by Pace, Pepper
“Don’t eat that,” Juan Carlos spoke while the other kids complained at how bad it smelled and tasted.
“You don’t eat?” Scotty spoke for the first time.
“Only the derelicts eat this. The rest of us get commissary. Besides they made up a special batch of food for the chumps,” Juan Carlos gestured at the other kids with his thumb. “This is garbage.”
Scotty didn’t respond.
“We’ll have time to talk after lunch.” Scotty met his father’s eyes. Juan Carlos was not his biological father but he was married to his mother and he was also the only man to ever step into that role.
“Talk about what?” Scotty stated plainly. He hadn’t been around in years and Scotty figured that if they wanted to play catch up they could have done it before now.
Juan Carlos didn’t seem bothered by the coldness in Scotty’s voice. “We need to talk.”
Thankfully for the other kids, the meal only lasted fifteen minutes and they were escorted to the showers where they were told that if they needed to relieve themselves they could do so now even though everything was open for everyone to see you do your business.
Next came time for them to be locked into the cells with the individual prisoners.
Little Man protested feebly when he saw that they would be locked in a small cell without a guard present. Two prisoners who were evidently bunk mates waited for Little Man. Once the cell door closed behind him they made him give them his gym shoes.
Scotty followed his father up one tier to where more cells lined the circumference of the room. The prison wasn’t like what he was used to seeing on television. They were in a large room with two levels and a common area on the main floor.
The majority of the inmates were congregating here although as he passed cells he could see that some were in their cells lying in bunks and reading.
It seemed relaxed for prison. The common area had tables that were bolted to the floor and small stools that served as the seats. There were two telephones that he could see, a television set, which had such bad reception that he could barely tell what was playing. And last there was a room that looked over it all, and that is where the two guards watched everything.
Scotty followed his father into a cell. He looked around, surprised at how small it was. But it was clean. There were two bunks, a sink a toilet and a ledge that served as a desk. Lining one wall were two sets of shelves and they were crammed with the men’s belonging; everything from books, papers, magazines, toilet paper and cooking spices.
“Have a seat.” Juan Carlos gestured to a bunk. “That’s where I sleep, so it’s okay.”
Scotty was close to telling him no but decided to just go with it. He plopped down on the hard bunk realizing that there was no box springs beneath the mattress, just a metal slab which didn’t yield beneath his weight.
His father squatted and pulled a large plastic bin from beneath the bed.
“You’re looking good Scotty.” Juan Carlos stated while lifting the lid. Scotty saw that the trunk was filled with food. His father retrieved a packet of ramen noodles and a can of generic spaghetti sauce.
Juan Carlos looked at him when Scotty didn’t reply. “I guess you’re thinking that there isn’t much for us to say, right?”
Scotty’s stomach grumbled. “No. I’m wondering how you’re going to cook that.”
Juan Carlos smiled and rose to his feet. He placed the items on the desk and Scotty saw that there was a little hot plate nestled in the corner.
“I have discovered twenty-seven uses for noodle soup.”
Juan retrieved a dented tin pot from one of the shelves and dumped the contents of the noodle packet and sauce in all at once. “You should see what I can do with some hamburger meat. When you think about it, there are all kinds of canned foods that can be repurposed.” He chuckled. “There’s canned meat, fish, sauces and soup. I can even make tacos as good as the ones we had at home.” He met Scotty’s eyes. “Remember those tacos I use to make? You kids could never get enough of them.”
Scotty didn’t respond. He remembered the tacos. He also remembered when the man would get locked up again and there was nothing to eat.
Juan Carlos stood over the hotplate stirring the hard noodles and congealed sauce with a metal tablespoon.
“Are you coming here to stay a while?” He finally asked.
Scotty, whose eyes had been drawn to the pot of food, met his father’s eyes in confusion.
“I’m just doing this program so that I can hit the streets as soon as possible.”
“Ah, so you are planning on coming here permanently.”
Scotty’s brow gathered in annoyance that this man who knew so little about him and who obviously couldn’t pimp without getting locked up would think that he couldn’t hustle. Yes, they were both in prison but the difference was that Scotty was only a visitor and didn’t intend to stay in this life long enough to become a permanent resident.
“Nah. It’s not going to be like that for me-“
“How are your brothers and sisters, your mom?” Juan Carlos interrupted.
Scotty drew in a deep breath. His eyes took in the room. There were pictures but none were of him, his brothers and sisters or his Mom. They all must have belonged to the other bunkmate—who evidently gave a shit about his family.
“The same,” he said feeling no desire to give the man more than that. He didn’t deserve more than that.
“How did you know that I was coming?”
Juan Carlos watched Scotty. “We have the same last name. They asked me and I told them you were my kid. I got some clout so here we are. For the record when you do come here, you’ll have clout too.”
Scotty was too confused to be angry that Juan Carlos refused to believe that he wouldn’t end up in the penitentiary.
“Well son, I’ve been here and I’ve made a reputation for myself. A better rep here than I have out on the streets.” Juan Carlos paused to break open the packet of noodle mix season. He sprinkled it on the sauce, which was now beginning to bubble.
