by Pat Tucker
That cut deep. I cringed inside, and my ears began to burn. What the hell was he thinking? And what did that mean for us?
My heart took a nosedive, and my legs threatened to give out.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHARISMA
I was in paradise right here on Earth, inside a prison of all places.
Ripples of pleasure flooded through my body in what felt like time-released waves. I used the back of my hand to wipe sweat from my forehead. I buckled at the sensation, arched my back, released a cry, and wiggled against his movement.
“Take it,” he said.
My heart rate fluttered. I wanted it, all of it.
“Oh yes, daddy, yes!”
“I knew you wanted this dick!”
The sound of his voice, slow and passionate, only fueled my mission. I was gonna get it all.
He groaned as I pulled him closer and deeper and deeper. I was completely caught up in the rapture and couldn’t think of a single thing that could compare to the sheer bliss I was experiencing. He was the best I’d ever had, an attentive and giving lover.
I pulled in a deep, rugged breath, closed my eyes and released that strong guttural groan that had been trapped in my throat. I rotated my hips, and ground down on him in slow motion.
“Ooooohhhh, weeeee.” I slapped the sides of his head in an attempt to grab ahold and keep him in place.
DaQuan clamped his hands down on my hips, and pulled me into him. We’d been holed up inside the small makeshift bedroom, and I rode him like I wasn’t sure when I’d have another chance. I had to try and make the best of the ride.
“Jesus, daddy! You hittin’ my spot. You hittin’ my spot! Right there, baby,” I cried, and shuddered as waves of pleasure flooded my central nervous system. I was in paradise.
“You like that, ma?” he breathed before he smothered his face into my breasts.
“Oooh, yeeesss!”
DaQuan pulled back, caught one of my nipples between his lips, and suckled it. He worked his hips and I noticed his eyes fluttering. His mouth was agape, and he looked like he was in a world all his own. I just hung on for the ride.
“Good . . . real good,” he groaned incoherently as he palmed my breast, squeezing it so hard I winced from the pain, then smiled at the surge of pleasure I was now experiencing.
Women like me didn’t have that kind of mind-blowing sex. I couldn’t wrap my mind around everything that had just happened. I had already cum once. The way he was working it, I was on my way to number two.
He was intense, with long, powerful strokes. When I felt his body jerk, I knew success was within my reach.
“I’m coming, Charisma! I’m coming, baby; hold on!”
DaQuan exploded with such force and power, I swore I felt his fluids in me. I beamed with pride.
I had fucked DaQuan!
Our sweat intertwined and mixed into one.
“Whew!”
He was satisfied and I was happy.
We cuddled a little, shared some sweet pillow talk; then he got up. He put his clothes back on, and started to move toward the door. My legs felt too weak to hold me up, so I wasn’t in a hurry to move. Besides, the wonderful aftershocks still flowed through my body.
“Yo, just to be on the safe side, let me go out first. I don’t want nobody all in our business,” he said.
Alarm settled into my system and grabbed my heart. Getting caught never crossed my mind. And why would it? DaQuan was in charge. Why did he care if someone saw us?
“Hey, don’t trip. Ya cool. I just don’t want those nosey hens all in our shit! Trust me; that’s how a good thing gets all fucked up.”
Just that fast, relief washed over me. I thought he was scared, but he was just looking out for me. I felt so incredibly proud to be his. It was still so hard to believe that I had managed to pull a Boss.
DaQuan came back to the bed and stooped down. “Ya straight, right?”
The look in his eyes told me he really cared.
“Yeah. I’m good, daddy.”
“Ya know I like when ya call me that shit, right?” He grinned. “Ya got some bomb-ass pussy!”
Never in my life would I normally call a man “daddy,” but I had heard it in one of my favorite rap songs and thought, why the hell not? Whoever would’ve guessed I’d be able to get a man worthy of such deference? Being with DaQuan made me feel like I could do anything, regardless of whether I could.
