Encino-M.J

The Sound of Silence

"Johnson, you've got a visitor,"

Myles glanced up from his smuggled copy of Jet Magazine, surprised to see the guard fishing a set of heavy keys from his pocket. No one had visited him since he'd called Jermaine hoping to make bail. Most of his street associates were unaware he'd been in prison for the past month and a half and his mother had grown tired of trying to get him on the straight and narrow after the past two offenses.

"I think you got the wrong Johnson," He retorted, folding his arm behind his head before flipping the page to an article on Diana Ross.

The guard laughed stiffly.

"We never get inmate numbers incorrect. Don't be ungrateful, you got a visitor,"

Myles had to admit, something was exciting about having someone visit him after spending so long isolated from society. Skeptical, he hopped down from his bunk, not flinching when the handcuffs snapped around his wrist. As a sophomore prisoner, he knew to keep his gaze straight ahead, ignoring the jeers from fellow inmates during the long walk to the visitor booths.

A spiral of cigarette smoke trailed from the plexiglass's other side and nothing was more shocking to Myles than seeing her face.

"Whit? What the hell are you doin' here?" He asked, pressing the phone to his ear while the guard locked his free hand to the arm of the chair.

Whitney took a long drag of her cigarette, tilting the dark shades down the bridge of her nose. The curly auburn wig she wore looked ridiculous and did little to conceal her identity.

"Don't say my name," She hissed.

It has been nearly two weeks since Whitney escaped Encino. She never planned on returning. The women's shelter she'd taken residence at in Burbank until she could find a steady job was safe but it did nothing to ease the anxiety that kept her awake at night.

Whitney had dreams and nightmares of him finding her and crushing her esophagus for good. Doing all the awful things he'd fantasized about doing to Althea and had probably done to other women before her.

She'd rather face him one last time on her terms than have him catch her with her guard down.

Myles chuckled.

"Don't nobody here know you, girl. So, why did you come to see me?"

Whitney rolled her eyes, ignoring his flirtatious smirk.

"I need a favor,"

He leaned back in the chair, annoyed yet intrigued.

"Shiiit, I need one a' those too thanks to that bitch ass boyfriend of yours. In case you haven't noticed my hands are tied. I can't do much. Why don't you ask Jermaine? Scary niggas with too much money always know somebody,"

The mention of Jermaine made Whitney's blood run cold and she took a long drag of her cigarette, her eyes scanning the room.

"I don't want him to do anything else for me," she spat. "I don't want anything to do with him. I want him out of the picture. Permanently. Dig?"

Through all her erratic planning, it was the first time Whitney had admitted it out loud.

"Oh, I Dig," Myles's lips curved into an evil, knowing smirk. "You finally tired of him?"

"He's batshit crazy. I keep getting the feeling he could take me out so I need to take him out first. You got your ear to the street. Who do you know?"

For once, Myles felt relieved to be organizing crime rather than participating. Still, he had to be careful, he was facing too many years of imprisonment for his liking.