Around the Way Girls 10

Book 10: Around the Way Girls

by Ms. Michel Moore, Marlon P.S. White, Racquel Williams

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Around the Way Girls 10, like its predecessors, is a fast-paced look at the lives of some street-smart women who think they know it all, but are about to get the lessons of their lives.

Sasha Eubanks lived the perfect life. Whatever she touched seemed to turn to gold, until she met and married Mario. He was a parents' worst nightmare and everything you wouldn't want a husband to be. Yet Sasha loved him, sacrificed for him, took care of him, and would do anything for him, including going to jail. While she is doing hard time for Mario's crimes, he soon shows his wife that loyalty is just another word in the dictionary. Sasha has to get revenge if she wants to have any pride left, but can she overcome the mental hold Mario has on her?

Family ain't no good; at least in Rissa Ford's world. Forced to live with her aunt and predator-in-disguise uncle, Rissa feels as if her life was cursed from birth. Fed up with being tortured, she exposes the truth and is cast out into the mean streets of Detroit. Doing whatever she needs to make due, Rissa and her "newfound family" devise a plan for the ultimate revenge on those who have brought her the most harm.

Ajanay, Sheika, and London were born and raised in one of Richmond's most ruthless housing projects. Faced with horrific home lives, all three girls turn to the streets and each other for comfort. Ajanay concocts a plan for them to get money out of Amir, one of the biggest dope boys from a rival housing project. However, Amir is a stone-cold killer with a long criminal history, and Ajanay has put them in harm's way with no solid plan on how to escape. Will their love and loyalty for one another keep them together, or is it every woman for herself?

Produced by Buck 50 Productions

Release date: December 27, 2016

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“All right, y’all, strap up! Let’s do this!” Holding a gun in one hand, he eagerly used the other to pull a mask down over his face so you could see nothing but his street-hardened pupils blinking every so often. “Remember, everybody, stay safe. And if you have to kill one if these sons of bitches inside to make sure you get back home to your family tonight then so be it. Shoot the shit outta a motherfucker! We’ll deal with the fallout later.”

“What in the hell.” Sasha was startled. Her eyes widened. The thunderous sound she’d rapidly heard three times caused her to jump out of her skin. The loud commotion was followed up by multiple strange voices shouting. Instantly, her heart raced. Strangely her feet couldn’t seem to move. She was frozen in fear of the unknown. Her home-cooked meal with special ingredients had been interrupted and she was helpless.

“Search warrant, Detroit Police Department. Let me see them damn hands. Search warrant. Hands in the air, now,” the first officer entering the dwelling loudly demanded after his colleague rammed the front door. He was ready to kill if need be. If Sasha or anyone else who was behind the door they were taking put up any sort of opposition then so be it. The occupants’ blood would be on his hands, blood he’d happily take full responsibility for if need be.

The rest of the brigade dressed in black stormed across the threshold, the door barely attached to one hinge. The last officer inside the otherwise quiet bungalow caused the solid oak door to break all the way from the frame. Just like that, it came crashing to the floor, causing another ear-splitting sound to bounce off the walls of the house.

“Oh, my God, what is this? What do you want? What did I do?” Sasha pleaded for answers. Dumbfounded in front of the stove preparing spaghetti, she prayed as the tears started to flow. Still holding the black handle of the skillet in hand, Sasha fought to make complete sentences. Shocked and confused, she was almost at a loss for words as the small army of tight-laced boots trampled throughout her entire house, guns drawn. Sasha wasn’t expecting this unforeseen drama on her day off, or any other day for that matter. This occurrence, out of the blue, was nothing she was familiar with even though her husband was loyal to the street life.

“Get on the floor. Get down and get on the damn floor now. Right now,” the cop shouted, pointing his department-issued revolver at her head. “Hurry up. Ain’t nobody playing with you. Now move!” Seconds away from pulling the trigger he felt his own adrenalin pumping. It was go time and he was ready to put in work.

Rushing up to the thin-built female, he roughly grabbed her forearm. With one move, the trained officer of the law snatched Sasha away from the stove. Everything was moving so fast she couldn’t catch up. She wanted to tell him they had the wrong house, but she couldn’t. Before she could protest any further and even explain she was pregnant, he was slamming her face first onto the kitchen floor.

