Guarding Secrets

by Pat Tucker

  “Hey, I meant to ask you. What’s up with you and Dunbar?”

  Her question seemed odd. Scott didn’t work on our shift and although she knew all the players, she wasn’t privy to the game.

  Her demeanor made it clear that she knew the question was a sensitive subject. When she asked, she lowered her voice, and her eyes darted around. “I don’t know all the details, but you’re right to stay away from them. I’m gonna tell you something, but you didn’t hear it from me. Word around here is that she and DaQuan are having some issues. If I was you, I’d stay clear of them all. You might even consider putting in for a transfer.”

  “A transfer?”

  “Yeah. I don’t trust anyone around here. Ain’t no telling what they’re up to. When they ask me to work this shift, I always wanna say no, but I only do it because I want to be a team player.”

  “I think you’re right. I already don’t get along with Dunbar so I’m gonna make sure I stay the hell away from her.”

  Scott nodded. Her expression changed to satisfaction at my answer.

  A couple of trustees walked in our direction and Scott went into super C.O. mode.

  “Inmates, are you guys cleared to be walking the halls over here?”

  Her voice was firm and boomed as it left her tiny body.

  “They’re trustees,” I tried to whisper to her.

  “Oh. Okay, as you were then.” She eyed me, then settled down a bit.

  When the inmates turned the corner away from us, Scott leaned closer to me and said, “Just be careful around here. I know I don’t have to tell you ’cause from what I hear, you’re a loner, and I think you should keep it that way, but I just thought I’d let you know for sure; nothing good can come from hanging with those three.”

  By those three, she meant Dunbar, Edwards, and Bishop. I never wondered how other correctional officers felt about them. I assumed that most, if not all, were part of the smuggling team, but I was wrong.

  We arrived at the guards’ booth and it was time to end the conversation. My mind was still stuck on Sheppard and the only woman I could say I hated.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  KENYATAYE

  “So, you asking for three thousand, five-hundred dollars for this?” I looked at the gold-colored 1995 Honda Accord and tried to find anything that was wrong with it. He must’ve bumped his head trying to charge that much for an old used car. It was clean, but wasn’t worth his asking price.

  “It’s in good condition,” the man, who wore a turban, said.

  I pulled the door open, looked inside and it was clean enough. It smelled fresh too. But that was nothing but well-placed Febreeze air fresheners; it didn’t justify his outrageous price tag. There were a few stains on the seats, but the seatbelts worked and I noticed brand-new mats on the floor. I couldn’t find anything wrong with the inside, either.

  When I eased out of the car, I stood back and looked at the hood of the car. There were a couple of small dings in it, but you had to focus hard to notice them.

  “For a twenty-year-old car it’s nice, but the Blue Book value puts it at one-thousand dollars. That’s two less than what you’re asking.”

  His bushy eyebrows turned into a unibrow. “It’s in very good condition.”

  “Yeah, I heard you, but I’m not about to pay two-thousand dollars above the market price, just because you’re proud that you’ve kept it clean.”

  He had me messed up.

  The fact that I had to be haggling with a man about an old used car only made me more pissed. DaQuan was out of order for taking back my car. By the time I’d finished with him, he’d be sorry for sure. I had to push thoughts of the hidden gun out of my mind.

  “Well, make me an offer.”

  The car was nice, but it already had close to two-hundred-thousand miles on it.

  “One thousand.” I opened the gas tank and looked at it like something might be wrong there.

  “You wanna pay one-thousand dollars?” The man released a chuckle and looked at me like he was ready for the next buyer to step up.

  “I told you what the Blue Book says.”

  “Before I let it go for that, I’ll keep it as an extra vehicle.”

  He didn’t know, I wasn’t pressed. After a brief shrug, I turned and took a few steps away from him and the car, before he yelled, “Ma’am! Wait.”

  I stopped, but I didn’t face him right away. I took a deep breath and cheered a little to myself. I knew he’d come to his senses.

  When I turned, he stepped closer.

  But I noticed, his expression hadn’t softened at all. That really pissed me off because here I was all but haggling with this dude over an old bucket, and he still had a smug look on his face.

  “Two thousand.”

  Instead of responding to his counteroffer, I shook my head, turned back toward the rental and kept it moving. I needed a car because the bill on my rental was running like a broken meter.

  “Well, you tell me. How much you willing to pay?”

  Men made me sick.

  “Look, I got three other cars to look at today. I don’t have time to play The Price is Right with you.”

  “It’s worth more than what that Blue Book says.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not my problem. Either you take that up with the folks over at Blue Book or you keep the car for yourself. Nobody in their right mind is gonna pay more than the market value for this car. I’m out!”

  Almost thirty minutes after I’d left the man who’d tried to sell me the Accord, I felt more disgusted and dejected than before. There were no other cars to see. I didn’t feel like haggling with anyone else over used cars. All I wanted was to shoot DaQuan right between his eyes for doing me so dirty.

  Since money didn’t roll in for me like it used to when I was with DaQuan, I knew I needed to watch what I spent. I needed a car because using a rental to get back and forth to work had gotten very expensive. I had another stop I needed to make. I exited Gessner off I-10 and pulled into Memorial City Mall.

