25 - Turning Tables

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25 – Turning Tables

Rena's POV 

Walking back to my cell with the guard escort, I have to admit that Kade had been right about his prediction that night when we rescued Patrice from his home and I threatened to expose him to the world. Marcus has exploited any opportunity to trip me up and having him and the Parks against me was the start of my demise. Ultimately, I was bound to end up behind bars again and my son at his grandfather's mercy.

The guard opens the door and with an inviting swoop of his arm, ushers me inside. I cringe at the loud slam behind me and the turning of the key. The girl I had the fight with is still around, stretched out mighty comfortable on one of the cods. The conversations fall quiet when she glares at me with lazy eyes.

"Get in that corner over there, Barbie, or I whoop your ass again. The beds are taken."

I curl my fists to tight balls but remain quiet. Provoking her will get me nowhere and Marcus is probably just waiting for another fight. He might not even interfere again until I am ready to be taken to the hospital.

With a low sigh, I squat done in the corner until my knees burn. The floor looks filthy and I would prefer not to sit down but won't be able to stay in this position all night. The foul smell from the toilet is drifting my way and of all the spots in the cell, this may be the worst. Somehow, I cannot shake the feeling that the girl is a regular and chose this corner on purpose.

When my legs get numb and I wobble, my limits are reached. I stand up and stretch, ready to embrace the idea of getting as comfortable as possible on the dirty floor when the cell door opens and another inmate joins our midst. I gasp when I realize it is Chantal.

Her chin is held up high and the aura of wealth and comfort sticks to her despite the orange jumpsuit. She looks out of place with her perfectly shaped eyebrows, the manicured fingernails and the glossy, straight hair so contrary to some of the messier hairstyles of the others, including myself.

Her eyes scan the cell and land on me with a frown. "Rena, what are you doing here?"

I give her a crooked smile. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Like in a trance, she lowers herself onto the bed next to the cell door. "Marcus had me arrested." Her voice oozes with bitterness. "For domestic assault of all things. Can you believe it?"

If the matter wasn't that serious, I would have started laughing. Mr. Abuser got his wife locked up for allegedly kicking his ass. Though I feel awful for Chantal, I secretly hope she got him good.

She motions me to come over, yet when I take a step forward, a low hiss stops me.

"Barbie stays where she is but you're welcome to join her." Fight girl scols at Chantal with a frown.

Chantal's body straightens and her facial expression turns into an ugly grimace. "Back off, bitch, or I knock those rotten teeth out."

It is a side of her that I have never seen before though Patrice told me once that both her mother and Marcus grew up in a rough neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. Apparently, she knows how to stand her ground.

She and the girl glare at each other before the troublemaker admits defeat by turning her back on Chantal. I take that as a sign of approval to leave my spot in the corner.

Slumping next to Chantal on the cot, I give her a small smile. "Thanks." When she doesn't respond, I press ahead to satisfy my curiosity. "So, what happened?"

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