Taboo 2:

Genres: African American; African American Urban

Synopsis

In the scorching sequel to Yoshi's Taboo, Corrections Officer Sierra Howell is back and trying to put her past behind her. Her torrid affair with inmate Rasheed Gordon landed her in hot water with her supervisors—and also pregnant with Rasheed's child. Sierra's determined to move on and make a proper life for herself and her baby, but Rasheed's not letting go that easy. He insists that all he wants is to be a good father to Messiah, but Sierra's not so sure it's a good idea for him to hang around—especially as Lamont's been like a father to Messiah since day one. . .. But old flames die hard and this one is nearly raging out of control. Will Sierra follow her head and marry Lamont—or will her heart win out and betray her again?

Release date: June 8, 2011

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 336

Sample

“Good morning, staff,” the warden said, greeting the morning roll call filled with correction officers.

Some officers said good morning as well, and some saluted him.

“I decided to take the time out to talk to you about a serious problem. I’ve been getting a lot of phone calls from the inspector general’s office with allegations of corruption that may be going on in this particular facility. This is unacceptable. These inmates are not your friends.”

The warden continued. “You are not to go beyond the scope of your duties as a New York City correction officer to provide these detainees with anything but what is required within the minimum standards. I’m pretty sure that you know what your job consists of, and you realize that you are here to uphold correction law and adhere to the rules and regulations of the department. If I find out that someone is breaking these rules, I will make sure that you will be removed from this command. Now, keeping your job is your job, and I hope that I won’t have to make that decision for you.”

The warden gave the roll call captain a nod, signaling for him to proceed. The captain began briefing the roll call and then called out names for post assignments. After everyone received their posts, roll call dispersed. A small group of female officers immediately began whispering among each other.

“You know who’s one of the people that the warden was talkin’ about, right?” said CO Watkins. She was the facility gossip queen who made it her business to know what was going on at work.

“No, who?” asked CO Porter, a heavyset female with a pretty face.

“He’s talkin’ about Howell. You know Howell. The one who has Five North steady?” asked Watkins.

CO Harris interjected, “Oh, yeah, that’s Deputy Dog’s fiancée.”

CO Butner laughed. “Now why are you callin’ Deputy Simmons ‘Deputy Dog’?” The other officers snickered along with her.

“Because he’s a dog. Can’t you look at the man and tell that he’s a dog?” Harris asked. “He was messin’ with Howell first, had a baby on her with some officer from C-95, then him and Howell got back together and God knows who else he’s doin’ right now. Damn shame that he—,” Harris began.

Watkins cut her off. “Girl, please! That’s old news! I’m just talkin’ about Howell. Now she has a child of her own. Only the father of that baby isn’t Deputy Dog.”

Porter opened her eyes real wide. She was the new jack of the small clique, having only been on the job two years. “So who is her baby daddy then?” she asked.

“An inmate,” said Harris. Porter and Butner looked at each other in amazement.

“Are you serious?” asked Butner. “How do y’all know this?”

“We just know. That’s been the rumor around here for the past two years. Her son has her last name and everything. If that was Deputy Dog’s baby, then why doesn’t he have his father’s last name, right?” asked Watkins. All the ladies nodded their heads in agreement. “Not to mention, Howell rolls with Captain Phillips, another ho who’s been known to mess around with inmates.”

Porter shook her head. “Those hoes are so scandalous! Why would someone risk their job like that? I couldn’t do it. I need my job.”

Harris gave Butner a pound. “I second you on that. Howell must have some real self-esteem issues. I mean, she’s a pretty girl; why she would want to deal with an inmate is beyond me. Isn’t she and Deputy Dog supposed to be gettin’ married?”

“I heard that, too,” said Watkins. “But I also heard that the inmate she supposedly had the baby by, last name is Gordon. He used to be housed in Five North a few years ago.”

“Girl, I know who you’re talkin’ about!” said Harris excitedly. Porter and Butner looked on. “I remember that inmate. His name is Rasheed Gordon. He was a tall guy with locks in his hair. Nice-lookin’ guy, too. Yes, he was.”

Butner and Porter laughed at Harris. Watkins didn’t. “Please, girl. Gordon, or whatever his name was, was an inmate. I don’t look at inmates in a sexual manner. I am not physically attracted to them at all! I just don’t like them and I dare one of these nasty-ass crooks to try to holler at me!”