Seemingly on purpose, portions of the ground turkey she was browning on the stove tumbled down as well. When some of the spicy seasoned meat landed dangerously close to Sasha’s face, also getting entangled in her weave, no one said, “Excuse me.” No one cared about the hot skillet that vindictively followed, melting a circular spot on the vinyl beige tile. If Sasha felt violated, disrespected, or slighted, so what? It was what it was to the Detroit Police Department Narcotics Taskforce. The comfort and security she was accustomed to having in her own home was of no concern to them. The joyful reality of just finding out she was almost two months along with child was not an issue to them at this point, even if they did know. Sasha Eubanks was merely one of two people residing at an address being raided. All that mattered to the taskforce was executing the search warrant and securing the premises.

Sasha’s arms were swiftly pulled behind her back. She could feel her shoulder blades almost snap. The overzealous male cop then pressed his knee into her lower spine after holstering his weapon. The expectant mother screamed out in total agony as he applied more pressure. “Please! Please, stop! Stop! You’re hurting me. My arms are hurting. Please, Officer, please stop!”

“Shut the hell up, lady, and do as you are told. Stop trying to resist and things will go a hellava lot easier for you.”

Trying desperately to catch her breath, Sasha was glad she’d mopped earlier considering the side of her face was being smashed down and practically becoming part of the floor. Feeling the plastic ties being tightened around her tiny wrists was more than she could take. “Please, please, please,” she managed to mutter in between the sobs. Tears poured out of each corner of her still wide eyes. Wanting to wipe her face, unfortunately the happy homemaker couldn’t.

“Keep running that drug-dealing mouth of yours and you gonna get more than a knee in your back and being handcuffed.” The cop made sure she saw he was not for showing any sympathy. “Now shut your damn mouth; that’s my final damn warning!”

From floor level, Sasha helplessly watched her perfectly kept home being turned upside down. The loveseat and chair were flipped over and the rear material torn off both. The cushions on the couch were sliced open and a few antique vases smashed. Callously, the living room and dining area curtains were snatched down from the rods as if someone could actually be hiding behind the sheer panels, ready to pounce.

As her personal items were being trashed, Sasha remained silent. Normally feisty and outspoken, she had no choice. She had been warned multiple times to keep her mouth shut. If she didn’t, she’d run the risk of being marched onto the front porch and stretched out on the grass until they’d finish sweeping the house. Not wanting to be paraded and put on display for her neighbors’ ridicule, Sasha sucked it up. She asked the Almighty to give her strength while calling the over-the-top cops everything but the child of God in her head.

“Yeah, we got one good to go secured in the back,” a voice proudly yelled out.

“We all clear in the basement.”

“All clear on the upper level.”

One by one, hearing taskforce members check in with each other, the cop towering over Sasha smirked. He was content. None of his team had been injured upon entry and there had been no gunplay, deadly or otherwise. Now that the entire house was deemed officer friendly it was time for phase two to be put in effect. Using one hand he grabbed Sasha’s wrist, making the plastic ties tighter. Not caring about the excruciating pain the female claimed she was in, the cop jerked her upward until she was back to her feet.

“Please, Officer, please. My side is hurting.” Her tears never once let up as she continued to beg for mercy.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut your damn mouth?” Hell-bent on doing his job with as little emotion as possible, he stuck to proper protocol. Yanking her up from the floor, he roughly guided her into the living room. Sasha was instructed to take a seat on the couch that was missing all of its cushions. Taking longer to move than the officer wanted, Sasha was verbally assaulted, along with getting knocked in her shoulder. Once more, the terrified female was urged not to speak until spoken to.

Sitting on the far corner of the couch near the fireplace, Sasha heard her husband’s voice getting louder. Focusing on the hallway, seconds later he appeared, being manhandled by two policemen. Not as accommodating to authority figures as his wife, Mario was going berserk. A two-time felon, with countless misdemeanors also under his belt, he’d been down this road before and he knew his rights.

“Sasha, don’t say shit to these grimy, rotten motherfuckers.” He struggled to break free from the same type of plastic ties that held his wife. Seeing how the taskforce had destroyed his living room, Mario grew even more enraged. “These sons of bitches ain’t got shit on me, bae; they ass just out here in these streets fucking with people like me and you in our house minding our own damn business. Old nothing-ass lames. That’s why all the real ones be out here dumping on y’all coward asses, putting something hot in y’alls’ heads.”

