by Tiana Laveen
It. Was. Stunning!
Hunter leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I want to make you officially mine as soon as possible, JJ. Not trying to rush you, but don’t take too long giving me a wedding date.” His face was as bright as the ring. “This boxing is really taking off. I have good income and I still have the security job until I can do the boxing full time, but you know that’s where this is going. I’m booked clear out. I’ve been on the news, people are making a buzz about me all over the country, and Johnny has put me with some really good trainers.” She nodded in agreement. “I want the girls to know I’m serious, be an example to them on how they should expect a man to treat a woman.” He shrugged. “It’s just time we do this. I’m ready.”
He kissed her, then focused back on the game.
But it was hard for Nita to focus. In fact, she was on such an emotional high, she might not come down anytime soon. Nor did she want to. Being above the clouds with her Tyrant was where she wished to be and no one was like him on Earth. He was simply good for her soul, and his heart was big and bold, just like his personality.
His love? Out of this world…
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Keeping the Wolves at Bay
Hunter leaned against his ’67 China red refurbished Firebird, the one he’d personally worked on and made into a dream come true. What a rolling piece of art it turned out to be. It was his brother from another mother’s mechanical bitch – his lady. Yeah, the one Noah had ripped the Detroit streets up in, his best friend’s prized possession. The glossy red paint looked wet to the touch. Hunter felt a light breeze tease his jacket. It was nice out that day, yet overcast. There was a sweetness in the air that heralded the coming of rain.
He felt somewhat odd in the black suit he’d worn at Noah’s funeral, but perhaps it was fitting. Regardless, he didn’t have much of a choice: it was necessary. He’d been to too many prisons in his lifetime, usually as the one incarcerated. Had to be careful. Someone was likely to recognize him if he came inside looking his usual self. Today was a celebration of sorts. He was dressed to the nines, his right arm slightly sore after getting a tattoo of Noah’s name the previous day.
He was finally approached by an uptight-looking man in a navy-blue sports coat. Hunter discarded the cigar he was smoking and crushed it with his dress shoe.
“Thought I was gonna have to send the wolf after ya!” Hunter laughed.
“I apologize for the delay.” When the tall, thin guy arrived right in front of him almost fifteen minutes late, Hunter looked him over from head to toe. Mr. Thomas did the same. He saw a slight resemblance to his brother Ricky, but nothing that would physically tie them together at first glance. Perhaps they were half-brothers, like him and Justin?
“Mr. Mitchell, nice to see you.” The man extended his hand. Hunter shook it in a lazy fashion.
“Yeah… nice to see you, too.”
They walked shoulder to shoulder, the man sneaking peeks at him along the way, as if his first gander of him hadn’t been quite enough.
“You want my stats or something?”
“Your… stats?”
“Height, weight, shoe size, shit… you’re lookin’ at me like you’re tryna figure out if you can take me,” Hunter teased, trying to calm the panicky man down.
“Uh, no… no. You just look different from the photo Ricky provided. Anyway, your client is available for a consultation. We’re going to enter the building normally,” he pointed up ahead, “but then I will take you on a back path, away from prying eyes.”
“Fine.” Hunter looked around the outside of the prison as they drew closer, then up into the graying sky. In a few short steps, the outside would evaporate as if a huge vacuum from heaven had come and sucked up all the beauty and good luck in the world. There’d be nothing but hard steel, old concrete, immense pain and monumental misery. The man showed his I.D. at an electronic scanner, and a large door opened. He nodded at a couple of guards, his stiff steps clicking against the floor at each pass. This went on for a series of doors, and at one point, Hunter had to show his fake identification provided by Ricky and sign his name on a piece of paper.
Titus Mitchell.
As soon as they entered one particular tier of the prison, things got loud and in stereo. Armed guards walked about, watching the inmates’ every move. He’d first noticed them outside. There were also guards in the tower watching the wire fence, the kind that would slice through and open flesh like a heated blade against butter. On the inside, the guards wore callous expressions, as if they’d kill at will. It came with the territory in this terrible fortress. A matter of survival. In places like this, smiles equaled weakness. Looking dazed and confused made you an easy target.
