Beast Part 3: An Erotic Fairy Tale (4 page)

Is that something to brag about? I wonder, but aloud I
say, “God. That sucks. I’m sorry for you.”

The truth is, I’m incapable at the moment of feeling anything but anger, but I know if it weren’t for Mom and my continued wondering over what’s happening with Beast, I
would
probably feel sorry for him. Maybe.

He shakes
his head and presses his lips together. “You asked about Beast. You know the DA’s granddaughter was that model who was killed. In the wreck a long time ago? The one that landed Beast in prison?”

I nod. “
But I don’t care. He shouldn’t have that kind of power. He’s not the warden.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“What does that mean?”

“
There are a lot of different things at play here—a lot of different…players, if you will. The DA is being opportunistic. And, unfortunately, Beast is taking all the fall.”

“
Taking all the fall? For what? For stuff he did with you? The way the two of you ran the prison? You did do illegal things, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head.
“There’s no point in talking about that old stuff now.”

“Look at me!
” I snap my fingers. “Quit looking down. I think there is a point. I want to know what’s going on.”

“Not now.
” His eyes are sorry. No, not sorry.
Guilty
. “I can’t talk about that stuff, and Annabelle? You should try to stop wondering.”

I hop into the car and slam my door, then speed off so fast I leave rubber streaks on the drive.

CHAPTER 4

Beast

In my free time, I look up the man Beast supposedly killed, and
decide, after just a few news stories, that Beast probably did the world a favor.

M
ore days creep pass. Three. Four. Five.

Mom
hangs on, barely. Ad and I paint her fingernails and toenails, rub lotion on her bony legs and arms. At night, when Ad’s in bed and the nurse is reading quietly on her tablet, in the hallway, I spend hours talking to her. Telling her all kinds of things I’ve never told her before. The kinds of things I used to wish I could tell my mom, if we’d been BFFs, and she’d been…normal. Mom without the drugs or drinking. Mom without the men.

This is her, and even though it may be sad or sick, I find myself clinging to her.

Days fade into nights and nights bloom into days, and I hate the passage of them. It’s been two weeks. Three weeks.

Mom
’s deep in her coma. I begin to think the hospice nurses are right: She’s not waking up.

I call Holt again, begging him to give me Clinton’s number. I think Clinton will know at least how
Beast was treated when they took him, but Holt tells me there’s no point.

“
I talked to a friend. He’s not being treated great, Annabelle. And his sentence has been extended. Four more years.”

For some reason, the news is a crushing blow. I cry more that day about Beast than Mom.

And then suddenly, a few days later, TV news says it’s been a month since he killed the gang leader. A month since he told me he remembered me. A month since I touched him. A month since I heard his voice.

I try to get a pass into the prison by calling and
asking the director of outreach if I should continue trying to get donated paperback and hardback books for the library. Not that I ever really got that rolling, but I can now. I can do it easily if it means I might be able to get a glimpse of Beast.

I’m told by someone at the prison that the library project
has been put on hold.

Depression sets in.

Ad starts sleeping in my bed. She cries at night, and so do I.

I never drift off before 3 or 4 a.m.

Until a Sunday night. The night of a day we were all sure Mom would breathe her last. The night of an exhausting day, one where I just can’t hold my eyes open, so I fall asleep with Ad’s arms around my neck.

M
y ringing phone wakes me from a fitful sleep. The area code is local, but the number is unknown.

I blink at the phone, held
up over my head with the bright screen pointed away from Ad. Then I answer on a whim. “Hello?”

“Ri
ot girl. Maura here.” In the pause that follows, my heart beats so hard I feel like I might black out.

Finally, after a few breathless moments waiting for her to speak again, I cough out,
“Yes.”

“I’ve got some news for you.”

I push up on my elbows. Swing my legs off the side of the bed. If she tells me something bad, I’m going to run into the bathroom. If I start to cry, Ad will think it’s Mom.

“What is it?” I croak.

“It’s your man. Your Beast. They told us he was transferred out, but I went downstairs with Tony—he’s another guard, a senior one—and we heard him. Down there moaning in a solitary cell.”

“Is he
okay?”

“I don’t know. I think…h
e’s taking something. He was…different. But that’s not why I called.” Silence spreads out, cruel and thick. “Tomorrow, there’s a hit on him.”

