Page 9 of His Favorite Felon

As I reached the security booth, Cambridge was smirking.

“Just another day, huh?” he said jokingly.

I let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, man, just living the dream.”

He laughed loudly. “If this is your dream, I fear you need therapy, Legend.”

“Naw, for real. Everybody in this bitch needs therapy or a psych ward,” I admitted, but I meant it for myself, too.

No matter how crazy I believed the women I monitored were, I felt a sense of calm here. It was as if surrounding myself with even crazier people made me feel more sane.

He leaned against the console, scanning the housing unit. “Heard we got another transfer.”

“I heard,” I admitted.

“The airport mule baddie.”

I glanced at him and asked, “The what? Who calling her that?”

“Everyone. You ain't heard?”

“Nah. I ain’t heard about no airport shit,” I admitted.

Cambridge lowered his voice. “They’re saying she got caught trying to bring drugs through the airport.”

“Damn. I missed that bit of information. How old is she?”

“She’s a baby, bro. I heard she’s like twenty or something.”

“Any past offenses?” I was intrigued, even though I hadn’t seen her yet. It was uncommon in Cumberland prison to have a woman brought in for smuggling drugs at an airport.

He shrugged.

“They ain't saying much. Just that federal transferred her here until sentencing.”

I looked back through the glass and saw a young woman in the far corner I hadn’t noticed before, lost in the chaos among the other inmates. She wasn’t talking, watching television, or playing cards. She simply sat there, hands folded in her lap, staring at the floor as if she wished she could disappear into it.

She barely looked legal with that innocent baby face. She looked out of place, and I could tell she didn’t belong here. She looked nothing like the other women who had already learned to survive in prison.

She flinched every time someone walked too close or yelled too loudly.

Cambridge followed my gaze.

“That’s her.”

“Damn.” It slipped out before I could stop it.

“What?”

“I expected...” My words trailed off.

“What?”

“I don't know. Not someone who looked like that.”

I expected a hardened criminal, someone rough around the edges. Instead, she looked terrified and pretty in a subtle way. Not flashy or attempting to stand out. Quite the opposite, she seemed to be hiding within herself.

Dark, curly locs were gathered into a loose bun. Her caramel skin looked almost golden under the fluorescent lights. Even when sitting still, she carried herself differently, as if her life had been ripped away overnight.