Harris rolled her eyes at Watkins. “C’mon, Watkins. You are goin’ really hard right now. If a man is nice lookin’, he’s nice lookin’. Bein’ an inmate has nothin’ to do with it. A man is still a man.”

Watkins turned her nose up. She was adamant about her opinion. “Well, I wouldn’t mess around with an inmate, I don’t care how fine he is, and I damn sure don’t want to be around any officer who fucks with one. If I even see an officer gettin’ too familiar with an inmate, I’m reportin’ them to the inspector general’s office.” Watkins looked down the corridor. Sierra Howell was walking toward them. “Oh, wow, speakin’ of the devil. Here goes the little fraternizer right now,” she whispered.

When Howell arrived in front of the four female officers, she said hello to all of them with a smile on her face.

“Hey, girl!” greeted Watkins, putting on a fake smile. Harris, Butner, and Porter just waved.

“Good mornin’, ladies,” said Sierra. “How’s everybody doin’?”

“We’re fine, Howell,” replied Harris. “So how’s Five North treatin’ you?”

Sierra shrugged. “Eh, it’s okay. I’ve been there for a while now so I’m used to it.”

“You have a son, right?” asked Watkins.

“Yeah, I do. He’s two years old now,” replied Sierra.

“That’s sweet. How is he?” Harris asked.

“Oh, he’s doin’ good, girl. Gettin’ big and gettin’ into everything,” Sierra said with a laugh. “You know the terrible twos.” She paused for a second. “Well, let me go to this search. I’ll talk to y’all later. Have a safe tour, everybody.”

They all waved at Howell and watched her walk off. “That’s a damn shame,” said Harris.

“Inmate-lovin’ heifer,” said Watkins, shaking her head. “So disgustin’.”

It was 8:32 in the morning in Atlanta, Georgia and Rasheed Gordon couldn’t sleep. He turned over and stared at the caramel-skinned beauty lying next to him. The woman was snoring, exhausted from the good loving that he had just given her for the last two hours. Rasheed put the sheet over her curvy frame and sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed, trying to figure out why he still felt unfulfilled.

When he thought about it, he really didn’t have anything to complain about at this point in his life. What man wouldn’t want what he had? Rasheed only had access to a different woman every night, money in his bank account, and a nice roof over his head. What could be missing from his life? For one thing, he had a beautiful baby boy, that lived in Brooklyn.

After pondering the thought for a few moments, Rasheed finally came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to live in Atlanta anymore. After living there with his older brother, Karim, for almost two years, it was time to go back home. The bottom line was that Southern living wasn’t for Rasheed Gordon, a native New Yorker. He thought that Atlanta was a great city, and looked even better on the videos that flashed across his television. The novelty of living in a new city had worn off.

Karim Gordon had made a substantial amount of money in real estate and promoting in the city of Atlanta, but Rasheed knew that it was no place for a man like him. Down there, he was an unknown, merely a shadowy figure that lurked behind his big brother. He yearned to be back in the five boroughs, in his Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, where he was a shining star and loved by many.

At the beckoning of Karim, Rasheed thought that his life would be much better in Atlanta than it was in Brooklyn. And it was. It was just too slow for him. Rasheed found himself missing the fast-paced action of New York City and the eclectic mix of people who lived there.

The Gordons were a well-known family in their Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood. Miss Carrie, the matriarch of the clan, raised all seven of her children along with Karim and Rasheed right on Halsey Street. They were close knit, and even through tough times, death, or incarceration, they were supportive of each other.

Karim and Rasheed came to live with Miss Carrie when they were only seven and five years old, respectively. Their mother, Lavon, was murdered by their abusive father, Jihad, who eventually killed himself too. It was an adjustment for the brothers, who had lived the early years of their lives under the strict rules of their Muslim father.

For Karim, the living arrangement worked out fine, but Rasheed proved to be the hardheaded child. The shock of losing his parents to such tragedy obviously had a long-term effect on him. He chose to follow in the footsteps of his much older uncles and become one with the streets, as if he had something to prove. Unfortunately, it took him numerous scrapes with the law and brushes with death to see that the streets didn’t have love for anyone.

