by Joy
“You know what to do,” Dollar replied as he kept his face buried into this novel being passed around the joint titled Gangsta by this kid named K’wan. “I’m refusing the visit.”
It had been five years since Dollar was sentenced to prison. It had been five years of his mother making attempts to visit him. Every month, Auntie Charlene, against her better judgment, drove her to Ohio, where Dollar was doing his bid, in hopes that Dollar would change his mind and join her in the visiting room. Dollar wouldn’t pour salt into her wound by allowing his mother to ever see him caged.
Dollar had written his mother a ten-page letter apologizing and explaining why he couldn’t bear to see her. Dollar wrote to his mother that if anyone asked about her eldest boy that she was to say he was dead. The same message was passed along to his brother. Life in prison, he might as well be dead.
Klein stopped trying to visit Dollar in jail a long time ago. He knew Dollar better than anybody did. When Dollar had made up his mind, there was no changing it.
Dollar wanted his mother and brother to continue life without the worry of him. He assured them that he could take care of himself and that they were to forget that he ever existed. There was nothing they could do for him while he was behind bars, so they need not waste time.
Although not having his big brother around hurt, Klein didn’t sacrifice his education, something he had worked so hard toward. He continued schooling; as a matter of fact, he graduated high school a year early. Klein missed the hell out of Dollar, but now he was all their mother had. He had to be strong and move on, just like when their father left them.
Being sentenced to prison forever, forever ever, forever ever, was hard for Dollar too. He couldn’t conceive trying to go on, especially knowing the hurt that he was causing his loved ones. The day the gate that separated him from freedom closed behind him was the day he considered both his mother and brother dead. That was easiest for him.
For some people locked up, it was their loved ones on the outside who kept them going, but not Dollar. He programmed himself to erase them from every seed of his soul. He had even gone as far as returning every single letter that anyone, including his mother and brother, had written him. Dollar waited for the month his mother would obey his wishes and cease her attempts to visit him.
Dollar hadn’t communicated with his mother in years. Years, decades, or even centuries, though, could not have dissolved the deep-seated love and bond Dollar had with his mother.
“So, you plan on living the rest of your life not seeing your mama?” Ed asked.
“This ain’t living, man,” Dollar replied with his back against the cell bars as his eyes scrolled the lines of Gangsta.
“I guess you got me on that one,” Ed said, walking away, allowing Dollar to continue reading his book.
Just like every other cat who gets jail time, Dollar spent his days pushing weights and reading. He didn’t get into the Muslim loop, but sat in on a couple of Jumans just to kill some time.
A religious man in prison, Dollar thought. Yeah, right. What I look like following the holy words of a criminal now claiming to be a changed man?
Dollar kept to himself. He didn’t ride with any crew. He was the respected prison lone wolf. He didn’t fuck with inmates and they didn’t fuck with him. He didn’t look their way and they didn’t look his. This was how Dollar planned on serving his time.
In the beginning, though, Dollar wasn’t nothin’ but an eighteen-year-old fresh piece of meat, especially to the old heads. Niggaz placed bets on who was gonna get in his ass first and make him their bitch.
Wojo was the prison roughneck back then, before he was released. He was feared by most and challenged by few. Wojo was one of them pretty muthafuckas, half white, half black, good curly hair, and gray eyes. He had tattoos all over him, everywhere from his neck to his hands. Wojo loved boasting about all the pussy that fell onto his doorstep before he got locked up. He enjoyed mostly bragging about the two bitches who sliced each other up over him. Wojo had a nice-sized crew. Plenty of cats had his back, but his best friend was his dick. With Wojo portraying himself as such a ladies’ man, Dollar was shocked and caught off guard when Wojo and his crew set up shop in the showers to rape him.
Right before entering the showers that evening, Dollar had an ache deep in the pit of his stomach. Dollar had only been locked up a little under nine months. No one had tried him to date, but on this particular occasion, Dollar could sense some foul shit was up in the air and about to come down on him.
