Hard work, dedication, and focus; 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯 just wanted change in his hood, his parenting, and off his previous mindset, while growing interest in someone he felt was above his level.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dante went through eleven years without having privacy in prison, and although Dante was outside of those walls, privacy still didn't exist. His P.O. was his warden on the outside, and will be for the next five years. Every Friday morning Dante was obligated to see his parole officer at eight on the dot, and not even a second late. His P.O. was a Black woman, and not a sista. Tasha Stanley, she was strict and second chances wasn't in her vocabulary. She felt her parolees were adults, and if they couldn't follow the simple rules as grown people, there was no reason to treat em like children.
When Dante first got out and he had to meet with Tasha, he remember couple guys asking who his P.O. was, and once they heard Tasha's name they laughed, and told him "good luck with that" since they were familiar with her and her overly strict rules and attitude.
Giving someone space was far from Tasha's vocabulary with her standing right outside curtain that blocked her and Dante, while he urinated in the T-cup over the toilet bowl for his drug test that Friday morning. After, he screwed on the lid and stretched out his ebony brown arm decorated in veins and gave it right to Tasha. He pulled up his black straight leg jeans that he paired with a 𝘍𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘮 white tee and black air forces, and buckled them. He pushed over the curtain just for Tasha to still be there, but by the opened bathroom door.
"Damn, can I wash my hands by myself?" Dante vocalized, and Tasha remained quiet knowing he knew the drill. He washed his hands, then dried them, and left out with Tasha leading him back to her office.
"Sit. Tell me now if this sample dirty," Tasha said, staring up at his six-foot-two build.
"Nah, it ain't like it haven't been for six months, and I ain't no dog. You can have a li'l respect, G." Dante told her, and Tasha chuckled and walked away.
Shaking his head, Dante sat on seat relaxed into an automatic manspread, and waited patiently on her to return and receive payment for his thousands of fines and fees he had to pay, and be interrogated. Tasha came back and the first thing outta her mouth was, "Your sample came back clean; good for you," she exhaled, sitting in her seat, "You have payment for me?"
Dante held out the money order to Tasha that she accepted. "You do know you can pay online, right?"
"I'on even get my checks on a card; I'm straight."
Tasha just gave a quiet okay before typing on her computer. "Still living at 3405 NE 11th St-"
"Yes, or I woulda reported it like I'm obligated to do everything else."