I step into the bathroom in my cotton shorts and bra and whisper at my screen-lit reflection in the mirror.
“What do you mean a hit?”

“Some people
are gonna sneak down there and kill him. While he’s not defending himself.”

My blood runs cold. Ice cold. It takes me a minute to find my voice.
“Is this a known thing? Can someone stop it?”

“You want to help?” Her voice sounds hopeful. “I can sell you my pass code.”

“
What’s a pass code?”

“Like an employee ID code.”

“And…?
It gets me into places? Different areas of prison? You’re just a junior guard, you said. I’d have access to the solitary units? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well…
it’s not my pass code,” she says. “It’s Tony’s.”

I take a deep breath. Let it out. In the eerie light of my phone
, with the reflection of the mirror transposing the part on the left side of my hair, I look strange and thin and sick. “You wouldn’t cheat me, would you, Maura? I feel cheated from last time, because you never called. I don’t like to be cheated.”

“A pass code is a pass code,” she tells me.
“Ask Holt.”

I straighten up to my full height
, as if getting more vertical will help my head stop spinning. Help my chest stop aching.

“I
need the money,” she says. “My baby daddy doesn’t have a job, and I pay child support. I’m running low. If I give the pass code to you, it needs to be today.” She waits a beat, then tells me, “Seven hundred dollars. You have that much money?”

I take
a deep breath and step back into the bedroom so I can find my card. 

CHAPTER 5

Annabelle

I end up not giving her my card number again. I realize as soon
as I reach for my clutch, at the foot of the bed, that this is not a smart idea—no matter how desperate I am or how much money is still left from what Beast gave me.

“I’ll pay you when I
get there,” I say firmly. “You’ll have to meet me to let me in, anyway.”

“The library,” she says. “You been there
before?”

I press my tongue into the roof of my mouth.
My head pounds. “Have
you
?”

“No, but I heard it’s a blind spot.”

I exhale—relieved. “A what?”

“No cameras there. Not yet
. Cause it’s unfinished. No one goes there.”

“There is one,” I say.
“Not on the inside, but outside.”

“How do you know?”

“What does it matter? I just know. You’ll have to find another way to let me in.”

“Everybody knows your face. They know you’re Holt’s daughter. And the gangs that are
gunning for Beast—they know you’re his lady.”

“I can assume this is a bad thing?”

“Oh yeah. Really bad.” She’s silent for a moment, then she says, “You need to cut your hair.”

“I need to what?”

“Cut off that curly frizzy shit and wear a hat or something. Dress in…I dunno. Hell. Cover up that sexy body in some coveralls. Something plaid or…damn. A jumpsuit. I can get you prison orange if you want.”

“No. No way. I’ll find my own clothes. And I’ll fix my hair. I’ll be there. When?”

“Come now.”

“What do you think I can do to help him?”

“Help Beast?”

“Yeah.”

There’s an ugly little pause that tells me she doesn’t have an answer. She just wants to sell the pass code.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You still want it?” she asks.

I chew on my fingernails. I step back into the bathroom, where I look at myself in the mirror. I’m Adrian’s only guardian. If something happens to both Mom and me, Ad would have no one.

I shouldn’t go to the prison on some fool’s mission. I can’t see Cal Hammond—Ricardo—Beast in solitary.

I shake my head, but when I open my mouth, I hear myself say, “Yes.”

*

Maura knows the camera guy
working tonight, and after some wheeling and dealing I don’t even want to know about, she gets him to disable the camera that monitors the back door to the library.

She recommends, in addition to all her other insane recommendations, that I rent a car and come in through the back fence, where the employee parking is.

I do everything she tells me, except with my hair. I’m not cutting my hair. My crazy, curly hair is totally my thing. I pull it up into an uncomfortably tight bun and stick a Lakers cap over it, then find the least fashionable outfit I own—which turns out to be a pair of baggy jeans that belonged to my college boyfriend, and a plaid button-up I sometimes wear when I’m styling my hair. I add a pair of paint-speckled boots and call the rental company to let them know I need a car, and that I need someone to pick me up.

I spend the next hour cutting up fruit for Adrian’s breakfast,
calling Holly over to our apartment, and saying “bye” to Mom, who is clinging to life with a stubbornness I have to admit is kind of surprising.