  For a change, parking wasn’t bad. I rushed into the mall, found the store, and got in line.

  The chick behind the counter looked at me like I had warm shit smeared all over my face. Before I made it up there, I could tell there was about to be a problem. But it wouldn’t be mine, because I was on a mission and I needed cash like nobody’s business.

  She had been all sweet and friendly with the person in front of me, but that didn’t stop her from mean-mugging me at the same time. So, the minute she finished with that customer, I walked up, brought an attitude of my own.

  “I need to bring these back,” I said, and placed the old, crinkled bag on the counter.

  She looked down at it, then back up at me, her face twisted like she was too disgusted for words. She’d better be glad the store was packed, and I needed my money. I knew my stuff was in a Ross bag, but what difference did that make?

  “These are some of those panties I bought when they was on sale. Y’all said they wouldn’t show lines, but they do, so I don’t want ’em no more, and I’m gonna need my money back.”

  She looked around, picked up a pen that she used to pry the bag open and peeked inside. Suddenly, she gasped. “Have these panties been worn?”

  Her worried expression didn’t bother me one bit. But what did was her tone. Why did she have to loud-talk me like that?

  “Uh, how the hell else would I know you could see the panty lines?” I gave her much attitude because I didn’t appreciate the way she treated me.

  “But, ma’am, you’ve worn these, and now you’re bringing them back?” she balked.

  Was she for real?

  My hand flew to my hip and my neck elevated. I know she wasn’t trying to front on me while all people stood around.

  “Yes. Like I said, I bought them because the commercials, the ads, and the picture right above them claim they won’t show your panty lines, but they do. That’s false advertising, ain’t it? Either way, I just want my damn
money back. They cost thirty dollars for three, so I spent sixty plus taxes. I want all my money back,” I said.

  “So, you wore all of these?”

  I wanted to say, no bitch, I only wore one pair, and guessed about the others. She must’ve gotten the hint from my expression because she stopped with the questions and started hitting buttons on the register. I couldn’t care less about her damn attitude. To me, she needed to find a better job if she didn’t want to deal with customers.

  “Now that’s just downright nasty!” I heard someone behind me say. I turned and shot the lady the look of death. But she ignored me and kept talking.

  “Eewww. I wouldn’t take ’em back. That’s so nasty!”

  “Just look at her; you surprised?” someone else tossed in.

  I didn’t trip off any of their comments at first. My focus was on the woman behind the counter, who acted like she didn’t remember how to work the cash register. But I didn’t care how long it took, she was gonna give me back my damn money. As I waited, I listened to the lady bump her gums about me and how disgusting it was for me to bring worn panties back to the store for a refund.

  Victoria’s Secret was my last stop and once I got that money back, I’d get my mind right and prepare to go back to that horrible job.

  “Here you are,” the woman said. Her wrinkled white hands trembled as she counted out the cash she placed in my hand.

  When I turned to leave, the nosy chick had the nerve to mutter, “Just nasty,” as I passed her.

  Her words stopped me in my tracks. I looked at her and squinted.

  “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me.” Her neck swiveled as she spoke.

  I looked at her real good, then tucked my money away and walked out of the store. Instead of leaving like I needed to, I went across the way and slipped into Bath & Body Works, where I could look into Victoria’s Secret from a distance. A few minutes later, the chatterbox who had been behind me, walked out of the store and made a quick right.

  I rushed to catch up to her and followed as she walked through a department store as she left the mall. I was right on her heels.

  Her stupid behind even held the door for me as she left and headed toward her car.

  “Hey, remember me?” I asked, right as she stopped and dug for her keys.

  “Uh—” She looked up, but by the time recognition settled onto her face, it was too late.

  I swung and clocked her at the right side of her jaw and head. Her eyes grew wide as she stumbled back and fell to the ground.

  “Next time, learn to mind your own damn business!”

  I glanced around the parking lot, then dashed back into the store. I was late because I’d stalked her and smacked her, but it was well worth it. Maybe next time, she’d think twice before she butted into other people’s business.

  As I drove around with no real destination in mind, I thought about some of the people I had helped out when I was rolling in cash. But I couldn’t come up with a single one who would be able to help me out. It didn’t take long for me to realize that without DaQuan, I had no one and nothing to lean on.

  For the first time since I’d found out I was pregnant, I started to think about whether having a baby was smart. DaQuan knew I was pregnant, but still, that didn’t stop him from doing me dirty.

  He was clear that I and his unborn could suffer, and it was no biggie for him. I took the scenic route and passed by Jones’s place. Even though I had no business being near her place, I couldn’t ignore what I saw.

  I brought my car to an abrupt stop and jumped out. I walked up to her door and banged on it like I would break it down if she didn’t answer.

  “Who is it!”

  She didn’t ask; she yelled. I was so desperate for her to open the door, I didn’t give it a second thought. If I had my gun, she’d be dead even if it meant a shot through the damn front door.

  “Your coworker!”

  When she opened the door, I went ballistic.

  “What kind of filthy trick are you? It’s not bad enough you screw my man right underneath my nose, but he takes my car from me and gives it to you and you actually drive it? I sure as hell hope you enjoy all my sloppy seconds!”