Hunter knew all too well about that. He’d seen it a million times. Inmates using their finely-tuned manipulative skills to worm their way into a guard’s good graces to get their hands on the drugs of their choice, alcohol, cigarettes, porn, illegal conjugal visits with their wives, music players, you name it. Any sign of ineptness or softness, would be exploited to the fucking hilt.
Dirty guards did their share of exploiting, too. It was a nasty, twisted two-way street that led to nowhere but more compulsions and corruption. There were stories of inmates fucking female guards for favors, too, and even male guards getting in on some of the sexual adventures in an all-male prison wasn’t uncommon. Some of the female guards however seemed to have a thing for incarcerated bad boys – the worse the allegations, the better. They couldn’t keep their hands, mouths, and pussies off them. As Hunter kept walking with this man who sat on elite board meetings, gave encouraging speeches about the Michigan penal system nationwide, and all that other political bullshit men like him did, he couldn’t help but think about his past life behind bars.
He’d been solicited on one of his stints by a guard, too. She was known to go after the big guys, perhaps thinking their package would match their stature. All of a sudden he started receiving sweets, beer, and even joints. Then the letters started to arrive. Declarations of infatuation, and crude descriptions of how she was willing to climb his ass like a tree. He didn’t do it, but not for any moral code he may have had. It had more to do with the fact he simply wasn’t that desperate.
She just hadn’t been his type – reminded him of the mean lunch lady he’d had in primary school, a little manly and too aggressive when it wasn’t warranted. He liked his women tough and independent, yet also feminine, even for just a quick fuck. Some would say a nut was a nut, but there was always a price… She’d want more. So, he’d never risked getting in that predicament, even when more appealing offers came rolling in.
Besides, he’d had his trusty hand to rub one out when needed and the fake little pocket pussy, or as they called them in the joint, fifi, he’d constructed out of pieces of an old towel, a rubber band, and Vaseline. He gave an inner chuckle at the memory. Prison shit. Survival of the fittest.
They kept on going down a hall that never seemed to end. The trek to his destination was taking a while, but that was perfectly fine for it gave him time to go over the plan in his mind once again. He was on a mission, and it would be carried out to the fullest extent of his law.
“The Ionia Correctional Facility is the largest prison in Michigan,” the man explained, breaking their long silence.
Hunter nodded, though he already knew that. He’d never been locked up there, but he knew so many people who’d been moved around the state, it would be virtually impossible for him to not be acquainted with at least a few of the prisoners behind those walls.
He could see some of the inmates to his right, but they couldn’t see them as they walked past walls of tempered glass. A number were down in the mess hall, appearing small like dolls from his vantage point. Something to toy and play with. Some were playing card games. A few seemed in a daze but many were just sitting there talking and laughing at various tables. Others lay in their cells, watching television.
The worst of the population
weren’t allowed out like that. Not in this maximum-security prison. They were kept in a different area altogether, away from roving eyes, while others were in protective custody. These last were usually the ones arrested for pedophilia or some heinous shit that had to do with murdering children or the elderly. That was an inmate’s moral code: you don’t fuck over your mother, old ladies, or kids. If word got out that you did, well, that was your ass. Although this old-school thought process was beginning to break, it still rang true.
Memories assaulted him.
Look at all these motherfuckers…
Some of the inmates were caged birds, many were trapped monsters. A few were there undoubtedly because they had nowhere else to go. Being on the streets, homeless, was in some ways worse than a prison, especially when those temperatures dropped during the Winter months. Northern winters were killers. Surviving a brutal snowstorm in Michigan was damn near impossible.
“Wait right here, please.” Before Hunter could respond, the man disappeared behind a mechanical door. Hunter waited, arms crossed, then caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror hanging above a sink. He barely recognized himself. He’d stayed away from Nita’s house for a couple of days, loath to see any disappointment in her eyes. He’d told her on the phone he had some business to take care of, had tried to make it seem as if it was work related without telling a complete lie. She suspected something for she knew him pretty damn well, better than most.
