Unlocking the handcuffs, Tatum said, “Get ready for your Hearing. I’m giving you a direct order to have your drunk ass to Hearing room number five. Sorry, there won’t be shots of Smirnoff or Hennessy White on the refreshment table.”
Tatum laughed out the cell.
“Thanks for the oil change. I can get a sausage anywhere.”
Shooting his cuffs, Bob said, “Check your phone, Tatum.”
Pausing just at the start of the stairs, Tatum looked at his phone.
He was on Facebook Live.
Tatum’s mouth hit the floor in shock.
“Call the number on the letter, and repeat after me...”
Reluctantly, Tatum called the number and handed Bob the phone.
Slapping the taste out of his mouth, Bob said, “Bitch, didn’t I tell you to repeat after me? Do as I ask, not what you want.”
Tatum was bamboozled.
A woman over the receiver said, “Hello.”
“Hello, Samantha,” Bob said loud enough for Samantha to hear his voice.
“Daddy!” his kids said in unison, melting his heart.
“Tatum, repeat after me...Samantha, I need that lawyer. I have a feeling the state is going to get me a public pretender of a lawyer that’s going to make me plea bargain.”
Grabbing the bottom of Tatum’s face, Tatum repeated to Samantha what Bob asked.
“And I’m pleading not guilty. I can’t go to prison for life.”
Tatum repeated the words...
Bob was both pleasured and pleased. In times like this, sometimes you had to use sex as a weapon.
Especially when the corrections officer drew first blood.
Just call him Rambo...