2. Isaac
2
Isaac
Usually, when I go to jail, it’s against my will behind some bullshit I’ve done.
The jail I was in now—a corporate nine-to-five—was constructed by my brother, and I was in this bitch voluntarily. Which was almost worse.
The money was good, I will admit, but was it worth my soul?
I still wasn’t sure about that.
I never saw myself as a corporate type. I never saw myself as anything, really. I didn’t even see myself living ‘til thirty-three, but here I was.
Actually, I wouldn’t call this living.
I was existing.
And if life wasn’t mundane enough, my big brother/boss had me doing data entry, of all fucking things. This shit was a mind-numbing, soul-crushing repetition of the same fucking task, day after day after day. Sometimes, I was lowkey tempted to erase the entire inventory database just to shake shit up around here.
I would never let those intrusive thoughts win, of course. I was self-destructive, but never malicious.
Besides, I had other ways to cope.
Back when I was little, my mama used to put an end to our rainy-day, stuck-in-the-house whining with, “Boredom is just a lack of imagination. Go find something to do, and if you can’t find something, make something up.”
My brothers would cook up some slightly dangerous sports-adjacent activity in one of their bedrooms, but I always went inside my head to see what was lurking in there. Vivid thoughts always awaited me. I wrote entire movies in my mind, then closed my eyes to watch them.
That skill—if you could call it that—got me through my days here at Jackson Distributors.
It was still wild to me that our family name was on the marquee and letterhead of a bonafide corporation. My brother did his big one with this. I was proud of him.
But I still hated coming to this motherfucker every day.
I looked around my cubicle. This shit was smaller than a jail cell, and still bare, with not a picture to be found, because, what the fuck for? Making my space homey would mean I intended to stay here for a while, and that was damn sure not the plan.
My phone rang just then, saving me from another round of inventory.
“This is Isaac.”
“Yes, hello, Isaac, this is your boss.”
“Man, what the fuck do you want?”
My brother laughed. “There’s a lovely young lady in my office who says she came here just to see you.”
“Fuck you talkin’ about?”
“I’m serious.”
Frowning, I mentally sifted through several lovely women’s names and wondered which one of my exes showed up at my job to act a fool. None of them stood out as being capable of nutting up on me like that, but you never know, I guess.
Finally, I settled on the most likely culprit.
“Dawn?”
“Who the fuck is Dawn?” he said.
“Chick I met at the bike show.”
That was reductive as fuck.
Dawn Bankston rolled through town on a Harley two years ago and took me on the ride of my life. I had just gotten out of jail—my last stint—and she gave me what I needed. She’d been in and out of Summerville ever since, hitting me up every time, but the last time she was here, things went left and ended with a brick through my window.
“Nah, this ain’t her.”
I blew out a sigh of relief. “Well, who is it?”
Taurus waited a few beats, but only because he loved messing with me.
“I actually didn’t catch her name, but I did catch her job title.”
“Man, spit it out and quit fuckin’ with me.”
He let the silence drag on for a little while longer before he finally said, “The woman in question happens to be your newest probation officer.”
My mouth dropped open.
When my last PO retired, some dude in Corrections told me a new one had been assigned to me and would need to re-verify my employment. They neglected to mention he or she would be rolling up here to do that shit in person.
“Why the fuck is she here ?”
“Nigga, I don’t know. Bring yo’ ass up here so you can straighten this shit out.”
“I’m on my way.”
I dragged myself through the sterile halls of my brother’s office building and entered the elevator. He was at the top, literally and figuratively. When I got off at the tenth floor, I rounded the corner toward his office, stopping short when I saw her.
There was no motherfucking way the woman sitting in the waiting area was a probation officer.
My last PO, Mr. Gaither, was a hard ass. Fifty-something, gruff, ugly as shit, and tough as nails, he was somebody you knew not to fuck with. He just carried it like that.
But this woman right here?
There was no way.
I mean, she had to be, because she had the situational awareness and ugly ass, functional ass clothes most cops wear, but still. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
She stood, all five feet and spare change of her, and offered me a deep-dimpled smile. “You must be Isaac.”
I nodded and tried not to stare.
“You look exactly like your brother,” she said. “Minus the glasses.”
“Why are you here?” I said. “At my job?”
Her pretty face fell. “I’m here to verify your employment.”
“Well, here you go. I’m here. At work.” I grabbed the plastic-covered badge that hung limply around my neck and held it up. “See? Isaac Jackson.”
Taurus walked out just then, grinning like a Cheshire cat. That grin had always pissed me off, because nothing good ever followed it.
“Y’all can come on back,” he said.
I was confused. And pissed. But I followed behind her as she walked toward my brother, figuring we’d straighten this shit out soon enough, and then I could get back to the work of slowly dying in my cubicle.
As we walked, I stared at the back of her and that ugly ass outfit. Plain black collared shirt under a blazer. Khaki pants. Black flats.
She wasn't fooling me, though. I knew if you put her in a dress, she’d be killing the game.
Slim frame. Small waist. Curvy hips. Modest bubble. All working together to capture my attention and hold it hostage. She was sexy as fuck , which told me that by the end of all this, I was either gonna fuck this woman, or she was gonna put me in jail. I’m no psychic, but as a man, and a student in the school of life, those were the only two outcomes I could see.
Inside his office, Taurus closed the door behind us. “Please, have a seat. Anybody need water?”
I glared at my brother’s smirking face. He was enjoying this shit, which was on brand for him. I wasn’t in the mood, though.
We settled around the coffee table at the edge of the office, then she turned her attention to me.
