Prison Throne

by T. Styles

  With the one sentence that Montana spit, Rasim took to imagining Snow in a thousand compromising sexual positions. He imagined her getting fucked from the back, sucking another nigga’s dick and even holding the baby she always wanted in her arms. He even saw its face, a beautiful little girl with eyes as big and as pretty as her mother’s.

  Then it got weird when he envisioned her removing the tattoo on her body with his name.

  When Montana saw how angry he made the sleeping beast, he looked behind him for the exit but it was futile. Parker and Shawn were steady and already cracking their knuckles. Now that Montana had the proper script in hand and realized he wasn’t running shit, he was aware that the only way he was leaving that cell was bleeding.

  “So I guess ya’ll niggas believe in shooting the messenger?” He tried to joke around.

  The crowd was tough.

  Nobody even chuckled.

  When he focused back on Rasim he was staring into the eyes of a killer.

  Angry that Montana assumed that they were cool enough for him to discuss his wife, Rasim rocked the nigga’s chest plate until he was fifty shades of red. When he wanted a break, Shawn kicked him repeatedly in the chin while Parker took to mopping him on the floor.

  Even Stanley got himself a free kick in, although he pretended as if it was because Montana was in his way.

  The entire ordeal took less than two minutes and when Rasim was sure the coast was clear, they released Montana. Amazingly, he was able to walk out of Rasim’s cell alive and in a daze. But the next morning when it was time for roll call he would be found dead in his sleep.

  ****

  Rasim was on the yard with his son who decided that today was the day that he would talk to the man he believed was his father. The wire holding his jaw in place was removed and he was ready to use his lips. Not for snitching of course.

  Shawn and Parker remained on guard, more perceptive than ever. It was quite unnecessary though because in the short time Rasim had been in prison one man received a fractured jaw and became his personal bitch, and the other died due to bleeding on the brain.

  Wasn’t nobody trying to fuck with Rasim. He carried his legend inside with him and had activated it even though it wasn’t his plan.

  Rasim was standing in the yard with an evil glare. Slowly Stanley raised his head and said, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  Rasim was about to crunch his jaw again until he looked to the right and realized he was staring into his own face…he was staring at his son. “Thank you,” he said under his breath.

  Truthfully, with Snow gone he didn’t think he could do a year. Had he thought he would lose his wife, he would’ve never stepped a foot inside of that bitch. At least that’s what he told himself. He even wrote a letter questioning her about the nigga at the grocery store but she never responded.

  “Can I talk to you? In private?” Stanley asked boldly.

  There wasn’t shit going on in the yard so Rasim adjusted the Kufi on his head, rubbed his beard and said, “Come on.”

  The four of them strutted to his cell as if on a mission. Parker and Shawn remained on the outside while Rasim and his son stayed inside.

  Rasim flopped on the bottom bunk and clasped his hands in front of him as he looked up at him and waited for his question.

  “Why don’t you want to be my father?” Stanley uttered. “I know you are my dad. I knew from the time I first saw your face. And my mama told me too.”

  Rasim hopped up and got so close to Stanley that Stanley could smell the remnants of the meat Rasim had for breakfast. He stabbed a stiff finger in his chest so hard it throbbed. “I told you once but I’m not going to tell you again,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “I am not your fucking father. If you say it again…just once more…the way I feel right now, I will hurt you.”

  “But your face…you look li—”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rasim screamed in his face, splashing him with spit crystals. “Didn’t you hear what I just said, lil nigga? I said I’m not your fucking father!”

  Fuck wrong with this youngin? He thought.

  This was the last thing he needed.

  Stanley looked into his pupils. He could see the tiny red veins in his eyes and his heart pumped. “Nothing is wrong I just want—,”

  “What? Me to be your father?” He gave him the slow glare from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet and back. He rocked slowly. “You lucky you not on your knees sucking my dick right now, young boy.” He gripped his stick. “What would make you think even if you were my blood that I would have you as a son? A fucking snitch? Naw, homie, you could never have my last name.” Rasim pushed him with both hands so hard he bounced against the wall.

  If Rasim was acting, he was doing a good got damn job.

  Stanley ran out of the room and Rasim was about to follow him because he didn’t allow him to go anyplace without him. But his body was so heavy with the loss of Snow that he flopped to the bed instead.

  “Want me to go after him?” Parker leaned his head in and asked.

  Rasim threw his face into his hands. “No. Let him rock out.”

  Parker nodded and held the line.

  ****

  The visiting hall was bustling thanks to Mindy’s miraculous change of heart. More attractive women were allowed to meet with their loved ones and it was all because Snow orchestrated the proper beat down. When the battered C.O. returned, she decided to retire her hating ways. The last thing she wanted was to see a wolf sighting again. The females put more damage on her body than she could stand. Mindy knew she couldn’t take another bout in the hospital.

  Rasim was sitting in a plastic orange chair next to Queen but he might as well had stayed in his room. He was hunched over and staring out into the visiting hall at nothing in particular. Ironically, he did bear an amazing resemblance to the jeans Snow threw on the floor in her shop that day.

  No movement.

  No life.

  Snow knew her husband. That was for sure.

  “Rasim, are you okay?” Queen asked frustrated at not receiving any attention.

  Rasim did not hear a word she said.

  “Rasim,” she said louder, “are you okay?”

  Rasim flapped his eyelids and turned around to face her. “Let me ask you something.” He pointed at her and his finger brushed against her nose. “You sure you didn’t tell my wife about us?” he glared. “Because I would kill you if you did. You do know that, right?”

