Jackpot

by Mairsile Leabhair

  Blushing, Chelsey inhaled slowly and willed her heart to calm down. “My mom would do this whenever I couldn’t sleep. I’d listen to her heartbeat and soon I’d fall asleep.” Of course her mother wasn’t suddenly aroused by the warm breath feathering across her breast every time Chelsey exhaled. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. To distract herself, Chelsey began to hum to the music.

  But Kenny was too tired to have the energy to be aroused by the soft, warm skin under her cheek. She was asleep the second she stopped thinking and let her mind drift on the dulcet tones of Chelsey’s voice.

  “Wow, you really were exhausted,” Chelsey whispered when she heard a soft snore coming from Kenny. “Sweet dreams.” My love.

  *

  There were no windows in the game room, no way to know that the sun had risen in the sky. If not for the computer monitors, the room would be pitch black. Sophie came down the stairs to tell the girls breakfast was ready. She almost turned the lights on when she saw Chelsey lying on Kenny’s chest, her arm draped across her stomach, Kenny’s arm lying on top of it, her chin resting against Chelsey’s head. Sophie’s heart melted as she gazed at them. Aw, to be in love again. She was loathe to wake them, but it was the day of the party and Felisha and her crew would be arriving shortly. Sophie wanted the girls to have a good breakfast before the craziness began.

  “Kenny, Chelsey,” she softly called as she walked over to them. Sophie gently shook Chelsey’s shoulder. “Come eat your breakfast, girls.”

  “Five more minutes, Grandma,” Kenny murmured.

  Chelsey blinked the sleep from her eyes and stretched. “Oh,” she gasped when her hand stretched across Kenny’s breast, kneading her fingers into the soft mound. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” she cried, yanking her hand away.

  “Well, I’m not,” Kenny said with a grin. “I can’t think of a better way to wake up.”

  “Maybe you should go back to sleep then because you’re dreaming if you think I did that on purpose.”

  “Yeah, I know you didn’t, more’s the pity.”

  “Girls, your breakfast is getting cold,” Sophie complained, walking back to the door. “Come on.”

  Kenny jumped up and held out her hand to Chelsey, pulling her up. Then she raced past Sophie and up the stairs.

  “What took you two so long?” Kenny asked as she sat down at the table, her plate already filled with pancakes.

  “Chelsey was telling me about the letters you found last night,” Sophie replied, picking up the coffee carafe to fill her cup. She offered Chelsey some but knew that Kenny was happy with the diet soda she had set out for her.

  “Yeah, we’re going to Newport as soon as we’re finished with breakfast and I take a shower.”

  “I need a shower, too,” Chelsey acknowledged. “And a change of clothes.”

  “What about the party tonight?” Sophie asked. “Felisha will be here any minute.”

  Kenny lowered her fork. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, Soph. I know the timing is rotten, but you’ve got everything under control and we’ll be back in time for the party. I just want to look my mother in the face and get some answers out of her.”

  “And you’re going with her, Chelsey?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Someone’s got to keep her out of trouble,” Chelsey replied, winking at Kenny.

  “Bueno. I’m glad. Have either of you been inside a prison before? It’s not like on television, you know?”

  “Sophie, you?”

  “No, not me. My ex-husband. He’s dead now. Another inmate killed him with a homemade cuchillo.”

  Kenny looked at her in shock. Sophie had never talked about her husband before and she had never asked. As much out of respect as fear. “I think she means a shiv.”

  “How horrible,” Chelsey exclaimed.

  “We had divorced years before he was killed. I would bring the children to see him at first, but then I had to stop.”

  “Why?” Kenny asked.

  Chelsey cleared her throat and Kenny glanced at her.

  “I mean, if you want to tell us,” Kenny added.

  “When you’ve been sentenced to prison for a long time, you have three choices. You either become the mouse, the weasel, or the lion. My husband was tired of being the mouse and was too proud to be the weasel. So, he killed an inmate and became the lion.”

