of me, much less the kids too. And even though they wasn’t with me in Houston, I still had to send money to help take care of them. Corey knew that too.