Page 20 of A Don & His Doll

Monroe chuckled too, remembering the sound of his grandfather’s voice, and all the lessons he taught him throughout his life.

Macie tapped the surface of the table, activating the hidden mechanism beneath it. A drawer slid open smoothly, revealing two thick, oversized envelopes sealed in black.

“Mason. Your father wanted me to give this to you upon your release. He told me not to open it, so I don’t know what’s inside,” Macie told him truthfully, sliding the black envelope across the table.

“Are you sure you never opened the envelope?” Mitch quizzed, his eyes unwavering. Years had passed, but trust in their world was never given freely, it had to be earned and needed to be maintained.

“Never,” Macie replied without hesitation. Macie knew she’d lose her life if she dishonored her father-in-law's wishes.

Mitch nodded, choosing to take her word for it. For now, her word was enough.

Dressed in light grey wide-leg designer pants, a silk white button-up blouse, and black stilettos that clicked softly against the polished floor, Promise walked into New York State Prison with the quiet confidence of a woman who understood exactly who she was. It was her first day, yet not a single nervous bone existed in her body. Her thick mane was pinned up in a loose, messy bun, drawing attention to her high cheekbones, warm brown eyes, and full lips which was easily the focal point. Heads turned the moment she stepped inside, but Promise remained focused-forward. She wasn’t there to be seen. She was there to make an impact.

Promise had introduced a new program to the New York prison system designed to address the decision-making patterns, and focused on accountability, emotional awareness, and mental awareness in a way that often led men right back into cycles they claimed they wanted to escape. Weeks before her official start date, she’d requested permission for inmates to voluntarily sign up in advance. She believed change had to be chosen, not forced. She hadn’t expected the roster to fill so quickly, but she appreciated the momentum. Slow days had never been her preference. Purpose kept her sharp.

"Hi, my name is Promise Montgomery. Today's my first day here," she introduced herself as she prepared to go through the metal detector.

"How you doin'? I'm Officer Taylor, but you can call me Eric," he insisted, openly flirting."

Promise rolled her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Officer Taylor," Promise shot, walking through the scanner, keeping it professional, but her resting bitch face was unmatched.

"I ain't mean no harm, beautiful," Officer Taylor said with both hands raised in the air.

"I'd prefer to be called Ms. Montgomery," Promise told him while sliding her shoes back on.

She walked away, making a mental note not to speak to that particular officer again. Promise didn’t tolerate blurred lines in professional spaces. Her relationship with Monroe fulfilled her emotionally, but even without him, she didn’t entertain disrespect disguised as compliments. She simply didn’t play that shit. In Florida, she received the utmost respect, and every employee and inmate knew not to play with her like that. These muthafuckas gone fuck around and find out real quick around here, she thought to herself. Thankfully, she'd already completed her walk-through of the prison, and had decorated her office to her liking. She had two appointments and one class to get through in the meantime. Promise grabbed a radio transmitter from the employee station and powered it on before moving toward the secured corridor.

Once she reached the checkpoint, she pressed the button signaling control to secure the door behind her and open the one ahead. The heavy steel door opened slowly, allowing her access deeper into the facility.

As soon as she entered her Mahogany Coconut plug wafted tastefully into her nostrils. She had to have another scent to offset the stale scent the prison unapologetically offered with no remorse. After sitting her bag down on her desk, Promise powered on her MacBook Pro so she could get to her digital schedule to review her first appointment. It was nothing short of a surprise when she saw Syncere Carter's name. Promise knew that he'd take her class, but she had no idea that he'd be added to her roster for one-on-one visits.

Tap...Tap..Tap

Promise looked up as the sound of someone tapping the door snatched her out of her inner thoughts.

"How you doin', Ms. Montgomery? Are you ready for your first appointment or do you need a few minutes?" Officer Cannon asked from the door.

"Yes, I'm ready," Promise said, scrolling to another screen to document the visit.

Moments later, Syncere Carter stepped through the doorway like he was running shit. And, he was. His crisp dark denim jeans and freshly pressed blue DOC button-up sat neatly against his athletic frame, paired with spotless white Air Force 1’s that looked like they had never seen a scuff. Syn had always understood the power of presentation.

Promise's eyes immediately landed on Syncere, and his signature half-smile was contagious. Promise smiled as the officer closed the door.

"What's good, Sis!" Syn greeted, genuinely happy to see Promise.

"Oh my God, Syn! How are you?" Promise exclaimed, unable to stop herself from giving him a half hug. "I would ask how you're holding up in here, but I can see you doing just fine," she observed.

"No matter where I go, I'ma always be who I am, sis,” Syn replied with a slight shrug. “Tell my mans' I said what up," he said, referring to Monroe.

"I sure will. Go ahead and have a seat." Promise invited, making her way back to the other side of her desk.

Syncere sat across from Promise selling the same lie he always had, appearing to be relaxed, but his heart was in immense turmoil. He knew that if he kept himself up, he could fool most by distracting them with his outward appearance. He knew that a lot of people in the world were superficial like that. Syncere had been keeping up appearances long before getting jammed up by the law, but now, all his bullshit had finally caught up with him. He'd stopped giving a fuck, and had lost himself in a way that left him barely treading water.

Healing was a gift, and Promise operated in this gift many times without realizing it. Her experience in the prison system had sharpened her discernment, and taught her not to judge a man by his appearance, but by his words. Especially the ones he didn't say, but the ones his spirit screamed, and no one heard. Promise saw straight through Syncere, and wasn't even trying to.

"So, what brings you to see me today?" She asked, ready to make some progress.

"I was just pullin' up on you to let you know ain't nobody gon' fuck wit'chu while you here. Not an officer or inmate," Syncere stated, meaning every word.