When Dollar entered the showers, Wojo gave a look to the other inmates that immediately caused them to disburse. Before Dollar knew it, it was just Wojo, three of his crewmembers, and him in the showers.
Wojo watched Dollar shower as he stood across from him with a devilish look in his eyes. He lathered his private area and began to stroke his suds-covered penis.
Dollar became uncomfortable and sick to his stomach at the sight of a grown man stiffening up over him. “Who da fuck you looking at, yo?” Dollar shouted. He thought about what his words would mean, but it was too late; they had already made their way through his lips. Fuck it, Dollar thought. These niggaz was gonna try me sooner or later. I might as well stand my ground now.
“I’m looking at you, bitch,” Wojo replied as he and his crew began to walk up on Dollar.
Dollar had to think quickly. He couldn’t run. There was no way he could have gotten around the four buff men. The only choice he had was to fight.
“You want a piece of me, little nigga?” Wojo asked Dollar.
“Man, I think he do,” one of Wojo’s homies instigated. “If he didn’t, his dick wouldn’t be hard.”
“My dick is hard because I’m thinking about how good it felt fucking your moms before I came here,” was Dollar’s comeback.
Dollar knew the mama insult would get whatever it was that was about to happen to him started and over with. He braced himself as the four men rushed him hard. Blows punctured every part of Dollar’s body. He fought back as best he could. The men had to have punched him over a hundred times before his naked, lifeless body slid down the shower wall and onto the floor. He watched his blood be carried downstream through the drain by the falling water.
Like a new gang member, he had been initiated into the system with his first beat down. Wojo and his crew stood over Dollar, asking him if he’d had enough. When Dollar finally decided to nod in the positive, Wojo reached his hand out to help Dollar up.
Before Dollar could even balance himself, he was spun around and slammed against the shower wall. He felt Wojo’s penis against his buttocks as the crewmembers each grabbed his limbs and nailed him to the shower wall. He stood there pinned against the wall like Jesus on the cross.
Dollar was helpless. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t scream. He had no idea what he was supposed to do in that situation.
“I’m ’bout to shoot these nuts up off in that ass,” Wojo whispered into Dollar’s ear as he positioned his penis to enter Dollar’s anus. “When I get out of here, this is what I’m gonna do to your mama, you bitch-ass nigga.”
“I’ll kill you, muthafucka,” Dollar shouted to Wojo. “I swear to God, if you stick your dick in me you gonna lose it. You gonna have to sleep with one eye open the rest of your bid. I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll cut your fucking dick off, chop it up in little pieces, and eat it over rice like fucking stir fry.”
Before Dollar knew it, he had broken free of the men. With his eyes closed, he stayed pressed against the wall. Eventually, he heard the men’s feet pounding the puddles of the shower floor growing farther and farther away.
After a few moments, Dollar turned around to confirm that the men had in fact exited the showers. There was no one in sight, only a silhouette through the steam that Dollar couldn’t make out. Dollar stood erect and mustered up enough strength to battle some more if he had to. Just as he positioned his dukes, the image vanished and Dollar was alone in the showers.
Dollar
knew that God must have been watching over him. Why else was he still standing, alive?
Ever since Dollar stood up to Wojo, he had appeared to have lightweight gained some true respect in the joint. If by chance his eyes did meet with another inmate’s, they didn’t mean mug him. They gave him the “what’s up?” nod and went on about their business.
Dollar might have had to exchange a few words with some new cat trying to be hard, but other than that, prison life for Dollar consisted of minimum drama. Now, after five years of being locked up, Dollar couldn’t understand why anyone would want to fuck with him. But, lo and behold, maybe because he felt intimidated by Dollar’s solemn youth, some Old G had recently started eyeballing Dollar big time. Dollar knew it was only a matter of time before some shit would go down.
CHAPTER 4
Keep Your Enemy Close
“So, little nigga,” a deep, Barry White–like voice clouded over top of Dollar’s head. “I hear you got three bodies on you.”
“And?” Dollar said as he sat against the bars of his cell reading the last page of Gangsta.
