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Rolly shrugs.
“It’s fine though. I’m just glad my mom is around because you know my parents were never married. So really, you and I are breaking new ground, Tess,” he says, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “The Barkers don’t generally tie the knot with their women, but I’m happy to pledge my allegiance to you.Forever,” he emphasizes with a loud smooch on my cheek.
I wince a bit again because as always, Rolly’s kisses come with a serving of saliva. It’s a little gross. I suppose it works great when he goes down on me during our lovemaking, but otherwise, kisses from him generally aren’t anything to write home about. I wonder if he has a salivary-gland problem, and make a mental note to follow-up with him about that later.
“Okay, okay,” I grumble a bit. “I’ll go with you to Fishkill then. You did say your dad’s at Fishkill Correctional Facility, right?”
Rolly’s eyes light up as he nods happily.
“Yep, so it’s only a two-hour drive. We’ll have to rent a Zipcar, but that’s okay, right? I mean, it won’t be too expensive.”
I cringe a bit because inflation has been skyrocketing recently, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s going to be two hundred bucks to rent a car for the day after gas and tax are included. But I nod because family comes first. We should pay our respects to Mr. Barker because heismy new husband’s father after all, and I’ve never really gotten a chance to interact with him. Plus, I hate to admit it, but I’m curious. When Mr. Barker dialed in to attend our wedding ceremony virtually, I was taken aback by how handsome he was. The man had flashing blue eyes, night-black hair, and strong, masculine features, even if he was dressed in an orange jumpsuit. Plus, Mr. Barker’s not that old, come to think of it. I think Rolly was the product of a youthful hook-up, and as a result, his dad’s probably only in his early 40’s.
But then I shake my head at myself. What the hell am I doing, thinking about my father-in-law like this? Even worse, the man is inprison, so I’m literally fantasizing about a convicted felon. Still, the memory of his flashing blue eyes have stayed with me these past two weeks, and I can’t help but wonder if Mr. Barker’s as arresting in real life as he is on-screen. Probably not because I think Zoom has a built-in filter that smooths out skin texture and makes you look better in general, so it’s likely just a mirage.
Still, I can’t help but be curious, so I nod again.
“So when are we going?” I ask.
Rolly nods happily and winks at me.
“This weekend,” he chirps. “I’ve already put your name on the visitor list because I knew you’d agree to come. Thank you, Tess!” he burbles once more before taking my hand and pressing a kiss to it. “You’re the best!”
I smile wanly because sometimes, I feel more like Rolly’s mom than his wife. It’s just his exuberant behavior, and the oddly chivalric way he behaves on occasion, as if he’s been reading books about knights in shining armor who save princesses trapped in castles. But this weekend, it’s not a princess in a tower that we’re going to save. Instead, we’re visiting a dark, dangerous man who’s been put in the slammer for very real crimes … and to my chagrin, Iwantto see Mr. Barker in the flesh.
CHAPTER2
Roland
It’s visitation day today, and the guards let me know that both my son and his new wife are coming to pay their respects. Not only that, but Rolly’s applied to use one of the family visitation structures out in the back of the prison complex, and so we have a cabin all to ourselves.
I sit in the cabin’s kitchen, and wait, tongue in cheek. After all, I should count my blessings. We could be doing window visitation, which is just a conversation through plexiglass using phones on the wall. But the great state of New York has implemented a Family Reunification Program, which allows incarcerated people and their families to meet in a private, home-like setting. Thus, the cabin I’m sitting in at this very moment.
I look around. It’s a simple, spare, and clean structure with outdated 70’s cabinets, spindly wooden furniture, and a threadbare couch. There’s a bedroom in the back with a queen-size and a blue duvet, along with some lacy white curtains fluttering from the window. It’s nothing fancy, but then again, I should be grateful that I’m not waiting in gen pop for my visitors to arrive because that would be much worse.
