Fear of Heights Page 14

  “I can’t sleep at all anymore. Can you please just take a statement?”

  “Think about it for a minute. I’m sure you know a federal case has been opened.”

  “But… what’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Listen, your sister’s stolen property at Inoa’s house doesn’t look good. They’d say you were covering for him—as usual—covering for your lover. You in the Dominican Republic, involved in more drug smuggling? There’s nothing easy about that one, Mrs. Champion. I wouldn’t mention it, if I were you. They just cleaned the slate and you got away easy—if you want to know what I think. Don’t go finding reasons for me to have to take you in again.”

  “How could Jaylee steal things and kidnap my sister from jail? That’s preposterous, not to mention totally biased. I’m telling you the truth!”

  Now I want to twist and tear paper into tiny little bits myself, or better yet, grab O’Connor and shake him by his narrow shoulders.

  “Mrs. Champion, the drug problem in this neighborhood has experienced a surge, as has the violence. I’m sure you can imagine, no one—not the state, nor the federal government want to see it return to what it was before. If I could give you a piece of advice, I’d tell you to take the opportunity to distance yourself, as well as your family, as far as possible from these unfortunate connections you’ve made.”

  “You want me to move?”

  “I didn’t mean relocate, but that’s not a bad idea. Let the police and your family take care of finding Emily.”

  I’m too flabbergasted to speak and too flustered to rebuke him.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d gone off for a private vacation. I’ve seen it before, especially from people of your stature. Go home, Mrs. Champion. Maybe share your evidence with your husband.”

  I grab my clutch off of his desk, spilling the last few drips of coffee from my lighter-than-air cup on top of his messy, scattered papers.

  “I’ll find her myself. You men are all pigheaded. And I’m not saying that just because you’re a cop.”

  I storm out of the precinct wishing I could have delivered better. It’s obvious to me that I’m being devalued because I’m a woman. Lucky for me and for Emily, I have one person who believes me.

  Chapter 14

  The next day, I send the girls off to their day camp, and two hours later, I’m back on Rikers Island. Waiting in these endless lines again makes me feel as if I never left. There’s a rolling sea of discontented faces. Everyone’s caught between their frustration and the eagerness to see their loved ones. It’s like we’re all waiting on a platform for some train that never comes. Everyone here bears scars of grief and loss. All of us subjected to the humiliating process that makes us feel like criminals. The necessary drudgery of loving a person behind bars. Apparently family members and loved ones all deserve punishment too, and these lines are our penance.

  I didn’t tell Robert that I was coming here today, but I find great pleasure in signing the ledger, now that I know he checks it. Robert may be Jaylee’s keeper, but I’m happy to remind him that he doesn’t have complete control over me.

  Rikers is a journey that is both torturous and joyous, a necessary pilgrimage. I’ll cash in five hours of my life for one spent sitting across from Jaylee. Don’t they say that sometimes to reach heaven, you first have to walk through hell?

  The wait is anxiety-provoking; it always puts me on edge. No one is in a good mood here, not the guards, not the visitors, and certainly not the prisoners.

  We are herded like cattle and scolded like children. We wait in these lines for an eternity just to hug a father, a brother, or a lover, at the end only to be whisked away and stuck back on the bus.

  I stare at my nails; I have nothing else to look at because I’m at the point where they’ve confiscated everything. I remember the times before: the first time, when I came with the news of his child, a tiny bud of hope grew between us. The second visit, I arrived with only bad news. But Jaylee surprised me by taking everything with strength and patience. We parted still loving one another. I don’t know that we can ever stop, no matter the obstacles tossed in our path.

  I haven’t been fair to Robert, and now I’m forced to admit the same is true for Jaylee. I’ll come clean to him today. I can punish myself as much as I’d like, but there’s no doubt in my mind that they’ve both screwed around on me. It doesn’t make my exploits right, but I won’t be shamed by either of them.

