~Rhonda's POV~
Who could have predicted I'd end up in a place like this, locked away in some rundown county jail on the outskirts of the city, but here I was, Rhonda Jackson, straight outta Queens, New York, serving time for that dumb felony charge. The air in here always smelled like sweat, bleach, and desperation, the kind that clings to your skin no matter how many showers you take.
I was a hood b***h through and through... loud, unapologetic, with curves that turned heads even in this orange jumpsuit that did nothing to hide my thick thighs and full ass. My braids were pulled back tight, and I kept my attitude sharper than a switchblade.
Fights? They were just like Tuesday in this b***h. Inmates always testing me, thinking they could run up on a queen like me.
That day started like
