The Family Is Made (Part 1) (Thuggin In Miami)

by R. A. Robinson

  Richard’s voice was deep and throaty as he spoke. “Tell Daddy how you want it.”

  “I don’t care! Just please put it in!”

  Gently, Richard rolled her onto her back. Careful to avoid her belly, he started off with slow, deep strokes until she begged him to go faster.

  “That’s what I’m talking ‘bout. Beat this pussy up!” she called out, legs locked around Richard’s torso. “Ooooh Daddy, don’t stop! I’m cumming!”

  Skinny’s body stiffened and shook. She screamed and clawed into Richard’s arms. When her body finally relaxed, indicating that her orgasm had taken its course, Richard stopped. “Come on. I want you to make me cum now.” He lay down on the bed and pulled Skinny on top of him. The moment he was in her, she started rocking. Faster and faster, she bounced on top of him. Already, she was on the verge of another orgasm. Grabbing her hips, Richard pushed himself deeper inside.

  “Yes Daddy! I love you!” Skinny picked up the pace.

  Between strokes, Richard spoke, “Then ride…that dick…and tell me…ya ain’t gone act crazy…when Daddy..in..the…streets.”

  “I ain’t Daddy, I ain’t,” she said, cumming for the second time.

  Richard rolled Skinny off gently, placing her on her side, lifting one of her legs into the air. From the side, he pounded her harder and harder until together, they released. Richard let out several grunts. Skinny’s eyes rolling into the back of her head as she screamed.

  Out of breath and exhausted, he curled up next to her, stroking her forehead. “That’s all ya’ had to do was tell Daddy you wanted this dick,” he said softly, kissing her shoulder. Hearing no response from her, he lifted his head, only to find she was already sound asleep.

  Chapter 9

  Richard awoke with a jolt. Boom! Boom! Boom! Someone was pounding on the door…no, someone was trying to bust the door down. Just before he heard the door crash to the floor, he heard a male’s voice yell, “D.E.A.!”

  “Baby girl,” he said quietly, shaking Skinny, trying to wake her up.

  “Richy, what’s wrong baby?”

  “I’m going to jail. Crackers just kicked in the door. I ain’t got no more dope in here, right?”

  “No, you took the rest the other day.” Her eyes welled with large tears.

  “Put your hands up!” a man yelled from the doorway of their bedroom. Richard turned slowly to meet the man, keeping his hands visible. The task was practically impossible with Skinny hanging onto him for dear life.

  “Man, don’t hurt my girl. She’s pregnant.” He tried to pry her fingers out of his flesh.

  “Agent Allen, all of the other rooms are clear,” said another man entering the room.

  “Get out of the bed slowly with your hands up, Mr. Gary,” the man who’d just been referred to as Agent Allen said.

  “Man, I ain’t got nothing on me, so don’t shoot me,” Richard said, standing up slowly, still naked from the night before.

  “Miss, can you put some clothes on so we can continue our search?” The new officer was trying not to stare.

  “Man, do y’all have a search warrant to do this shit?” Richard grabbed his shorts from the floor, slowly, pulling them on as he spoke.

  “What does this look like, Mr. Gary? Is this a warrant?” Agent Allen asked as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, shoving it in Richard’s face. “Or just some shit I want to show you?” With Richard no longer naked, Agent Allen walked behind Richard and grabbed his wrists to cuff him.

  Richard didn’t fight back. He knew it would only make the situation worse. “Man, just do what the fuck you do, a’ight?”

  “Davis, look at all this fucking money,” one of the officers said from behind Richard. He was already bagging it up.

  Richard belted out a laugh. “Better slow down on picking it up ‘cause some of it got nut on it,” he said, a smug smile on his face.

  The officer stuck his tongue out and he looked as though he might vomit. He dropped the money back on the bed. “Fuck!” He pulled a pair of gloves from his shirt pocket and pulled them up over his large bony hands.

  Agent Allen shoved Richard forward. “We’ll see how funny it is when you get to headquarters, Mr. Gary.”