After his oldest uncle, Peppy, was killed by Dominican drug dealers, the surviving Gordon brothers—Nayshawn, Shaka, and Kemper—did a 360-degree turnaround. They took their hustling proceeds and obtained all sorts of businesses: a tire and autobody shop, a construction company, and younger sister Carrie opened a beauty parlor.

Ironically, Miss Carrie was a registered nurse for many years and was more than happy that her unruly children had finally come to their senses. Even though his uncles got their lives on track, Rasheed still chose to sell drugs and live a reckless lifestyle when he had access to jobs and money. He had to admit that the jail bids that he had done were because of some bad choices he’d made in the past. But it was the streets that he craved that caused him to have no regard for the law.

Rasheed walked over to the huge stand-up mirror that was tucked in the corner of his oversized bedroom. He looked in the mirror, wrapped his long locks in a ponytail, and flexed his prominent biceps, posing from every angle. Rasheed smiled and patted his chest.

A nigga looks pretty damn good to be thirty-three years old, Rasheed thought.

Looking at his reflection also made him think about his mother, Lavon. She was a gorgeous woman, with long, wavy hair, and her skin was the color of bronze, inherited from her own mother, Miss Carrie Gordon. Even though Rasheed had heard it numerous times, it wasn’t until adulthood that he realized that he actually was a male replica of his mother. He moved closer to the mirror to inspect himself. Rasheed shook his head in amazement.

“Damn, I do look like Mommy,” he said to himself. “God bless her soul.”

Rasheed looked around the room and sighed. He had recently expressed to Karim how he felt about moving back home. Rasheed knew that any mention of him wanting to leave Atlanta would not sit right with his serious-minded brother. Preparing himself for an argument, Rasheed felt his heart beating rapidly through his chest as he called out to Karim from his bedroom.

“Yo, Karim!” Rasheed shouted. “Can you make my plane reservations for me?” Realizing that he was kind of loud, he turned around to look at the sleeping female in his bed. She didn’t flinch. Rasheed shook his head.

This broad looks real comfortable in my bed and I can’t even sleep right now, Rasheed thought. Rasheed shook his head. He was going to be kicking her out real soon.

A laugh could be heard coming from the kitchen. “Hell no! You’re a grown man with your own money. You can make your own reservations. That’s the problem now. You’re always waitin’ for somebody to do somethin’ for you.”

Rasheed walked out of his bedroom. He slowly walked down the stairs that led to the kitchen area.

“C’mon, Karim. Are you serious? Can you make that call for me? You know that I’m not good with things like that and the money isn’t an issue. It’s just that I was all set to go to New York this week!” Rasheed said with a sour look on his face. He was also anticipating being home in time for the second birthday of his son, Messiah. It looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

Karim stood in the kitchen wearing a Ralph Lauren robe and slippers while fixing his breakfast. He was just as handsome as Rasheed, just shorter and stockier like their deceased father, Jihad. Although they were brothers, their differences were obvious. Karim was the calmer of the two, and while he didn’t take mess from anyone, he was the logical thinker. Rasheed was the brother who was quick to fight or pick up a weapon to settle his disagreements with violence.

Karim believed that he had too much invested and had worked too hard to throw away his life for that kind of temperament. This was one of the reasons why he wanted Rasheed by his side. His brother was the wild child of the Gordon family and Karim thought that moving Rasheed to Atlanta was a good idea, especially after he was shot in New York almost three years ago.

Annoyed with the constant talk of Brooklyn and Rasheed’s refusal to conform to their laid-back lifestyle, Karim was secretly glad to see him go at that point.

After pouring some egg whites into a frying pan, Karim turned the fire down to medium and looked at his younger brother.

“I done already told your stubborn ass—if you wanna go back to Brooklyn, then that’s on you,” he replied.

“That means make your own plane reservations for your trip. I don’t want no part of it.”

Rasheed rubbed his hands through his neat locks. “Sounds like you have an attitude because I wanna move back to New York.” He looked around the spacious four-bedroom house that Karim called home. “Don’t get me wrong, this is a nice layout, but I gotta get outta here, man. Ain’t nothin’ down here for me,” Rasheed exclaimed.

Karim turned his eggs over and checked on his turkey bacon that was frying in another pan. He poured some Tropicana orange juice in a glass and sipped it. After a few seconds passed, Karim looked at Rasheed.

