LaKeisha Jones could feel Lester Jackson's eyes roving all over the unshackled breasts that protruded beneath her tight T-shirt. As always, she could sense the twisted thoughts that ran around inside that greasy doo-rag-covered, nearly empty skull of his.
Today Lester was merely fantasizing about chaining her to that urine stained mattress he kept back in his trailer and doing her doggy style all weekend while he listened to her screams.
"Hey, 'Keisha. Looking good today," Jackson offered in a feeble attempt to break the ice.
Jackson's icebreaking technique would be no more successful than was the Titanic's.
But Jackson was not her main concern today. He was essentially a harmless distraction, despite the increasing creativity of his private fantasies.
Her main concern was Willis, who even at this very moment was forcing Tawana to kneel down before him in the stockroom. It would be only seconds before that woman's life was ruined just like all the others (if Willis didn't kill her outright, they way he did Serena Braxton). And Tawana was just a poor single mom, trying to help support her family. She was also a little feeble-minded and consequently unable to defend herself against the all-powerful Henry Willis, long-time foreman of the second shift at the Snake River tire assembly plant and part-time racist cracker rapist with a penchant for dark meat.
She remembered Willis' thoughts as he perpetually relived his killing of Serena in what he thought were his private fantasies. How he had followed Serena home from work that day. How she had begged and pleaded with him. How she had told him he could do anything he wanted, that she would never tell. How when he was done, he had actually drunk the blood that ran from her savaged neck. And kissed her eyes as the light faded from them, trying to capture her very soul at the moment of its departure. LaKeisha knew that the drifter they were holding down in the county jail was innocent, that he had never touched Serena, but there was nothing she could do about it yet. It was too soon to reveal her mind-reading powers to the world at large. The drifter would have to wait.
The whistle blew for closing time and the workers abruptly departed their posts and headed for the exit gates like lemmings running for the sea.
Lester was still looking at her expectantly.
"Not tonight, Les. I'm doing my nails."
"Man, you are always doing those nails. They look fine, woman. Just the things to scratch a man's back with."
"Hey, 'Keish, want to come down to the Blind Pig with us, maybe do a little karaoke, ride a few studs after?" It was Kamika Thomas, surrounded by her usual posse.
"Not tonight, 'mika. I have something I gotta do before I can get out of here. You go on ahead."
LaKeisha watched as Kamika's group headed for the exits along with everyone one else. Now she had the place to herself for five minutes. No third shift tonight. Not with Dubya's economy tanking like there was no tomorrow.
She was all alone. Well, not exactly. Just the three of us, she thought as she headed to the stockroom to take care of business.
When she burst through the door, she found Tawana as she knew she would. Kneeling on the floor, the tears streaming down her face, her brown breasts exposed through her torn shirt, with Willis brutally thrusting his rigid organ into her pleading mouth.
"I knew I'd find you two lovebirds back here, Willis. Give it up. It's all over. I know all about you and Serena. What you did to her. Where she is."
"You fuckin' jigaboo. I shoulda known better than to hire an uppity nigger like you. Well it's all over, all right. For you and your little nappy-headed friend here, that is."