  Her rough-looking face was twisted like she didn’t know what was up. I may not have been Ms. America quality, but Jones looked like a man. There was nothing soft about her. I still didn’t get how DaQuan could look at her and call her anything but butt-ass ugly.

  “How you know where I live?”

  Her beady eyes looked around like my backup might jump from the bushes.

  “Yous a dumb bitch.” I shook my head. “If it’s the last thing I do, you gon’ pay for this shit.”

  I made a gun figure with my hand, and pulled the trigger.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mocked me.

  “Get yo life, bitch! This shit ain’t over!”

  She finally slammed her door in my face. That was probably best because several porch lights came on. Because they did, I didn’t get a chance to fuck up that car like I had done with hers before.

  Tears barely waited for me to strap on the seatbelt, before they busted through. DaQuan was such a dirty dog. Who does that? He actually had taken my car and given it to her. I couldn’t believe it. It only drove home the feeling of total and complete betrayal and isolation. I had no one and absolutely nothing left.

  The thought scared me even more when I pulled up at home and was still no closer to a solution to my transportation situation.

  When I walked into the apartment, my mother looked like she had been spooked. I glanced around and looked over my shoulders dramatically. The doors were locked, so I didn’t know what had her so bothered. But I wasn’t in the mood to play whose problem was worse. I was sure I’d win for sure.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I didn’t really want to know because my cup already overflowed, but her expression couldn’t be ignored.

  “Somebody came by here and left a package for you.” My mother motioned with her hand.

  That confused me, because I hadn’t ordered anything.

  “I’m just glad the kids wasn’t here.”

  When she said that, I turned to look at her.

  “Well, where is it? Did you open it?”

  “No, it’s got your name on it. None of my business to go opening your stuff.” She mumbled some more under her breath, but I didn’t hear it.

  “Well, what’s the problem? The stank look on your face tells me something ain’t right.”

  “It was the guy who dropped it off. He looked like a slimy gangster, and for a minute there, I was scared he was about to push his way up in here, and tear up some stuff. I didn’t like it at all.”

  The sound of her voice told me to expect a whole lot more.

  “I ain’t got no idea what you out there doing, or how you making all this money, and I really don’t need to know, but if you selling drugs, KenyaTaye, I can tell you how this is gonna end and it ain’t gonna be good for you.”

  While I heard what my mother said, I didn’t have the patience to really listen. Especially since if she only knew I was selling a whole helluva lot more than drugs, she’d croak. I was so curious about the package and who had delivered it, she might as well have been talking in a foreign language.

  As she went on about doing right, and the risks involved in messing with thugs, I focused on the package. It was in a little black duffle bag and it had a lock on the end of the zipper. I had never seen such a small combination lock.

  There was a note attached to it.

  I picked up the bag and walked back to my bedroom. My mother only stopped talking when I closed the door. The combination to the lock wasn’t on the note, so I dialed the phone number that was there and waited.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHARISMA

  I wasn’t ready. My stomach was in my throat when I saw KenyaTaye. In daylight, she looked pregnant as she strolled into the guards’ booth at work. Is that supposed t
o be DaQuan’s baby? I felt sick to my gut and I wanted so badly to ask her, but I knew I couldn’t.

  When she showed up at my place the night before, I didn’t notice anything but hate and jealousy. I tried to talk to DaQuan about it, but he wasn’t pressed.

  “KenyaTaye showed up at my house raising cane, saying you gave me her car,” I had said to DaQuan about the incident.

  “That wasn’t her car; she knows that. And she’ll be ai’ght,” was all DaQuan had said.

  He’d jumped right into business, so I didn’t mention it again.

  He may not have wanted to go on and on about it, but I knew me having her car, even just temporarily, would only make things more drama-filled on the job.

  That meant work would become more of a headache than I needed. On my way in, I thought about talking to DaQuan about something I’d been considering, but seeing KenyaTaye with child made me want to rethink all of this.

  We went out of our way to avoid talking to each other and that was exactly how I liked it. She couldn’t hate me any more than I hated her. If our eyes connected, it turned into a race to see who could roll them first. Several times I caught her as she gave me the look of death, but she never said anything.

  I finished my paperwork, placed it in the outgoing tray, then got up to leave. Anytime Dunbar and the rest of her followers crowded the space, I knew it was time for me to move around. I hated being in their presence.

  “You making rounds?” Edwards asked me.

  “Yeah, I’m out,” I lied.

  “Umph.”

  That was Dunbar, but I ignored her.

  Once I rounded the corner, I rushed down the hall before my legs made good on their threat to give out on me. I couldn’t believe that bitch was pregnant.

  “Yo, Jones. I was just coming for ya. DaQuan is in the closet.”

  Even though it shouldn’t have been, that was music to my ears. Maybe a really good and strong orgasm would help me think more clearly. If I asked for a transfer, would I have to deal with a whole new group of attitudes?

  Women outnumbered men on the job, so a transfer to get away from KenyaTaye didn’t mean I’d avoid drama. Everyone knew a job that was filled with females, meant there would be lots of drama.