Mari’s the resident eyebrow lady in B Block.
Laughing, she reaches for my face and swipes her thumbs along said caterpillars. “They’re not that bad, but I can clean ‘em up tonight unless you showered already.”
“Nah, not yet, so that works.”
The showers are where everything against conduct happens: fights, commissary swaps, contraband sales, eyebrow threading, sex.
Everything.
And yes, getting your eyebrows done really goes against conduct. Insert the eye-rolling emoji right here.
“I need mine done too,” Quinn quips from her perch on top of the table, smoothing out her blonde brows.
“So do I.” That’s Gia.
Mari sighs and throws her head back playfully on a groan. “Why the fuck do y’all pendejas wait until the last minute? You know it takes a good fifteen apiece. I gotta be able to wash my ass at some point, too, before they’re calling us—”
“Well, well, well, would ya look at that,” Quinn cuts her off, green eyes trained across the yard.
Gia, Mari, and I all follow her line of sight, and what we see solidifies Mari’s story from last week.
It’s Koko. Well, it’s Franca and her twin ass-licking sidekicks, Beth and Carrie, closing in on Koko, but obviously, she’s there, waiting for those D Block bitches like they’re the best of friends. Judging by the way they greet each other, it sure looks like they are.
My eyes narrow of their own accord as I watch their interaction take place. Franca’s your quintessential ghetto Italian bitch from New York, down to the mannerisms and all. She’s loud, conceited, and apparently “knows it all.” She’s also the Queen-Pin in D Block. Her charge is infinitely worse than mine, though—killed a few motherfuckers who were trying to intercept one of her shipments.
Now she’s here for life.
Beth and Carrie, on the other hand, are entitled, little white girls. Grew up privileged from what I’ve heard. Evidently, their very biological father used to fuck them—at the same time—and when he tried to cut them off after some ‘Come to Jesus’ moment, they killed him.
Yeah, you read that right.
The sick part is, they still fuck around, even without daddy around. Like right now, they’re holding hands, swinging their arms back and forth as they follow behind Franca, their flaming pigtails flapping around behind them. They remind me of those creepy little bitches from The Shining, their frilly blue dresses replaced by cherry red prison uniforms.
They’re too far for me to make out a word of what they’re saying, but it looks like Koko’s over there having the time of her life, all smiles and shit. I can’t believe this hoe is really gonna try to fuck me over. I should’ve listened to Lena when she told me it wasn’t a good idea, but of course, me being me, I had to give the chick the benefit of the doubt, thought her particular skill set could work well in this equation.
Obviously not.
That’s all right… Like I told Mari, I’m not going to say a damn word. Let her think everything is just peachy. I wanna see what she’s gonna do when I come to collect.
“Villanueva.”
That voice… Eyes widening, I gasp quietly as my entire body locks up tighter than Fort Knox at the unexpected sound. Every inch of my skin prickles, my feet rooting to the ground beneath me, and I think the only reason I’m able to move is the girls watching this go down. I love them, I do, but I don’t plan to tell them about Andrés. Lena knowing is one too many people already, and I trust her with my life.
My heart stops for a beat when I get a good look at him, longer still when he crooks his finger at me. “Come with me.”
“For what?” I question, nearly choking as that traitorous thing in my chest restarts and shoots up to my throat.
“Counselor. He wants to see you.”
The counselor? What the hell does he need to see me for?
“Okayyy,” I drone, brows cinching together in the middle of my face as I miraculously start toward him.
Two minutes later, we’re back inside the building, wandering the hallways en route to Judge’s office. Other than calling my attention and asking me to come with him, Andrés hasn’t said a word to me. I’m trying not to take it personally or overthinking what it could mean after our last exchange two days ago, but my stomach’s in knots, heartbeat galloping wildly in my ears. Still, I don’t dare open my mouth, biting my tongue to keep from saying something I shouldn’t. I don’t think the security cameras can pick up sound, but just to be safe, it’s probably best I don’t say anything anyway.
Not even when I catch him peeking at me from the corner of his eye.
The nerve-wracking silence continues as he locks a hand around my arm and yanks me around the corner toward the South wing. I’m too caught up wondering where the hell we’re going to realize what’s about to happen.
Until my back hits the wall of D Block’s bathroom, and I find myself caged with nowhere to go.
Andrés brings his face inches from mine, tongue peeking out to wet his lips as he stares at mine. “I need you to listen to me, and I need you to listen really well, understand?”
Ho-ly fuck.
My throat bobs, head nodding by way of response as I nearly swallow my tongue.
“I got you the phone. It’s stashed in B Block’s bathroom. I’ll tell you where exactly, but you have to promise me something first…”
I swallow again, harder this time. Feels like a jagged boulder scraping down my throat. “A-and what would that be?”
He reaches up, hesitating only a moment before he’s tucking my hair behind my ear. “Don’t get caught, please. I can’t go down for this. Promise me we’re gonna be good.”
I know what he means, but the way he says we makes my stomach flip. “I got this,” I assure
