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That the club found me a job where I could come and go with no questions asked is a blessing I’m grateful for every time I have to come here.
The girl behind the window nods but doesn’t say anything. No indication of how long I might have to wait.
I take a seat and quietly count back from one hundred to cool the anger burning inside me. If I punch Grillo in the face, there is a one-hundred-percent certainty I’ll be returned to prison. Can’t have that when I need to look after Serena and our baby. I plan to be by her side holding her hand when our child’s born, not rotting away in a cell because I couldn’t control my temper.
In prison, I got really good at sitting still and letting my mind wander. On the outside, I try to avoid doing that as much as possible. But it comes in handy in situations where killing time can’t be avoided.
“Mr. Lock?” an authoritative female voice calls.
I blink out of my trance and turn my head toward the voice. Tall black woman with a head full of bouncy, perfectly spiraled curls gleaming under the fluorescent lights and an impatient smile stretched across her red lips. She flicks her fingers, motioning for me to hurry.
Christ, what fresh hell am I in for now?
“Rena Lewis.” She holds out her hand for a brisk shake, then jerks her head to the side, indicating I should follow.
A tall woman, she walks quickly and with purpose, navigating the crowded office space with ease. We pass Grillo’s office. The door is closed and it’s dark beyond the frosted glass window. Huh.
She stops at an open door to a corner office, turns to make sure I’m still behind her and steps inside.
“Have a seat.” She sweeps her hand toward the chair in front of the desk and quietly closes the door behind me.
I’m on edge as I drop into the cheap wood and vinyl chair. Has she read my file and already assumed I’m an asshole? A black woman in a male-dominated profession, she probably has to work ten times harder than jackasses like Grillo. How’s that going to impact my life?
Most men probably start running their mouths as soon as they see her and realize the power she’s going to have over their lives. I keep mine shut and wait to see what she says.
“Mr. Lock.” She drops into her chair and rolls it closer to the desk, grabs a blue folder and flips it open. “I’ll be taking over your case while Mr. Grillo is…on leave.”
On leave. So, he’s not dead. Pity.
“Is he okay?” I should at least pretend to give a shit, shouldn’t I?
“I don’t have many details.” She pins me with intense brown eyes. “And if I did, I couldn’t share them.”
“Okay.” I truly don’t give a fuck, lady.
She thumbs through pages of notes. From my angle, I recognize Grillo’s sloppy handwriting scribbled over the forms.
“So far, it seems like you’ve been a model parolee.” Her tone is even. Businesslike. She flips another page. “Drug tests have all been clean. You’re maintaining employment.” Her eyebrows raise. “Employer only has compliments for your performance.”
Embarrassment slithers through my chest. I hate that Grillo’s been in touch with Sully, asking him about me. I knew it was a probability, but still hate it. Hate even more that Sully’s never mentioned it.
“That’s good to hear,” I say to fill the silence.
“Haven’t missed an appointment.” Her nose wrinkles. “I see Mr. Grillo has made several home visits.”
My stomach knots while I wait for her to continue. What kind of bullshit did Grillo write about me? Did he mention that I was fifteen minutes late one night when I came home with Serena? Shit, did he put Serena’s name in my file?
“No issues there, either,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to come to some sort of decision. Finally, she sets the file down and laces her fingers together on top of it. “Let me be frank with you, Mr. Lock.”
I nod to let her know I’m listening and won’t interrupt.
“I already have a heavy caseload.” She tilts her head toward four tall filing cabinets against the wall. Each with stacks of folders precariously piled on top. “Having Hank’s cases thrown on me was unexpected.” She lifts her chin toward the door. “So far, it looks like you’ve been compliant with all the terms and conditions of your release.”
Except for that associating with other felons thing, yeah.
“You seem to be making good progress since you’ve been out.” She pauses as if she expects an answer.
“I’m trying, Ms. Lewis.”
“Good. Half the offenders we supervise have already had an interaction with law enforcement by now. Probably more than half. Another large percentage are already incarcerated again. As long as you don’t make my life more difficult, I think we’ll get along fine. Continue what you’re doing. Make your appointments on time, clean tests, stay out of trouble, and we can reduce your visits to seeing each other every two weeks.”
