I had seven days to get my proposed place of residence submitted to the parole board- anything later would put my release date in jeopardy. And I did not want that to happen.
There weren’t many people I trusted on the inside and I refused to take this problem to anyone I knew in the real world, but for some reason I instinctively knew that Carmencita would be able to solve this for me. She was a hip kitty and always seemed so eager to make things better.
“Eula, babes. How’s it hanging?” Cita inquired, once she saw me heading her way.
“Cita, I gotta ask you something time sensitive and…” I glanced around me at all of the chicks milling about, bored, “… a bit on the classified info tip.”
She got my drift and followed me as I walked towards an empty picnic table located on the periphery of the action.
We sat down.
“Alright, what’s up babes?” she asked, giving off big 1940s noir girl energy.
I looked around again, knowing I was coming off as extra paranoid, but not really caring.
I leaned in towards her and said in a very hushed voice, “Okay, do not tell anyone but I’m getting released soon.” She quietly mimed giving me a high five and leaned in towards me.
“What do you need? How can I help?”
Confession time. No sense in beating around the bush.
“Ummmm, I’m having a hard time finding a place to go once I’m out and I’m really trying to avoid having to wind up in a halfway house.”
Carmencita smiled at me.
“Oh, that’s it? I thought you had some really fucked up situation going on! I think I can help you with that. I gotta shake my phone tree, so just give me a day and we’ll get it figured out.”
“Carmen,” I said, really, really meaning it, “You are an angel. Whoever you come up with, let them know I have a little money to spend, so rent shouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’m on it,” she promised. “We’ll find you somewhere good.”
