Page 54 of Babalon

Time to get this shit started.

After a short shower and pulling on a crisp uniform, I am out of the apartment and jump into my truck. I think this thing is going to need an oil change soon but that’s neither here nor there. Honestly, I probably need to do several things to it: new tires, deep cleaning, a tune-up. All of which will have to wait though, I need to make some extra cash first.

Sliding the key into the ignition, I crank the old pick-up and pull out of my parking spot, headed in the direction of the prison. The steering wheel slides effortlessly through my grip every time I turn corners, and it automatically straightens up—at least the alignment is good.

I love driving, maybe one day I will go on a road trip.

I have a little time to spare on my way, so I stop by my favorite coffee shop. I snag a cookie butter-flavored Frappuccino–my favorite—and one of their chocolate croissants. My mouth waters at the dueling sweet and savory flavorings. This day doesn’t quite feel like the rest, so I’m going to go into work in a good mood, if it’s the last thing I do. I’m so tired of always being in a shitty tenor. No one is standing in my way except me now. Some days are difficult to get through, but I can keep letting things rule me or I can turn it all around and use that energy for something more, something better.

While waiting in the drive thru, I toy with my phone, scrolling through the messages I have with my dealer. He’s mad that I’m missing a payment for the bag of coke I left on Kace a few weeks ago. I’m going to have to take it out of the commissary funds I relocated. Technically, the coke I s his even if he doesn’t use, and that debt needs to be paid.

Good show of turning over a new leaf, Nadia.

I admit, planting that on him was a shitty thing to do, but that’s what happens when you piss me off. He didn’t have to say that shit to me, bringing up my past like he knows a damn thing about me. He’s just a dick and I’m just a wet hole; no feelings involved. Just pure lust born out of captivity and desperation. And maybe a lot of anger.

Yes, that’s exactly what that was.

He made me feel something out of the ordinary, and part of me is so mad that he wielded my trauma as a weapon after placing a crack in my exterior. So, I planted the drugs and got him sent off to seg for a week, serves him right.

I’ve been down to solitary a handful of times and seen the conditions the inmates live in while they are there. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a whole new attitude—others do when they come out. A part of me hopes he’s learned a valuable lesson while another part likes to think he’s strong enough to deal with the conditions of seg.

Pulling up to the drive-thru window and handing cash over, I take my drink and moan softly when I take a sip, the sweet concoction flooding my mouth.

So damn good.

Back on the road, it’s going to take me about thirty minutes to get to the prison then another ten to get from the parking lot, through the first checkpoint and metal detector before I can get to the locker room. I received a text from Zurita last night saying I have a meeting with the warden at the beginning of my shift.

I wonder what the hell Durden wants. This man is rarely on the premises, let alone wanting to see guards. He usually sits down with my supervisor’s supervisor, two heads above me. So, this is out of the ordinary, and kind of puts me on edge. It makes me wonder if someone, like Zurita, caught on to the shit I was doing with Kace the other day.

God, I hope not.

It’s one thing getting in trouble for fucking in public, but to get caught with an inmate is a whole different issue. That’s a life changing event and not in a good way. That’s my guard license being revoked, that’s sexual assault charges, that’s jail time. My whole damn life would go down the drain.

That said, Kace was right. The worst that could happen to him would be a charge, but that is also the worst that could happen to me.

Fuck.

What the hell was I thinking!?

I wasn’t, that’s for sure, but do I think about much of anything nowadays? I sell drugs in a maximum-security prison and rob inmates. If you were to ask anyone off the street, they’d say I deserve to be locked up right along with the men I guard.

I don’t have much of a life outside either; this is all I know other than living vicariously through my friends. I mean, Ivy is off doing her Instagram-social media-influencer thing, and Wren and Riley moved out of Hazelwood and have started a business together. They’re all in successful relationships too, while I’m over here in a never-ending rut.

Pulling up to the prison, I swoop into an empty parking space and jump out, grabbing my backpack on the way. It’s muggy today. There was a storm that came through last night and it dumped just enough rain to increase the humidity, but not enough to knock the temperature down.

I’ll be glad when fall gets here, this shit is for the birds.

Inside, I drop my backpack on the table for the on-duty guard, Liza, to search as I step through the metal detector with my hands lifted to show that nothing is in them.

“Morning, Nadia, have a good night?” Liza asks.

“Same ol’ same ol’, but I did manage to try that Chinese place you were telling me about. You know the one with the dumplings?”

“Oh, Dumpling Obsessed? Aren’t they so good!?”

“Absolutely, the fried pork ones are to die for. I’ll have to go back, thanks for recommending them to me.”

I love Liza, she has such a good heart. She started off in the ding wing, but got spooked by one of the crazy inmates so instead of letting her get hurt, the administration put her on door duty. Luckily for me, she gets distracted easily and always ends up missing the hidden pocket in the lining of my backpack. I sewed it in when I first started dealing, and it lets me get powder in so I can leave it in my locker versus bringing it in with me every day.

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