My Woman His Wife Saga (13 page)

Screeching out of the parking garage, she sped all the way home, leaving the basket in the car as she raced to her room so she could do a headstand before any of James's semen seeped out of her. It could be her last chance at getting pregnant, and she didn't want any problems making it happen.

The short walk from the car to the menacing gates of the correctional facility seemed to take an eternity as the sun beat down on Monica's head. On the inside she felt like she deserved the torture because she knew she easily could have been the one behind those four stone walls, calling this place home for many years. She tried to harden her heart as she approached the desk, but her soul wouldn't allow it.

This visit wasn't like the many times she'd visited her baby sister because she had committed some petty crime. This was a matter of life, death, and the well-being of a three-year-old who didn't understand his mother's predicament. This was reality, coming face-to-face with the real. Her legs told her to leave, but her soul made her stay.

Approaching the desk slowly, she took in the rough faces of the security guards—both male and female, but some hard to tell the difference.

“Who you here for?” the slightly overweight guard barked from behind the podium. Monica looked into her bulldog-like face and almost vomited on the paperwork that sat in front of her from the stench of the guard's breath. The only way she knew it was a woman was from the tone of her voice and the fact that she had breasts.

“I'm here to see Tanya Walker,” Monica responded as another whiff of the guard's foul breath made her take a step back.

The guard didn't seem to notice as she searched the books to make sure Monica was on the visiting list for Tanya. Searching her purse for the identification Tanya said she would need to get in, Monica placed it on the desk while the guard called over to the holding block to have Tanya come down. Monica checked her attitude as the guard looked over her ID and then set it on the desk as if it wasn't handed to her.

Taking her seat after she put her belongings in a locker and turned her twenty-dollar bill into coins so that she and Tanya could have something to eat from the snack machines, Monica sat patiently waiting to be called to the back. Monica was lost in her own thoughts for a second, trying to steady her nerves. It had been over three years since she'd laid eyes on Tanya, and she hoped she could handle being that close to her again.

The commotion broke into her thoughts as she witnessed two women up front having a shouting match and the guards doing nothing to stop it. Being nosey, Monica eased a little closer so that she could hear what the drama was about.

“Family for Ms. Tanya Walker!” the manly female guard called out, getting everyone's attention. Holding her change purse tightly in her hand, Monica walked up to the front, following the guard who was escorting her to the back.

Halfway down the hall, the two came to another waiting area where Monica was fingerprinted and checked for contraband. The bulldog-looking guard came back and told Monica to step out of her shoes and clothes so she could be searched for anything illegal that the detectors didn't pick up.

“You want me to take my clothes off?” Monica asked the guard, surprised at her request. Had she known she would be going through all this, she wouldn't have made the trip.

“All of them so I can see those pretty titties,” she came back with a dirty look on her face like she wanted to eat Monica alive right there.

“Where is that in the rule book? I was never told about a strip search,” Monica came back, angrily refusing to take any article of clothing off. She didn't know the law like that, but she knew she had some rights.

“Leave the girl alone, Tommy,” a guard said from behind her. “Miss, put your purse in the tray and walk through the detector, please.”

Thankful for the interruption, Monica was more determined to deal with the guard when she came out as she took one last look at her. Somehow she would get the info needed from one of the visitors or guards before she left. She would have a nice little surprise waiting for her once she left work.

Entering the room, Monica spotted Tanya immediately. From across the room she could see Tanya's sad expression as she sat at the table with her arms folded in front of her waiting for Monica to come over. She didn't stand when Monica approached the table, and Monica had a little salt on her shoulders because she was waiting to give Tanya a hug. Taking the seat across from her, they said nothing as they studied each other.

Prison was not going well for Tanya. Her once long, jet black hair that flowed past her shoulders in a stylish wrap was now braided into cornrows straight back off her face. Although her skin was still clear, she now sported a small, jagged scar above her right eyebrow, no doubt from a fistfight behind these walls. Her acrylic nails that always had a fresh French manicure were now bitten down way past the cuticle, and her pretty, pedicured feet were sporting Tims.

Monica resisted the urge to cry as she sat looking at her former lover. She instantly regretted having Tanya in this horrible place, but not the circumstances she was there for. Had she not murdered Marcus he would have surely murdered Tanya, putting her six feet under instead of in these human cages.

