Richard and Bam were sitting in the commons area when Ms. Jackson started her shift. Bam was the first to see her. “Yo’ fam, there go Ms. Jackson right there,” he said, nodding his head over in her direction.
“Count time! Count time! Count time!” she yelled, walking in the direction of the correction officer’s desk.
Immediately, the inmates started heading for their bunks, Bam included. “Fuck with you after count,” Bam said as he headed for their cell.
Richard nodded at Bam, but instead of heading straight for his bunk, he hung back and walked by Ms. Jackson’s desk. “After count, I’ll take the trays back.”
Jim, the house man, had heard Richard. “Ay Rich Kid! That’s my job!”
Without responding, Richard started heading towards his bunk. He could hear Ms. Jackson respond as he walked away. “Well, it’s his job while I’m here.” He also heard Jim’s response, “Ay Bob, that nigga Rich Kid hating,” along with Bob’s response, “That young nigga ain’t got to hate on you.”
“Ay Jim! Check this out!” Richard yelled out his cell after making it to his bunk.
Bam gave Richard an annoyed look. The look of annoyance wasn’t directed towards Richard, but the idea of having Jim in their bunk. “Why you call that bitch ass nigga over here?”
“Just chill,” Richard replied. “You gone see.”
“Wuz up, young blood?” Jim asked, standing in the doorway of Richard’s cell.
Richard slowly pulled one of his shoes on. He avoided making eye contact with Jim. “If you don’t like what I did, you know we can go to the bathroom and handle it like men.” Richard reached for his other shoe and slid it on, slowly, methodically. “You ain’t got to be talking shit when I’m not around.”
Jim stood in shock. He hadn’t realized that Richard had heard the entire conversation. His heart thumped in his chest as he watched Richard slowly tying his shoes. He knew Richard’s reputation. He didn’t want any trouble. “Naw, young blood. You got it all wrong.” Jim shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck bout them trays. You can do whatever you want to do.”
Suddenly, Richard stopped tying his shoe. Finally meeting Jim’s eyes with a stone cold glare, he said, “I ain’t no bitch. I’ll get there with anyone of you fuck niggas. Win, lose or draw, that’s the worst that can happen. Get me?”
Jim raised his hands in defense. “Naw, young blood. I don’t need them problems. I’m good. You can take the trays out every day.”
Certain that he and Jim had an understanding now, Richard nodded in Jim’s direction, letting him know that things were cool, as long as Jim didn’t try to create any more problems for himself. “A’ight. I’m gone holla at you.” Richard stood to his feet. “Just chill. I’m trying to do something.”
“I got you. I’m good,” Jim replied before heading back to his own cell. Once a few cells down, a whoosh of relieved air left his lungs.
“Gary!” Ms. Jackson’s voice came right outside his cell. “Come on. You gone take the trays tonight.”
The moment Richard’s cell door closed, Ms. Jackson transformed into Kita. “Rich Kid, I had so much fun the other night!”
Richard pushed the carts down the walkway. “Oh you did, huh?” he asked, smiling.
Ms. Jackson nodded and continued to gush about her time with Skinny. Suddenly, she stopped walking and turned to Richard. “Skinny told you we married, right?” A look of nervous guilt crossed her face.
Richard chuckled. “Don’t nothing go down without my say so.” His amused grin disappeared and a stone cold expression took its place as he asked his next question. “Ain’t none of my niggas tried to holla at you, did they?”
Kita shook her head wildly.” No, they were treating me like family.” Richard began pushing the cart forward again and Kita followed a step behind. “I think if I would have tried to give one of them some pussy, they would have flipped on me anyways.”
“You right, but you wrong,” Richard spoke, using his hands to emphasize his point. “They would have gave you the business, but that’s all you would have been good for after that.”
Kita contemplated his statement in silence for a moment. Finally, her face lit up as she remembered the bag of pills in her pocket. “Oh!” she said, digging in her pocket for the tiny bag. “Here you go.” She slid the bag into Richard’s hand.
Richard examined it quickly. “Damn, why you brought so many? I ain’t got no music to listen to.”
Kita gave him a satisfied grin. “I got you an mp3 player in my bag.”
Richard bumped Kita with his hip and smiled back. “A’ight, now that’s what a nigga need. I want you to bring some hard for Jim’s bitch ass too,” Richard said as they passed by Jim’s cell.
“What’s that?” Kita’s nose wrinkled. “That stuff that look like lil’ rocks?”
Richard’s eyebrow cocked in disbelief. “You mean to tell me you don’t know what crack looks like and you from the hood?”
“I ain’t never been round that stuff until I went and got them pills from Skinny,” she replied, shaking her head.
“She show you how to bag them?”
“She showed me how to cook the coke, cut it up and bag it.” She counted the tasks on her fingers as she spoke. “I was over there all day with her doing that, then we gave it to E and he came back with the money in less time than it took us to get it ready.”
“She paid you, right?”
“She tried to give me some money, but I ain’t take it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And she got the nerve to get mad.”