  Chelsey put her hands to her lips. “Oh, my gosh. Oh, Sophie, I’m so sorry.”

  “He only had ten years to serve for robbery, but then he killed someone and was sentenced to life in prison without parole. That’s when stopped visitations. I can’t have my children exposed to a murderer, I don’t care if he was their papá.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me, Sophie?” Kenny asked between bites.

  “It’s just not something I want to talk about. It was a very dark time in my life.”

  “Hell, for all I know, my mother is a murderer, too. I’m pretty sure she hired someone to kidnap Grandma and I’m pretty sure she will have Grandma killed if I don’t find her first.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’ve known Sophie for three years and had no idea she suffered through all that,” Kenny said as they drove across the Arkansas River into North Little Rock. She merged onto 67/167, which would take her all the way to Newport, approximately ninety-eight miles from her mansion in Little Rock. Of course, with her police detector primed and ready and her lead foot on the gas pedal, she should easily shave off fifteen to twenty minutes.

  “Would you please slow down? You’re driving too fast for this area,” Chelsey cautioned.

  “What are you talking about? We’re driving through a bean field.” The twelve-mile stretch between North Little Rock and Jacksonville, the next town on their way north, was farmland with very few trees and an overabundance of billboards.

  “It’s a known speed trap,” Chelsey rebuked.

  “I drove this highway every Sunday when Grandma and I visited Mt. Carmel Cemetery in Cabot where Grandpa’s buried,” Kenny explained as she veered around a semi-truck, doing ninety-five-miles an hour. “I know where all the cops’ hide. We’ll be fine.”

  Chelsey frowned. “Okay, how about you slow down because you’re scaring the crap out of me, swerving in and out of traffic like that.”

  “Fine,” Kenny conceded and slowed the Jaguar down to seventy-five, the legal speed limit.

  Exhaling the fear that had built up inside her, Chelsey said, “Thank you. Now I can think straight.”

  “And here I was thinking of buying you one of these cars so we could drag race together.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny. No offense, but this is not my type of car.”

  Kenny glanced over at her. “Really? What kind of car would you prefer?”

  “Oh, my next car will be an electric one.”

  “Really? Why? Most of them are so slow.”

  “I don’t see that as a problem,” Chelsey retorted. “Anyway, I’m trying to become more environmentally friendly and an electric car doesn’t have the gas emissions that are destroying our ozone.”

  “Well, you know, Jaguar just came out with an electric SUV. We could still drag race.”

  Chelsey tossed her head back and laughed.

  *

  Butterflies fluttered around the chain link fence almost as wildly as they fluttered in Chelsey’s stomach when they walked through the ten-foot gate of the twelve-foot chain-linked fence, topped with a razor-sharp barbed wire. They walked the length of the sidewalk and through the double glass doors into the building. They were instantly met by a guard.

  “Visiting hours are Saturdays and Sundays from 11:30am-3:30pm. You’ll need to call in advance.”

  “I’m here to see the warden,” Kenny stated as if it were a normal, everyday request.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the guard asked, looking at his clipboard.

  “No, but he’ll want to see me.”

  He looked back at her and smirked. “Oh, you think so.”

  “Tell him I’m here on a
fact-finding tour. I’m sure you’ve heard about the woman who won the largest jackpot in the state.”

  “I think it was the largest in the nation, Makenna,” Chelsey offered.

  “Makenna? Makenna Whitt?” the guard asked. “You’re the one who won the lottery?”

  “That’s me. Now, can you get the warden for me?”

  “Let me see some ID first, please.”

  Kenny and Chelsey pulled out their driver’s licenses.

  He looked at both their IDs and nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course,” he replied, not taking his eyes off of her. You’ll need to go through a metal detector. It’s protocol.”

  “No problem, I left my submachine gun in my other pants,” Kenny wisecracked.

  He stopped, his eyes opened wide as he stared at her.

  “She’s kidding. She’s a kidder,” Chelsey quickly explained.