  “Man, fuck that.” Un-phased by Agent Allen’s threats, Richard smiled smugly. “What’s going on anyway? I ain’t done shit.”

  “Really?” Agent Allen asked as he paced circles around Richard. “So how’d you get all this money?”

  “From my Daddy, why?” Richard’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Well, where’s your father now?” came the voice of one of the officers behind him.

  “What the--?” Richard tried to turn around, but Agent Allen yanked on the handcuffs, forcing him to face forward. “Fuck you, D.E.A.! You tell me!”

  Richard could feel Agent Allen’s hot breath on the back of his neck as he leaned in to speak. “So you’re going to be a hard ass, right?”

  Richard grinned. “Man, get my fucking lawyers.”

  It took every ounce of self-control Agent Allen had to keep from punching Richard in the back of the head. He’d dealt with arrogant niggers like this his whole life. He shoved Richard forward again, still holding onto the handcuffs, and pushed him through the bedroom doorway. The forceful action gave the angry officer a temporary release of steam.

  As they rounded the hallway, Richard could see Skinny. A female officer had her almost out the front door. “I love you, Richy!” she yelled back through streams of tears.

  “Stop crying, baby! We ain’t done shit!” he yelled back, hoping she understood the message behind it. Skinny had always had his back. He was certain that she’d have it now.

  ***

  Agent Jones sat down in the metal folding chair across from Richard. In his hands, he held a manila folder. “Ok, Mr. Gary,” he said, setting the folder down on the table, folding his hands over it, “I’m going to ask you some questions. We need answers on where you got all that money from.” The agent opened the folder and pretended to thumb through its contents. “We know you’re a drug dealer, so if you tell us what we want to know, we might get the D.A. to cut you some slack.” He peered up at Richard over the top of the folder. “You know, one hand washes the other?”

  Richard sat back in his chair.“Only hand I’m washing is my lawyers.” A complacent smile spread across his face. “So y’all can just kiss my ass.”

  Agent Jones closed the manila folder again, and set it back on the table.” Well, you think it’s funny now,” refolding his hands, “but when they throw the book at you, you’ll be wishing you listened to me and gave us some answers.”He tried to keep his tone neutral and his expression detached, but inside, he hoped Richard would talk. Their department needed this bust, and he needed the promotion that this bust would result in.

  A clicking sound came from the white door across the room, announcing the entrance of another officer with a stack of papers in his hands. “Okay, this is what we’ve got on Mr. Gary.” The short, stubby agent placed the new piles if paper on top of the thin manila folder.

  Unmoved by their tactics, Richard simply grinned. “I can look at that and tell y’all just pulling some bullshit.” His smug grin gave way to a look of indignation. “Y’all just trying to fuck me over, but I tell you what, when I finish this sentence, y’all can ask the walls in here all the questions ‘cause I don’t know shit, and I ain’t saying shit ‘til I get my lawyer present.”

  “You know, we got your girl down the hall, singing like she’s trying to win an award,” the standing officer said, crossing his arms across his chest.

  Richard dismissed the comment, without a word and stared at the white wall in front of him. He knew they were lying, trying to rile him, scare him into a confession before his lawyer arrived. He carried that same steely gaze for the next eight hours as he endured twelve line-up books and questions about each page turned.

  “Well, Mr. Gary,” the director said as he loomed next to Richard’s chair. “I see
you want to spend the rest of your youth years in prison.”He placed his hand on Richard’s shoulder. Richard stiffened under the director’s firm grip. ”I’m not going to let my agents bust their brains trying to help you. Agent Jones, Agent Davis, let’s go.” Without another word, they left Richard alone in the white concrete room.

  Safely on the other side of the door, the director turned to Agent Davis and Agent Jones, “My office. Now.”

  Jones and Davis shared a look of trepidation. It was a look of shared understanding. Once they stepped into the director’s office, the yelling would commence. They were correct in their assumption.

  The director’s face felt as though it were on fire. As he turned towards the bumbling idiots in his office, he clenched his teeth, trying to keep the volume of his voice under control. “What were you thinking going over my head, getting a warrant for that low-life son-of-a-bitch?”