Richard pushed his full tray cart next to the empty ones so that Kita could take it down to the kitchen. “She still got that money for you,” he said, turning to face Kita. “Nobody in the family does work for free. That’s why she got mad at you.”
“I didn’t know that,” Kita murmured, walking with Richard back to his cell. “I thought she was just trying to see if I was a gold digger.”
Richard gave Kita a sympathetic smile, just before walking back into his cell. In a way, he felt a little sorry for her. Breaking her in was hard, and Kita seemed to know very little about life on the streets. But he had to admit, she was doing better than even he’d expected. Suddenly he remembered the mp3 player. He looked back out into the hallway for her. She was already halfway to her desk. “Ms. Jackson, you need me to empty the trash can for you?” he yelled.
“Yeah, do that for me,” she called over her shoulder, understanding that his question was more of a statement. Put the mp3 player in the trash can.
Once he’d taken out the trash and made it back into his cell, Ms. Jackson yelled, “Lock down!” from her desk and the familiar click of the cell doors filled the prison.
Turning to Bam, who was already on his bunk, Richard asked, “Ay Raw, you ever pop X pills before?”
“Yeah…why?”
“Look, nigga.” He dropped two of the pills into Raw’s hand.
Staring at the blue four leaf clover pills in his hand, Bam asked in amazement, “Where’d you get these from?”
A slick half-smile tugged at one side of Richard’s mouth. “Just take them, nigga.”
***
“Richard Gary!...Richard Gary!” a male correction officer called from the desk. He’d taken Kita’s place sometime after Richard had fallen asleep. Estimating the time, Richard assumed that it was too early for shift change. She must’ve went to lunch. He rolled over in his bunk as the correction officer called his name again. “Richard Gary! Court call. You’ve got thirty minutes to get in the shower and shave.”
“I got you man,” Richard yelled from his cell, hopping down from his bunk. Turning towards the bottom bunk to grab his shoes off the ground, Richard noticed Bam bopping his head to the music on the mp3 player. “Nigga? You ain’t been to sleep yet?”
Bam pulled the headphones from his ears. “Fam, them’s some fire ass pills.” His jaw twitched as he spoke. “I don’t see how you went to sleep.”
Shaking his head, Richard pushed Bam’s leg. “Go over,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the bunk.
“Wuz good, fam?” Bam asked, sitting up the rest of the way. “I hope they let you out today.”
Richard nodded his head and looked down at the ground. “Yeah, me too.” His expression turned thoughtful as he tried to remember how long he’d been locked up. Unable to find the answer to his own question, he looked over at Bam. “How long we been locked up now anyway?”
Bam shrugged. “Bout three, four months now maybe.” If he was completely honest with himself, he wasn’t completely certain either.
Figuring it didn’t really matter, Richard moved on to the reason he’d sat down on Bam’s bunk in the first place. “Ay Raw.” Elbowing Bam in the ribs, Richard lifted his bag of toiletries and personal items. “Hold this down ‘til I get back.”
“Where I suppose to put that at? I still got the shit you ordered for me yesterday in my drawer.” But Raw took the bag from Richard’s hand anyway.
“Just put this shit by your bunk until you get room.” Richard dug in his pocket, feeling for the little plastic bag of ecstasy. “Hold this shit down, too.”
Bam’s eyes widened. “Where you get all them from, fam?” His eyes were dancing between Richard and the bag he held in his hand.
“Just hold them.” Richard stood as the correction officer called his name again, notifying him that he had only twenty minutes left to shower. Grabbing his towel, soap and wash cloth, he headed towards the showers, calling back at Bam over his shoulder. “Be easy, nigga.”
Nearly done with his shower, Richard heard a female voice echoing in the bathroom. “Don’t let nobody in here.” He pulled back the curtain to find Kita standing outside his shower stall. “Girl, you had me thinking a nigga was trying to get me.” He smiled jokingly.
“Naw,” she said, dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand. “It’s only me. I came to give you a good luck kiss.” She took an uncertain step closer to his stall.
Richard grabbed his towel. “A’ight, let me dry off first,” he said, already rubbing it over his head to dry his hair.
Kita looked behind her shoulder nervously. Afraid of losing her nerve or getting caught, she took another step forward. “Boy, we ain’t got all day. Give me a kiss now.”
Shrugging, Richard responded, “A’ight.”
The kiss, although short and rather plain, compared to her kisses with Skinny, caused her legs to buckle. His lips were intoxicating and the feel of his naked body against her uniform sent a heat straight into her inner thighs. “Good luck, daddy,” she whispered breathily as she pulled away, heady from the kiss.
“I hope so,” Richard replied, watching her as she turned and walked away.
***
“Gary! Let’s go!”
Richard tucked four ecstasy pills, that he had taken out of the bag, into his cuff. “A’ight! I’m coming now.” He turned to Bam and gave him daps before turning to walk away.
Bam watched Richard walk towards the door of the cell, sad that Richard might not be returning but hopeful that things went well in court for him today. “Be easy, fam.”