  Now and again I think I see faces that I know, from the last visit, the neighborhood, or maybe just from the long bus ride over. I smile at the children and the older women, but I shy away from making too much eye contact. I’m not one for making small talk here, engaging my fellow visitors in conversation. I do accept a butterscotch from the elderly woman squished up next to me in the child-sized seats of the repurposed school bus. It’s a bumpy ride between the outlying buildings; the cushions have squeaky springs. My seatmate looks too fragile to make this trip—someone’s sweet grandmother coming by herself. She’s wearing white gloves, which seems terribly old-fashioned, but it brings elegance and dignity to a place that tries to strip you of those things. She pats my arm as we look out the window and enjoy the candy together.

  I hold my breath and pray that Jaylee doesn’t reject my unannounced visit. I look at the windows between the waiting room and the visiting space; which have wire reinforcement running through the glass. A thousand little pentagons, like honeycomb. Every breath is restricted in here, every life suspended.

  I tap my feet on the floor and wonder who else comes to see him. Janinie, Janet, and his sweet grandmother Gladys? Does Oscar come? I guess Robert does. Do other women make this journey here for Jaylee? Do they wait like I do in this uncomfortable plastic chair? Worrying away the minutes, wondering why they’re even here.

  They call his name and I stand. He comes through the door into the crowded room. His hair has been shaped up but a hint of stubble shadows his face. He’s got a dark ring under his left eye. Maybe he was punched?

  But those eyes. His eyes. Good God, Jaylee’s eyes. They’re no mere windows; they hold a raging vortex. A mass of energy and fire that pulls all matter into its blazing-hot center. A golden vortex that’s heading right toward me. Angry, hungry. Holy. Fucking. Wily.

  Jaylee jerks his head in the direction of a free table, as his hands are still cuffed behind him. I scurry over and sit, while they uncuff him. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be ashamed of my behavior, but the thought of hurting him makes me crumple.

  He leans in and gives me a greeting kiss on the cheek. Then he tentatively reaches across the tabletop and clasps my hand. I squeeze his in return, and breathe a huge sigh of relief; he has forgiven me.

  “Still no news on Emily?” he says, breaking the silence between us.

  “My dad wants it to be investigated as a kidnapping. The cops won’t budge, saying there’s no evidence, so it’s still a missing persons case. Robert is acting weird. Doug and my dad have offered a reward. I’m trying on my end—taking a different approach,” I say nervously.

  “Is that your way of saying you’ still with Ideal?”

  Cut to the chase, Jaylee, why don’t you? I was going to tell you.

  “He agreed to help me. He’s the only one who listens to me. He knows Emily was taken.”

  “I’m glad it’s ‘working out’ for you, Kate. It didn’t work so well for me in here. It’s gonna be even worse when Robert gets me out,” Jaylee says.

  “Jaylee, you were with other women when we were together. It never changed how you felt about me or how I felt about you.”

  “That was different.”

  “Oh, really? Different how? Don’t hold me to some ridiculous standard because I’m a woman. Be man enough to treat me as an equal. Don’t shame me for needing someone. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been through a lot too.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m not saying you can’t fuck someone. Just— why’s it got to be him?”r />
  “Does it matter? When Robert gets you out, we still won’t be able to be together.”

  I’m angry at both him and myself. There’s no easy way for us.

  “I’m holding you to a ridiculous standard because you’re fucking mine. Not because you’re a woman. Because you’re my woman. I don’t care what Robert wants, or who he thinks he can play. We’ll be together if it’s the last thing I do.”

  He takes his hand from mine and slams his fist into the table.

  “Don’t, Jaylee, please. They’ll end the visit,” I grab his hand back and caress it nervously.

  “I’ll fucking take out Ideal for what he’s doing.”

  “It’s not his fault. I’m to blame. But maybe part of the problem is that you two have a seriously weird relationship. You share women with him, but you won’t let him touch me.”

  “Don’t talk to me like you and Ideal know shit about me. I don’t want to hear about what you talked about with him!”

