Page 2 of Attracted to A Savage

"I appreciate you, Mr. Young, but the words feel just the same. Take care of yourself and stay out of trouble." I answered before disconnecting the call. I didn't give him time to respond. If I allowed him to debate me, he could persuade me, and that wasn't happening. I was never the type to fraternize with my clients. Business was business. I wasn't about to be the attorney on the court shows getting the taste smacked out of them. I always established clear-cut boundaries, and that was why they respected me the way they did. Pulling into my parking spot, I looked around before I pressed the button to quiet the engine and got out of the vehicle. The clock read a quarter till five, and I was grateful that it was still daylight. Most times, darkness beats me home because I work long hours at the office. I finally had a break before I had to take on the next case. I was excited to spend my evening in the quiet of my home, snuggled up and rubbing my feet together on the couch.

As I neared the door, I didn't even notice the bouquet of roses that were sitting off to the side, waiting for me to come home. I scoffed as I walked past them with my heels in my hand. The lawn maintenance would clear them for me, just as they had done the last fifty bouquets. My soon-to-be ex-husband, Nasir Adeoye, had been working around the clock to slither his way back into my good graces, and there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he would do it.

His mistress popped up to our house, big and pregnant, demanding to see him because he had tried to end things with her. The whole ordeal had me blindsided because I had never expected my husband to betray me like that. He was alwaysattentive and patient and treated me like gold. Apparently, he had enough good qualities to go around. I filed for divorce from him the very next morning, and he had been on his hands and knees since. We had been separated for six months, but he still covered my monthly expenses faithfully. Yet no amount of money, apologies, or pop-ups would make me accept him and his love child back into my home.

I showered the stress of the day's events away. As I stood underneath the steam of the shower head, I let the water cascade down my face. My tears, now blending perfectly amongst the wetness, while I cried my heart out. I would be a liar if I said that it didn't hurt like hell what Nas did to me. We had been together since we were twenty-two and in college, and now, at age forty, it was hard trying to grasp that he wasn't the man I had always known him to be. For eighteen years, I had a fairy tale, and then one day, in a matter of eighteen minutes, it was over. But crying in the shower is where it ended. When I dried my body and my eyes, I moved on with life. All of my frustrations came out in my work. I may not have had my fairytale ending, but I was a Savage, and nothing could keep a Savage down long. Slipping into my robe, I went down the stairs of my home and grabbed the left-over hibachi that I had from yesterday. I had a date with me, myself and Law & Order.

2

KAIRO CARTER

"Nigga where the fuck is the money that you owe me?" I gritted as my cellmate came in with his order from the commissary.

"M-my girl sent it to me, but they took the phone." He stammered as he started to climb to the top of the bunk.

I pushed him down as he hit the floor with a loud thud, and all the contents of his bag fell out. "Nigga put all that shit on my bed. You won't eat round this muhfucka until I get my bread." I barked.

I didn't need his food, but this nigga thought that he had all the sense in the world. I had arranged for his girl to bring a package to one of the guards. The plan was for the guard to pay her the money, and then she would send it to him over time since we couldn't have money on the compound. Now, all of a sudden, twenty thousand went missing because the guards took his phone. What he doesn't know is that my brother-in-law is one of the guards, and he told me that the nigga's girlfriend was the one who called in the complaint that he had a phone. They tried to set me up, but I was sixty steps ahead. That's my fault for dealing with broke ass bitches, because had she actually played her role, she could've wiped her ass with that.

"You tripping Hot! Nigga I said—" He jumped up from the floor, but before he could finish, I sent a right hook to his face that cracked his shit. He stumbled, but he swung back. It was sweet as apple pie, and it didn't do anything but power me up because I sent blow after blow to him. The guards eventually heard the scuffle and came to try to pull us apart, but I was locked onto him. One of the male guards pepper sprayed me, and I turned around and knocked his ass out too. It didn't take long before the whole shift was on me, pinning me to the ground and cuffing me. I knew that I was going to solitary from the way that I had beaten my cellmate's ass. So, I might as well have gone out with a bang.

"Hothead!!!" Somebody called out as I was being dragged to the hole. I couldn't see, and I was resisting the urge not to scream out because that shit was tearing me up. Hothead was a name that I had gotten for apparent reasons. But I didn't fuck with anyone who didn't fuck with me. I was a cool nigga, but when it was time to take it there, there was no turning back.

"Give me some milk or something," I yelled as they pushed me into the cell and closed the door. I turned my back to the slot so they could uncuff me. The female officer opened the slot and spoke into it. "I ain't giving you shit, and we ain't uncuffing your ignorant ass." Before spraying more spray into the opening.

I chuckled and choked. "You just don't come back in to bring my food, I'll snap your fucking neck." I said lowly as I struggled to make eye contact with her through the burning. She always gave me hell because I didn't want to fuck her. Had I given her some dick when I was first transferred here, I could've had her bringing in my cocaine in her panties.

Still cuffed, I sat against the wall and tried to soldier through the burning of the spray. That shit had to be military grade because it felt like it was acid burning through my face andforehead. Taking slow, deep breaths, I waited for the burning to subside.

"Ro, come here, fool." I heard the slot slide open, and I knew that it was the guard who I had given the drugs to.

I stood from my position, went back over to the door, and leaned down so that he could take my cuffs off.

"Nigga why the fuck did you do that? Grab this," He asked with a chuckle as he pushed through a rag and a milk carton.

"Johnson and his bitch kept the money from the drop," I said as I took it and immediately started pouring the milk on the rag to calm the burning.

"Nah, for real?" he asked as I nodded. He continued, "Look, man. I'm giving you ten minutes to get your eyes together before I need this shit back."

I walked blindly from one side of the small room to the other with the rag over my face. It didn't take long before the burning stopped, and I could see again.

"Ay yo, your attorney is on the phone. Come back to the slot so I can cuff you." He came back not even five minutes later.

Once he buzzed me out of the heavy metal door and cuffed me, I walked the corridor of the jail. Passing by the cell that I had just been let out of, I saw them in there with mops and rags cleaning up the pool of blood that I had left Johnson's bitch ass in. I smiled at my handy work. We also passed the officer who was talking shit to me; I winked at her and blew her a kiss that made her scoff. If I wasn't already fighting to get out of here, I would snap her neck for real.

I reached the phone, and it was the new attorney I had hired. I had gone through two defense teams, and they were trying to get me to take a plea deal I wasn't about to take. Corey was my third attorney, and if he wasn't talking right, he would be fired, too. I wasn't trying to spend another year in prison for nothing. I don't care if they have footage of me on CCTV, I wanted my teamto argue that it wasn't me. If he couldn't get me off these charges, I would find someone who could.

"What's up?" I said into the phone as I picked up the receiver.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Carter. I was calling you because I wanted to run something past you." I didn't acknowledge what he said; I sat silently, waiting for him to finish. I didn't need anything else to piss me off today.

"Ummm, I was looking over the evidence on the case, and I'm not quite sure how to pull off a good argument. We can-"

"Nigga, either you can or you can't. I'm not paying you in skittles my nigga." I grilled. My patience was thin as fuck already, and I wasn't in the mood for riddles.

"Give me a second. I was going to suggest that we bring in another attorney. But obviously, I have to run it by you because it's coming from your pockets. We could bring in Cashmere Savage to help us pull off the win." He spoke quickly.

I didn't have to ask because I already knew who she was. It was hard as hell to get her on a case; my people had been emailing her for months. Her receptionist said that she wasn't taking new cases for at least another year. Her name rang bells like Johnny Cochran all over the state.

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