With the prison food being non-edible majority of the time, I survived purely on peanut butter and jelly sandwich’s and on crackers, tuna fish, steak fish, kippered snacks, mackerel, pink salmon, roast beef, and beef sausage. I had mixed those meats with noodles or rice, mayo, cheese, and various condiments. I had to make my meals taste the best I could though I got good at it I was miserable. To cope with my food problems I ordered close to a hundred food magazines and books. I also watched every cooking show I could catch.
I took my time making the two plates, using all of the food. I poured us big cups of the wine, and then began to crush my food. They returned a few minutes later. While she tended to her husband, Redman and I smashed the food and sipped some wine. After she finished patching him up, and taking off his bloody shirt, she put a sweater on him. She then lovingly gave him a cup of water before placing a Cohiba Behike cigar in his mouth. (I studied cigars, too!) He chuckled as he stared at her with deep affection.
"You hate my cigars, Beth. Are you sure?"
She gently took the cigar from him, and took a deep inhale. She choked instantly. We all laughed, and she looked at him.
"I love everything about you, even the things that I hate."
She then looked at me.
"How did you know how to make the plates like that?"
I smiled and looked at Redman, who was smashing the food on his plate. He began to laugh and talk with a mouth full of food.
"He studied food while he was forced to eat all that bullshit in prison for the past fifteen years. I know he's a beast at cooking! I can’t wait to experience his cooking."
He glared at John Patterson.
John Patterson took a few inhales off his cigar and blew the smoke upwards. He then looked me in my eyes.
"I watched the news when you was released. I read the article in awe as it showed how the DNA found on the scene was not yours, as well as the guy (whose DNA was found at the scene) confessed to the crime, and told details that wasn't never released to the press. I prayed on it, and I asked for God’s forgiveness and got it . So after I say I'm sorry, you and your side kick can kiss my ass!"
I stared at him as I finished my plate and drained the cup of wine. Then I smirked.
"God forgives, I don't. My parents died knowing that their son was innocent and waiting to die. My younger brother spent his inheritance on lawyers that eventually proved my innocence. So, fuck your apology. I just need you to be honest and answer a few of my questions. I deserve that much."
He then looked at his wife, who had tears streaming out of her eyes, and who nodded her head “yes.” He took a couple of hales, and then nodded to me. I accepted the blunt that Redman passed to me, and took a few deep hales. I smiled when I saw Mrs. Patterson staring at the blunt.
"Are you trying to hit this, Mrs. Patterson?"
Redman laughed.
"Yeah right, what she know 'bout that purp?"
She looked at him and chuckled as she got up and accepted the blunt. She inhaled it deeply and didn't choke. With smoke coming out of her mouth and nose, she then faced Redman.
"I was a teenager when I first visited Amsterdam in the 70's as a Dead Head. I smoked more of the best weed in the world before you were even thought about."
We both burst into laughter. John Patterson smirked at his wife as she continued to take deep hales until she ate the end bit of the roach. That really caused us to laugh uncontrollably. I then looked at John Patterson in his eyes.
"Did I ever have a chance in that jury room after Bethany Richardson testified?"
He shook his head no.
"The dreads definitely didn’t help you out. Honestly, you looked guilty in the face and you were guilty before she testified because why would the police arrest you out of everybody in Baltimore City? After she testified, all of your witnesses and your testimony fell on deaf ears.
We were wrong. Sorry. Nobody is perfect."
Redman blew out a gust of air. I looked at him and saw nothing but anger in his eyes. I looked back at John Patterson.
"OK, nobody is perfect. But, let's say that I accidentally shoot somebody. Even though it's an accident, am I wrong?"
He nodded yes.
"So, who deserves to die, man? Is it the dumb ass victim that kept saying it was me? Should it be the judge? Should it be the prosecutor, or should it be the jury? What do you think? I mean, let's say I was your son, and your son was sentenced to death unjustly. Who would you want to observe be murdered?"