“Oh, so it’s true?” the voice said. “I thought for sure your little punk ass was in here for stealing cigarettes or something.”
“Ah ha,” Dollar said. “The old man got jokes. Let me guess. You’re in here because you pickpocketed the guests while you were working as a Walmart greeter.”
Before Dollar could get his cackle out, a thick, muscular hand collected his throat through the cell bars. Dollar dropped the book and held his breath. He didn’t fight or try to get away. He held his breath hoping his lungs were stronger than the Barry White impersonator’s hand.
What seemed like forever passed before the hand released Dollar’s throat. Dollar sat on the floor coughing and taking deep breaths, trying to get his breathing rhythm back.
“Don’t you wonder why all these years you been sitting with your back against these bars and ain’t nobody cut your fucking throat yet, boy?”
Dollar didn’t respond. He was so mad he could have spit bullets. All he wanted to do was kick that muthafucka’s ass. By the time Dollar stood up to face the assaulter, he was gone. All Dollar could see was the silhouette of his body clearing the hall corner.
Dollar, even without seeing his face, knew it was the Old G, the old man known in the clank as Romeo. Dollar had never even looked Romeo’s way and now all of a sudden he had beef.
What the fuck was his problem?
As Dollar made his way to his grubbin’ spot in the jail slop house he could feel a pair of eyes burning him. The old man was back on his trail. “What is it with that old geezer?” Dollar mumbled under his breath.
Dollar could barely enjoy his tasteless chow that consisted of meatloaf, peas, and mashed potatoes. He chewed the same bite of meatloaf for five minutes as he watched Romeo out of the corner of his eye. Dollar reached for his milk, with his eyes still glued on Romeo, and knocked it over.
“Fuck!” Dollar shouted as he scrambled to clean up the mess with napkins. He sopped up the milk and proceeded to continue eating. He took a bite of his mashed potatoes and prepared to stand watch against Romeo again. When he looked up, Romeo was no longer sitting at the table he had been dining at. Dollar gulped down the bite of mashed potatoes and felt a presence behind him.
“You ain’t scared that you might scoop up a razor blade in them mashed potatoes?” Romeo asked.
Dollar closed his eyes. He knew he had fucked up. He knew he had been caught slipping. But like with Wojo, he was ready to stand his ground.
“Look, old man,” Dollar said without looking away from his tray. “What’s your beef? I ain’t done shit to you, but if you want to throw them thangs, then let’s do it and get it over with. It ain’t gon’ hurt my heart none to beat down an old man.”
One could have heard a pin drop. Silence filled the air and Dollar braced himself for the first blow. Surprisingly, there was no blow. Dollar whirled his body around to face Romeo, but just as quickly as Romeo had appeared, he had disappeared.
By this point Dollar was a basket case. He was watching his back tougher than ever. He even discussed hiring some of Wojo’s old crew to have his back. Dollar started asking around to find out what Romeo’s story was or if there was word on why he was out to get him. All the inmates he tried to get at were acting like hoes. Nobody, supposedly, knew anything. Just the mentioning of Romeo’s name made half of them piss on themselves. The most information Dollar could dig up was that Romeo was in for life. He had nothing to lose.
For the next couple of months, Dollar slept with one eye open. He saw everyone up in the joint as his enemy. Dollar lay on his cot while he started on his next book, Please Tell Me if the Grass is Greener. No longer was his back against the bars.
Dollar molested every food item on his tray before sticking it into his mouth for fear a razor blade or any other deadly object might be embedded in it. He was always one of the first in and out of the showers. There was no way he was going to let the old man sneak on him. It was only a matter of time before the ultimate confrontation between Dollar and Romeo would erupt, and Dollar could hear the clock ticking loud and clear.
One afternoon while Dollar was lifting weights, Romeo entered the weight room. Dollar continued lifting as if everything was everything. Like zombies, dudes started surrounding Dollar. Romeo was no longer in his view as the inmates smothered Dollar with their shadows. Dollar continued lifting as if they weren’t there. All the while he was scared shitless, nonetheless prepared to knock somebody upside the head with them weights if he had to.