DaQuan pecked my lips, then walked out of the small room. I looked around and wondered how long I needed to stay in there before I could ease out, undetected.
He was right. Dunbar, Edwards, and Bishop already hated my guts. If they found out I was kicking it with DaQuan, I could only imagine how much more shade they’d throw in my direction. No, I needed to keep our secret for as long as possible.
• • •
Later, as I walked into the locker room, I heard those hens before I saw them. Anytime I looked at them, I thought about DaQuan when he referred to them as hens. He was so on point; they stayed loud and gossipy.
“Girl, I literally just laid my ass on the couch because I was so weak from laughing,” KenyaTaye said. She was overly animated as she told her story. It was obvious she lived to be extra. Females like her were nothing but trouble.
I ignored them. I wanted to be invisible for as long as possible.
The other two correctional officers howled with laughter. So far, I had not been impressed by any of the people I’d come in contact with at work except DaQuan and R.J.
“KenyaTaye! KenyaTaye! Girl, stop!” Edwards yelled.
I eased by the trio and made my way to my locker. I continued to ignore the story being told and reminded myself that the best way to be successful on any new job was to keep to oneself.
KenyaTaye and her girls were obnoxious and behaved as if they ran the place. Not that I wanted to be acknowledged, but the trio acted like I hadn’t even entered their space. Their little middle-school, mean-girl treatment worked just fine for me. I didn’t need them all in my business anyway.
This was no popularity contest and I was determined not to make it one. I’d come to work, do the shitty job, and collect the paycheck.
In the time I’d been working, I had picked up on quite a bit. I was certain most of that had come because I was quiet and kept to myself. Of what I’d gathered, what stayed on my mind most, was all that was wrong with the new job.
The most problematic was the large number of women who worked in my assigned unit. Experience had taught me that wherever there were lots of women, there was bound to be ten times that amount of drama. And drama was the last thing I needed.
I grabbed my jacket and purse from the locker and turned to leave. I had made it only a few steps past the pack when someone spoke.
“ ’Scuse me,” Edwards said.
If I wanted to ignore them and keep it moving, the next words forced me to stop.
“Aey, you. Jones!”
It was obvious they were talking to me.
I stopped and turned.
“That bag, is that a real Gucci?”
My expression twisted as I followed their eyes down to the clear bamboo shopper tote I carried. DaQuan had sent it to the house for me.
“Of course my bag is real.”
I didn’t try to remove the sarcasm from my tone. I did notice when one of the women nudged Dunbar.
“That’s what’s up,” Dunbar said, but she acted like it hurt her mouth to say so. I wanted to tell her she could keep her flat compliment to her damn self. I didn’t need it. I got all the compliments I needed from DaQuan, and as long as he liked it, I was good.
The other women nodded approvingly and I turned and left.
I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know that the women’s eyes were still glued to me. And I already knew the first stone had been cast, so I braced myself for the drama that was bound to begin.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KENYATAYE
“Aey, Du
nbar, I got two bags of weed and two brand-new cell phones.” C.O. Sheppard pounded a fist into her palm to emphasize her words. “And this time I want top dollar for my shit ’cause these ain’t no cheap burners, either.”
She was so loud. I glanced around and was relieved that the cubicles were empty. The inmates were in the rec room.
As Sheppard ran down the contraband she had smuggled in, all I could think was, why did DaQuan insist on padding our workforce with so many ratchet females? Sheppard was crazy. I had no idea how she even got hired for the legit job, much less for some illegal shit.
But at least this time Sheppard didn’t shake or tremble like she was going through withdrawal. My eyes darted around the area again. One of us needed to make sure nobody was ear-hustling nearby.
The truth was, no one needed to eavesdrop as loud as she talked. Sheppard carried on like we were talking about sale items at Macy’s instead of contraband, illegal contraband.
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
I lowered my voice to help her realize how loud she was being, and bring hers down, but that didn’t work.