Mr. Patterson’s face suddenly turned into an angry scowl, and he stared at me right in my eyes.
"All of you niggers look like guilty monsters. Why do you think so many white people pick out the wrong black guy? Because the next one looks capable of doing what was done to them. Dreads or no dreads. Dark or light. Skinny or fat. Young or old. Prison was designed for you niggers. That's just the way it is, like it or not."
Mrs. Patterson looked at her husband incredulously as she covered her mouth in genuine shock. Redman and I rushed toward him at the same time. Redman kicked him viciously in the head. I then stabbed him in his face, neck, chest, and stomach until I couldn't swing my arm any longer. Mrs. Patterson crawled on the floor to her husband, crying softly. She climbed on top of him and buried her face into his bloody shirt. She didn't see me hand Redman the gun with the silencer. She didn't see him place the barrel to her head. I wonder if she felt any of the four bullets that he put into her head. Her body shook as if she had to have felt at least one of them.
I stripped off of all of my blood soaked clothes and threw them into a trash bag, along with the plates, forks, and cups that we had eaten and drank from. I instructed Redman to move the bodies around the kitchen to screw up the murder scene. (I watched many episodes of the first 48, and CSI, religiously, until I felt I knew many ways to get away with murder.) I left the kitchen to get some of Mr. Patterson’s clothes. We discovered that, for a white dude, he had some good tastes!
We found a few cans of gas in the basement next to a huge lawn mower. We poured gas throughout the entire house. We then set fire in the basement, which gave us enough time to walk out and calmly make our escape.
Chapter 10
"Pop that, pop that, pop that..."
French Montana's song has King of Diamonds off the chain.
Redman said that there was a new club, and that it did not begin to compare to the one in Miami; however, I had no complaints. All of the chicks I saw in the club were popping their asses, and were absolutely beautiful! I watched Samantha giving a female a lap dance, and looking too sexy!
With a thousand dollars sitting in the open in front of us, I bought a bottle of Peach Ciroq for Redman and me. That brought us the attention we sought. Every dancer came to our table to earn some money; but Fatima and Samantha stayed away. I had a ball, though one of the strippers has made my jeans smelling like something unnatural! I didn’t care and added to the smell by getting lap dances from every dancer in the club. As time headed toward the end of the night, Redman and I called Samantha and Fatima over. I leaned toward them, drunk.
"Come on home. The rest of the money on the table is for y'all. Go fucking change and take us home!”
Samantha leaned over and kissed me passionately as she grabbed her share of the money and put it back in my pocket. Fatima did the same thing.
"We'll be right back, daddy!"
They both hurried to the back, and I turned to Redman.
"She called me ‘daddy,’ ‘Lil Bro! Who’s the fucking man?"
He smiled at me, leaned over, and threw up. I fell onto the floor, laughing hysterically!
Chapter 11
Samantha stood outside the shower, watching as Mr. Patterson’s blood ran off my body which made the water in the tub pink. Once there was no blood water left, she hopped in the shower and washed me thoroughly from head to toe including my manhood. She then had me lay down as she ran us some bath water. We soaked, talked, sucked, and fucked until the water turned cold.
After we finished smoking a jay, I looked up to see her staring me in my eyes. She leaned in and gave me a kiss.
"Are you trying to get money on your own, or you just chilling for a few?"
I looked at her – trying to read her, but she had no expression.
"Why? Are you going to put me on?"
"Yeah boy, I'm trying to put you on with a move that will be a huge come up for the both of us. You with it?"
I handed her a small jar of purple haze and a mango wrap. I watched as she expertly rolled, and then licked it seductively, before she sparked it up. She took a deep pull, leaned in, and blew the smoke into my mouth as our tongues intertwined. She laughed as she blew the smoke out – after I blew it back into her mouth. I looked into her eyes.
"Yeah, I'm interested. What's the plan?"
She giggled.