Regardless, he wouldn’t be talked out of this. He’d made up his mind. He came from a world she knew nothing about. She wouldn’t understand. Nita grew up in a working class, pay-check to pay-check environment, but she had a loving family where education and having a good job were encouraged. Living a normal life. She also went to church practically every Sunday. On the other hand, his upbringing had him get some of his wires crossed. After losing a few important childhood milestones, his two elderly grandparents had been left trying to pick up the damn pieces. He’d spent more time out in the streets than under their roof.
They’d done all they could, but by then, the damage had been done. He’d been so lost until he understood who and what he was and finally accepted it. Now, he was found. He didn’t fight it anymore. He didn’t feel self-hate but respected himself to the fullest. He was both a necessary blessing and evil. The great equalizer.
A loud buzzing sound activated, chasing him away from his thoughts. He was led into a small room with a table, two chairs, and one tiny window. Ricky’s brother stood at the doorway and they locked eyes.
“I owed my brother a favor. Please… just stick to the agreement.”
Hunter nodded and the man left. He walked over to the window and peered out. Nothing but barbed wire and depression. He then casually removed the shoes, socks, and suit he had on, and folded them neatly, placing the attire on the table in the room. He also took off his tank top, which he laid on top of the suit, then waited by the window. Soon enough, the door opened, then closed. He heard the lock.
He turned slowly around and greeted Drew Dowery with a grin. Standing in his jumpsuit, disheveled hair, and dark bags under his eyes, the man looked like shit. He also looked confused.
“I know you…”
“I know you too, Drew.”
“…Hunter? Ohhh man, wow.” Drew smiled, showing a missing tooth Hunter remembered from way back when. “I haven’t seen you in years! So uh… what’s this all about? Why are your clothes off?” He shifted uneasily on his feet.
“I got hot.”
“Oh… Well, uh, they told me I needed to speak with a lawyer. You ain’t no lawyer.” The guy slumped down in the chair. Hunter scratched his ear and took a few steps towards him. He leaned on the opposite end of the table, bending down to Drew’s level.
“Nah, I’m not a lawyer, Drew, but today… I am judge and jury.”
“What? Huh?”
“Did you hear? Noah Beemer died.”
“Oh, really? Nah,” The man shrugged. “I hadn’t heard. What happened?”
“You happened.”
The man stared blankly at him.
“I, uh, I didn’t do nothing to Noah. I’m in here and I don’t have any connections like that. What? It was a hit or something? You think I could—”
“Drew, don’t play with me.” Hunter chuckled. “Noah had befriended you back when we were all together, and you ratted him out and set him up. He got several more years tagged onto his sentence because of you and you got transferred to a better prison. But then, you fucked up and was sent here. Because of you, because of those several extra years Noah spent incarcerated, he got sick and as usual, no one in there gave a damn and wouldn’t let him see a doctor. His illness wasn’t caught in time, and he died a slow, painful, miserable death.”
Drew tossed his hands up and smirked.
“Man, you can’t blame that on me.” He shook his head. “Noah had money. Lots of people in there were tryna get a piece of it. That’s not on me.”
“Nobody knew Noah had any damn money stashed away ’cept the people he trusted, and those were few and far between. You were his cellmate and got in good with him. He took care of you, and that was the thanks he got.” Drew got back on his feet. “Oh.” Hunter sneered. “You wanna stand up, huh? Face me like a man now that you see what’s up, motherfucker?”
Drew swallowed. Held his head high.
Hunter burned up from his damn head to his toes. He was a ball of fire as he flew around the table like a damn hawk. He swooped down on Drew and beat the bastard down, pummeling him with all his might. The rage that overtook him was dark red and gray, gooey and bleeding like the man was becoming beneath his fists of wrath. The bastard’s screams sounded like high-pitched squeals, driving Hunter in his determination to destroy him with all that he had within him.