“When am I getting out of here?” Tanya spoke, skipping the pleasantries and getting right to the point, catching Monica off guard. Monica leaned back in her seat to get a good look at Tanya, not expecting their visit to go like this. Tanya was usually soft-spoken, unlike the angry woman sitting in front of her now.

“Well, I talked to the judge yesterday, and he's working on your paperwork now,” Monica said in a calm voice, still not liking the direction their conversation was taking.

“Do what you do best, I just need to get out of here.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Monica said, her temper rising quickly.

“It means,” Tanya began in a slow deliberate voice, “that I don't care if you have to fuck him, suck his dick, and take back shots from all of his judge friends in the same night. I want out of this hellhole. I want to be with my son,” Tanya responded, trying to control her tears. She said she wasn't going to cry, and she was determined to hold it down.

“Well, Tanya, I'm doing the best that I can, and . . .”

“Fuck the best, Monica!” Tanya came back almost knocking the chair back. “Do you know what it's like to be in here?”

Tanya began telling Monica how it was to have someone tell you when and how to make every move. How privacy was nonexistent as you showered, went to the bathroom, and lived your life in front of five thousand other inmates. How she had to fight the women off in the beginning because she was what they considered “fresh meat.”

She drilled into Monica's head about all the nights that she laid in her cell and cried because she could no longer come and go as she pleased. How she would never see her son's smiling face. She told Monica about her fear of her son forgetting who she was because he was only a couple of months old when she was put away. She reminded Monica about all the birthdays she missed, and her child's first steps.

She told her of the pain she was in when she miscarried her second week in jail because she had gotten into a fight with one of the other inmates, and she didn't know she was pregnant. It tore her up carrying around a secret inside of her because she thought Monica would come back for her, and she had left her hanging in there to rot, not giving a damn what happened to her next.

Monica shed tears as she listened to Tanya's story, thanking God on the inside that she didn't have to go through such torture. Monica was a crazy bitch, but not half as crazy as she thought. They would have eaten her ass up on the inside, and she knew it. If she didn't know before, she definitely knew now that being behind bars and being taken away from your family was some serious shit, and she had to do what she could to get Tanya out.

“Tanya, I know sorry isn't enough, and I will see the judge again in the morning so we can speed up the process. I'll do what I can to get you out of here.”

“Monica, I loved you, and you don't know how it hurt for you to do what you did to me. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones, just get me out of here.”

“Tanya, I will . . . I will.”

The two women embraced for what felt like an eternity as they calmed their wildly beating hearts. The two spent the rest of the visit catching up and making amends as they ate snacks from the vending machines.

Before Monica left, one of the visitors from the waiting room approached her. She had peeped the altercation between Monica and the female guard, and shared her disdain for her. On the way out she showed Monica where the guard's car was parked, and both the women slashed all four tires, getting into their respective vehicles only after the woman poured a bag of sugar into the tank of the beat-down Honda. She had already planned on messing the car up anyway because the guard had given her a hard time on her last visit, and after seeing what she did to Monica, she thought Monica would want her revenge too.

The two women exchanged numbers, both seeing that they had a lot in common from the way they dressed to the vehicles they drove, hers canary yellow and Monica's hot pink. As if the world needed two women like Monica. The women exchanged brief hugs before getting into their respective vehicles and driving away. When Monica got to the stoplight, she took one last look at the card before putting it into her glove department.

“Shaneka Montgomery, World Class Photographer. Who would have thought?” Monica responded as she sped off before the light could turn yellow, glancing at her cell phone and ignoring the thirty-seven calls she'd received from Sheila since that morning. She had to go talk to the judge, and tomorrow would be too late.

Breaking record speed, Monica pulled up to the judge's hideaway, searching for her key in the glove compartment before she exited her vehicle. Calling the judge before she got there to make sure he would show his face, she popped her trunk and grabbed her duffel bag with tapes of him with several women just in case she needed some extra reinforcements.

Upon entry into the judge's small house his wife knew nothing about, Monica frowned at the dusty room, she could tell no one had been there in months.

