“Give me that, Lucy,” I hissed.
She put her hand on her hip, blocking me from sitting down. I hardened my gaze to the ground, pretending something was there.
“You didn’t answer my question. Is this the guy you get to go see?”
“Yes, his name is Colt. If you don’t mind, I have to go now. I have an appointment.”
Lucy reeled back. “Oh. I would have several appointments if I could. You work it, girl.” She opened her mouth, giving me a suggestive wink.
I composed myself and made a few calls, but my main focus was getting to the prison. I made a quick turnaround on my tasks and breezed back out of the door.
As I rode over, my phone rang. I fidgeted around and put the phone in its holder near the dash, pressing the green call button. I frowned as it was a private number.
“Um, hello. You’re on speaker,” I warned.
“Hey, big sis. It’s your bro.”
I almost swerved into another car in the next lane. I gripped the wheel hard and focused. I waved, mouthing sorry at the unsuspecting driver.
“Hector! Oh my God, why did you take so long to contact me? I’ve been worried sick about you. It’s been a month.” The words tumbled out of my mouth as I turned into the long road to the penitentiary.
“I had to adjust some things. I’m in San Francisco.”
I swallowed down the bad feelings I harbored. “Are you okay? Are you staying with good people?”
His tone sounded even and calm. Like he was laying low and out of trouble. “I’m good. You don’t have to worry, I’m staying lowkey. You heard from that guy inside? Anything he can do?”
“Yes. His name is Colt. He is connected. He’s working on something. It might take some time but hang in there. As long as they don’t know where you are, then you’re good.”
“I ain’t got too many around me. I do want to come back. I can’t hide out here forever. Plus, Las Balas runs out of San Fran. It’s not that far. So, either I’m going to be on the run ‘till I come up with the money, and they still might kill me anyway, or I’m out and have to leave completely.”
Fearful thoughts crept into my mind as I imagined the news report.
A young man, only twenty-five-years-old, was found dead today. Another taken by gang affiliations to the notorious Las Balas crew.
“None of that is going to happen. It’s all getting smoothed out. Can you send me a number or something? How can I reach you with information?” I pushed. I parked in the USP parking lot, waiting for his answer.
“I will text it through. Delete it as soon as you get it. Don’t let anybody see it.”
“I won’t. Promise. So glad you’re safe, little bro.”
“Well. For now.”
“Don’t say that. Stay positive.”
“I’m trying. Anyway, listen, I have to go, but kiss Mom and Dad for me. I know they think I’m on some sort of retreat or whatever. But just give them a kiss for me.”
“Sure, I will. I don’t know when I’m seeing them next, though. Bye for now.”
“Don’t worry about it, then. Bye.”
As I got everything together for the visit, I felt somewhat comforted that Hector was unscathed. I got out of my car and walked to the automatic double doors, making tracks to the administration window. Same drill as last time.
I flashed my Department of Human Services badge. “Hi, I’m Amber Atwood, and I’m here to see my client, Colt Winters.”
The administration officer on the inside looked at the badge then back at me, matching things up.
“Okay, you can go through now, Ms. Atwood.”