  He’s starting to raise his voice again, which makes me desperate to calm him. I want to spend our whole hour together.

  “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

  “If you break it off with him now—that shit could get me killed,” he hisses through his teeth. “What if I get stuck in the yard with all DDP?”

  My heart turns to cement with a heavy thud in my chest.

  “Don’t exaggerate. No one is going to kill you over that. What do you want me to say? I’m a slut? It’s not a relationship! It was sex! ”

  He shakes his head as if he can’t stand to hear what I’m saying.

  “Jaylee, I love you. I don’t want anyone but you. You can believe what you want—but being without you is killing me too.”

  The intensity has slowly been building to the point that it’s palpable—a red-hot molten heat between us. I know that he’d take me ruthlessly if only we could touch. Throw me down on the nearest surface and ravish me like he used to. Make me lose my mind with the force and depth of his thrust. I can almost feel how he’d restrain my arms and tear down my pants. Jaylee can steal my breath away with one lust-filled look. He may be young and naïve in many ways, but Jaylee is a man fueled by tumultuous emotion. He’d devour me whole if freedom would let him. But here we sit separated, tension mounting by the second.

  Jaylee suddenly laughs out of nowhere and throws me off guard. He’s pissed and he’s vulnerable and I’m not sure what to expect from him. Is his laugh a bluff for those who might be watching?

  “Guess I should call myself lucky. I got one of the baddest bitches around.”

  “Don’t call me a bitch.” I can feel the heat rising from my body.

  “See, when you in the pen, some bitches get ruthless and throw down. As soon as you out of the picture, they go and fuck your best friend.”

  “I didn’t know who he was,” I whisper forcefully.

  “But my bitch, what she do? She goes out and fucks my worst enemy. Now some brothers might say, that’s it, I don’t play.”

  “I’m not a bitch, Jaylee.”

  He puts his hand up to silence me.

  “See, I know you got to interpret the shit women do. They speak in codes and expect you to understand. Only a badass bitch gonna go fuck your rival.” He laughs as he says it and brings his fist to his mouth.

  “Hands on the table!” barks the correction officer. Jaylee’s got to stay calm or they’ll kick me out.

  ‘I get you, Negra. I know what you mean. You asking me to love you. You asking me to compete. You want me to prove it to you—how much it all mean.”

  I’m dumbstruck by his unexpected insight. In a strange way, I think he understands me better than I understand myself. He’s more tuned into me than I ever give him credit for.

  “I can fight for you, Negra. You don’t fucking scare me. You do want me—and it’s how much I want you that you need me to prove.”

  This makes me think of Ideal, and his and Jaylee’s relationship. It’s competitive, a juvenile pissing contest. It riles Jaylee and turns on his desire, to be territorial with me.

  He slides his hands forward and his long fingers interweave with mine. This is our love-making now, reduced to fingers on a jail’s Formica table. How many lovers’ hands have been gripped across this surface? How did their stories end? Were any of them victorious? I move toward him, and a single tear drops from my cheek to splash onto our hands.

  “Why you sad now, Kate? I just told you I forgive you.”

  “I need you, Jaylee, I want you,” I say it matter-of-factly; I look up at him and slide my hands over his. I wish he would kiss me.

  If Jaylee could breathe fire, he’d be doing it now. The tension has shot back up and his nostrils are flaring, his bright eyes are burning with a live lick of desire.

  “If we were alone, I would turn you over and smack your ass so fucking hard right now,” he says with a lowered voice. He cocks a brow at me, his face naughty. I blush at his sexually charged energy pouring out into this wide room.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “I’d spank your ass, Kate, for being so—fucking—bad. Do you know what happens to bad girls? They get fucked in the ass.”

  His grip on my hand tightens.

  “I’d fuck you in your beautiful ass, Kate, until you couldn’t take any more, until you screamed my name. I’d remind you who you belong to. Because you seem to forget.”

  Jaylee Inoa is talking dirty to me. Oh God, he’s never done this before. I’m so embarrassed but I’m also surprising myself; I’m completely turned on.

