4. Chapter 4 #2
"And me," another woman muttered just loud enough to draw giggles from the ladies around them. The tallest among them, her red hair was gathered in a tight bun at the back of her head. "I'll bite your face off."
"Oh, you won't either," Mara snickered, then turned back to Tabby.
"Sandy's not a hardass. She just likes to act that way.
Also, piss her off and she will mop the parking lot with you.
So... yeah, don't do that. But Travis, he'll rob you blind if he thinks you've got something.
And there's nothing you can do about it. "
"You can't report him?" Tabby asked, casting a wary eye to the office where Travis could be seen, one shoulder propped against the building as he sipped from his coffee cup and waited with them.
"God, you're new," a blonde on her other side told her.
"Who do you think you're going to tell?" a dark-skinned teen on the other side of the blonde snorted. She looked even younger than Tabitha.
“You’re young,” Mara informed her. “You’re a woman and you’re a convict fresh out of prison. Ain’t nobody gonna listen to a thing you’ve gotta say.”
“Yes, sir and no, sir,” the teen stated.
“No matter what they tell you to do, that’s what you say and then you do it.
Do your time and when you get released, they’ll give you whatever money you got on the books and even drive you up to Salt Lake.
I’ve got three weeks left. I’m going to get drunk as hell and forget all about this place, baby. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” several women said at once.
With a crunch of gravel under the tires, the bus slowed as it pulled off the road and rolled to a stop in front of them.
"Make good choices," Travis called from the porch of his office.
Was he talking to her or to all of them? Tabby couldn't tell, so she kept her head down and waited for her turn to board the bus. It smelled like earth and old sweat, and she got as far as the bus driver before realizing neither he nor the bus had been washed in quite some time.
The driver was young, maybe only a year or two older than she was.
His head was shaved, with prison tattoos on his neck, shoulders, the backs of both hands.
Two blue-inked tear drops decorated the corner of his left eye, and his teeth were brown from the tobacco he chewed.
Judging by the mess around his spit cup, he wasn't all that concerned with getting the waste all the way in it when he spat.
Noting the way she was looking at him, his gray eyes suddenly fixed on her. He arched an eyebrow and his tone wasn't exactly friendly when he said, "See something you like, baby girl?"
Averting her eyes, Tabby moved as fast as the woman in front of her would allow, all the way to the back of the bus where she threw herself on the seat as close to the window as she could get.
Her heart was racing, and her mouth was dry.
She hugged her lunch in her lap, feeling more like she was on her way back to prison than heading for a new job.
Once everyone was loaded, the bus doors flapped shut and off they went, rolling from gravel back onto pavement. Travis watched them go and his eyes definitely caught hers through the window as they passed his office.
He didn't smile. She didn't either.
Please God, let the rest of today be better than this.
The bus had no A/C and like any other metal container under the merciless desert sun, it quickly got hot enough to make her sweat.
Several more experienced girls dropped their windows.
Each lowered only about four inches before braces stopped the glass from dropping any further.
She might be out of her old cell, but she was still just as trapped, even now as the bus turned from the main road onto an unpaved dirt track.
There was no landscape to look at, just miles and miles of sage and scrub, the mountains, and the occasional free-ranging cow.
She closed her eyes, letting the warm rush of air brush her hair back and kiss the budding sweat from her brow.
"Woot, woot, woot!" a woman in front of her called out, jumping up from her seat to shout out the window. "Hey, fellas! Whose sexy ass is that? Lookin' good, baby!"
Opening her eyes, Tabitha startled to find she must have napped.
Gone was the desert. They were in one of the many mountain canyons now, turning into the dirt lot of what looked like a poultry farm.
The sign read: Male Residential Reentry Facility.
It was even more remote than Travis’s motel.
Here, the scrub had turned to grass, and towering pines and white-barked aspen now covered the hillsides.
Well over a dozen men from teen to mid-twenties pulled into a semblance of a line as the bus rolled to a stop beside them.
Talking and laughing louder, they clambered aboard, hooting and catcalling, each seeming to have an assigned place where they preferred to sit.
.. and someone they preferred to sit next to.
The implications of which Tabitha came abruptly face-to-face with as she caught the eye of the kid squeezing down the narrow walkway toward her.
He couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than she was, but it was just as obvious he had yet to grow into his future masculinity. His was very much a teenaged-frame, lanky and slender. His pale hair had been shaved close to his scalp, like the rest of his brethren. He had two tattoos that she could see. A full sleeved dragon winding its way down his arm with the head poised to lash out just above his hand. The other was a collar of blue-inked words around the base of his neck. She couldn’t read what it said; the words were in Spanish.
Were he in a button-down business shirt, neither tattoo would have been visible.
But he wasn’t. Instead, he wore red shorts, sneakers, and a well-used black wife-beater top.
"Is it my birthday?" he asked brightly, just a hint of his Hispanic ancestry sneaking into his accent. "Look what's in my seat."