“So what am I supposed to do about that? You’ve been livin’ down here for the last two years and some change, and even made a good name for yourself here in Atlanta. You had the opportunity to reinvent yourself, to become a better man and make an honest livin’. Now you wanna throw all this shit away to move back to Brooklyn? You’re crazy!”

Karim placed the glass of orange juice on the granite countertop and waved his hand at Rasheed.

“All I can say is that if you move back to New York and you get into some more shit, don’t call me!” Karim added, taking a bite of some toast.

Rasheed smirked. “So it’s like that? Don’t call you, huh?”

Karim turned his back to Rasheed and continued to prepare his breakfast. “You know, Rah, you was never a nigga who listened to any reason. You always had to be the one to do the exact opposite of what anyone told you to do. But you’d think that after all you went through in New York, you would wanna stay here in Atlanta.”

Getting even more aggravated with Rasheed’s request, Karim turned around with the cooking spatula in his hand.

“Now, I’m not Nana, I’m not Nayshawn or Shaka and I damn sure ain’t Kemp, who cosigns a lot of your bullshit. The first time I suggested that you move to Atlanta, you wanted to bring your thievin’ girlfriend, Tamir, down here with you. I said no to that. Then you dumped her for Sierra Howell, the correction officer you met when you were locked up on Rikers for your last parole violation. Now when you’re released from jail, you have nothin’ but drama with Tamir and Sierra goin’ at each other’s throats.

“So I give you another invitation to come down here, to put all of that drama behind you when Tyke, Sierra’s ex-man, comes home from jail. This opens another can of worms because you and Tyke never got along with each other growin’ up. You and Tyke started beefin’ over Sierra and he ends up killin’ Tamir to get back at you! Then to keep him from killin’ you and Sierra, you put a hit out on him!”

Karim continued as Rasheed just stood there, with a bored look on his face as he listened to his own drama. “So after all that, you end up gettin’ shot by some homo-thug dude named Scooter who you were locked up with on Rikers. By this time, you had no other choice but to move down here.

“Last but not least, you moved to Atlanta and you discovered that you and Sierra might have a child together. It’s just too much. Can’t say that I really blame Sierra for not wantin’ to be with you, Rah,” he added.

Karim went back to preparing his breakfast.

Rasheed began to pace back and forth. “I see how you feel about me, ’Rim. All of these years I’m thinkin’ that you got my back, and now you’re actin’ like I’m a fuckup.”

Karim made his plate and placed it on the island. He pulled up the leather stool and sat down to enjoy his meal. Before answering his brother, he blessed his food and stuffed some egg whites into his mouth. Rasheed stared at Karim in amazement.

“Are you just gonna ignore me now?” Rasheed asked with a pleading look in his eyes.

“Yep. I’m ignorin’ you. Do what you wanna do. You wanna go back to Brooklyn? Go outside and push that fuckin’ Range Rover that I copped for you up 95 North. I’m done with this conversation.”

Rasheed held his hands up in the air. “You’re sayin’ that I have to drive up to New York now? I wanted to be in New York in time for Messiah’s birthday! This is my chance to make it right with Sierra and if I don’t get there in time—,” Rasheed protested.

Karim cut him off with a chuckle. He shook his head and picked his plate up from the counter. He walked toward his bedroom.

“C’mon, man! Now you wanna see Messiah and make things right with Sierra all of a sudden? Who do you think you’re foolin’?”

With that, Karim walked in his bedroom and slammed the door in Rasheed’s face.

Rasheed stood in front of the closed bedroom door. He couldn’t believe that Karim had dismissed him like that. They were like Frick and Frack since he moved to Atlanta and Karim made it his business to involve Rasheed in most of his dealings. But Rasheed was tired of doing what Karim wanted him to do. It was as if he didn’t have a mind of his own.

Rasheed trekked back upstairs to his bedroom and stood in the doorway. From there, he looked at all his bags. For a brief second, he realized that he would be going back to a place where he had left heartache and misery behind. That wasn’t the problem. Rasheed just had a nagging desire to go back and finish what he’d started.

There were so many mistakes that he made then and the new man in him wanted to rectify them. One of those unfortunate decisions was denying himself the pleasures of watching his son grow up. Regrettably, Rasheed did not have a civil relationship with his son’s mother, and he wanted to change that.