“Yo, homeboy, didn’t I tell your wannabe-tough ass to calm the fuck down in there talking that rah-rah bullshit?” One of the cops shoved Mario in his back, causing him to stumble over the coffee table. When he fell to the floor, his jaw felt the brutal impact of another officer’s fist sucker punch him. “Now slow your dumb ass down before you catch these hands from me; for real, too.”

“Catch these hands? Who, me? Oh, so dig that, you wanna try to beat on a guy when they at a disadvantage all tied up, huh? You and me both know you only with that ho shit because I’m fucked up right about now.” Mario’s face started to immediately swell as he spoke. He frowned, trying to show his hands from the backside; but he couldn’t. “If we was out on the block and I wasn’t tied up it’d be on. I’d bust that ass for real, no questions asked, toe to toe. I ain’t like Mike Brown. I don’t just growl. I bite!”

As if on cue, all the cops within earshot laughed. Veterans and rookies alike had that same conversation almost word for word with every thug they were about to lock up. They’d heard that same line numerous times. Mario and the way he was stuntin’ for their sake was amusing, if nothing more.

However, for Sasha, now slumped over on her side begging for God’s mercy, wasn’t shit funny. She was hysterical; her lower abdominal was aching and her fingertips were growing increasingly numb. She’d counted at least eleven strangers in her home, most covering their faces. None seemed to be listening to her constant pleas for help. When they finally got Mario to be quiet long enough, they had him sit on the couch next to Sasha.

“Why don’t you sit your punk ass down next to your little crybaby girlfriend and relax? Let us do our damn job in peace.”

“First of all, she’s my wife, idiot, not my girlfriend,” Mario angrily fired back, still ready to go a couple of rounds. “And, second of all, guess what? Fuck you and your damn job.”

Once again the same renegade cop with a temper ran up from the rear of the couch. Slamming his closed fist into Mario’s mouth, this time drawing blood, he smiled. The force of the blow caused the blood mixed with salvia to splatter on Sasha’s face and shirt. Mario grimaced, still being a soldier, while Sasha cried.

Minutes later, two of the men searching the basement came upstairs. Acting as if they’d hit the four-digit dollar straight and dollar boxed, the mini-celebration started. Tossing a small, unzipped duffle bag on the coffee table, Mario looked dumbfounded as huge amounts of various pills came spilling out. He turned his face toward the wall, wishing that when he turned his head back the bag and all its illegal contents would have disappeared. Of course that didn’t happen. Mario looked back to now see not only the bag and pills, but his rainy day stash shoebox.

“Damn, hell yeah. There’s the freaking headshot right there,” the lieutenant on duty announced, elated they hadn’t been on a dummy mission and wouldn’t be returning to the station empty-handed. “That along with the money that was located in the shoebox in the rear bedroom should be good enough to get your smart-talking ass locked back up. Then let’s see who the tough guy is when you facing the judge.”

Mario was forced to think quickly. The good day he’d had flicking a shitload of pills off had just gone all the way south. Caught red-handed, he had a serious screw face, much to their overall enjoyment. There was nothing that these police and several others would like to see more than him being returned to prison, caged up like an animal. Mario was not naïve to the system. The hardcore criminal knew the next time any judge laid eyes on him in their courtroom they were going to be banging him hard. “Man, fuck all that you talking about. Them pills ain’t mine. Not them or that damn money. That shit ain’t mine. Y’all faggots trying to set a young, innocent brother up.”

“Oh, yeah, is that right?” the officer who’d body-slammed Sasha to the kitchen floor spoke out while grinning. “Then why don’t you tell us all whose stuff this is? Solve the mystery for us all, please. We’re waiting to be enlightened.”

Mario was desperate. He didn’t want to go back to prison, not today, tomorrow, or ever. Even though he could jail it if need be, eating cook-ups and walking the yard was not on his agenda. The hardened criminal was on the edge of being lost and buried in the system for years to come. He couldn’t wrap his head around the thought.

Before Mario knew it, he’d blurted out the unforgivable: “You know what? Them is hers. Them her pills and the money. It must be, ’cause I ain’t never seen the shit before in my life.” Mario turned his body the best he could and looked over at his teary-eyed wife. The street thug showed no emotion. He was more than ready to throw Sasha under the bus if it meant he could walk away from this charge. “Damn, bae, where you get that type of money from? You been holding out on me or what?”

“Come on dude, is you really about to say fuck your girl like that? You’s a real piece of work.” All the other officers agreed, looking at Mario with contempt.