I look out the window at a small patch of yellowish-green lawn. It’s rather sad-looking, with a chain-link fence around a rusty playground structure, and I let out a rueful snort. Clearly, officials didn’t have adult children in mind when they created this program, but still, family reunification is important because by strengthening personal ties, recidivism is reduced. Not that I plan on committing another crime, mind you, because I’m still appealing my conviction. I was locked up for selling NFTs, which isn’t a crime. NFTs are simply non-fungible tokens which are a part of the crypto wave that’s swept the world recently. People say it’s a scam, but I disagree. It’s not a scam. It’s just that the law is undeveloped when it comes to the blockchain, and as a result, I was swept up in the DA’s misguided enforcement efforts.
But I put that out of my head for the moment because this isn’t the time to fume about the injustices of the world. Instead, Rolly’s coming for a visit and I shake my head because my son’s a piece of work. His mother and I were never married, and I wonder if that’s led to his eccentric personality. After all, Dorinda was a one-night hook-up, and although mother and son aren’t exactly close, my son looks and behaves just like her. They’ve got the same chestnut hair and big, brown eyes, although of course, Dorinda’s a beautiful, middle-aged woman whereas my son is a college boy. But even more, both Dorinda and her son have weird tastes. For example, after hooking up, Dorinda let me know that I wasn’t “her type.” I almost guffawed because as a young man, I was a handsome motherfucker with women crawling out of my ears 24/7. Literally, I was wading through oceans of ladies, all dying to date me.
But Dorinda merely shrugged and said that our night together was an aberration. She said that her “preferred age range” for men is fifty plus. I practically vomited because we were in our early 20’s then, so why the fuck would Dor want someone thirty years older? But everyone has their own thing, and sure enough, Dor took up with a man who was decades her senior. I met him once, and this dude had salt and pepper chest hair peeping out of his shirt, not to mention a huge paunch that made him look pregnant.
But to each their own. The important part is that Dorinda and I managed to raise our son together in NYC without too much friction. Both she and I were attentive parents, and although Rolly was forced to shuttle between two households, I like to think it worked out okay. He’s a decent student and is actually in college now, which is further than his mom or I ever got when it comes to academics. But Rolly’s always been a bit of an odd bird, and when he called me to let me know he was getting married, I wasn’t that surprised. It’s his mother’s side of the family, after all. The Warners are strange shit sometimes, and it looks like my son inherited their general tendency towards eccentricity.
But still, I’m looking forward to meeting my new daughter in law in the flesh because she was gorgeous from what I saw on the video screen. What was her name again? Right, Tess. I better get that straight before she arrives. The girl I saw on the tiny iPad provided by the prison guards had long brown hair, a face like an angel, and a curvy figure that made my mouth water. She was clad demurely in a blue dress during the ceremony, but even the acres of fabric couldn’t hide her big breasts and round rear-end. She’s just my type, in fact, although I had no idea that Rolly liked curvaceous girls as well.
But all’s well that ends well. So long as Rolly and his new wife are in love, then there’s nothing for me to say. I have no idea what we’re going to talk about during this meet-and-greet, but I’m sure we’ll think of something.
At that moment, a knock on the door sounds before it opens. A burly prison guard stands there, his red face pulled down in a frown.
“Your guests are here,” he says. “You’ve got two hours.”
Fuck, two hours only? Dang, visitation around here definitely isn’t generous. But I stand as my son prances into the little kitchen before throwing his arms around my neck. I swear, this boy should be a ballet dancer because he’s graceful and athletic at once, if a bit effeminate.
“Hi Dad!” he greets with cheery smile. “How are you holding up?”
“Good, good,” I growl, pulling back to survey him. Again, my son’s the spitting image of his mother with the same thick, chestnut hair; big, brown eyes; and a medium build. “Thanks for coming, Rol.”
“Sure, sure,” my son burbles. Then he turns and gestures to a figure lingering by the door. “Come on, Tess. Say hi to my dad.”