The last time that he was in New York was exactly a year and a half ago when Messiah was only six months old. Rasheed had made it his business to contact Sierra to let her know that he was going to be in town for a few weeks, and that he wanted to spend time with his son. She seemed doubtful about seeing Rasheed and equally hesitant about allowing him to see Messiah. After some convincing, they eventually met at a neutral location, at the suggestion of Sierra.

Rasheed remembered that day like it had just happened. He pulled up in his truck and Sierra pulled up in a brand new BMW X5. She had told Rasheed to meet her by the Jefferson High School football field in East New York and she would bring the baby there. Even though it seemed a little inconvenient for the both of them, Rasheed was happy that he would finally be able to lay his eyes on his baby boy once again.

When Sierra got out of her truck, Rasheed felt his heart flutter. Sierra looked beautiful in her sheared mink jacket and tight-fitting jeans. Her long hair was stuffed into a cashmere beret and her lips glistened in the winter sunlight.

“Hello, Mr. Gordon,” she said, approaching him with a bored look on her face. “You’re lookin’ good.”

“What’s up, Sierra?” Rasheed replied with an attitude. He could have kicked himself for being nasty with her, but the sight of her always seemed to make him angry.

“Why do you have me meetin’ you on this side of town? I’m not good enough for you to drop my son off at the house?” he asked, irritated.

Sierra sighed. “Why do we always have to go through this crap, Rasheed? You know that I’m still employed with the Department of Correction and I don’t want to go anywhere near Halsey Street. You never know who may see us together.”

Rasheed threw his hands in the air. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. Just let me see Messiah. I’m not even goin’ through this shit with you again. I keep tellin’ you that I don’t give a fuck about you being a CO, all right? If I cared, I would have been on the phone with the inspector general’s office gettin’ your ass into major fuckin’ trouble. It’s not like I don’t have the evidence to do it.”

Sierra bit her bottom lip. Rasheed knew that when she did that, she was pissed off. A smile of satisfaction came over his face. He had hit her where it hurt. He had won that round.

“You know, Rasheed, I’m really tryin’ to make this thing we have…” Sierra said, trying to hold back tears, pointing back and forth between the both of them. “I’m really tryin’ to make it work for the sake of Messiah. I just don’t understand why you are so angry with me. Is it because I moved on?”

Rasheed walked to Sierra’s truck, not trying to acknowledge anything that she was talking about. He didn’t feel like conversing with Sierra about their relationship. It was Messiah’s time now and every moment that was spent with him was precious.

Sierra lagged closely behind and climbed into the driver’s seat of her truck. Rasheed opened the back door and slid into the backseat, next to Messiah’s car seat. When he closed the door, he immediately removed the baby from the seat. Messiah was half asleep and sucking on a pacifier. His body jerked when his father pulled him out of the seat. Rasheed inspected Messiah carefully, with love in his eyes.

Rasheed looked at Sierra while holding his son in his arms. He softened up a bit. “I’m gonna answer your questions once and for all, okay? Just let me get some time in with my baby boy.”

Sierra rolled her eyes up in her head. “Yeah, okay,” she sarcastically replied.

Rasheed looked at Sierra, and, for a split second, he thought about choking the hell out of her. But while holding the baby in his arms, nothing else mattered at that moment.

With Messiah dozing in and out of sleep, Rasheed sighed. His paternal instincts kicked in and he yearned to experience more of those special moments with Messiah. This meant that he would have to clear the air with Sierra so that they wouldn’t have any more misunderstandings.

“I’m gonna say this and I’m not gonna repeat myself. You know the reason I have an attitude is because, yes, I feel that you should be with me. We went through a lot to be with each other, and at the end of the day all I can say is, what was it all for? So the only way that you gonna get any type of reprieve from me is if we be together and make this right. We have a child and I just want me, you, and Messiah to be a family, Si. Is there somethin’ wrong with that?” Rasheed paused. “So don’t come at me with the ‘am I mad because you moved on’ shit! No, I’m mad because I can’t move on! Now does that answer your questions?”

Sierra didn’t respond. Instead, she sighed loudly and turned around in the driver’s seat. She pulled out her cell phone and began talking to one of her girlfriends. Rasheed stared at her for a few moments, and then looked down at his beautiful baby boy.

The smell of Baby Magic made Rasheed forget that he was upset with Sierra. Messiah had opened his eyes and stared at his father. Rasheed made a funny face and the baby began to giggle, spitting the pacifier out of his mouth. Messiah . . .