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Consequently, they’d both made a fool of her time and time again until she’d reached a breaking point. One, she’d finally walked away from. The other, she’d shot.
She bit back a grunt.
Why couldn’t she have walked away from Freedom’s ass as well? If she had, she wouldn’t be here. She’d be on the other side of this wall, living her damn life.
Fucking men!
Bottom line, her choices in them had always been fucking horrible.
Heaven finally opened her eyes. Bright sunshine flooded the cell. She groaned and shut her eyes again. A curtain. No, no. Blackout curtain. That’s what that tiny cell window needed.
Heaven groaned again, catching a glimpse of all of Sabina’s cosmetics scattered out across the desk. An open jar of Noxema. Hair spray. Styling gel. Tweezers. Emery board. Enough makeup to stock a cosmetics counter. Brushes. Pencils. Liquid eyeliner. Mascara. Bronzer. Eyelash curler. Eye shadow. Lipsticks.
“Good mornin’,” Sabina muttered, hovering over the sink brushing her teeth.
Heaven sniffed and threw back the sheet. “Morning.” Rubbing her eyes, she stood and staggered to the toilet to relieve herself, sliding the privacy sheet around the toilet.
She’d had to learn how to coexist with Sabina in such close proximity. Basic things like using the toilet came with some understanding. Growing up, she’d always had her own bathroom. So she’d never had to share one with other females, until now. Pissing was fine. Taking a shit—while your cellmate was still in the cell—was a no-no, unless you were locked in. Then it required complimentary flushes.
Heaven lined the steel commode with several layers of toilet paper, then slid her panties down over her hips and sat.
She heard Sabina rinsing her mouth, then spitting in the sink. “Bad dreams?” Sabina asked once she stepped away from the sink.
Heaven wiped herself, flushed, then pulled her panties up and slid back the sheet. “Huh?” she asked, washing her hands at the sink.
“You were tossing and groaning in your sleep, like around four thirty this morning. Dreams?”
Heaven grunted, looking over at Sabina as she swept her hair up into a ponytail. “Try nightmare.”
“Care to share?”
Heaven shrugged slightly. “Not really. It’s too early to rehash.”
“Oh. That bad, huh?”
“Men aren’t shit,” she stated, wrapping her body into her robe, then peeling out of her panties. She neatly folded them, before slipping the lacy undergarment inside a small plastic Ziploc bag. She slid the zipper closed, sealing in her scent. She wanted CO Rawlings to get a burst of her essence the moment he unsealed the bag.
Sabina eyed her, wondering why the hell she was once again sealing her panties in a plastic baggie. But she let it go. She grunted. “Mmph. Ain’t that the truth. Most of us behind bars are here because of a man in some form or fashion. Then abandoned and left to survive on our own while he’s out there doing God knows what with some replacement bitch. Does that make us fools?”
Heaven gave her a somber look. “Yes. And dumb as hell.”
TWENTY
Exchange . . .
“Lewis,” Heaven heard over the housing unit’s PA system. “Report to the podium.”
She lowered her radio and frowned, wondering what she was being called down to the COs’ desk for. She had no appointments. She wasn’t enrolled in any of the prison’s educational or vocational programs, although, for a fleeting moment, she’d considered signing up for the cosmetology program. B
ut then decided she wanted no parts of running her hands in any of these bitches’ heads.
Besides, she was already a cosmetologist. She’d gotten her license four years ago when she’d decided working for corporate America wasn’t for her. She’d walked off a very lucrative job with Merrill Lynch after six years of employment, and never looked back.
Before Merrill Lynch, she’d spent three years on Wall Street. And that nearly drove her to self-medicate. The fast-paced, erratic, mostly male-dominated, hustle and bustle of the stock exchange wore her nerves thin. So, before she found herself locked in a bathroom stall doing lines of coke on a mirror, she gracefully bowed out.
Hell, work wasn’t for her.
Life wasn’t lived to suffer. It was lived to enjoy.