“There are a lot of good hustles here. Believe it or not cigarettes is about as big as drugs. I don’t mess with the dope. The gangs lock that up. Selling commissary is good money; food and smokes is about all the State of Ohio will allow us.”
Juan Carlos withdrew another bin from beneath the bed and Scotty stood to give him room. When the lid was lifted he saw that it was filled with cases of cigarettes. The older man broke open a box and then one of the packets. He shook out two cigarettes and offered one to Scotty.
Scotty accepted it and a moment after his father passed him a portable lighter he gratefully inhaled a lungful of smoke. He hadn’t had a cigarette in days. The small cell began to fill with the smell of tobacco and spaghetti, which was surprisingly pleasant.
“So I’m saying that when you get here-“
“Dad, I’m not going to end up here,” Scotty bit out. “I have a plan. This is not going to be my life, not hustling, not prison. I’m out of it as soon as I can. I’m not greedy. I don’t need to be rich. I just need to make sure that my family is taken care of.”
“Most men feel the same way. A good amount of them end up in a prison cell just like mine.”
Scotty scowled.
Juan had turned back to the hot plate and began serving up big forkfuls of steaming sauce-covered noodles onto two paper plates.
He picked up the plates and handed one to Scotty. “Sit and eat.” The two men sat on the edge of the bed and Scotty forked the food into his mouth. He gave Juan a look of surprise that the concoction was actually pretty good.
“Do you like it?” The man asked.
Scotty nodded and ate quickly, not knowing if a guard would show up and make him leave before he had a chance to fill his belly.
“Slow down son. We got time. Do you want a Coca Cola?”
Scotty nodded, though he didn’t slow down. He didn’t trust his father’s assertions. Scotty rarely trusted what anyone said. Words were just the lip se
rvice people gave in order to have something to say. People talked too much even when they knew they couldn’t back up their words. It was a game to some, but not to Scotty. His word was his bond.
Juan Carlos hadn’t ever made any promises, though. He just stayed long enough to make everyone think that things would get better.
Within a minute Scotty had the food finished, his cigarette butt squashed in the last bit of red sauce on the plate and he was nursing the Coca Cola.
It had been the best meal that he’d had in weeks.
Juan Carlos passed his half finished plate of food to Scotty who declined. Juan Carlos placed the plate on the desk and studied the boy proudly.
“You look good Scotty. You took care of yourself. I wasn’t always sure how it would turn out for you; being white and living in the projects. We could have moved to Covington Kentucky where there were more whites but once Tracy started having black kids it didn’t really matter.”
Scotty studied his father not sensing any animosity in his words. He knew that Juan Carlos accepted all of Tracy Tremont’s children as his own regardless of whether or not he was the biological father. He’d explained to them that family had nothing to do with blood. He was a Hispanic man married to a white woman with three black kids, four white kids and one Hispanic kid. And he didn’t even treat the one kid that was biologically his own any different than any of the others.
This was maybe the only valuable thing that Juan Carlos had ever taught them; and why Scotty couldn’t completely hate the man. Juan Carlos had pimped out his mother as if she was his possession, as if he owned her. And by association he felt as if he owned them all. Scotty had come to understand that it made Juan Carlos feel powerful to be the source of their creation.
Scotty figured that Juan Carlos loved them all the way a master loved his slaves. The way that crazy preacher Jim Jones loved his disciples. Their love was tainted, though. You can’t love something that you haven’t taken the time to get to know and understand.
Scotty was suddenly tired. He’d had enough of this trip down memory lane. But figured that his father wanted something and until they got to the point this was just going to get long and drawn out. But Scotty didn’t think the man deserved to get the nice easy version of the facts. He intended to keep it real.
“What do you want to talk about?” Scotty finally asked coldly. “Mom? She’s not hooking these days. She’s got full blown AIDS and is living in a residential treatment facility for recovering addicts.”
Juan’s eyes flinched and then he looked away.
“She seems happier though. But she misses us. The court took us away. Me, Phonso and Beady visit her sometimes but she can only have supervised visits with the others—and that doesn’t happen so…”
Juan Carlos looked at his son, “You kids got separated …”
Scotty was surprised to see that Juan Carlos seemed saddened by that.
“You never met Tyrone. He’s four now. Mom hooked up with Beady’s father and had Tyrone. Well Beady and Tyrone’s grandmother is Miss Gloria and she took in those two. She was willing to take in Ginger, Erica and EJ as long as I was able to bring in money on the side to help out.”
Juan Carlos looked down with a frown. “What about Alphonso?”
“He and I got a place together in Garden Hill Top.”
“How did you manage that?” Juan Carlos asked.
“We just got some guy we hang out with to put his name on the lease.” No one bothered them—well other than the numerous girls that Alphonso brought around. He might be fifteen but he whored around like he was twice that. It surprised Scotty that his brother didn’t have children … although the two were very much in consensus that there was no need to bring any more children into the world.
Scotty reached for another cigarette; his brow was creased with anxiety. “Do you remember Leelah James?”
Juan Carlos paused in lighting his own cigarette. “Leelah,” he said softly. “She never let me come back. When I messed up with her there was no going back.”