“I love you
so much, and so does Adrian. I’ll be back soon,” I tell her. “Adrian is here, and so is Nurse Sarah.”

I step back into the bedroom to kiss Ad and grab my purse, then go down to the parking lo
t to wait for the car rental guy to pick me up. I could always take my own car to the rental place, but Holly’s ’89 Accord is a piece of shit, and I want her and Ad to have mine if they need something.

I don’t need to discuss what we’ll do if Mom passes away while I’m gone. The plan has been in place for weeks. The prison is only about an hour and fifteen minutes away, so if something happens, I’ll come home immediately, and Adrian won’t be told until I’m there.

The guy who picks me up is lanky, with spiky, puke green hair and a lip piercing. Strangely, he has the radio station set to country music.

His weird
taste in music reminds me of Clinton. I wonder, as I sign the paperwork for my rented van, what happened behind the scenes that led to the breakup of the Beast regime.

I
wonder about the DA looking into my family. It’s disgusting, that I’m feeling almost sick with worry, considering driving back home to check on Ad and Holly, just because that asshole is misusing his power. Maybe Holt and Beast did a lot of things wrong, but Holly didn’t. Adrian didn’t.

I call Holly, who
assures me that Ad is fine—other than refusing her fruit and begging for waffles—so I end up driving on toward La Rosa.

An hour is too much time to think, these days.

I worry over whether I’m wasting my time and energy… What if Mom dies while I’m gone, and I can’t get into the prison with the stolen pass code anyway? What if—God help me—Beast gets killed before I get there? What if it’s some kind of set up? I can’t really think of a reason why… but I feel generally nervous. Death is all that’s on my mind. I feel its fingers tap, tap, tapping on me, reminding me it’s only one wrong moment away—for everyone. I stop at a gas station, because the sun is finally starting to come up, and I need something basic for breakfast. There, I lament the way they have a thousand caffeine products—even gum—but no sedatives.

In the car, I do a few deep breathing exercises before I pull back onto the road.

I just need to calm down. Think positively.

I’ll get there in time. I can…what? What can I do?
God. How will I even help him once I’m there? What if Ad is left with no one? Mom and I both die.

The scariness of thinking that thought again, not in the darkness of my bathroom safe at home, but here in the car, on the way to La Rosa,
has me considering turning the car around.

I don’t. Because I’m an idiot. The same idiot who tried to get her V-card punched by a celebrity. The
same idiot who agreed to Beast’s initial deal—three hours a day. The same idiot who fucked him after he beat up Holt.

It’s true, I’ve done a pretty good job at life for the most part, but when it comes to this man, I’m an IDIOT.

I laugh a little as I turn off the highway and onto the long dirt road that I’m pretty sure will lead me to the employee parking lot.

I’ve got my big purse with me this time…and part of the reason is because I’ve tucked my Mace inside. I’ve also got a can of that awful new age spray sunscreen, which hurts like a bitch if you get it in your eye.
These are my weapons. This is how I’ll help him if someone tries to come and kill him while I’m visiting.

I roll up to the gate and try the pass cod
e Maura gave me; this one’s hers. She refuses to give me Tony’s until I pay her. She said if I didn’t pay her when I got inside the prison gates, she’d “go prisoner” on me. I told her if the pass code for the gate didn’t work, and I drove all the way out here without even getting in, I’d report her.

Luckily, or maybe very unluckily…
her pass code works.

The gate wobbles open on its big wheels, and I
roll through. I park between a Subaru and a Toyota Prius and get out of the car slowly. There’s a guard stand looming over the asphalt lot, and for a moment, as I glance up, I feel ill. I’m wearing plaid, not the brown guards’ uniform. But no one jumps out to grab me as I walk around the building, toward the library.

I find Maura sitting in front of the door, opening and closing her palm like a greedy monkey.

I pull a wad of hundreds from my purse and wave it in her face.

“I want to get inside first.
I want to see that it will open the door to the solitary area.” Thinking of what I’m about to do makes me feel off-balance. Kind of dizzy.

Maura stands up and dusts off the butt of her uniform.
“You drive a hard bargain, woman. If you get caught, don’t say you got this from Maura. Blame Tony.”