  He nodded and looked back at Kenny. “I can appreciate your sense of humor, Ms. Whitt, but it’s not advised in a prison with murderers and bank robbers.”

  “Understood,” Kenny acknowledged.

  He pointed at a white basket sitting on a small table. “Take your shoes off and put them in this basket along with your cell phone, billfold, and anything else in your pockets. Then walk through the metal detector.”

  “I’m so glad you suggested that I leave my purse in the car,” Chelsey said to Kenny as she pulled her shoes off.

  “One less thing to worry about,” Kenny replied, tossing her cell phone and wallet into the basket with her shoes.

  “So, what’s it feel like, winning all that money?” the guard asked as another guard went through their things. He waved them through the metal detector.

  Kenny was tired of being asked that question. Nothing she could say would satisfy the requestor but saying nothing only brought on more questions. Shrugging as she walked through the detector, she replied, “Great. It feels really great. Can I see the warden now, please?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” he said, turning around. “Tommy, get the warden, will you?”

  “On it,” Tommy replied and walked down the hall.

  “So, what’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought so far?” the guard asked.

  Chelsey cocked an eyebrow at the man. How rude.

  But Kenny thought, well, that’s different.

  “I’m sorry. Ms. Whitt is not the type to brag about such things,” Chelsey inserted.

  Kenny looked at her appreciatively and winked.

  Tommy returned with a gray-haired man in a suit and tie.

  “Warden Jeffrey Slats,” the man said, adjusting his glasses.

  “Makenna Whitt,” Kenny reciprocated. “And this is my colleague, Chelsey Kendrick.”

  The warden looked at the guard and he nodded.

  “She’s the lottery winner, Warden,” he clarified.

  “Warden Slats, is there somewhere we can talk?” Kenny asked.

  The warden inspected Kenny with a critical eye. He had seen her photo in the newspaper and inwardly was surprised that she dressed like a college student, wearing blue jeans and a UALR t-shirt. “Of course. Come to my office.”

  They walked down a drab, gray hallway, past several offices until he opened the door to his own office. He waved his hand at two metal chairs in front of a surprisingly stylish wood desk, and the girls sat down.

  He sat at his desk and leaned forward, clasping his fingers together. “So, what’s it like winning all that money?”

  Kenny sighed quietly. “It’s been amazing. Imagine, spending a million dollars in five minutes. Unreal.”

  “I can only imagine. So, may I ask what your visit is in regards to, Ms. Whitt?” he asked.

  “I believe that my mother is a prisoner here,” Kenny blurted before her courage abandoned her. “And I would like to speak with her.”

  The warden leaned back in his chair, surprised but curious at the same time. He gazed at Kenny, trying to look past her net worth to see the girl underneath. “I’m sorry, Ms. Whitt, but visiting—”

  “You don’t understand. My mother, whom I’ve never met, may be involved with my grandmother’s kidnapping. I need to talk to her.”

  “Why haven’t the police been here to question her?”

  “Because they don’t know about it. My grandmother’s life is at stake and the only way to get her back alive is to not involve the cops.”

  “We’re trusting you, Warden Slats,” Chelsey said.

  “I can’t—”

  “You asked me what it was like to win the lottery. This is what it’s like. I would never forgive myself if something happened to my grandmother because of the lottery money. Because of me.”

  Chelsey leaned forward. “Please, can you help us?”

  He looked at her and then at Kenny again. Nodding, he tapped on the computer keyboard beside his hand. The monitor came to life. “Okay. What’s her name?”

  “Jaylen Whitt,” Kenny responded.

  “Let me do a search for her name.” He turned to the keyboard, clicked a few times, and then smiled. “We had a Jaylen Henshaw. Prisoner 685493.”

  “She could have married. Wait. What do you mean, had?” Kenny asked.

  He turned the monitor toward them and tapped on the keyboard again. “Her time was up and she got out a couple of months ago.”

  Kenny shook her head. “Well, shit.” She lied to Grandma in that letter.

  “I’m sorry you came all this way,” the warden said.

