Once the gate was fully opened, the guard ordered him to step to the yellow line three feet in front of him and remain there until advised he was no longer under the instruction of Mansfield Corrections. After the alarm sounded again, the gate closed behind him and the guard said, “Inmate number 34621, you are no longer under the control of Mansfield Correctional. You are free to leave the premises and reminded to report to your parole officer within 72 hours of your departure.” And the guards proceeded back to the double steel doors entering the prison.
Using his foot to push himself away from the vehicle, Martinez dressed in his blue polo and jeans, his badge gleaming from his black belt, stately walked towards the prisoner. Once he was two feet within his reach, he tapped an envelope in his hand as he said, “Well, well, well. Don’t know how you did it, but you did it. Gotta hand it to you Robinson, you’re smarter than you look.”
Steve was clean-shaven, dark hair cropped short enough to leave his curls, and dressed in a silky black shirt with grey dress slacks. He slightly titled his head back, thickening the muscles in his neck, glaring down his nose at Martinez. “You here for a reason?”
Pulling his standard issue Oakleys off his face, he met Steve’s gaze with authority. “You’re bag doesn’t really match your outfit, Robinson. You have plans tonight?”
“Matter of fact, I do. Been a long six years. I have some catching up to do. So unless you’re here to give me a ride...” Before he could finish, a black four-door BMW with custom wheels slowly inched towards them.
Tipping the envelope towards him, Martinez waited for Steve to grab it and said, “Mr. Steven Robinson, you have been served.”
There was a hardening of his eyes as he glanced from the envelope back to Martinez. His lips puckered with annoyance as he tossed the envelope over his shoulder without opening it.
Holding his ground and his gaze he said, “I really don’t think you want a ticket for littering, just being released and all.”
Pulling his bag from his shoulder he held it tightly to his side and replied, “You have my new address, I’m sure. Send me a bill.”
Martinez placed his sunglasses back on his face and flicked his chin with his thumb before turning away.
Steve opened the passenger side back door to the Beamer, flung his bag onto the seat and turned back grinning mischievously as he stated, “Hey, be sure to tell Lizzy I said hello.”
Opening the car door to his Impala, Martinez confidently said, “I’ll be seeing you around, Robinson.”
Girls’ night on Fridays at Chip’s was Elizabeth’s favorite. She was able to get her Black Jack on and visit her friend Donny DeLuca in order to de-stress a little while China perused the horny rich men looking for a no-strings-attached kinda lady.
Chip’s was banging like any other Friday night, especially during tourist season. After enjoying the amusement park for the day, many of the tourists and locals alike took their evening partying straight to the casino; not only for gambling but also for the live bands and dancing.
As the rest of the players waited impatiently for Elizabeth to make a decision, she was scanning the establishment. Donny gave her a concerned look. “Aye, doll, you okay,” he asked.
Snapping out of her daze, she turned back to the table. “I’m so sorry.” Glancing down at her cards, she held a four of spades and five of diamonds. She looked at the cards on the table and back to the dealer’s hand. Donny currently held a two and his hole card. She nodded and smiled. “Hit me.” The players to her left, stood where they were.
Donny flipped over his card, which was a jack of hearts. He dealt himself another. Ten of spades. Shaking his head in disappointment, he dished out the winnings to the players including Elizabeth.
Taking a deep breath she sighed.
Glancing up at her between dealing cards, Donny asked, “Yo, Liz, what’s gotchu so down, doll? It’s Friday and you’re on a winning streak. Dat detective being good to ya?”
She loved the sound of his Jersey accent blended with the sympathy in his voice. Shaking off her anxiety and getting her head back in the game she replied, “I’m fine. Thanks, Donny. There’s just a weird vibe tonight and I can’t put my finger on it.” Scanning her eyes across the room again, she waited to spot someone staring at her. You’re just being paranoid, Liz. Chill out.
On the other side of the casino where the high rollers congregated, Danielle DuPont slid from her office and glided across the room in her sleek black, backless dress; her long red hair pulled into a bun and her bangs hanging slightly over her eyebrows to accentuate her green eyes. With Michelle Gardner awaiting trial for attempting to set up her husband, Richard, for hiring someone to kill her, Danielle officially took her place as the manager of the entire establishment.
She hammed it up with all the gentleman who were running exorbitant tabs as if they had nothing to lose and smiled flirtatiously through her red lips as they complimented her and asked her to forward their appreciations of the hospitality to Richard.
Being close to midnight, she walked up to one of the bars and asked the bartender for her usual glass of Chardonnay. As her drink was set down in front of her, she felt a presence in the seat next to her. A nicely built man sat down with his face turned away from her. “Oh, I’m so sorry, let me order you a drink?”
Steve turned towards her, his voice firm, and said, “By all means, Jenny...”
Although her demeanor remained placid, panic was rioting within her. Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze.
“...Oh, wait. It’s Danielle now, right? Been