Removing the dust covers so it could look more like home, Monica placed them in the washing machine located in the shed kitchen so they could be ready to be put back once they left. Stomach growling a little, she instantly regretted not stopping for groceries; she grabbed one of the menus off the counter to order something to eat.

Monica turned the television on to occupy herself. She flipped through channels as she waited for her food to arrive. A few minutes later she heard a key being inserted into the door, and the judge's face appearing soon after. Not bothering to greet him, she turned back to her task of turning the channels, deciding on
Wheel of Fortune
and checking her watch to see how much longer she had to wait to eat.

Judge Stenton was a handsome man, not looking anywhere near his fifty-something years. The little patches of gray at his temples showed signs of age, but the judge in full form looked good enough to eat. Judge Stenton was well put together, and many women were killing themselves for the chance to have one night with him. How he and Monica hooked up was not that much of a mystery, but what kept them together was a sin.

Ignoring Monica completely, the judge walked past her and up the stairs to put away his clothing in the master bedroom. Placing condoms in the drawer next to the night stand on his side of the bed, he disrobed in front of the mirror so he could check out his body in the process. Satisfied with his appearance, he jumped into the shower in no rush to find out why he was summoned by Monica. He figured she wanted a favor as usual, and he wanted to be right when it came time for her to serve him for it. He knew all too well what Monica was capable of, and his length grew just thinking about it.

Resisting the urge to satisfy himself in the shower and deciding Monica would surely do a better job, he washed quickly and wrapped a towel around his waist before going downstairs to see what Monica was doing. From the stairs he could see Monica engrossed in
Jeopardy
and snacking on vegetarian shish-kebobs. Walking up to her, he placed his lips on the butterfly tattoo on her neck and surprisingly got no reaction. Continuing his journey, he reached around to caress her breasts. Monica stood up as if he wasn't even touching her and took her plate into the kitchen.

Confused at first, he stood there looking at her as she walked away. Walking behind her, he caught up to her bending over in front of the refrigerator as she retrieved ice cubes from the bottom of the freezer. When she stood up his erec-tion was pressed against her back, his full length very impressive. When she turned around, he tried to kiss her lips, but she turned her head, his mouth landing on her cheek.

“What's up with you? Why the cold shoulder?” Judge Stenton asked as she squeezed from between him and the icebox, making her way back into the living room.

“I'm not here for that. We need to talk,” Monica said from her spot on the couch, turning the television off and waiting for the judge to join her.

All hopes dashed of getting at least some head before they got into anything serious, the judge dragged his body over to the couch, plopping down on the cushion across from Monica, his once very full erection down to nothing. Taking a good look at Monica for the first time since he came in, he saw the sadness in her eyes.

“What's on your mind?” The judge straightened the towel around his mid section, suddenly conscious of the way he was dressed.

“I need you to work a miracle,” Monica began without hesitation. She didn't have time to be bullshittin' with him; she needed him to be on the same page.

“A miracle like what? You already know what it's hittin' for,” the judge came back, letting her know what she needed to do without actually saying it.

“It's for a friend,” Monica began, choosing to ignore his underlying message. “I need you to get her out of jail.”

“What she in for? Murder?” the judge asked jokingly, not realizing how close to the truth he was.

“Yeah. She's in for the murder of her husband. It's been about three years now.”

Not knowing what to say and shocked that his joke was actually a serious matter, the judge sat with a numb look on his face, not knowing how to react. After all, he was only joking, and on the inside hoped she was too.

“Well, what . . . what happened?” He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

“Her husband was abusive.”

“And that's a reason to kill him? Why didn't she just leave?” he asked. He had a wife at home, and every so often he had to knock her in the head to get her to understand, but that was to be expected. He didn't see the harm in running a firm household.

“He was abusive to the point where he left bruises that took weeks to heal. Broken bones and shit like that.”

“Then why didn't she leave?”

“Because I promised to save her.”

“And how, pray tell, did you ‘save her'?” the judge asked, trying to get to the bottom of the story.

“I killed him.”

The room got silent. You could almost hear a pin drop on carpet as the two dared to take the first breath, one shocked at what was said and the other shocked having said it.

“And who is your friend?” the judge asked, not really wanting to know.

“You should know, you sentenced her,” Monica stated sadly as she waited for him to search his memory for recognition.

