Page 24 of Pen Me

Do you always compliment a woman’s age before you know the actual number of years that she’s graced the earth? I’m twenty-two, by the way. Nowhere near thirty, but please, don’t let my age fool you. I’m not so dense as to believe that you want nothing.

You want to –Pen me.

I get it. You figured you’d start writing to women from the county, and maybe with a little luck you might have one lined up, ready to bend over by the time you make parole, am I right? I’ve seen how you guys operate; remember whose daughter I am?

What do you really want? And cut the shit, you sound like a fuck boy! If you expect me to write again, you hadbetter miss me with that club shit. A real gentleman would have signed with his name, not his contribution to society.

Sammy

Chapter Twelve

Once You Open Up

Menace

I stared at the letter, unable to keep the smile off my face. I didn’t know what the hell I expected. To be honest, I didn’t think she’d write back at all. Somehow, this was more than I could have ever hoped for. Sammy Nash was a spitfire. Her personality left me turning the paper in my hand and studying each letter and dot. The twist of ball busting and humor sprinkled with a little flirt was too much to leave alone.

Damn, did I need to leave it alone, though. She was Ziggy’s daughter.

Fuck me.

I tapped the letter on my knee and contemplated tossing it in the trash just to remove the temptation, but the memory of Sauce’s visit was still fresh in my mind. He was desperate and I knew the power of a friend when a person was at their lowest. What if this little correspondence was the spark that reminded her that she’s human and worthy of care and treatment?

I flubbed my lips, picked up my pen, and tried to make myself remember she was Ziggy’s daughter.

Sammy,

Damn girl, you come out with them things blazing, huh? Simple fuck! It’s been a long minute since a woman dressed me down so freely. I might have felt a little pitter patter over that one.

I had to ask the guard what swoon meant, then I really felt like a simple fuck. So, you might be onto something there…

If we’re being real with each other, I guess, the fact that I’m writing whose daughter I am says I can’t be too far from guilty on that charge. I didn’t expect you to be funny, though. Zig doesn’t really have a great sense of humor.

Fuckin’ Jailbird.

Girl…

We gotta work on your pet names!

Menace is my name. It’s the name my mother gave me. She used to say I was her little Dennis the Menace because of my constantly being into bullshit. If you’re looking for a formal introduction though, my name is Lennox Marley Zade.

And, if that envelope was coffee stained, it happened in the mail room, I don’t like the taste. No amount of sugar, milk, or creamer can change my mind on that.

How was anything I said misogynistic? If it came off that way, forgive me? I meant every word. Your dad should be proud… He is proud! You should see the way his eyes lit up when people asked about you over the years. I really don’t know any local girls in the military, either. I think the only women I still see around here that I went to school with are nurses, or cashiers. Youserved your country, and you saw the world. Do you have any cool pictures?

Which one is Alby Street? Unless there is a bar on it, I probably don’t know it. Why did you miss that particular street?

I don’t entertain relationships while I’m locked up. It’s a recipe for disaster. So, your heart and bank accounts are safe. I don’t want anything more than your friendship and someone to write to. So, yeah, I want to pen you, Sammy. I’d say you’re okay with it, too. After all, we’re both grown enough to realize no answer would have been an answer all by itself, right?

So, now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, let’s be real with each other, shall we? You got stuff to get off your chest. Maybe not toward me, but toward your father, maybe? Or what he represents? There was a whole lot of“your kind”,and assumptions toward me being misogynistic. You even referred to home as hell. All in one little letter. So, I ask again, what’s up? You good? I’m saying, someone must have done something to inspire that kind of resentment.

You can be real with me. I mean, who the fuck am I gonna tell?

I didn’t know my own father, but my mom kept a carousel of dick around. I know personalities can clash sometimes, believe me when I tell you, I—of all people—know home isn’t always the brightest of places.

Home for me was always wherever my siblings, Henny and Presley were. Mom’s house. Foster care. The club. I’d follow that man to hell, I ain’t been myself since hisaccident. Nearly losing him rattled my cage a little. I can’t lie.

Anyhow, I hope you can see me for more than another prick with a patch. I’d love to hear back from you. Please take care of yourself until we speak next.

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