Sasha, of course, felt the same as the police: the very men who’d mistreated her and had just destroyed her home. Without a second thought, she gave her supposedly loyal, devoted husband the side-eye as well. Oh, hell naw. Did he just say that? How could he? I’ve told him to get all these pills out of the house. He knows you never supposed to shit where you sleep at; hardheaded, lying-ass dummy got us both messed up. Now he’s here trying to mess me over. Still in pain, she lowered her head in disbelief. Mario had promised to love, honor, and cherish her the rest of their lives. Now here he sat, basically saying fuck her freedom and fuck her life. “Mario, really, how could you?” she sadly mumbled, turning her lowered head in disgust.

In the midst of all the unexpected turmoil that was taking place, Sasha closed her beet red eyes. In denial, she fought hard to tune out her terrible reality. Somehow, someway, she found a way to transport her mind back in time. Before the suspected female drug dealer knew it, she was reliving the day she met the now foul-intentioned Mario. Sasha and he were as different as night and day. Everyone, including them, always wondered what made them start dating, let alone decide to get married. The tighter she closed her eyes, the clearer those days became.

She and her best friend, Kat, were hanging out at the park after the Summer Jam concert. There was stop-and-go traffic around the strip. Every expensive car, rimmed, custom-painted truck, and wide-tire motorcycle you could imagine was in the constant parade around the bend. Sasha and her sidekick had been enjoying the late-evening goings-on and they were only minutes from getting in Kat’s Ford Tempo with a huge dent on the driver’s side door. It may have not been the best vehicle parked that night, but the two of them were content. It’d gotten them to the concert and to the park, and it was about to get them home. Dressed all in white, Sasha and Kat slowly strutted toward the car, hoping more than a few dudes wearing Nikes, wife beater tops, and sagging jeans would look their way.

Reaching the car, Kat removed her keys from her crossover bag. Seductively licking her lips at one of the guys riding by, she started smiling when he pulled over. Signaling her to come to the car, Kat pranced over as if she’d hit the lottery.

“What up, doe?”

“Hey.”

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Kat. What’s yours?”

“They call me Dino.”

“Oh, yeah? You east or west?” Kat asked, making sure to poke her ass out when leaning into the window.

“West like a motherfucker, NFL; we getting that money for sho,” Dino proudly announced, elbowing his homeboy who was riding shotgun. “And, yo, who is your girl standing all off over there to the side with the big booty? Tell her to come this way. My peoples Mario wanna holler at her.”

Sasha heard the obvious thug make reference to her, but she kept her distance. It was bad enough he’d gotten Kat at his car, and she ran the risk of getting snatched up, never to be heard from or seen again; but he had the raw nerve to make mention of her butt. Although she had been out all day at the concert and park behaving as if she were about that life, in all reality clearly she wasn’t. Sasha was no more than a good girl, dedicated to school and her job. She was a virgin who didn’t smoke or drink, and she hardly cursed, unless she was singing along with a rap song.

Mario had been laidback while Dino was talking. Taking full advantage of having the just-rolled blunt to himself, he finally leaned up after hearing his name referenced. Still bopping his head from side to side along with the music, Mario looked over Dino and past the female hanging all off into the window. Focusing his sights on Sasha, it took him all of three seconds to lean back into the passenger seat. It was apparent he was not interested, turning his head to the other side of the car. Just to make sure Dino didn’t misunderstand his body language, Mario smirked, telling everyone interested or in earshot that he was good.

Even though Sasha wasn’t stepping foot anywhere near the triple black Dodge Charger to have a face-to-face conversation with the bumpy-faced, blunt-smoking passenger, she was still a human with feelings. Instantly the good girl not willing to go bad got in her emotions about the way he’d publically snubbed her.

Only seconds from getting the courage to give him a piece of her mind, gunshots rang out, interrupting the night. Pandemonium ensued. Gaping holes were ripped through the doors of multiple vehicles. The loud sounds of bullets shattering windows and ear-piercing screams filled the air. Not knowing exactly where the source of the assault was coming from, people didn’t know where to run or where to hide.

Hitting the ground like many others, Sasha covered her face and prayed. Her stomach pressed down onto the concrete, she peeked through her cupped hands and was stunned. She was speechless. Through all the feet she saw quickly scrambling around in search of safety, Sasha made out Kat. She was squatting down behind the door of the black Dodge Charger, which was now halfway open.