“The Walker case?”

“Exactly.”

The judge looked at Monica for a long time, not knowing what to make of her. He knew she was a freak and pleased him in every form imaginable, but he had no idea he was dealing with a possible murderess. Sweat began to form on his creased forehead; he tried to rationalize as a million questions swam through his head.

“So, you were the one that emptied the clip into her husband's face? Why did you do it? How do you know Mrs. Walker?”

“We were lovers,” Monica began. “She was supposed to be leaving him to be with me. I met him first through a colleague at the art gallery, and I liked him. We fucked often, and he treated me like a queen until I met his wife Tanya. It was like love at first sight. She was a little quiet and a lot timid when we first saw each other. They had just had their first child, and she was glowing from motherhood.

“It wasn't hard to talk him into getting her to have a threesome, and after that first night she was hooked. It surprised me when she approached me the morning we were leaving the hotel asking if we could possibly get together for a private session. I agreed, not thinking much of it, but wondering how far she would go because my girl was a tigress in the bedroom. Anyway, we started hooking up, and she began telling me how she wasn't satisfied at home and how she wanted out. We would hang out all the time and Marcus didn't know because we would just tell him we were out shopping when on the real we were at my house eating each other up. Excuse my French.”

She went on to tell the judge how they ended up falling in love and how Marcus became jealous of their “friendship,” not wanting to share his wife with the woman he was still sleeping with. Marcus always had a problem with alcohol, and when he got drunk he would beat Tanya for things she hadn't done, or he thought she was doing, often leaving bruises for Monica to clean up. Tired of the whole situation, Monica went over to the house to lure Marcus away so Tanya could leave, and she walked up on him beating the life from her.

Monica told the judge how in that instant she went back to the day her stepfather was beating her mother in his drunken state and killed her right in front of her. Not able to distinguish the present from her past, she ran in to help Tanya before it was too late, doing to him what she wished she'd had the nerve to do to her stepfather all those years ago. Before the cops got there, Monica left the house and left Tanya there. She took the gun with her, and after cleaning her fingerprints off it, she sold it to a drug dealer just to get it off her hands.

She and Tanya had an understanding that when it came time for her to go down for the murder she wouldn't tell the investigators where the murder weapon was, so they placed her before the Honorable Judge Stenton to receive sentencing. Monica left out the part about her falling for Jasmine and abandoning Tanya for the last three years, figuring that was info he didn't need to help her out.

“So what exactly do you want me to do?” the judge asked, not really knowing what to make of the situation. After all, he had been having sex with a murderess, and now she wanted his help to get her naïve friend out of prison. He was also hoping she wouldn't turn on him if he declined.

“I need you to get her out. That gun has a lot of bodies on it by now, I'm sure. Just arrest the guy I sold it to, pin the gun to that murder, and set her free. It's simple.”

“It's not that easy. We have to catch him in the act of a sale with a large amount of product on him, and . . .”

“I can set that up for you. To make it sweet I can get him busted right at his house where he keeps everything. You ain't said nothing but a word.”

“Who is the guy?”

“Rico. I know you've been trying to get him for years. I can help you.”

“How soon can you do it?” the judge said, becoming excited about catching a known felon he wouldn't otherwise be able to touch. The police department had been trying to get him for years, and putting him away would surely get him a seat on a higher court. His eyes looked like dollar signs when he turned back to Monica.

“Set it up for this weekend,” he said. “I need to make a few calls.”

“That can happen, but I need to know that I have your word on this. She's in jail for a crime she didn't commit, and her son needs her.”

“You take care of me like you been doin', and I'll take care of you. I need to make a few calls. Be naked and ready by the time I get upstairs.”

Monica went upstairs to prepare for the judge, hoping she was doing the right thing. While she bathed, she could hear the judge on the phone making connections to bring down Rico and get Tanya out of jail. Making sure her diaphragm was in properly, she laid back on the bed and waited for the judge to join her.

A half hour later he came into the room full of excitement. Monica didn't know if his energy came from the case or from her naked body as he pounded into her with an intensity she never felt before. She was thankful she didn't have to tell him to put a condom on as she watched him put on two for extra safety. Monica spent the sex session thinking of a way to hook up with Rico so they could set the plan in motion.