Where You At?

The Man sucked in her breath and pushed open the scared grey metal door with much more force than was needed. The broom that was leaning against the hot boxes on the other side clattered to the floor, and the heavy portal ricochet back towards The Man causing her to leap sideways into the room like an over caffeinated cat avoiding bath time. All the voices that had a moment earlier been echoing through the florescent bright kitchen died abruptly as the fifty nine eyes all turn in her direction. It would have been sixty, had Minendez not lost one that gang fight uptown.


The new meat had entered. The inmates did not know what to do with the little white girl man yet, so they only watched, and waited. But mostly they watched.


The Man, on the other hand, was much more scared of what they could do to her than what she could do to any of them. She scanned the room quickly, trying not to appear too obviously anxious, looking for the large black man, Gerald. Gerald was The Man's protector, her saviour. Unfortunately her new boss ran on Gerald time and was not yet there.


"I wonder if I could bust outta here", she thought, "If I was ever convicted of a heinous crime and had undergone a sex change. I mean after all, I got into here with only this badge. No keys, no escort, and no armed guard I was promised. I could get out." She didn't realize yet, how soon this thought would become her deepest desire.


Being the adrenaline fueled rush thought that it was, this all had bounced through her head before the broom finally came to a stop on the floor to her right.


She was in the kitchen alright. Locked in the kitchen, with fifty nine eyes trained on her and ten of the longest yards to the secure office she shared with Gerald. She quickly walked with her head up, trying not to run and shed fear laced hormones in her wake. She looked nether to her left, nor to her right as The man took in as straight a line possible past the dish line, the cooks area, the salad and prep lines, and the bakery. She made it to the safety of her door. The safe door that stood in front of her locked, the keys in Gerald's pocket, right where she wanted to be at that instant.


She could only blame herself. She could have stopped at the front guard station and waited for Gerald. The Man could have requested a guard or an escort back anytime before she got this far. But hey, the watch officer she had walked swiftly past at the front of the cafeteria had been playing solitaire on his computer instead of monitoring any of the numerous surveillance camera's and was too busy trying to close down his screen before she had seen what he was up too to bother with checking her clearance.


She could not place the trembling hand she had reached out on the door to juggle it's unwielding knob and alert the convicts of her venerability so instead she reached up to adjust the lock of hair that had strayed from the tight knot on top of her head. In that instant as she looked into the glass walls of the darkened room surrounding her desk, she had a glimmer of hope as looked into the eyes of the uniformed woman staring back out at her. But that emotionless face held tension only The Man could identify. She hoped.


The movie in her mind fast forwarded through all her viable options at this point of her rapidly approaching demise-


She could scale the bakery stack rack next to her and climb into the extended ceiling panels overhead and tunnel around the eclectic cables if not to freedom, to a spot that would only hold her weight.


She could drop where she stood and with a little luck, hit her head on the tile floor and render herself unconscious, oblivious to what would happen to her body next.


She could fling herself at the camera pointed at her office door screaming and flailing around in hopes Beril had shut down the game he had been playing to turn his attention the video screen premier of her peril. "Peril!!!! BERILLLL!! Jack on Queen! Halp! Look at me!"*


She could take the offensive and jump on the closest table and shout, "BITCHES! Listen up! Keep it in pocket and you won't do f@#* hole. Feel me. Get you s&$@ ass's humpin!"


She could turn and walk into the ware house back into the freezer and just not come out liquid. (Humans are liquid, or are we gas. Except frozen right? Then we are solid.)


She could do her best Erica Kane impersonation, her most used out, where she squares her shoulders and acts as if she can do anything she wants and expects others to do her bidding. Except Erica would sleep with the warden and then marry the alpha riot inciter. As exciting as that prospect sounded at the moment, she already had a bitch at home.*




"Good Morning The Man! Where is Gerald!" Her ears welcomed the sound of one of the contracted morning cooks voice over the echo of her knees knocking together.


She turned towards the chef who was making his way toward her. Fat Jim, the cook so dirty grizzly he made the tattooed toothless inmates look good lurched in his discombobulated gait over to her.


"The Man, c'mon into the bubble and had a cup a coffee and sit down." Head so high her chin grazed the clouds, she followed him into the the one way glass unclosed room.

Later while standing in her new found haven, she would watch the workers in the kitchen and discover the backgrounds of the men who soon became her new friends. Littleman, the three hundred pound line server with the positive attitude and quick smile would help her when population harass her about the shit they were being fed. "When are we gonna get some steak in this place boss lady?" they would ask as they shuffled by, tray in hand wanting to make conversation with a new face. "Hey, leave the lady lone man. Where you at?" Littleman was in for murder. Maybe her new friend for life. This was a surprise when she found out. She had pacified herself with the thought perhaps Littleman had just got busted for driving a get away car. By the time he was sent away to segregation for smuggling food, she was more comfortable hanging out with the 'mates than the staff. When The Man discovered her lead night cook had beat his woman's baby to death with his bare hands, she stopped doing background checks.

Never in her wildest dream had she imagined herself managing a prison. Life changes happen fast. I don't expect to be at this job long. But then they say attention deficit is a contributing attribute among prisoners.



*Hubby. I will write about his transformation soon.