Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“You seem hostile. Is something going on?” Motherfucker…
“Sir, I’m not hostile but I am becoming frustrated. At this point, it is taking longer to sit here chatting with you than it did to drive here. Is there any other documentation that you need, or information that is pertinent to this visit, because if not, please let me through?”
“Ma’am, I honestly don’t care about your mileage. I have a job to do.” He threw up his big, puffy hands. “I am just trying to get the information needed and—”
“And I gave it to you. As someone who has traveled to many states as well as countries, I am aware of my rights and also what these visits entail. The reason why I understand the nature of this situation, sir, is not because I was an inmate, as you were suggesting in your coy little cute way, but because I am a world-renowned photojournalist. Honey Brooks. Google me. I have done probably over twenty interviews of inmates incarcerated at Riker’s Island, ten at Louisiana State Penitentiary, and several all the way across the ocean at Limerick Prison, located in Ireland, to be exact, so please trust and believe, I understand the seriousness of screening individuals who come and go through these doors, for everyone’s safety and security.”
“Great, then you understand that I’m doing what’s required of my job.”
“I’m not asking you not to do your job, I am asking you to let me do mine. Now, I’m no psychic, but I’m certain you don’t want any digital articles being published about provocation, pestering, or filibustering at this institution. Do you know how much dust I could kick up with just one little post in my paper?”
“Ms. Brooks, is that a threat?”
“No, sir. Not at all. It’s a legitimate concern and promise of a formal complaint, with potential to reach your management, but more importantly, an audience of over three million readers. Y’all already have a 1.4-star rating, and not all of those assessments are from disgruntled inmates who are sick of being served boiled chicken. Now, unless you want to receive visits from activist groups who speak against this sort of thing, outside of this facility protesting come tomorrow morning, I suggest we say our goodbyes, and part ways.”
…If looks could kill.
Suddenly, the gate started to rise, and he said nothing further. She waved and rolled through, shaking her head.
She drove along, following the arrows. Armed guards were positioned in various locations. Once she reached the release dock, she pulled up and waited. It didn’t take more than two minutes for a tall, dark-haired woman to come waltzing out, clutching a bag to her chest.
Honey waved to her, and the woman stopped in her tracks. Then she laughed and resumed her saunter. She swung open the door and jumped in the car. Before Honey could say hello, the lady threw her bag in the backseat, wrapped her arms around her, and squeezed. Irish wore thick black eyeliner and had the same gray eyes as her brother. She sported a small scar on her chin and a chipped front tooth. She was quite pretty, but a bit rough, as if she’d lived a million lifetimes in that one body of hers.
“Whew! I’m free, bitches!!!” she yelled, pumping her arms in the air as though she was at a rock concert. She rolled her window down. “Love y’all, but I ain’t never coming back! Drive, baby! I wanna wave to my girls!”
Honey put the car in drive and saw several women with their heads pasted to the windowpanes. Some of them were waving, others held signs and what not, wishing her well. Honey couldn’t help but smile. After a while, the lady leaned forward and started messing with the radio, landing on the song, ‘Welcome to the DCC,’ by Nothing But Thieves. She started to rock around in her seat, swinging her long black hair and snapping her red painted chipped nails. Honey simply kept driving. She imagined Irish had a lot built up inside of her and needed to expel it. When the song ended, the woman turned down the tunes then spun to face her.
“I’m sorry, girl. I haven’t been able to listen to loud music without headphones in forever. Ahhh…” She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
“I understand. It’s all right. Are you thirsty? Hungry? We can stop somewhere before we—”
“PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET ME TO A CHICK-FIL-A!”
“You got it.” Honey laughed, then asked Siri to direct them to the closest location.
“I know they’re like anti-gay or some shit, ultra conservative, but those chicken sandwiches are so damn good! You know what would be funny?”
“What?”
“I should probably tell ’em I’ve eaten pussy and liked it, after I get the sandwich!” She began playfully punching Honey’s shoulder. All she could do was laugh and shake her head. Irish was a nut. A funny nut, but one all the same. “It’s the truth though. I’ll be damned if I’m in prison for years on end and not gettin’ any affection. Besides, I can’t help it. Bitches love me. You like CFA?”