  Clearing his throat, Agent Davis tried to answer. “A reliable C.I. gave us…”

  “I don’t see any incriminating evidence yet.” The director said, his voice now escalating as he cut Davis off. “The D.A.’s office says they’re not getting involved in this, which means no case.” He was now screaming; his face was a deep shade of red. “That’s wasted man hours, wasted resources…”

  A knock at the door cut him off.

  “Who is it?” he bellowed, bludgeoning the door with his words.

  Afraid to enter all the way into the room, the officer who had just taken Skinny home peeked his head through the door. “Mr. Gary would like to speak with you, sir.”

  “This better be good,” the director said, glaring at Davis and Jones. “Otherwise, it’s back to desk work.”

  “But sir…” Jones called after the director, who was already several feet away.

  “But nothing!” the director yelled over his shoulder, stomping towards the interrogation room. He entered the room to find Richard leaning back in his chair. “Mr. Gary,” his tone almost sing-songish as he crossed the room to sit down. “I see you made up your mind.”

  “No need to sit down, director” Richard’s expression remained bland, “I just want to know one thing.”

  “What’s that, Mr. Gary?” The director shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Do y’all give out rewards,” Richard asked as an amused grin crossing his face. “’Cause I think y’all should give my girl a Grammy for what she told y’all. She deserves one, right?”

  Bursts of laughter filled the room, causing the director’s ears to ring and his blood pressure to rise. Without a word, he stormed out of the interrogation room and down the hall; Richard’s laughter following him all the way back to his office. Slamming his office door to shut to laughter out, he looked to Davis and Jones still standing there, waiting to hear their fates. “Desks!” he yelled.

  Davis and Jones looked down at the floor in shame, but neither one dared to utter a word.

  Irritated that they were still standing there, the director screamed, “Get out!” He slammed his door shut again as the two flustered men scrambled out of the room.

  With the bumbling idiots now gone, the director picked up his phone, “Yeah, can you start a tax evasion case for me?...Yeah?...Thanks.”

  ***

  “Sis, they came and got Richy,” Skinny cried into Alicia’s ear over the phone.

  “Who got Rich? What you talking ‘bout?” Alicia asked, voice weak with worry.

  “The D.E.A., sis. The fucking D.E.A..” Skinny’s body now sobbed uncontrollably. Tears ran down her cheeks. As they dripped down her chin, they left large, salty drops on her belly.

  “Okay, okay. It’s gone be a’ight Skinny. Just chill.” Alicia concentrated on consoling Skinny while simultaneously trying to hide her own worry. Skinny was pregnant. She didn’t need to be this upset. “Do he got a bond?”

  “I said the D.E.A.,” Skinny snapped. “If he got a bond, that shit gone be high as fuck!”

  Taking a deep breath, Alicia reminded herself of Skinny’s very pregnant condition and tried, again, to calm her down. “Well, what happened? What he charged with?”

  “I don’t know, but when they kicked the door down, they took all the money,” Skinny sobbed into the phone.

  “How much?”

  “All of it. Every dollar that was in the safe.” Skinny hadn’t fully understood Alicia’s question.

  “How much Skinny?” Alicia asked again.

  “Eighty-two thousand, twenty dollars.”

  The wheels started to turn in Alicia’s head. She racked her brain for any possible charges they might be holding him on. Coming up empty, she committed to deciding what to do next.

  “Where you at?” Alicia asked. “I’m coming to get you.”

  “I’m at my grandma’s house.” Skinny’s sobs were a little quieter now, but her belly still bounced with each gasp for fresh air.

  “A’ight. I’m on my way.” Before hanging up the phone, Alicia ordered, “Just chill out and stop crying.” She figured the command was useless, but she could at least try.

  Alicia pulled up in less than ten minutes. Without even knocking, she walked through the door-less entryway to the house. As she made her way into the living room, a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She found Skinny in a sobbing mess, phone clutched in her hand as if it were a lifeline. She stepped in front of Skinny and gave her a loving smile. “Girl, come on.” She shoved the worry from her demeanor and replaced it with one of motherly authority. “Let’s go.”