“As I was telling your brother,” she said with a voice as smooth as honey, “I took over for Officer Gaither. I’m sure you’ve been through all of this before, but since I’m newly assigned—well, you’re newly assigned to me , so I have to go through this process with you.”
Her eyes locked on mine as she waited for an answer. I let mine roam her face. She looked young, but I knew she had to be at least thirty to be in her position. Full lips, big brown eyes, and a prominent nose—I’d always liked those—stood out on a smooth, toffee brown face. And those fucking dimples . She was cute as hell. Like the girl from around the way.
But unlike Monica, Janay, Kim, and them, this one had my life in her hands.
“Yeah, it’s all good,” I said, “but why did you have to come to my job, though?”
“I prefer to meet my clients in person. This killed two birds with one stone.” She turned to Taurus, which lowkey irritated me. “Basically, what I need is to verify that Mr. Jackson works here—“
“I didn’t catch your name.”
She turned all that cuteness back to me. “Sorry, I’m Azalea Davis. You can call me Ms. Davis or Officer Davis. I don’t have a preference.”
I nodded as my eyes flickered over her hands. No ring on the left.
Good to know.
“Anyway, I need to know Mr. Jackson works here, how long he’s been here, and a brief description of his duties.”
“Yeah, HR can give you specific dates,” Taurus said, “but he works here. He’s in my Operations department…”
I tuned him out as he proceeded to talk about me like I wasn’t sitting here.
I went into my head and let my eyes wander. Her hair, slicked back into a bun. That shit was ugly, just like her clothes, but somehow, she made it look sexy. Nails, clean with a clear shine on them. Skin looked soft. Lips looked kissable. No lipstick, but they were shiny, too. Long eyelashes. Pretty white teeth.
It was quiet.
They were both looking at me, and even though I hadn’t been listening, my blood was boiling. This whole thing was feeling like a fucking parent-teacher conference, and I didn’t like that shit one bit.
Taurus cleared his throat. “Ms. Davis, can I ask you something else?”
“Of course,” she said.
“What can we…the family…do to help Isaac stay on this path? He’s been doing well since this last time, and we’re all proud of him. But how do we make it stick?”
She nodded. “That’s a very common question. Re-offense is a concern, but I don’t look at it as a failure of the offender. I see it as an opportunity to work our muscles. It takes practice, right? It’s an iterative process.” She glanced back and forth between us. “A big part of my job is making sure I act as the personal trainer, so to speak.”
“I like the metaphor,” Taurus said with a nod. “I guess I’m a spotter.”
He followed that up with a laugh.
Officer Davis looked over at me and smiled.
I didn’t have shit to say, honestly. But I didn’t blame her for this. She was doing her best to include me. I was more irritated by my brother, but I’d deal with his ass later.
“Yep. Muscles. Got it,” I finally said. “Anything else?”
“Did you have any questions for me?”
Do you taste as good as you look?
When you cum, do you whimper, or do you scream?
“Nope. Been on paper for a while now. I know how this bullshit works.”
Taurus flashed me a look, but Officer Davis nodded. “Understood. I’ll be coming by your place of residence soon. It will be unscheduled.”
I stared blankly.
“Well, gentlemen, it was nice meeting you. Mr. Jackson, I look forward to working with you.”
Taurus stood and shook her hand, but I just sat there, too pissed to even watch her go.
The first thing he said when he came back was, “What do you think?”
I chuckled. “I think, fuck you, is what I think.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
I sat back and stretched my legs out. “Listen. I appreciate you putting me on here at your company. You looked out. But this shit right here? It better not ever fucking happen again, you understand?”
He spread his arms and looked around. “What the fuck happened?”
“You sat up here and sonned me, nigga, that’s what happened!”
His body relaxed in the dark blue suit he wore. “Okay, I can see how it might have looked like—“
“What if I had Savannah in here, asking her all the ways I can help you become a better man? How the fuck would you feel?”
His face changed, cycling from confusion to recognition. “Savannah’s my wife,” he said slowly, “so that would change the dynamic significantly.”
Realizing I should have chosen my words more carefully, I said, “Any woman, then. Any person. You know what I mean.”
His mouth twitched at the corners. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“Fuck you, man. It ain’t about her, specifically. I don’t know her. It’s you . Even after all this time, you still feel the need to humiliate me. You get off on that or something? Is that it? You punishing me for having to deal with my bullshit? Cuz if you still mad about all that, let’s just go outside and run a fade. Fuck all the passive aggressive bullshit.”
“Alright, alright. You said your piece, man. I got it. I apologize. I…” he trailed off. “I meant what I said about being proud of you. We all are. And I really do wanna help you keep on with what you’re doing. You’re succeeding. It’s working. Let’s keep this shit up, man.”
My eyes narrowed. “And it took her coming in here for you to say that to me.”
He made a face. “I’ve told you I’m proud of you.”
“In passing. Ain’t never asked me what else you can do to help. All of that shit was news to me.”
“What you want me to say?”
“I don’t want you to say shit, actually. Not for a while. I’m good on you.”
I stood and walked toward the door, passing by Taurus’ wall of fame; his diplomas, certificates, framed family photos, and a glass case of figurines he’d been awarded for a job well done. May as well have been a shrine to my failures.
My hand was on the knob when I heard, “I’m sure she didn’t take it that way.”
I turned around. “It ain’t about that.”
He smirked. “Okay. You got it.”
“Fuck you.”
I stalked back to my corporate prison cell and sulked for a while, then got back on my computer to Google Azalea Davis.
For research purposes.