As Sasha quickly glanced to Kat’s side, she saw the driver slumped over. Only held by the restraint of the seat belt, his upper body was dangling as the bullets continued to whiz by in every direction. Sasha wanted to scream out to Kat, yet she could not seem to get her mouth to form the words. Her throat had a huge lump in it and her mouth was dry. It was as if she and everyone trapped in the park were living in the middle of a bad horror movie.

Kat hopelessly stared back at Sasha like a deer trapped in headlights. She finally moved her lips, saying the words, “Help me.” Kat wanted to just get up and dart over to her own vehicle where her best friend was, but she couldn’t move.

With the barrage of gunfire seeming to get closer, Kat screamed out for help as Sasha sobbed, asking God for mercy. With her eyes temporarily closed in prayer, Sasha opened them to see Mario, the unruly passenger, swoop Kat off the ground. Practically dragging her with him, the two of them made it behind a bullet-riddled car two spaces away from where Sasha was taking refuge.

Mario yanked down a metal garbage can to further aid in shielding them from harm, apparently the same harm that had come to a motionless Dino. Like a small baby on hands and knees, Sasha swiftly crawled over to their makeshift bunker. It would be at least another three long, grueling, torturous minutes of uncertainty until silence after the gunshots once again filled the night air. That silence was then filled with the aftermath of tears, screams of the discovery of death, and sirens from police cars approaching.

Suffering from a few scrapes on her knees, thankfully Sasha was not injured. Kat, however, had been struck in the lower part of her leg; but strangely she didn’t realize it until an overwhelming burning sensation started to occur. As she cried out in agonizing pain, Sasha cradled her head in her arms. Rocking back and forth, she repeated to Kat that it was going to be okay and help was on the way.

Mario had done his duty as a hood hero, getting the random female his boy was talking to out of the line of fire. Cautiously, he lifted his head to see if the coast was clear. Faced with the horrible sight of his comrade hanging out the door of the Charger, engine still running, sounds still blasting, Mario ran over to Dino’s side. Reaching inside the car, he turned it off.

Struggling to unfasten his homeboy’s seat belt, which was stretched to capacity, Mario was in tears. One minute they were just hanging out, talking shit, having fun; and the next, this. Mario was distraught and confused as Dino’s blood-soaked shirt was torn off him as paramedics attempted to save his life. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do for the young man.

Mario dropped his head and they covered the body with a sheet. Burying his face in his hands, Mario felt the awful moisture of Dino’s blood slide down between his fingers. He was seconds away from having a total mental breakdown.

Sasha had made sure Kat was getting the medical attention she needed and she was now focused on Mario, who’d saved her best friend’s life while putting his own in harm’s way. Ironically, right before the gunfire erupted, Sasha wanted to spit on him after loudly cursing him out for being rude. Now the only thing the “good girl” wanted to do was go to “bad boy” Mario’s side and reassure him that he was not alone. Without reservation, she did just that, consoling him.

In the days and weeks to follow, the unlikely duo had become inseparable. They had absolutely nothing in common other than the fact they’d survived an unthinkable, tragic attack. Holding on to the fact that deep down Sasha knew Mario could not possibly be as cold, callous, and ignorant as he often portrayed, especially reminiscing about the terror in the park, she found it in her heart to “work with him.” Mario was a true womanizer, a chronic gambler, disrespectful to Sasha constantly on so many levels, and just an all-around coward who happened to display a bit of courage out of the blue that night. Yet, like most women who think they can change a man, Sasha was no exception to the rule. Before she knew what was happening, she’d asked Mario to get married and settle down.

Snapped back to the here and now that was taking place, Sasha continued to not understand how her husband could be such an asshole. Mario ignored his wife’s obvious disapproval of what he’d claimed to be true. He stuck to his story about the cash and pills being hers. He repeated the inconceivable story the entire time the pair of them were being read their rights, arrested, and thrown in the back of two separate police cars.

Sasha was fighting what she knew was taking place. She kept reflecting on that night in the park and she prayed that side of Mario would emerge. Trying to be supportive, knowing that when it came down to it Mario would hopefully step up to the plate and do the right thing, Sasha never said a word in protest against her husband. Maybe it was because she was numb from what was happening, or in disbelief her man had basically made her out to be the fall guy. Whatever it was, the insurance claims broker, naïve to the streets, tried to gather herself together the best she could. Sasha knew now was not the time to fall completely apart. She just kept silent and waited for her court-appointed lawyer to be assigned to her case, just like the criminal television shows had taught her. If a fish doesn’t want to get caught on the hook, all he has to do is keep his mouth shut; and that was what Sasha did.