“I DON’T SEE YOU SMILING NOW! WHERE’S THAT SMIRK, MOTHERFUCKER?!” Hunter put his feet into it, jumping up and thrashing the fucker like he was some human trampoline. The pain and sadness poured out like hot lava. All of the grief he had over Noah’s death was finally releasing once and for all. He’d never gotten over it, didn’t believe he ever would, but this sure as hell helped.
“AHHHHH!”
The man moaned and rolled about in agonizing pain. His face was barely recognizable by the time Hunter took a couple steps back. Breathing heavy, he looked down at the son of a bitch. Reaching down, he grabbed the fucker by the hair and twisted, forcing his neck to move at a sharp angle. He wanted to snap the son of a bitch. The screams that poured from Drew’s mouth now made the prior ones sound like a whisper. Suddenly, the door opened and swiftly closed. Without saying a word, several men grabbed Hunter off him.
“I’M NOT FINISHED! MY TIME ISN’T UP!”
“Mr. Mitchell! We had an agreement!” Mr. Thomas’ voice rang out. “I told you that you could not kill him! This is enough! That’s it!”
Hunter spat on the man’s bloodied body while two more men entered the room, dressed like medical personnel, picking up Drew’s body from the floor like some bloody dish towel. They carried him out, quietly and efficiently. The three men released their grip on Hunter and also exited without a word. He was left alone with Mr. Thomas in the room, now painted in blood.
Thomas looked disturbed by the scene. Perhaps even afraid. He leaned against the chair and shook his head.
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you? It will be a miracle if he doesn’t die after what you did to him.”
“Good. I hope he does. A life for a life. I won’t lose a wink of sleep over it. Besides, my time limit wasn’t up. There was more in store.” Suddenly, the timer on Hunter’s watch went off. He smiled and turned it off. The two men glared at one another, then Mr. Thomas stood up straight and crossed his arms.
“Wow… what a monster I am looking at right now.” Hunter shrugged. “Ricky said you were an animal. He said you were soulless, crafty, and dangerous. Said that you box like nothing he’s ever seen. And you have the endurance of an older generation of men, not
this new breed of pussies and wimps. My brother believes you are a walking weapon. He thinks you’re special.”
“I am, motherfucker.”
“Yes, you are.” The man’s eyes narrowed on him. “What I just witnessed on that camera from the safety of my office was obscene. One of the most brutal, grotesque attacks I’ve seen in a long while. It took four minutes, no weapons used, just your fists and occasionally your feet. I’m not admiring you, but I am in awe of you, Mr. Mitchell. Drew looks like he was beaten with baseball bats. Regardless, our obligation to one another is fulfilled. No one will hear a word of this. Keep this between us, per our agreement.”
“Now who the fuck would I tell? More importantly, why? I’m not tryna end up back in some fucked up place like this.” Hunter sucked his teeth.
“Good. Let me allow you time to clean up in a private washing area, then escort you out.” Hunter snatched his suit off the table and tucked it under his arm.
“Mr. Mitchell, may I ask you a question?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you feel so compelled to do this? You’re free. You’re not even on probation. From what I can tell, you have a promising boxing career ahead of you and a brand new life. Why this? I heard what you said about your friend to Drew, I get that, but… there has to be more to it than that. You’ve travelled a long way, emotionally and physically.”
“I’m not in prison any longer. But there are some prison rules that I will take to my grave. What you need to learn from this, Mr. Big Shot, is that the rules in these places need to change. When an inmate tells you that they have a health problem, it is your duty to follow up and check that out. You, and all the people like you gettin’ rich off guys like me, need to know that. We fucked up. We broke the law. But we are still human! We have rights. The prison system worsens people like me. It doesn’t rehabilitate shit and you and I both know it. You don’t really want us reformed, for then you’d be extinct. Regardless, there are rules amongst the prisoners here, and they have to be abided by.