“Why?”

“That guy’s an ass,” she tells me. She uses what I assume is her own punch code to get into the library. I follow her inside and look around, remembering the way Beast made me feel last time we were here. Remembering the feel of him inside me. Good God, that man knows how to please a woman.

I look over at Maura as we pass through the area, headed toward the hall.
“So what do you know about him? Is he really bad off?”

She lifts one shoulder, but I notice that she tries not to look at me
. “See yourself. Down this hall and down some stairs, then it’s solitary.”

I stop walking as a wave of anxiety prickles through me.
“How will I even see him? I’ll get caught in a second.”

She shakes her head.

“No?”

Maura smirks.
“We’ve got a new kitchen girl today. Brings plates down to them.” Her smirk turns into a mischievous smile. “I locked her in a closet.”

“What?”

She nods proudly as we stride into the hallway. “See, the hit on Beast is from Juan Juarez. I fucked that motherfucker, and he’s nasty.” She turns up her nose.

“What do you mean…nasty?” I’m pretty sure I might not want to know.

“Nasty like he gave me the clap.”

Oy
. So I was right. I didn’t want to know.

“I’ve been looking for a way to get him back, and now I found it. See, he’s got the
Julios thinking he’s a good replacement for Beast.”

“What’s a Julio?”

“Hispanic. There’s the Mexicans—that’s his people; Juarez is their man—and then a bunch of others, too. Like Puerto Ricans, Cubans. They’re kind of separate, but they’re kind of together. They’re all Julios.”

I nod slowly. That’s why the men were chanting
“Julio” at me the day I first came to the prison to talk to Holt. They assumed I was Hispanic.

“I
s Beast considered a Julio, too?”

She shrugs. “They don’t think of him as anything, not till Juarez got them thinking he and Beast are just alike. He says if Beast can’t do the job, he’ll fill in. And then yesterday, all of a sudden, he starts saying Beast is going down. Something about betrayal
in the money market. That man is crazy.”

I nod again as we turn a corner, and all of a sudden, there’
s a thick steel door, behind a door that’s just a bunch of bars.

“This is it,” she says, as if it’s no big deal. “Solitary. Your Beast is right down the stairs.
”

I grab her arm. “You’re not coming with me?”

“I can walk you down, but I can’t stay. Tommy’s code’s okay for that, but I’ve got another job right now. If I don’t put my code in over there, I’ll be tracked.”

“What’s your other job?” I ask, feeling suddenly suspicious.

“I’ve gotta deal with something on Guerrilla row.”

“What’s Guerrilla row?”

“They’re one of the black gangs. Mostly people from the inner city. Not war vets. Black war vets have got another group. Guerrillas are sneaky bastards. They can get in and out of anywhere. I think they’re the most likely to escape.” She holds her hand out. “Can I have my money now?”

“Put his pass code in first.” I nod at the keypad to the right of the door. “I want to see it work. Then you can have the money.
But before that, I’ve got a question.” I nibble one of my nails. “Your friend, the one in the camera room— when does his shift end?”

“He’s on all day.”

“And even though he disabled that one camera, he can still see me in here, right?”

She nods. “But he’s a lieutenant of Beast. Those two are like brothers, him and Nose.”

She steps up to the key pad and starts to punch the number—then slides her gaze over to me. “You know how important this is?”

“How important what is?”
I ask.

“I’m letting you into solitary. I don’t know anybody who’s ever been down there that shouldn’t.
Well, besides me, but that was just for sex. It’s just me and you—Holt’s girl. I must have lost my mind.”

She nods at my bag. “You don’t have a gun or something?”

“No. Of course not.” Only Mace, but that’s none of her business.

“Okay.” She lets her breath out, then her fingers come in contact with the numbers on the pad. She punches in a few, and a small green light flashes. I’m shocked when the barred door retracts into the
cement wall, and the steel door makes a hissing sound, as if it was pressurized and now it’s not.

Maura
presses on it somehow—I can’t tell how—and, to my shock, it opens like something out of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
. On the other side of it is a small-looking staircase. As I step over to it and hesitantly start going down, I can see our destination is a long, ordinary-looking hall. I see a row of doors on each side. Unlike the doors on most of the regular cells upstairs, these doors don’t have bars. They’re solid steel.