“Leelah’s dead,” Scotty said bluntly.
The cigarette fell from Juan Carlos’ hands. He stared at his son ignoring the smoldering cigarette that lay on the concrete floor between his feet.
“How?” He eventually asked and this time his voice sounded brittle like the polar ice caps.
“Raped and murdered … while she was tricking.”
Juan Carlos rose to his feet. He walked to the cell door and clung to the bars, his back to his son.
“Who did it?” he whispered.
“It’s still unsolved.”
Juan Carlos looked over his shoulder towards Scotty. “How long ago?”
“About two years.”
“And what about Vanessa?” Juan Carlos asked after a long pause.
Scotty considered lying and saying that he didn’t know. He thought about the lack of pictures of them and how Juan Carlos hadn’t been around. How the only thing that the man had to gloat and be proud about was a legacy of pain for bringing two young women into that life; one murdered in the street, the other HIV positive and strung out. And then what about the children with a father that couldn’t protect them, and how about him dropping out of school last year so that he could work his hustle full time.
Scotty was happy to knock the smile off Juan Carlos’ lips. Because skipping down memory lane wouldn’t be any fun for him.
“Vanessa lives with her grandma. I think she, at least, is going to be alright.”
Juan Carlos looked shaken when he turned back to Scotty.
“Is this Miss Gloria good people?”
“Yes.” Scotty said simply.
Juan Carlos sat down on the bunk with his head buried in his hands tiredly. “You should go talk to your brother now. He wants to see you before you leave. He’s in the high security wing so you’ll have to talk to him behind glass.”
Scotty’s head began to swim.
“T-Tino?” he stuttered.
Juan Carlos looked up at him with dead eyes. “Yes. He has some things that he wants to get off his chest, Scotty. Something to do with the hammer you used on his face.”
Scotty shook his head, his mouth going dry.
“Tino’s … here?”
Juan stood. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”
Scotty flinched. “No. No, I’m not—no.”
“Scotty. Tino’s still your brother. He’s your family-“
“Fuck that!” Scotty backed away from his father until the back of his legs hit the toilet.
Two years ago Scotty, at the age of fifteen and tired of being his older brother’s punching bag had picked up a hammer and had beaten his brother with it.
His beatings at the hands of his older brother had been bad enough, but then he discovered that he’d been sending their younger brother out to sell drugs. Tino had successfully destroyed Scotty’s chances of fitting in at the prestigious high school that his high-test scores had allowed him to attend by forcing him to sell drugs there.
Soon he was just seen as another stoner and when he’d eventually dropped out, no one thought it was a loss.
Tino had forced him to sell drugs at the school and when Scotty had refused Tino had beaten him. Scotty still wore the evidence of that beating on his face in the form of a scar beneath his left eye that hadn’t been stitched.
That had only solidified the hate but what had taken it over the edge is what he’d done to Vanessa. He should not have done that to Vanessa White, so innocent and far removed from the dirt of the ghetto. She would not have known that despite the fact that Tino was also her half-brother that he was a viper just waiting to strike.
Scotty’s posture straightened but his cold grey-blue eyes locked onto his father’s.
“Tino and I have nothing to discuss. When I laid down the law that night I told him not to ever come back—that if I saw him I’d kill him.” Scotty had actually thought that his brother’s absence was due to his belief that Scotty would in fact carr
y out the threat. Now he saw that it was more than likely the fact that the older brother was in prison.
“You hit him with a hammer—”
Juan began.
“He beat me for years, and broke Phonso’s wrist! Oh and by the way, the night I used the hammer on him—it was after he tried fucking his own sister!”
Juan Carlos’ brow drew together quickly.
“He didn’t tell you that shit, did he? How after her mother died Vanessa was taken to live with her grandmother. But she came back to visit me and instead got Tino. I got home in time to see her crying and running away. Luckily she got away. Beady wasn’t so lucky.”
Juan Carlos’ face was pale. “I didn’t know—“
“Of course you didn’t. How could you? You are here while I’m the one fixing all the broken pieces!”
Juan Carlos shook his head. “Scotty-”
“We’re done here. Tino’s no brother of mine. Let him know that if I see him, I’ll finish the job.”
He moved past his father and out the cell. Their conversation had been loud and he had the attention of several men but no one said anything to him as he rushed down to the lower tier where he rejoined the Scared Straight program.
When Scotty left the divergence program his prior criminal record was expunged. He left the Justice Center like a newborn baby with no history of his many prior misconducts.
When he inhaled, the air tasted sweet even though he was right smack dab in the middle of downtown Cincinnati.
A car filled with his friends was waiting for him at the curb and they shouted enthusiastically at him. Scotty smiled but there was one small part of him that wondered what it would be like to start his life anew. Right now, no more hustling. He had his GED and he could go to college and follow his dream to teach.
But it wasn’t time. Soon, though, when he was sure that his brothers and sisters wouldn’t end up right back in the ghetto. He thought about Vanessa White, happy that she had made her way out of the projects completely. He prayed that she would make it.
Miss Gloria gave him a huge hug when he entered the small house.
“Scotty, baby.”