Oh, hell no…
“I’ll move.” She grabbed her lunch sack and would have gone over the seat to get away, but he stopped her. Swinging out of the aisle, he bumped her back into her seat and plopped down next to her, so close that she was sure he was trying to pin her to the metal wall.
“What’s your hurry, baby?” Grinning, he held out his hand. “I’m Eli.”
She didn’t take it, but neither did she want to deliberately antagonize him. “Tabitha.”
“The Tabster.” He nodded. “That works. You new?”
She looked out the window, nodding slightly and pretending she couldn’t see the occasional male head on the rows of benches before them turning to look back at her. Feeling very much like the last piece of candy in the dish, she tried to pretend she wasn’t aware of the stares.
“Don’t worry about it,” Eli said with a friendly shoulder nudge. “As long as you stick with me, you won’t have to worry about them. Takes about thirty minutes to get to the farm. Go ahead. Close your eyes and sleep a bit more if you want. I got you, girl.”
No way was she going to close her eyes on this bus. She looked out the window.
"Quiet." Getting comfortable on the seat beside her, he folded slender arms across a chest that was only just starting to fill out. "I like that in a woman. We're going to get on just fine. Did you get food yet? You hungry?"
Reaching into his own temperature-controlled lunch bag, he rummaged through what he had, eventually coming up with a snack pack of powdered mini donuts.
"Yeah?" he asked, so obviously trying to tempt her with the treat. But again, no one in her adopted world did something for nothing, not for anyone. In prison, there was always a price.
She looked at his knee, pressed flush up against hers.
It was a proprietary touch, not an accidental one.
She looked for Mara, but she was sitting halfway down the bus with another guy beside her.
Years older than Eli, his arm was slung around her shoulder.
He was grinning as they chatted. As if sensing Tabby’s anxious stare, Mara craned her head to glance back over her shoulder at her.
When she saw Eli, she flashed Tabitha a quick grin and a thumbs up.
God. Snapping her gaze back to the window, she watched the blur of evergreens flying by her window without seeing any of it. Her chest felt hot. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned, but she stubbornly blinked back the rising flood of tears.
What was the price?
That was the mantra zinging wildly through her panicking brain, right up until Eli’s hand settled on her knee and the creepy warmth of his touch sank through her jeans into her flesh.
Her skin crawled. Every instinct cried for her to knock his hand away, and yet, if she did, what was the likelihood that he’d hit her back?
The whole bus had taken on some twisted sense of entitlement the minute the men had climbed aboard.
It was like a whole different world in this place and she was terrified that she already knew the dark rules about to consume her.
Every woman from her motel had a man sitting beside her on short bench seats made for kids.
Tabby closed her eyes completely, shutting it out when the guy two seats ahead of her, leaned out far enough to see the bus driver, before his hand crept up to cover the back of the tall red-head’s neat bun and pushed her firmly down until she disappeared below the top of the seatback.
Tough as hell though she had seemed while they’d been waiting for the bus, she was now blowing the man beside her… for what?
Exactly what was going to happen to her when they got to the farm? How much worse was this going to get and did she really want to alienate Eli and face it on her own?
His hand moved up her leg, abandoning her knee in favor of caressing its way up her thigh. His thumb traced little circles over her jeans, venturing relentlessly upward almost to her crotch.
Her every waking nerve was screaming for her to move.
To stop this. But how? Did she slap his hand away and risk angering him?
Did she get up and move? And if so, move where?
Every seat but one was taken, and if she moved away from him, would one of, what…
the seven single guys here try to claim her instead?
Would she become a prize in a free for all?
Swallowing hard, she turned to Eli, hugging her lunch tight. If she had to overpower someone, Eli was the scrawniest option here, and even then she had zero confidence in her brawling abilities. Her only hope was to go along until she simply had no other choice.
Three more years… Jesus.
“Would it be all right if I took you up on that nap?” she asked.
Eli’s smile broadened. “I got you, baby.” He took his hand off her thigh and slung his arm around her shoulders instead, drawing her in until she had no choice but to lay her head upon his chest.
His shirt smelled like hand soap, and though his fingers slipped from her shoulder, snaking in under her arm to cop a feel of side-boob, this was the first time she’d been hugged since before her arrest.
She dared not relax, but her eyes closed as she buried her face into his shirt and pretending with all her might that she was with someone—anyone—else. The unwelcome mental image of the sheriff popped into her mind and refused to be dislodged.
She retreated into her mind, trying to find a time when she viewed police as the ultimate protectors. The sheriff was anything but someone to call for help, and yet there was reluctant comfort to be had in imagining his strong, authoritative arms and not Eli’s boyishly skinny ones around her.
Not that she dared be seen seeking company from—or even just being seen talking to—Jeff. Travis had made his point clear on that front. The unfolding morning was simply adding emphasis to what she already knew: she was not in a good place.
And she hadn’t even reached the farm yet.