  This is the only feasible way for him to challenge his opponent from behind bars. It’s like phone sex, only face to face, separated by jail rules and invisible laws.

  “I’d make you come so hard that you’d forget you ever even looked at another guy. I won’t let you forget me, Kate.”

  Holy shit. Jaylee! I’m hot, and so turned on, in a room full of a hundred jabbering people and twenty-odd guards. I’m wet and I’m trying not to grind in my seat. I want Jaylee to tear my clothes off right now. I want him to show me that I should never think about Ideal again. Or Robert. Or anyone. I want him to take me. Because no one loves me better than Jaylee loves me. No one has ever come close.

  Our hands are flat against one another, his facing up, mine facing down. He’s rubbing the center of my palm suggestively with his middle finger. This simple gesture is electrifyingly carnal.

  He licks his lips and I automatically shift in my chair. Sparks fly all over me just under the surface of my skin. He looks at me levelly and then throws a quick look over his shoulder. He licks his lips again, and I swear I might come. I just need to move the slightest littlest bit and I’ll go off—I’m that aroused. I lick my own lips, mirroring him. His gaze is intense and his face is flushed. I know how hard his cock is underneath that gray jumpsuit.

  “I think I’m going to come,” I whisper to him and again I feel embarrassed.

  “Kiss me,” he says, and pulls me to him. Of course he’s not surprised. Jaylee Inoa knows exactly what he’s doing.

  It blows my mind that you can kiss a prisoner at Rikers Island. What if it got too dirty? Is there a statute of limitations?

  I lean in to him cautiously and he captures my mouth, his tongue sweeping deeply inside. I come undone. I come into his kiss, my orgasm peaking into his mouth. Without a doubt, it’s the single most erotic experience of my life.

  Between us, within these restrictions, there’s a universe of expansion. My link to this man feels cosmic and infinite. I barely even know him, but in his presence I open up like the dawn unfolds. I unravel with his very existence.

  I can’t undo myself from Jaylee. I won’t.

  Chapter 15

  Ideal calls me first thing in the morning, reminding me that today is day nine. He says this is the day we find her. He tells me to put on comfortable shoes.

  I scramble through the morning routine with Ada and Pearl. Once they’re off, I rush out behind them, skipping my shower in a h
urry to get uptown. Ideal’s declaration has me full of energy. I’m hopeful that we’ll find Emily today. There’s been no response about the reward money except a few tips leading to dead ends. To me, that means whoever took her is trying to figure out how to get the money without giving themselves away.

  Ideal meets me on our usual street corner. There’s no one else out—it’s too early for the crew. Ideal is dressed in shorts and a do-rag, an immaculate white wife-beater giving full view to his many tattoos. I can’t imagine how much time he’s spent under the needle to have such an extensive collection by age twenty-five. There’s something about neck tats that strikes me as radical. I love that his neck is covered in ink. It’s a valid warning label.

  He starts clowning as soon as he sees me, waving his arms as if I’m a taxiing airplane, then adding some bachata moves to complete the picture. I giggle at his joyfulness and his complete lack of inhibition.

  I can’t seem to stop Ideal—not that I really want to. He’s a force of forward motion. His appropriation of both my body and my need are unapologetic and natural. Nothing feels forced with him. He doesn’t capture my heart like Jaylee does, but he’s fearless, he simply takes what he wants, and I guess I see nobility in that. The relief it allows me is welcome oblivion. Ideal refuses my emotional baggage and the boundaries I try to put around my life. He demands my absolute participation in the moment whenever I’m with him, but once it’s over, I’m allowed to forget and move on. I don’t have to break my heart to be with him. Ideal makes me feel happy.

  We’ve been walking for ages, deep into the Heights. The streets are laden with garbage, the buildings becoming progressively more run-down. These are streets I wouldn’t choose to walk down alone. It’s not what the people look like; it’s the way they look at you. That’s what makes you realize you’ve crossed an invisible line.