  Kenny shook her head. “Yeah, I should have just called.” She had been so focused on discovering her grandmother’s letters that all practical thought left her.

  “Actually, no, that wouldn’t have worked,” the warden advised her. “I wouldn’t give out information like that over the phone.”

  “Can I get a print of her photo? I’m not sure what she looks like, and you’d be surprised how many women have been claiming to be my mother.”

  “That is surreal,” he said, tapping on the print key. He handed her the paper as soon as it printed out.

  “What was she in for, Warden?” Chelsey asked.

  “She robbed a drug store. I can tell you that when she was released, she was clean. No drugs in her system.”

  “Doesn’t mean she’s still clean,” Kenny huffed, staring at the printout and then folding it up and sticking it in her back jeans pocket.

  “I’m afraid you may be right. This wasn’t her first offense,” he stated.

  There was a tap on the door and then it opened. A black woman in her mid-thirties, dressed all in white – long sleeve shirt, cotton slacks and shoes —stood in the doorway. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in a meeting. It wasn’t on your calendar.”

  “That’s all right, Lakeisha. If you would wait in the hallway for just a minute.”

  “Yes, sir,” she responded and, with a quick glance at Kenny, walked out the door.

  The warden shut the door behind her and walked back to his desk, sitting on the edge of it in front of them. “Ms. Whitt. That was your mother’s last cellmate. She’s on stepdown, being reintegrated back into society. She might talk with you.”

  “Hell, yes, I want to talk with her,” Kenny said, turning to look at the door.

  “Fine, follow me to the visiting area and I’ll send—”

  “Can’t we just talk here?” Chelsey asked.

  He contemplated for a moment. It was an unusual request, but it was also an unusual situation. “Yes, but you cannot meet with her alone. Protocol requires a guard be present.”

  “Could you be that guard, Warden?” Kenny asked. She thought of offering him money, but if she read him wrong, he could kick her out on her ass. “You already know what’s going on and the fewer people who know, the safer my grandmother would be.”

  “I guess I could,” he finally said. “As long as it doesn’t take too long.”

  “Thanks, I very much appreciate it.”

  Slats got up and walked to the door. “Lakeisha, can I see you a minute?”
/>
  “Did I do something wrong, Warden?” she asked as she walked past him.

  “No. We just want to talk with you.”

  Kenny and Chelsey stood up and faced her.

  “Hi, I’m Kenny and that’s Chelsey. I’ve just got a couple of questions about your ex-cellmate, Jaylen Whitt-Henshaw.”

  Lakeisha frowned and looked at the warden, as if asking for permission to speak.

  “You can speak freely, Lakeisha,” he acknowledged.

  She turned back to Kenny and asked, “Okay, what do you want to know about that crazy bitch?”

  Kenny was suddenly at a loss for words. Lakeisha had just confirmed what she was most afraid of. Her mother was crazy. She glanced at Chelsey and suddenly found her voice again. “How long was she your cellmate?”

  “Six of the longest, scariest months of my life,” Lakeisha answered.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I’m a first time offender.” She looked at the warden. “An offense that I will never repeat, I assure you.”

  The warden smiled at her and nodded.

  “You were saying?” Kenny asked, wondering if having the warden sit in with them was such a good idea.

  “I was warned the minute I was brought in to steer clear of Jaylen. She had a temper.”

  “Can you put it into context for me?” Kenny asked. “How long had she been in prison by the time you became her cellmate?”

  “I can answer that,” the warden interceded, looking at his monitor. “Six years. Five for robbery and an extra year tacked on for battery.”

  “Battery?” Chelsey asked.

  “She beat up an inmate just before she was to be released,” he elaborated.

  “Damn,” Kenny gasped.

  Although her grandparents were both very loving and nurturing, her mother was not. Growing up, Kenny had filled the void of her mother’s absence with women like Sophie, who was loving and supportive. Kenny knew her mother was a drug addict, but subconsciously, she held out the tiniest hope that her mother might actually care about her. She chuckled at the realization of what a fool she had been.