wanted criminals in New York City and he'd let her go. Shit, he'd given her money and let her go. He wanted to smack himself upside the head, but all he could do was chuckle and chalk it up to just another crazy day in the city.
But he knew his earlier intuition was right.
He would definitely be seeing more of Miss Spears. Whether it was around the neighborhood or in a police interrogation room, sooner or later, he'd be seeing her alright.
He sure hated to be right sometimes.
Chapter Two
Eight Years Later
S hay Spears could hardly believe that the day had come. Six long years of waiting. Of wasting away. Of sleepless nights. Of anger. Of hard beds, no privacy, and grey cement block walls.
Six years that she could never get back.
As the guards led her down the hallway for the last time, she was numb. Early morning sunlight, filtered through filthy windows, shone on the waxed yellowed linoleum under her feet in an unearthly way. She wondered if it was a dream, but when she pinched herself, she didn't jolt awake. The handcuffs around her wrists and the chain around her waist were just as uncomfortable as ever. She tried to keep herself as calm as possible because it didn't feel real. It didn't feel real even though the date had been written on her calendar all year. The date when her time was officially served. The date that was now here.
But Shay had learned to not get her hopes up high.
Honestly, she didn't know if she'd ever had high hopes. She'd been a stupid kid, running up and down 125 th st with her crew like she didn't have anything to lose. She'd been naïve and thought she was a little badass. She'd always assumed she would graduate high school and maybe go to beauty school like her Auntie Gina. She'd had no real aspirations, no real goals, no real plans. When harsh reality hit her in the face like a shotgun blast, she'd had to become strong. There was no one to save her. There was no to take care of her. She was on her own for the first time in her life. No friends, no family, no soft place to land. She'd only had herself.
She followed the guards around the corner to the unknown. She didn't look back. She didn't want to see what she was leaving behind. She didn't care if she forgot exactly what it looked like. The sooner the better, as far as she was concerned. She was trading sickly green, dingy yellow, and pasty grey for flashy bright reds, hot pinks, and fiery oranges. Stale, still air for a motherfucking tornado. When the last cell door closed behind her and the guard turned the key in her handcuffs and untangled her from the chain, she held her breath, waiting for the last shoe to drop. But nothing happened. No lightning struck. No fireworks exploded in the air. A bored sister stared at her from behind thick glass, her hand beckoning Shay to step forward. Shay obediently moved to the desk, her prison-issued knock-off Keds squeaking on the floor.
“Hey girl,” she said cautiously, leaning forward. She doubted they would throw her back in a cell if she said the wrong thing, but she didn't want to take the chance.
“Paperwork,” the woman said, like it was just any other old day under the sun. Shay slid the paper the guard gave her under the glass. The woman took it silently, her eyes running over the information. The time it took her to read seemed like an eternity. Shay drummed her fingers on the ledge of the desk, impatient and nervous at the same time. She was a grown-ass woman acting like a scared child, but she couldn't help it. Freedom, however foreign a concept, was so close she could feel it on her skin like a cool breeze, beckoning from the wild, wide outside.
The woman picked up a rubber stamp and pressed it to the top of the paperwork. Then she held up a finger and stood, signaling Shay to wait. She disappeared into a back room. Shay turned her head to the side, catching the eyes of the guard that stood to her right. He was a big motherfucker, more fat than muscle, and any
But he knew his earlier intuition was right.
He would definitely be seeing more of Miss Spears. Whether it was around the neighborhood or in a police interrogation room, sooner or later, he'd be seeing her alright.
He sure hated to be right sometimes.
Chapter Two
Eight Years Later
S hay Spears could hardly believe that the day had come. Six long years of waiting. Of wasting away. Of sleepless nights. Of anger. Of hard beds, no privacy, and grey cement block walls.
Six years that she could never get back.
As the guards led her down the hallway for the last time, she was numb. Early morning sunlight, filtered through filthy windows, shone on the waxed yellowed linoleum under her feet in an unearthly way. She wondered if it was a dream, but when she pinched herself, she didn't jolt awake. The handcuffs around her wrists and the chain around her waist were just as uncomfortable as ever. She tried to keep herself as calm as possible because it didn't feel real. It didn't feel real even though the date had been written on her calendar all year. The date when her time was officially served. The date that was now here.
But Shay had learned to not get her hopes up high.
Honestly, she didn't know if she'd ever had high hopes. She'd been a stupid kid, running up and down 125 th st with her crew like she didn't have anything to lose. She'd been naïve and thought she was a little badass. She'd always assumed she would graduate high school and maybe go to beauty school like her Auntie Gina. She'd had no real aspirations, no real goals, no real plans. When harsh reality hit her in the face like a shotgun blast, she'd had to become strong. There was no one to save her. There was no to take care of her. She was on her own for the first time in her life. No friends, no family, no soft place to land. She'd only had herself.
She followed the guards around the corner to the unknown. She didn't look back. She didn't want to see what she was leaving behind. She didn't care if she forgot exactly what it looked like. The sooner the better, as far as she was concerned. She was trading sickly green, dingy yellow, and pasty grey for flashy bright reds, hot pinks, and fiery oranges. Stale, still air for a motherfucking tornado. When the last cell door closed behind her and the guard turned the key in her handcuffs and untangled her from the chain, she held her breath, waiting for the last shoe to drop. But nothing happened. No lightning struck. No fireworks exploded in the air. A bored sister stared at her from behind thick glass, her hand beckoning Shay to step forward. Shay obediently moved to the desk, her prison-issued knock-off Keds squeaking on the floor.
“Hey girl,” she said cautiously, leaning forward. She doubted they would throw her back in a cell if she said the wrong thing, but she didn't want to take the chance.
“Paperwork,” the woman said, like it was just any other old day under the sun. Shay slid the paper the guard gave her under the glass. The woman took it silently, her eyes running over the information. The time it took her to read seemed like an eternity. Shay drummed her fingers on the ledge of the desk, impatient and nervous at the same time. She was a grown-ass woman acting like a scared child, but she couldn't help it. Freedom, however foreign a concept, was so close she could feel it on her skin like a cool breeze, beckoning from the wild, wide outside.
The woman picked up a rubber stamp and pressed it to the top of the paperwork. Then she held up a finger and stood, signaling Shay to wait. She disappeared into a back room. Shay turned her head to the side, catching the eyes of the guard that stood to her right. He was a big motherfucker, more fat than muscle, and any
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