"Damn, you just want to know the plan. Do you care who it is?”
"Real talk, shawty. The only person alive right now that's not expendable to me is my little brother. As long as it's not him, I'm down!"
"Am I expendable?"
My eye contact didn't waiver from hers.
"As of right now, you are. I'm hoping that, in a little while, I won't feel like that."
She shook her head in disbelief.
"Anyway, I have heard so much about you that I know you are a good guy to the ones that have never caused you any type of harm. To those that have caused you harm, I feel sorry for them. I need a real dude in my life right now and you need a ride and die chick. We are perfect for one another. This now makes Sajuan a dead woman beater walking. I had no where else to go so I stayed, but that is no longer the case, is it? He's the co-owner of the strip club I work in. I know the codes to his safes, and I know where all of his stashes are at in the house. He just came back from Detroit which means he just copped at least twelve keys of raw coke, and Lord knows how many pounds of trees.”
"The plan is simple. You come over when he's at work, rob the house, and when me and him come home, I'll be here consoling him while you split up the money that he'll be crying about. It's that easy!"
I smirked.
"It's never that easy!"
Samantha started to laugh.
"Trust me, it's that easy. This not the first dude that has fallen victim to this pussy."
"What do I have to do to not become a victim of your seduction?"
"Continue to be a real street cat, and don't turn out to be a coward You can read The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene. I ride for the real and victimize the fake and I have never crossed a real dude."
"I respect that."
Fatima pulled up in Redman's car. He jogged to the driver's side window. They talked for a few minutes before he leaned in the window and they kissed. He stood up and looked at us. "Samantha, Fatima about to hit up the malls,” she said. “You trying to ride?" I hopped up.
"Yeah, she going and I'm coming too. Let me go grab some paper and I'm ready."
I jogged to the apartment, grabbed some paper, and hopped into the back seat, silently pumped up cause I was ready to go to a mall for the first time in over fifteen years!
"Lost without you/can't help myself/how does it feel..."
I found that watching the girls dance and sing the Robin Thicke song was so liberating. This was the type of small things that most take for granted. Being without females for over a decade and then to just getting a chance to sit back and watch them enjoy themselves is a blessing! Just two years ago, I had been one hour away from being put to death before I won a last second appeal. I had eaten my last meal, which was a shrimp dinner, thinking my life was over. The fact that I am out is surreal.
The first mall we hit was Towson Town Center, which was about fifteen minutes away from the City. The mall was huge. We hit King Tuts jewelry store, and I let them pick me out two watches. They chose a Citizen and Breitling. We then hit Nordstroms, where I gave them three thousand and told them to “make me fly.” They had a ball picking out my clothes. I tried all types of clothes on for them. I looked so sexy in one of the outfits that Samantha gave me head while Fatima looked out for us! I had the most fun once we when hit Victoria’s Secrets! Everything they tried on I bought. They both had a ball showing me different things!
After spending a couple of hours in the mall, we rolled out and, after getting home, me and Samantha went straight into my room. I went into the closet, grabbed the backpack of guns, and dumped them on the bed. I loved how she wasn't fazed by all of those guns. I laughed as she picked one of them up.
"Ooh! This is so cute. Can I have this?"
I really laughed as I looked at a nickel plated .380 with a black rubber grip handle. The gun looked menacing to me, yet she was talking about it being "cute." That cute gun could rearrange her face, but I let her feel how she felt.
"That joint might have a body on it, but you can have it. Listen, if you serious about robbing your boyfriend, I hope you understand that I'm going to kill him?"
I smiled as she finally looked shocked.
"Why do you have to kill him?"