“So that means I’m getting mo’ money, right?”
I wanted her gone!
“You need to let me know, ’cause if y’all don’t want to pay top dollar for the phones, I could…”
When I looked at her, her voice trailed off like she had just realized the threat before it left her lips. My eyebrow was still elevated. I knew she wasn’t trying to threaten to sell DaQuan’s stuff to someone else. That was as close to a death wish as possible.
“So, you gon’ ask DaQuan and get back to me later?”
She leaned in then and asked, “Oh, who all is working with us? I need to know who to look for at the door. I could bring a lot more stuff in if I knew who to look for.”
That was the smartest thing I had ever heard her say. And she had a good point.
I nodded. “Yeah, Sheppard, I’ma get with him, and lemme talk to him about letting you know the others on the team.”
“Well, I know about Edwards and Bishop, but what about the new C.O.s?”
She couldn’t take a hint.
“Lemme get back at you,” I snapped.
Sheppard shuffled back a few steps.
“Oh, okay then. It’s all good. I can wait.”
The minute Sheppard turned the corner and left, I eased back into the guard’s station and picked up some paperwork. My mind stayed on the problems DaQuan and I had.
It dawned on me that I was too valuable to him and his company. Who else would put it all on the line like I did? I held it down and dealt with all kinds of things that kept the business running smoothly. He needed to do right by me. I didn’t smuggle as much stuff in anymore, but I handled the books and kept track of inventory.
As hard as I worked, he needed to check in with me before he added crazy chicks to our team. He shouldn’t have accepted Sheppard or Jones.
Thoughts of the misfits made me think about Jones. It took two days for me to stop thinking about the sight of that Gucci bag she carried out of the locker room. Who did she think she was, and how could she even afford a brand-new Gucci bag like that?
“She must be boosting or knows somebody who is.”
“Who you talking to?”
I turned around at the sound of Edwards’s voice.
“Oh, girl, I’m just sitting here thinking about this business.”
With her stiff collar upright, Edwards gave me the side-eye like she didn’t believe me.
“That’s what we call it now, thinking? Okay, well, think on, as long as you don’t go answering yourself.”
“Girl, actually I was thinking about that bag ol’ girl was carrying.”
“It was everything!” Edwards’s eyes got wide like she was overcome with excitement.
The bag was nice, but it wasn’t all Edwards made it out to be.
Bishop rushed into the booth. She was out of breath and breathing hard. She placed a hand over her chest, and held the other out to get our attention.
“DaQuan is holding a dinner party.”
“Come again.”
My heart threatened to burst right up out of my chest.
“What you talking about a dinner party?” Edwards sounded just as confused. “He got the kitchen to fix something, or what?”
We looked at each other. I got up from my chair and made my way to the door. Bishop had finally caught her breath.
“C’mon; I need y’all to see this for yourself! Oooh, wee, he’s something fierce!” Bishop said. Her voice was giddy, and she could hardly stand still.
“Wait, the booth; we can’t just leave,” Edwards said.
“Girl, it’s been quiet all day. We not gonna be gone that long; let’s go!” I said.
As we rushed down the hallway, C.O. Scott hurried toward us from the opposite direction.
“We got a situation on the C-block. Man the radio in the booth,” I said as we passed her. “I’ll be back in ten.”
Scott looked confused, but she didn’t question me.
We heard the party before we saw it. And even when I saw it, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Off to the back of the kitchen area near the opened pantry, DaQuan and five of his soldiers were at a table. The table was covered with cloth.
Music played; they ate, drank and talked.
“Yo, ya’ll comin’ through or y’all just gonna watch?”
Two C.O.s stood by. One exchanged a knowing glance with me and I walked closer to the table. Bishop and Edwards were close by.
“Is that catfish?” Bishop asked.
The scent of fresh fried fish grew stronger the closer we got to the table. There was shrimp, and po’boys too.
“I eat tilapia,” DaQuan said.
