The Parole Officer

After my morning bathroom time, I have a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, and 10mg of melatonin, and I'm back in bed. Cuddled up next to Sarah, her soft breathing helps me slowly drift off to sleep.

The big black nightmare snake doesn't chase me this time, and when my blurry eyes open again it's nearly noon and Sarah is no longer in the bedroom. Sitting up and stretching myself awake, I sleepily make my way to the living room, where Darnell is kicked back on our sofa, watching TV.

He's definitely making himself at home, laughing loudly at something on the TV. I look at the screen and see they're watching some old sketch comedy show. The skit is a parody of reality shows, but the joke is that the entire cast is black with only one white guy, which leads to the guy being walked all over and abused by his black housemates.

In the current scene, one of the housemates brings home a friend from prison, who takes the poor white guy's bed AND fucks his girlfriend... while the white guy jerks off and watches. I couldn't really see what was so funny about that, but Darnell seems to find it hilarious.

I just shrug. If anything, I felt embarrassed for the guy. I couldn't imagine letting someone treat me that way.

"Good morning, babe!" My ears perk up when I hear Sarah's sweet voice calling out as she enters the room, and my jaw nearly drops when I see her. No longer in a baggy t-shirt, her curvy body is now wrapped in a tight black dress that was normally used for special occasions. Apparently today was a special occasion.

"Change into something nice. Darnell's parole officer is coming over in a few, and I want us to make a good impression."

Shit, I'd already forgotten. It's hard to look away from Sarah, with her bright ginger hair tied up and her pale, freckled breasts pushed up on display, but I manage to go to the bedroom and change into something more presentable.

A few minutes later, I walk back into the living room, this time wearing slacks and a button-up dress shirt. Sarah's cheeks are blushed for some reason, and I don't see Darnell anywhere.

"Where's Darnell?" I ask, adjusting the knot on my necktie.

"He went to his room to get ready. You look handsome..." Sarah gives me a sexy little smile, rubbing her fingers over my bicep. Normally that means we're going to fool around, but with the parole officer coming, there's no time for that. A few minutes pass, and...

DING DONG

That must be him. I walk over to the door and when I open it, I'm surprised to see the officer. At our door is a large, chubby, older black man carrying a briefcase. Dressed in a stained white tee with sweatpants and a pair of Crocs, it's easy to assume he's homeless. The guy is only a couple inches taller than me, but he must weigh over 400 pounds. Dripping with sweat, with bulging yellowed eyes and a breathing situation that makes him sound like a bulldog, he doesn't look like the definition of health or professionalism.

He starts to speak, but first he coughs into his hand, and I catch a whiff of some strong odor, something he's been smoking. But the scent is gone just as quickly, and he finally speaks up in a deep, husky smoker's voice.

"Good afternoon, how are y'all doing? My name is RJ Jones, and I'm the parole officer for Darnell Walker. You can just call me RJ. Y'all mind if I come in for a visit with Darnell?"

RJ seems like a friendly guy, even if he is about to have a heart attack on our doorstep, so I happily invite him in. If I didn't, we'd probably have to bury him anyway.

"Sure, come in. I'm Liam," I tell him, stepping aside to let him into our home.

He gives me a little nod as he shuffles through the door, wobbling his way into our living room.

"Thank you, young man. Boy, I mean... it's hot as shit today... and I been walking around all day tryin' to get this damn paperwork together..." But as he walks into our front room and his eyes lock onto Sarah, he stops in his tracks. "Oh shit... Goddamn, he wasn't lying..."

Before I can ask what he's talking about, RJ seems to collect himself. "Sorry, miss, didn't expect to see no pretty white girls here. I'm RJ Jones, I'm here for Darnell. And what is your name, babygirl?"

Sarah looks to me, clearly surprised at RJ's forward attitude. I just give her a smile, letting her know that RJ seems harmless.

"Hi, I'm Sarah. I've known Darnell for almost 10 years, so I'm happy to help with whatever." She reaches out to shake his hand.

RJ coughs again and gives Sarah a smile that makes me a little uncomfortable. "You're just too sweet, babygirl. I bet there's lots of ways you can help him... right, Liam?" He looks over to me like I'm in on the joke, but I still don't understand. I just give him an awkward chuckle.

Sarah steps back now towards the guest room. "You boys get comfortable. I'll tell Darnell you're here." She starts to walk over to his door as RJ's eyes follow her.

She knocks and walks inside, closing the door behind her as I hear her call for Darnell. RJ leans over to me, nearly wheezing, and laughs to himself in an unnerving way.

"Boy, you better lock that girl down... before some nigga turns her out. You hear me?"

I feel a little grossed out, listening to some stranger talk about my Sarah that way. But even with his rude phrasing, I understood. Since Sarah had blossomed into a woman and become more beautiful, other men had noticed. But he didn't know about my plan.

"Oh... well I actually already bought the engagement ring. I was hoping to propose this weekend, but..." My voice trails off as I think about what could have been, instead of this endless visit from Darnell.

The door opens and Sarah walks out, straightening her dress as Darnell pokes his head out. "Hey, what's good, RJ? Come on in, dog."

I'm a little taken aback by how familiar these two are with each other... especially when RJ stands up and claps me on the shoulder, whispering, "... well, you better not let that nigga get your little ring..."

With a grunt, he aims his massive body towards Darnell's room and begins to waddle in that direction, leaving me to worry if I've left a $1,200 ring in the hands of a thief.