  “Where we going?” Skinny asked between sobs.

  Taking Skinny’s hands in to hers, Alicia pulled Skinny up from the couch. “Out.”

  ***

  Exhausted from the interrogation and booking process, Richard checked in on the second floor. As he handed over his personal belongings, a man white button down shirt and black slacks placed Richard’s things into Ziploc bags labeled with his booking number. The deposit of each item came with an increasing awareness that the man behind the counter was examining him closely. Wondering what his problem was, Richard stopped and stared at the man.

  Placing Richard’s wallet in the bag, the man held his eye contact. “Ay jit, I think I know you from somewhere.” Decayed teeth rested behind the man’s lips as they curled into a smile.

  Richard’s left eyebrow raised and his right furrowed as a disgusted frown crossed his lips, “I don’t think you know me homeboy, ‘cause you wouldn’t be calling me a jit.” He placed his cell phone on the counter.

  As he entered the cell area, he heard the house man call, “A’ight! Y’all niggas got to get y’all asses in the shower.” Standing in front of the now loosely assembled group of new inmates, his hands directed them into a straight line in front of the shower house.

  Ignoring the command, Richard walked over to the small call area and picked up the phone. “I ain’t taking shit.”

  The house man puffed his chest as Richard’s comment travelled across the room to his ears.“Who said that shit?” his voice boomed as he walked towards the front of the cell.

  Setting the phone down, Richard turned to face the house man. “Me nigga.” His chest puffed, matching the menacing stance of the house man as he closed the distance between the two of them. Richard wasn’t going to spend his time locked up as someone else’s bitch. He figured this time was as good as any to exercise his authority.

  Now close enough to see the offender’s face clearly, the house man smiled. “Oh shit! Rich Kid!” He gave Richard daps. “What the fuck you doing locked up, nigga?”

  “Damn, Tim! You ain’t get out this shit yet?” Richard asked.

  “Naw, man.” Tim shook his head and a frown wrinkled the lines around his mouth. “I think I’m gone get out next month, if this lawyer do his fucking job.”

  Richard nodded in response. “Ay let me get done talking to my people,” he said, holding the phone up for Tim to see.

  “A’ight. I gone make these niggas get in the shower.” Tim motioned behind him with his thumb to
wards the other new inmates. “I’ll be back when you get off the phone.” He faced the group again, yelling, “Why ain’t nobody in the shower yet?”

  Turning back towards the phone area, Richard punched the zero button and gave the operator Skinny’s cell phone number.

  “This number is collect call restricted,” the operator responded.

  Richard held pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it as though the operator had somehow offended him. “Man, they fuckin’ need to put collect on the phone!” he said, slamming the phone back onto its cradle. He sat there, staring at the phone, as if he could will it to ring.

  “Ay Rich Kid, you done with the phone?” Tim asked as he walked up behind Richard.

  “Yeah,” Richard responded as he turned to face Tim. “What’s good, nigga?”

  “I got a bed back here if you want it.” Again, Tim used his thumb to motion behind him.

  Following Tim to his new “home,” a small cell with a bunk, a toilet and a sink, Richard heard his name being called from the front of the floor. He reached for Tim, without making contact, to signal that he needed to go see what the correction officer needed. “I’ll be right back.”

  “What’s up C.O.?” Richard asked as he approached the small desk. A tall, broad shouldered sat with his feet propped up on the desk. A newspaper kept Richard from seeing the officer’s face.

  “Here are your sheets,” the officer answered, still reading his newspaper handing Richard a clean set of sheets.

  Taking them, Richard gave a half-smile. “Bet that up, man.”

  Once back to the place where Tim stood, Richard looked around to see if anyone was listening. “Ay, Tim, I need a pill, bro. Who got it?”

  Tim shook his head, his look somber. “Ain’t nobody got no pills.” Tim pointed straight up with his index finger. “They got some weed up on the sixth floor though.”

  “They got any coke to put on it?” Richard’s face looked as though he’d taken a bite of a lemon. “You know I don’t smoke A.P.”