“Okay, Mrs. Eubanks, do you understand fully what you’re doing? What you’re saying?” The lawyer shuffled through his paperwork, ensuring it was in order.

“Umm, yeah, I think so,” she responded with butterflies in her stomach. She looked up at the clock over the door and thought she could hear each hand moving. It was as if her life were moving in slow motion as her attorney spoke.

Sasha had gone along with the story her husband gave to the cops who raided their home. She’d repeated it three times to the detectives working the case and once to Mario’s parole officer. And now she was going to stand in front of a judge and swear it was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She would admit the pills and money seized belonged to her, not her spouse. Also any other drug paraphernalia that was discovered that day was solely hers. Sasha Eubanks would stand, left hand in the air, vowing Mario never knew she had any of those illegal items in their jointly owned home.

Since the day she’d been released on her own personal recognizance, Mario had been calling her constantly, singing in her ear, trying to get in her head. He reasoned with Sasha that if she went along with the game plan he was laying out, they’d both be good. He explained that by her never even having a traffic ticket, let alone any contact with the judicial system, she’d easily get a pass, a slap on the wrist. Not to mention the fact that she was pregnant would weigh heavy on any judge to show sympathy.

After forty-one hours of Mario sitting in the county jail on a parole violation, Sasha finally gave in. In true conman style, he’d run every guilt trip on his wife he possibly could. Tugging at her heart strings, he even threw up the fact that she wouldn’t want her child’s father to have to see his firstborn from behind bars. Now here she was, minutes before going in front of the judge for sentencing on the crimes she really wasn’t responsible for. However, just as Mario had said would happen, her lawyer set up a plea deal arrangement with the prosecuting attorney. In the deal, if Sasha would plead guilty, accepting all liability, she would get a six-month probation including some community service. No jail time would be served and her baby would be born at home as planned.

“You can’t just think you are ready to go in there, Mrs. Eubanks. You have to be certain. The judge will be asking you a series of questions and you have to answer in accordance to what we have all agreed upon.”

“I understand. I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“Well, it’s much too late to be nervous. The time for feeling that way was before you stepped up to the plate on these charges,” the lawyer advised, standing up from behind the table in the private room they were in. “So get yourself together. They’ll be calling our case next. I don’t think we will have to wait too long. We should be in and out relatively fast.”

Early along in her pregnancy, Sasha was not showing, but she kept rubbing her stomach just the same. She was a nervous wreck. Never being pregnant before, she prayed her rollercoaster emotions would not affect her baby. The time seemed to drag on, although it had only been minutes. Hearing her last name announced, the court bailiff signaled for Sasha and her attorney to enter the judge’s domain. She took a deep breath, and then exhaled. Nauseated, she was ready to just get this entire thing over with and go home and get some rest.

Stepping inside the smaller-sized courtroom, she saw one of her three siblings, Regina, and Kat. They’d both begged her repeatedly not to take the fall for her pathetic troublemaking husband, but Mario had Sasha bamboozled. Kat tried to give him the benefit of the doubt considering what he’d done to help her, but she’d seen him firsthand do too many terrible things to her best friend. He swore he was done selling drugs, womanizing, and behaving as if his shit didn’t stink. He promised he would be there for her and their unborn child, no more bullshit.

Yet, here it was. Less than ten hours after him making that claim, he was nowhere to be found. Sasha looked to the left and the right. A house didn’t have to fall on her head. Not seeing Mario she’d realized she’d been played. Part of her wanted to change her mind and run out of the courtroom, yet she knew she’d gone too far in the process to back out. She’d just serve her expected probation and do her few community service hours like a champ. As for Mario, her supposed loving husband who’d left her out to dry, she’d deal with him later on, when she got home.

“The State of Michigan versus Sasha Lachelle Eubanks,” the same bailiff who signaled them to enter the courtroom loudly spoke.

Terrified, Sasha stood. It felt like each of her steps was surrounded by quicksand. Following closely behind her lawyer, she took her place next to him at the podium. The prosecuting attorney who had just spoken to them both maybe an hour ago took his place as well. You could hear a pin drop as the judge read over a semi-huge stack of documents. . .