“That’s all a nigga like me can do,” Richard called over his shoulder as he walked out of the cell door.
Corporal Smith was the officer responsible for preparing the inmates for “the long walk.” He shook his head when he saw Richard approaching. “Back already?”
Richard gave the Corporal a sly sideways grin. “Corp, you have to understand, them crackers keep kidnapping me.”
A short, loud snort came from the Corporal’s nose. He may have intended it to be a laugh, Richard thought. “Whatever. Just turn around and put your hands on the wall so I can pat you down.”
Richard complied and joined the tightly gathered group of fellow inmates next to the elevator. While waiting there, Richard heard his name being called by a familiar voice.
“Ay Rich Kid, what’s good nigga?” Rex sauntered over from the other side of the group. Another man followed behind him.
“Just chilling, nigga. I ain’t seen yo’ ass in a minute.” Richard raised his arms and grasped his chin in thought. “Rex, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me nigga.” The inmate standing next to Rex stood in utter disbelief as Rex turned to face him with a triumphant grin. “Told you I knew Rich Kid.”
Ignoring the inmate next to Rex, Richard asked, “So what them crackers got you fo?”
Rex rolled his eyes. “Some shit ‘bout some pills.”
“Yeah? What them crackers talking ‘bout?” Richard asked as the elevator doors opened.
The correction officer directed the inmates forward into the elevator. Scrunched like sardines, the men headed down to the basement. Grumbles and groans filled the small area. Rex continued the conversation. “Like fifteen years, but I got that shit beat,” he lied.
The doors opened to the elevator and the men were now being directed into a long underground tunnel: “the long walk.” Rex and Richard walked together, side by side. The inmate that had accompanied Rex upstairs continued to follow behind. After just a few moments of trudging down the long corridor, the new inmate spoke up, addressing Richard directly. “Ay Rich Kid, that shit true ‘bout all them guns and coke you supposed to got jammed with?”
Richard shot Rex a look of disbelief before turning around to meet the other inmates gaze. “Ay buddy, I don’t know you,” Richard said, walking backwards. “Don’t be asking me no questions.” Richard returned to his forward walking position.
“Chill, Rich Kid,” Rex said, defending his friend. “Lil’ fool straight.” Rex looked over his shoulder and glared at the other inmate, silently signaling for him to keep quiet.
“I don’t know that nigga to be asking me no questions,” Richard said as they continued forward. “You know how a nigga is.”
“Shit, only reason I ain’t say nothing ‘bout him questioning you is cause I was just about to ask you the same shit,” Rex replied, figuring this was as good a time as any to ask.
“Man, y’all heard the story,” Richard tried to bring the conversation to a close. “Y’all already know from what he said.”
After a moment of silence, Rex continued. “Who you think put them crackers on your trail?”
Richard’s gaze went steely and his jaw set in anger. He still hadn’t found the rat and the thought of that snake still being on the loose made his blood boil. “I don’t even know man,” he replied, trying to keep his tone calm. “But I hope they get killed with a rat in they ass.”
Now halfway through “the long walk,” another inmate called from behind them. “Ay Rex!” Rex, Richard and the other inmate turned their heads to find another inmate jogging, trying to catch up.
“Wuz good, Malow” Rex asked the new inmate when he’d finally reached their little group.
“Damn, you still locked up from when you got caught with them pills at the bar?” Malow asked, surprised to see Rex still in prison.
“Yeah man, these crackers trying to give a nigga 15 years,” Rex replied.
But Richard hadn’t heard Rex’s reply. He was still focusing on Malow’s comment, particularly the word “bar.” That one word had sent the wheels spinning in Richard’s head. He decided to test his theory. “Ay Rex, you know Cash?”
Rex nodded. “Yeah, I know that nigga. Why?”
“That nigga Cash scary as fuck,” Richard said, testing the waters.
“Why you say that?”
Richard laughed. “I went to get some pills from that nigga one day and them crackers tried to rope us off.” Discreetly, Richard analyzed Rex’s facial expressions as he spoke. “You know I ride with that hater, so I hit the gas on them crackers. That fuck nigga talking ‘bout let him out the car…”
“What kind of car you was in?” Malow interrupted.
“I was in one of them Dodge Charger Hemi’s,” Richard replied, not bothering to look at Malow. He was still watching Rex carefully. “Why?”
“What color was it?” Malow asked.
“Blue.” Rex sputtered out in reply, instantly realizing he’d made a huge mistake. “I-I think I saw that shit.” He stuttered, trying to cover his tracks, but he was already too late.
“I heard about that chase. Rex, aint you got locked up two days before that,” Malow said, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“That must not be the one I saw,” Rex answered quickly, turning his head towards the concrete walls of the tunnel, hoping that Richard hadn’t noticed his mistake. Slowly, Rex turned his gaze back to meet Richard’s but found only Malow and his fellow inmate. Richard was several steps ahead, walking alongside three other inmates that Rex had never met.