AND THEN THERE WAS ONE.
______
Camden County Correctional's facility had become a second home to Indie. Over the past year or so, it seemed as though the walls themselves had claimed her as one of their own.
She had grown accustomed to the security checks, the long waits, and the brief, disjointed conversations in the visitation booths barried by plexiglass. All of which had been wedged into her daily life routine.
Today, she sat tucked amongst a sea of orange. A color she had grown to hate. The sounds of clanking keys and the murmur of distant voices were her background.
On the other side of the glass, the fluorescent lights cast a glow over an incarcerated Jonas Bryant. Like every other visit, he sat numb— free of any expression.
Indie forced a smile that he failed to return. She rolled her eyes as the mood for today's visit settled, and with a deep breath, she picked up the phone with a napkin and placed it up to her ear.
"The fuck happened to your face?" He instantly frowned at the sight.
Indie chuckled softly. Most would be offended given the circumstances. However, his harsh tone and bluntness were traits she was more than used to.
The two were one and the same, which is exactly why they got along so well. Or at least, that's what she liked to tell herself. Deep down, she knew their similarities were a double-edged sword.
"Some bum ass Philly bitches jumped on me last night."
Jonas sucked his teeth, tossing his head back, causing his long locs to fly with it. "Didn't I tell your hardheaded ass to stop going out there?"
"I like their skating rink," She shrugged, carelessly.
"Look at your fuckin' face In!"
"It's straight. I'ma catch up with them, I promise you."
"You need to stop wit' all this fighting. Shit is reckless. Look at you scaring up your face. You too pretty for allat."
"So I'm supposed to just let them get away with this?"
"You know what I mean," He glared, "That shit don't ever be worth it in the end, fuck they jump on you for in the first place?"
She remained silent. Jonas took note of her lack of response and simultaneously put the pieces together.
"Over some dude?"
Indie cleared her throat, "Let's talk about something else."
"In, we're not together anymore. You don't owe me nothing. It's straight."
She fiddled with the phone's cord, her cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment. He was right; they were no longer together, but Indie couldn't help but feel as though she had been caught red-handed, like a little kid touching the hot stove despite being told not to.
"Indie," He reassured, "I'm cool."
"This guy I've been involved with. He got this crazy ass ex' with a thing for running all his new bitches out his life. Her and her friends just caught me slipping last night, that's all."
The irritation in Jonas became more than evident as his hazel irises enflamed at the sound of Indie's words.
"And the nigga?"
"What about him?" Her lip curled at the thought of Blaze.
"Is he handling that?"
"I wouldn't know and I don't give a fuck to be honest. You know me, I'm not into all the drama especially over dick. She can have him, I had my fun."
Jonas nodded, taking everything in. He took his bottom lip into his mouth, and a moment of silence lay over them before he allowed his thoughts to take over once more.
"I know I didn't treat you all that great but no bitch ever put their hands on you, over me In. You deserve better than that."
"Better like getting cheated on all the time? Like my boyfriend and my closest friend fucking behind my back?"
"Indie."
"I'm not tryna hear it, Jo. You better be glad I haven't caught up with that bitch, just yet. As long as she continues to hide from me, I'll never stop this fighting shit."
Indie was relentless—always had been. It's what sparked the initial attraction between the two. An illicit crush turned crash was a more than fitting title to describe their relationship.
Close to four years ago, she approached him during an off-campus party. At the time, Jonas co-owned a lounge with his cousin, and here and there they would allow college kids to rent it out for parties or events.
This one took place during homecoming, an afterparty specifically. He was in the DJ booth, keeping a close eye on everything, when Indie set her sights on him.
Despite being told no by both security and Ivie, she climbed up into the booth with him and wasted no time spitting her game. Jonas was twenty-one at the time and determined to pay her no mind; she was eighteen, younger than his usual type, but Indie's allure pulled him straight in; it was something he just couldn't ignore.
And so it began—Indie's time at Rutger's was spent like your average teen/young adult, miles away from their parents for the first time in life. She took part in any and every exhilarating activity that she could.
Parties, sex, drugs, and Jonas.
Classes had been pushed to the back burner; her professor's would be lucky if they even got an email response out of her, let alone her signature within the attendance book.
Fake ID's and alcohol nips coated the bottom of her bookbag as opposed to her textbooks, and Jonas consumed every free minute throughout her day.
Together, the two were electric. Fire and fire. Their relationship never saw a dull moment. In him, Indie experienced her first love. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for Jonas. In her, Jonas experienced a love he had yet to—one that he never saw to let go of.