"I’m killing him to ensure your safety. A dead enemy is no threat, princess. Since you are in these streets, I know you think you know all that there is to know. You don't. You know all of his stash spots, and you plan on hitting all of them but you think he won’t suspect you? If he has enough money to cop the weight he is playing with getting your pretty face re-arranged by some bullets will be like him buying three pairs of Jordans. How often have you seen him buy three pairs of Jordans. He'll kill your ass even if he’s a soft ass dude. The streets would force him to kill you. Plus, he has a lot of money and powerful friends and eventually, it might come out and we'd get killed by some broke cat trying to come up. I think not. It's easier and safer to just kill him. You still want to do it?"
"Yeah, I'm down. He gave me my last black eye I will ever have."
I looked at her now with suspicious eyes. She recognized the look in my eyes, and busted out laughing!
"Chris, if a dude is not authentic, will he be in your circle?"
"Hell nah."
"Alright, if you’re dealing with a cat that you thought was real, and then it comes out he's phony and he's getting money, wouldn't you get him?"
I laughed, and then nodded “yes.” She laughed too as she sparked up a blunt.
"So why is it when a woman sets up a dude she was dealing with, that she thought was authentic, but turned out to be a coward and he gets victimized she gets a cruddy rap? When an authentic Man exposes a fraud and takes what he wants he is glorified as keeping it 100. It really doesn’t make sense."
I accepted the blunt and laid back and looked at her, thinking about her question.
"I'll answer your question after you earn it."
She smiled and unbuckled my belt, and snatched my jeans off of me. As I entered her mouth, our eye contact committed us to one another without any words needing to be said!
Chapter 12
As I waited for Sajuan and Samantha to get home, I walked around his house as I gathered all of his stashes that Samantha had written down for me, and marveled at his “rich” spot. The Chambery sofa set, that I had just read about in a luxury furniture catalog, looked fine, so I whistled. That was over twenty five thousand right there. The sixty inch plasma TV that was screwed into the wall continued the big money theme. The huge seventy five gallon fish tank that covered the length of one wall was breath taking. It was a fresh water tank with Tetras, Guppies, Rasboras, Bettas and Mollies , with a reef that looked like
it belonged in the sea somewhere.
His room was laid all the way out! He had a king size bed with a Gucci sheet/blanket set that looked tight. Though I was impressed, I didn’t lose focus as I filled up LV, Tumi, Dacati, and Briggs & Riley luggage bags with drugs, money, and jewelry. After I finished, I walked into his closet, and was stuck for a second. All I could do was look around, stunned. This cat was really doing it big. I began to take off my clothes, and started to try on new outfits.
After stripping naked, I popped the tag off a pair of black Burberry boxer briefs that fit a little tight, which helped me out! I covered them with a pair of red and black Jordan shorts. I put on a matching Jordan tank top. I then popped tags off a pair of LV jeans that fit a little small, but that was the style now, so I was “in.” I put on a mean black and grey Valentino sweater. I threw on a LV belt and saw a pair of shoes that was in a case hanging on the wall; that caused me to freeze.
I slowly took the case off of the wall, and slowly lifted the lid. I pulled out one of the shoes and burst out laughing. I had read in a Slam basketball magazine that Big Boi, the rapper, was given a pair of Air Force 1’s that cost fifty thou. The Nike logo was cast in gold and adorned with eleven carats worth of diamonds. The diamond casings were affixed to the shoes by gold stitching. I knew Big Boi put them on eBay for charity, and this cat copped them. They were a half size too big, but I put them on! I threw on a black LV jacket, and put on a brand new Black NY Yankees fitted, which was too big; but, the kids wore them like this, so I was in style!
I took all of the bags and put them in a stolen Taurus. Then, I heated up a chicken plate that
Samantha had waiting for me in the microwave, and ate it while I played NBA 2k on Play Station 3 for the first time. A little after ten, Fatima called me to let me know that Samantha and Sajuan were on the way. I cocked the 9mm and rubbed the silencer, knowing that, with every murder, I was increasing my chances of being sent back on death row. I put my plate and fork in a back pack, and just sat in the dark thinking about how much more life was enjoyable out in the real world – versus being in prison on death row.
Life After Death Page 3