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Sure she liked having her own money, but she didn’t want to have to work for it. Not if it required her to be aggravated. Truth was, she liked having a man whose money she could spend more than having to work for it; hence, her attraction to ballers and top-level drug dealers.
She loved being pampered. Loved being spoiled. And loved knowing her man was able to offer her the finer things in life.
Was there anything wrong with that?
No, no—absolutely not.
Anyway.
She’d been invited to enroll in one of the prison’s Home Economics programs, but she’d graciously declined. She wasn’t interested in taking up crocheting, like Sabina, or culinary art. Making sweaters and scarves or baking cupcakes was not what she aspired for her life.
She didn’t want to be in prison. But this was her reality. And the reality was, if this was where she had to be, then she was fine right where she was.
In her cell, watching television, reading a book, listening to her music, and minding her own damn business. She didn’t need rehabilitation therapy. And, she damn sure wasn’t interested in working. Free—no, slave—labor was not what she was signing up for. They could all lick her—
The CO called her name again, this time with a tone filled with annoyance.
Heaven rolled her eyes. Bitch, I heard you the first time.
“Hey, Lewis,” an inmate named Greta said, standing at her cell in a white T-shirt and pair of sweats and shower shoes. Her blonde-dyed locks brushed over her shoulders. “Harris calling for you.”
Heaven nodded. “Thanks, girl. I heard her.”
“She wilding today, so you know.”
Heaven shook her head. “What else is new. That ho needs a dick in her life.”
Greta smirked. “Don’t we all.” She leaned her body into Heaven’s cell, and lowered her voice. “I know this is TMI, but I’d kill for a long, thick dildo right now. I’m so tired of these fucking prison-made dildos.” Some women made their dildos (if they were lucky enough to be in a pottery class) out of melted-down bars of soap that they’d mold into the shapes of a dick. Others simply used Maxi-pads wrapped and taped around toothbrushes, then covered in a plastic glove. And if an inmate were fortunate enough to get her hand on a tubular vegetable, like a cucumber, or banana, she’d wrap it in gauze, slide it inside a glove and then use that too.
Greta shrugged. “I’m a horny bitch right about now.”
Heaven laughed, surprised at her candor. “Well, girl, if I ever get my hands on one, I’ll be sure to keep you in mind.”
“Girrrrrl,” she drawled. “You could rent it out by the hour.”
“You think?”
“Mmmhmm.” She nodded. “I’d happily pay.”
“And I’d happily do business with you. Anything for a horny, repressed soul.”
The two women laughed.
“Lewis!” blared over the PA for the third time.
“Uh-oh. She’s getting restless,” Greta remarked.
Heaven sucked her teeth. “Let me go see what this damn CO wants, before she starts her shit.”
Greta nodded knowingly. “Good luck with that,” she said before walking off.
Heaven shook her head, and smiled. She’d had minimal interaction with Greta, but from what little conversations they’d had over the last few months, Heaven liked the attractive, brown-skinned woman. She stayed out the way and minded her business.
Heaven slipped her feet into her clogs, then stood from her bunk. She had gotten comfortable. Jumper off, she was lounging in a sports bra and a pair of gym shorts (no panties, of course) that she’d altered into short-shorts.
All she wanted to do was chill.
Now this shit.