“Boy,” Romeo said, “when you see trouble coming your way, why do you remain in its path?”
Dollar placed the dumbbells on the rack and stood erect. Romeo looked at his fellow inmates and they immediately disbursed. Before Dollar knew it, it was just Romeo and himself alone in the room.
“How is it you’ve managed to survive in this piece for almost six years without getting laid to rest with that cocky ass attitude of yours, like you rule the motherfucking world?” Romeo asked. “Why do you think that’s so?”
“’Cause I mind my own business,” Dollar replied.
“Shit.” Romeo laughed. “There’s plenty of cats up in here minding they own business. That don’t mean shit to these killaz up in here.”
“I’ve got a question for you. How is it I’ve managed to survive in this piece for almost six years without anybody constantly fucking with me, and then along comes you?” Dollar smartly replied.
He looked Dollar up and down, nodded his head, and said, “My point exactly,” then walked away.
Romeo actually had Dollar spooked. This was the first time since his incident with Wojo he was feeling the wrath of the prison walls. If someone was out for you in the joint, it was far different than when someone was out for you in the streets. It wasn’t about no laying low. There was nowhere to hide.
Dollar knew that since Romeo was a lifer he didn’t have shit to lose. This was what worried Dollar the most. For the first time Dollar knew what it felt like to have genuine fear in his heart and that was some scary shit. It was like being in a pitch-black room with a lion. You could hear his roar as he could hear your every maneuver. It was like walking a mile-long tight rope for the first time in your life without a net to catch your fall.
Dollar would soon realize that prison life exists six feet under hell.
CHAPTER 5
Sweet Dreams
A couple months later, right before lights out, Dollar was reading one of Donald Goines’s old joints when Romeo appeared outside of his cell. Dollar closed the book and sat silently on his cot as he waited to see what fly-ass shit came out of Romeo’s mouth this time.
Romeo stood quietly as he stared down at the ground. He eventually looked up at Dollar and sighed. “Truce,” Romeo said.
“What?” Dollar asked, just to make sure he was actually hearing what he was hearing.
“You heard me, little nigga,” Romeo replied. “I’m done f
uckin’ wit’ your punk ass. It ain’t even fun no more. Truce.”
Dollar paused for a moment, stared at Romeo’s hand, and then replied, “Truce.”
Their mouths had said it, but had their hearts?
The next morning the beads of water from the shower spigot beat against Dollar’s well-cut physique. Too bad those hoes from the block couldn’t reap the benefit from his custom-designed body. What was good about Dollar going to prison so young was that he had only been laid a few times. He had let bitches make him sandwiches and suck his dick on an occasion or two, but he wasn’t laying pipe to the chickenheads who roamed his block.
Dollar hadn’t gotten a taste of the various flavors that pussy came in so the lack of pussy didn’t affect him all that much. The few times Dollar had gotten him some it was always from the same couple girls.
One of the girls was this chick named Pam, who had lived next door to his Auntie Charlene. Pam let him run up in her for the very first time on his sixteenth birthday. Pam was a couple years older than Dollar and had been putting out since she was twelve years old. Her own stepbrother had popped her cherry. As a matter of fact, he was the one who hooked up her and Dollar. It was his birthday present to Dollar.
Dollar was nervous as hell when it all went down, but he managed to get through it long enough to bust his first nut. Pam and Dollar did it right up against the side of Auntie Charlene’s house. After that, when it came to Pam, Dollar was like a dog in heat. Whenever his mother would take him and his brother to visit his Auntie Charlene, he would hang out on the porch waiting to catch Pam coming or going. He could smell her coming before he saw her. A squirt of Chanel No. 5 that Pam would sneak and use from her mother’s dresser always gave her away.
If the timing was right, Dollar knew if Pam’s mama wasn’t home that Pam would lead him straight to her mother’s bed. The bunk bed she shared with her sister wouldn’t suffice. The sound of Pam’s mother’s king-sized wooden headboard banging up against the wall intensified Dollar shoving his penis into Pam.