He looked good in his white tee and white pants. My desire for him was just as strong as ever and I hated myself for it.
“Damn, y’all having a feast, huh?” Bishop swung a leg over and sat on the bench next to R.J.
“Yo mouth watering, ma?” DaQuan brought a glass to his lips.
I was waiting for DaQuan to say something to me. But he didn’t. Instead he only talked around me and to my girls.
“Vodka?” Bishop asked. Her eyes got wide.
“Only top of the line for my soldiers!” DaQuan stuck his chest out. “Yeah, we’ celebratin’ a record month.”
I bit down on my lip because what I wanted to tell him was, that record month wouldn’t have been possible without me. So while he tried to act all brand-new with me, he needed to recognize that I had made all of that shit possible, including his five-star dinner.
“Bishop, Edwards, y’all chillin’ over here?”
The question was just about ignored because both of them had taken a seat and were stuffing their mouths. I was mad, but what could I say?
DaQuan didn’t even look my way. He made me so sick, but there was nothing I could do. If I messed with his money, that would be like messing with my life. He had made it clear that everything came second to his money, and obviously, that included me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHARISMA
Something had been in the air from the moment I pulled in a deep rugged breath and strolled past security and into the gates that led to the main building.
I wasn’t about to brag or anything, but it was so easy to smuggle in the pills, I couldn’t remember why I hesitated in the beginning. On this trip alone, I had eighty stashed in my weave, and another 120 divided between the soles of each shoe. Security was so lax, sometimes I’d convince myself that what I was doing wasn’t really a big deal.
Complete silence greeted me the moment I entered the building, a signal that it would be a good and easy day. The cubicles were empty, which meant the inmates were at lunch.
Even though they were gone, their scent lingered behind. But my senses were close to becoming immune to that.
Quiet time in that area was precious; outside of my co-workers gathered at the guards’ station,
the place was vacant. I wasn’t one for hanging with the crowd, so once I put my stuff away, I decided to go walk the halls.
When there was no trouble to be found, I tried to busy myself with anything that kept me occupied. It didn’t matter if I was counting the square tiles on the floor. I just wanted to be away from Dunbar, Edwards, and Bishop. C.O. Scott, who had helped me get the job, kept her distance too. Since she was on another shift, it was easier for her to do. But I felt like her distance was more about their childish behavior than the illegal behavior.
By the time I rounded the corner near one of the back classrooms, I heard the commotion before I saw the inmates. There went my easy day.
“Dawg, you ain’t paid, so you ain’t got no turn!” R.J. said to another inmate. R.J.’s arm was extended away from his body and high above a shorter inmate’s head. The cell phone he clutched seemed to be the issue.
The shorter inmate looked like he couldn’t understand what was being said.
“But my folks don’ paid in full, playboy!” a different inmate said.
“Granger, I got you, dawg. But you not the only one scheduled to use the phone. Lemme handle this situation and you gon’ get your time, dawg.”
“It’s gotta be some kinda mistake; my moms said she paid, R.J.”
“Well, she didn’t. I gots the list right here. Granger, D-Bob, Bubba, and Tyler are all paid in full.”
R.J. held out a piece of paper and showed the shorter inmate.
“Gon’, man. Check it for yo’self; then you bes’ check ya folks ’cause somebody gassin’ you up.”
The inmate snatched the form and started to inspect it himself, as R.J. handed the phone to Granger.
Granger turned back. “I got thirty minutes and I want all my time, R.J. Don’t be tryna short me over this bad misunderstanding that went down. I wants my full thirty!”
“Dawg, ain’t nobody tryna short you! Ya need to make yo call and stop bumpin’ yo gums, before I snatch yo spot and let Tyler jump the line!”
R.J. spotted me and a quick flash of alarm washed over his features. It softened when our eyes connected.
He turned back to the group. “I’ll be back here in thirty. Tyler, meet me here; then at six-thirty, it’s D-Bob. Bubba, you up at seven.”