Chapter 3

My year of incarceration in the jail was a sojourn I had no desire to repeat ever again. I don’t think there was a single night when I was not in fear of having my throat cut while I slept in my lower bunk in the barrack style quarters that held about fifty of us in a single shed.

We all had beards because there were no mirrors, no soap and definitely no razors except the sharp little ones that guys bought on the black market to give them an edge in a scrap.

I had happened to meet my newest female conquests on the bus back from the prison. The older sister was called Dulcina and her younger sister was called Corazon. I had been so deprived for the past twelve months of female companionship that I considered them both as manna from heaven and would have married either of them or both of them to get some of that sweet pussy and dip my hardened wick in their tight rear doors welcoming me with their rolling hips and bouncing buttocks. Eventually, we got into a trio of love making and I learned some new tricks from those girls that convinced me I should be in no hurry to run home to my Crystal and the fortune we had sworn to share as soon as I got out of jail.

My other partner had not survived the period of incarceration despite his superior fighting skills and his overall ability to adapt to any situation. I suspected it was a guard that stabbed him in the neck from behind and he was watching his front thinking the guards would be at neutral in the chaos of the general population. Unfortunately for Rodrigo this was not the case in the age of unholy alliances in strange places. In retrospect, I think my friend was far too optimistic to expect order in the midst of chaos just because there was structure in place and rules to follow for those in charge.

Dulcina was a strong woman and she lived up to her sweet name time after time in our relationship. Her younger sister Corazon was surprisingly innocent in some respects despite her bad marriage and three kids that sapped her energy in ways too numerous to relate. She was a girl with bad luck but still with the reserves of hope and faith that all would turn out just fine in the end with her the winner of the grand prize. Dulcina thought her to be totally deluded by her optimism and she was the realist of the duo with a little emergency fund hidden for when everything turned to shit and the only way out was to hit the road.

In all honesty they were identical but yet they seemed like polar opposites in attitude and their life styles that were more a modern approach to survival in a world that was tilted against their favor. In a way, I knew they were better off than me because I was a felon just released from prison and a “persona non grata” in decent society. At least they could fit into the housewife mold and carry off the deep cover of mother and member of a minority class in the struggle for relevance in the disorganized chaos of urban existence.

We got off the bus and rented a unit nearby the bus station and right over a bar of dubious character populated by denizens of the depths of society. The dregs of the criminal element were definitely in control in this establishment and both Dulcina and Corazon fit in well because they had a sideline of age-old work ethic that sold their favors for cold, hard cash where money is power and pussy is an asset in the nocturnal hours. My exterior appearance was enough to forestall any questions of who I was and what the fuck was I doing there. I did my best to make myself scarce and kept a low profile in the background because my survival depending on my not being considered a threat to those around me.

We only had one bed in the room but it was big enough for the three of us and we set up little pillow cots on the floor for the kids. When I was growing up as a small child on the streets of New York City, we would always get a laugh by saying “The Puerto Ricans are here” whenever we got into a messy situation that made us look like losers to casual observers because of our cheap clothing, our terrible language or the overcrowded conditions of everyday life. This was that sort of moment and I smiled as I remembered the pillowcases filled with dirty clothing and sometimes clean clothing and the paper bags we managed to carry instead of regular suitcases like normal people with more organization in their lives. I certainly didn’t mind sleeping in the bed with the two women because it was nice to be spooned on both sides by female bottoms juicy and ready for action on demand.

I helped feed and change the kids and in a few short weeks they were calling me “daddy” and it was beginning to feel real good. Corazon got more calls for tending to customers with an itch than did the older Dulcina but she bent to the task with a stiff upper lip and the right attitude to earn a tip for a job well done. Dulcina being older had seniority and we both acceded to her wishes most of the time.

Once there was a shooting downstairs and the bullets came right through the floor narrowly missing the kids and we decided it was time for us to move on to find alternate accommodations. I suggested we move further inland to the city where I knew my Crystal was living in the squalor of the lower classes just waiting for my promised return for our journey back to the Caves. I knew that the gems I had hidden in the coffin of her grandmother was almost certainly still safe providing there was no earthquake that disturbed the final sleeping ground of her lower class grave.

We had two little tents that we carried with us on our backs and I usually set them up slightly off the beaten trail because traveling in that area was a dangerous proposition. Still, it was a lot more private and whole lot safer than any of the hostels used by the road people at the end of the day to rest their weary bones for another day’s travel.

One tent was for the kids and the other tent was for the three of us. The tents were only intended for two people so ours was a bit crowded but I wasn’t complaining with all that female flesh to surround me at night under the moonlight and listening to the steady snoring from the other tent. Both of the women had machetes and I had the little handgun that I had stolen from a security guard at the bar where we had stayed for those days of wine and roses until we were driven from our lair by the bullet holes in the floor.