Despite this, he was still very much a man. The ending to their love affair presumed the day she caught him in bed with her peer mentor, someone she considered to be a close friend—a junior biology major by the name of Amil Noble or Milly for short.
Not long after was Jonas arrested.
You see, Jonas's lounge was only a front. Drug dealing had been his vice since the age of fourteen. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't go legit.
He was well known around South Jersey for his true business dealings, and pushing pills and other narcotics around the state's college campuses had been on Jonas's agenda for a long time. No client was better than college kids, and after meeting Indie, he had his in.
Together, the two ran a rather lucrative business. Until, it wasn't.
After an accidental overdose, the police set their sights on Jonas. Indie had long dropped out before any fingers could be turned towards her. Furthermore, those that knew kept it to themselves, including him. He could've easily snitched, cutting his time in half, but he couldn't fathom putting the woman he loved behind bars.
As a result, Indie felt as though she owed him. For her freedom and so much more. Aside from Ivie, no one had ever dared to show up for her in the way Jonas did.
Fast forward to now, Jonas was still sitting in county—awaiting trial and proper sentencing.
If you asked Indie if she had any regrets when it came to this man, she would be honest and say yes. However, if you followed up and asked her if she would do everything differently, given the opportunity, she would say no.
And Jonas? While Jonas would take the charge again and again if it meant Indie safe.
It all boils down to the stupid things love will make you do.
"I got a court date coming up."
"After Thanksgiving, I know. I'll be there."
"I appreciate you In, you know that, right?"
Indie nodded softly.
"Ain't no one like you."
Her Apple Watch jolted, indicating a new message. The CO's were so careless. They confiscated her phone but allowed her to enter with another piece of technology. This was nothing out of the ordinary. It really all depended on the day and shift. If she frequented around noon during the weekdays, she'd be lucky enough to keep everything on her, sometimes even entering with contraband for Jonas.
Ivie.
- He's outside and won't stop knocking. Are you almost done with Jo?
"Never forget it," She smirked, "I gotta go."
"We got like ten minutes left," He frowned.
"Ivie needs me."
Jonas nodded, immediately understanding. Their bond was tight knit but nothing compared to the one she maintained with her true other half.
"Alright then. Don't come back until after my next court date. I'll call and write. Go spend the holiday with your family, okay?"
"We'll see," she teased, rising to her full height.
New York was once everything to her, but by the time Indie turned sixteen, she couldn't wait to leave the state behind. Visiting was always hard for her, so much so that the occurrence became rare. Holidays were always up in the air. It had been well over a year since her last visit, and she had every intention of maintaining that distance.
"I love you."
"I love you too, Jo."
☯︎
Indie's car door slammed behind her. She held tightly onto the plastic bag full of snacks acquired during her store run.
Ivie and her lived in a garden-style apartment complex. Initially, this was a concern voiced by their parents. Yet, it was the nicest complex Camden's waterfront had to offer, so they settled. For the most part, it was working out. Three years in, and safety hadn't been an issue yet.
As her right foot prepared to touch the ground, headlights flashed along her silhouette. Indie sucked her teeth and turned on her heels, meeting Brandon's precious Infiniti. He loved that car more than he loved anything else.
For a second, the thought of bashing in his windows and flattening his tires creeped up in her mind, but just as quickly as it came, it went.
She rolled her eyes as the car door slamming and his boots meshing with the fallen leaves infiltrated her second sense.
"Didn't I tell you I was on the way?" Brandon entered her space.
Indie trailed up his tall figure. The Moncler jacket he wore was similar to the one he had on when they first met, causing her to scoff at the memory.
"You did," She shrugged.
"Yo," He reached his hand out to take her chin, "What's up with you?"
Indie frowned, snatching away. There was no way he could be this damn dense.
"Look at my face!" She blasted, "That crazy ass bitch of yours jumped on me last night, her and six of her ugly ass friends."
"That's not my bitch," Blaze scoffed.
"Then maybe you need to tell her that," Indie attempted to move past him.
"Baby, wait a minute."
Brandon wrapped his arm around her waist, scooping her into his embrace. She shuttered at his strength.
"Let me go."
"Nah."
Indie knew fighting against his hold would be pointless. He had close to two hundred pounds over her.
"I don't have time for this shit B. You come with too much; I'm not into all of that. I had my fun. We both did, but it's over, understand?
Brandon shook his head. Indie was saying all the things he didn't want to hear. He admired her in several ways, and despite all of the chaos that had ignited throughout the duration of their time together, he wasn't ready to let her go.
"Can we just talk, please?"
She pulled her neck back, ready to protest.
"I got your food in the car," He interrupted.
Her eyes rolled. He swore he was so slick. "Fine," She gives in, "You get ten minutes."
Brandon smiled proudly before moving to the passenger side. She allowed him to open the door for her; he waited patiently for her to get comfortable before closing it and jogging around to the other side.
Indie settled into the black leather seats; the heat brought slight relief to her skin. She grabbed her bag of food off the car's dash and sat it in her lap.
Brandon turned the radio down, then moved his vision onto her. She was in her own world, the food being her only concern. He sat quiet, looking at her in amusement.
Indie felt his gaze and chuckled softly. The clock was ticking, and here he was wasting his time. She took a sip of her drink before moving to the contents within the bag.
"I thought it was clipped for me?" He mocked.
Indie remained silent, her lips pursed in agitation, a fry in hand. Her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. He was already on thin ice with her and thought now would be the perfect time to provoke her?
"You be talking all this big shi—
In seconds, Indie's fist connects with Blaze's mouth, sending his head back into the window. His eyes enlarge at the sudden action, and he quickly brings his hand up to his lip.
"Are you crazy?!"
"Fuck you!" Indie prepared to leave the car. "You're gonna' sit here and troll me, like this is a game?! Like I'm just some fucking joke to you?"
"Indie," He breathed out, anger lacing his tone, "You better be glad I don't believe in hitting females."
"Do it!" She bucked.
He snatched her by the hem of her hoodie, their faces now inches apart from one another. Indie takes note of the blood dotting his bottom lip. Good. She knew it would be swollen by tomorrow's sunrise.
"Let me go," she pulled at his clenched fist.
Blaze ignored her. His ice grill settling in. Her hoodie strings began to tighten, the stronger that his grip became.
"I could kill you with my bare fucking' hands. You understand that?"
His frustration flooded the car's atmosphere. Indie could feel it radiating off of him, her heart beating profusely. She was scared, angry, and aroused all at the same time.
"This is gonna' be my first and last time telling you to keep your hands to yourself. I'm not one of these other niggas you used to messing with. I refuse to be disrespected."
He let go, and she relaxed back into her seat. A mug plastered along her face as she crossed her arms.
"Oh, trust me, you don't have to be. I don't get what you're not understanding—that this is our last conversation; it's clipped for you!"
Indie knew the moment her fists were balled that she had mentally checked out. In her eyes, physical violence was the ultimate dealbreaker—on either end. To incite pain on someone you maintained feelings for was the ultimate betrayal.
There was nothing for them beyond this point. Surprisingly, she didn't feel anyway about it. Nothing but a cold finality. The signs had always been there. Red was the color that mirrored their relationship. It had finally wilted and she was fine knowing that she was free.
No more Blaze. No more Cashè. No more drama.
"I put my hands on you. You made me so upset to the point that I raised my fists." Her head buried deep into her hands, "Fuck Blaze! We can't do this anymore."
"So then we take a break," he suggests. "We just need to cool off for a little."
Indie's head shakes in disagreement. "You make it sound so easy."
"It can be." He grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently.
"I just punched the fuck out of you, and you're still trying to make it work? Have some respect for yourself."
"I fuck with you, Indie."
"Not enough, clearly." She snatches her hand. "Whether you want to admit it or not, this is your fault. I asked you to create boundaries with her months ago. You think this obsessive behavior she has regarding you is cute?" Indie scoffed, "It's not. The shit is alarming; I've been saying that and now look?"
"Alright," Brandon nodded. "I can admit that, but come on now, that bitch is insane. I don't have control over any person's actions. Cash is going to do her, regardless."
"B," Indie mugged him. "You could do much more to lighten the situation if you cared to, but you don't. Besides, it's not just her. Multiple bitches have imaginary beef with me over you! This shit is exhausting. I can't be in any relationship where I feel as though I'm constantly on edge. You think I like acting like this?"
"I love the way you act."
"I'm sure you do," Indie rolled her eyes. "You're grossing me out. I'm done with this conversation. Good luck to you; stay safe, Blaze."
Indie unlocked her door and exited swiftly, leaving the car with what she entered with. She could've easily taken the rest of her food, but a part of her wanted to prove to Blaze that she didn't need anything from him anymore. A metaphor, if you will.
As soon as she left, his horn began singing. She heard his window roll down but refused to give him any more attention.
"Indie!"
No mercy shown to his horn.
"Come on, babygirl, don't do this! I'm sorry, aigh?"
More pleas. All taken out on the horn.
"Indie!"
It all fell on deaf ears as Indie marched back up to her apartment. She was beginning to see the devastation in her lust for trouble. Her reputation with men preceded her, and not one of them had been worth it.
What was a man truly? Nothing.
ii.