  Queen sat back in the hard plastic seat and folded her arms over her breasts. She was trying to be strong but her ass cheeks were clamped together to prevent from shitting in her thong. “Why do you keep asking me about that?” she frowned. “I’m sick of coming down here every week to see you only to not be appreciated.” She stared directly into his eyes. “If you keep this up, I’m not coming back anymore.”

  “Did you tell my wife about us?” he repeated, fully expecting the right answer.

  “No, Rasim,” she said with her tongue fluttering around again. It was obvious that she was not on his mind. “But I do know she’s moved on.”

  She turned away from him, thinking the matter was over when he gripped her arm, reducing the blood pressure in that particular limb.

  “Nami!” Officer House yelled from across the room. “Hands off of that visitor!”

  He slowly peeled his hands off of her flesh.

  “Another move like that and the visit is over,” he continued.

  Rasim didn’t give a fuck. He wanted this bitch to clarify her statement and after that she could go about her skanky way. “Queen, what do you mean she’s moved on?”

  “Rasim, I don’t want to get involved—”

  “Bitch, you already involved,” he yelled. “Now what the fuck you talking ‘bout?”

  Queen knew that if she didn’t give him the full story he could care less about the C.O. and would place his palms around her neck. By the time the officers got to him, her beating hear
t would be break dancing on the floor. “I don’t know much.” She shrugged. “I will say that she’s moving in with some dude she met a while back. That’s all I know.”

  A while back?

  What the fuck?

  Half of Rasim wanted to cry and the other half wanted to die. His wife, his precious wife was with another man and he couldn’t fathom it in his mind. It was like reading a book full of Chinese script. He simply wasn’t fluent in that particular language.

  How was it possible for Snow…innocent Snow…to authorize another man to touch her body, to kiss her lips, to hold her when she knew full well that she belonged to him? It was like the nigga robbed him at gunpoint. What type of bullshit was that?

  Rasim moved uneasily in his seat and stood up. He didn’t want to talk to that bitch anymore. It wasn’t personal; it was just cold hard facts. What they had was over anyway. It wasn’t like he could fuck her.

  So he strutted to the C.O. and said, “I’m ready to go back to my cell.”

  “Well you have to wait. It’s not—”

  Rasim cut him off with a cold glare. Either he walked him back to the block or he would hurt somebody or something to get a rougher escort. At any rate, the visit was over.

  Officer House knew when a prisoner was on the verge of a breakdown and he didn’t want to taunt him and showcase his authority. Rasim was a respectful man. So he escorted him to his block without confrontation.

  Rasim didn’t give Queen the common courtesy of even saying goodbye. He couldn’t even remember what she was wearing. It was as if she were never there. As if she never existed.

  Unfortunately for Rasim, when he made it back to his cell he was awarded with more bad news.

  Shawn and Parker slowly walked into his cell. Shawn opened his mouth to talk to Rasim but the words wouldn’t come out, so he turned around and hung in the doorway instead.

  Parker looked back at his friend and then at Rasim. He realized it was up to him to bear the cross alone. “Rasim, I gotta talk to you, man.”

  “What’s up?” he asked with wide eyes. He could tell whatever it was it was going to be bad.

  “Some nigga name Terry stabbed Stanley an hour ago,” he whispered. “He said he looked like you. Like the last time he saw your face when you killed some nigga name Levi.”

  “Where is my son?” Rasim roared.

  “In the infirmary. They saying he might not make it.”

  ****

  Rasim hung in front of the mosque within the prison. He wanted to walk inside and ask Allah for help but he didn’t know how. Where would he start? He never bothered to rap to Him before.

  An older Muslim saw Rasim pacing and stood up and reached out his hand to pull him in. Rasim was so broken down that his legs could barely move so he could use the help. So much happened in his life that he realized he couldn’t do it alone. It was out of his hands. It was time to surrender.

  “How can I help you, young brother?” the man asked, seeing the despair on his face.

  He was an old black man with a baldhead and bushy grey eyebrows. He turned his life over to Allah ten years ago when he accidently killed a child. He had been doing time and God’s work ever since.

  “I just need…I just need to pray.” His voice was so high pitched it was cracking.

  “Would you like my help?”

  Rasim nodded.

  “I take it you want to ask for Allah’s assistance in your life?”

  Rasim nodded again.

  “Okay, you’re going to prostrate by placing your forehead on the ground to show humility and submission before Allah.” He paused and eased on his knees to demonstrate. “Come down here, young man. Let me show you.”

  Rasim eased down.

  “Good. Now place your hands on the floor and then your forehead.”

  Rasim followed instructions like a G.

  “Good. Now repeat after me. Glory be to my Lord, the most High.”

  Rasim repeated the precious words.

  “Okay now I’m going to give you some privacy. I want you to take the time to ask Allah for what troubles your soul. And when you’re done, sit on your legs for a few seconds and prostrate again. Allah will hear your call. He always does.”

  The man eased out of the mosque and left him alone.

  Rasim was grateful because his heart was heavy and he was too embarrassed to hold an audience and talk to Allah at the same time. Anyway, he felt like a hypocrite asking for God’s grace considering all of the murders he facilitated but what else could he do? He tried his way and in the end he lost his wife and possibly his only son. He couldn’t take any more.

  For some reason, he thought about what Snow said when they were teenagers many years ago in Strawberry Meadows.

  “You shouldn’t turn your back on God, Rasim. You never know when you might need him.”

  He hoped it wasn’t too late.

  “Allah, I’m coming to You humbly. I know You don’t recognize my face but I need Your help. I…I love my wife more than anything in this world. And I’ve made some mistakes, most of which I don’t want to admit to, but I’m truly sorry. But I can’t be the man I know I can be without her in my life. Please bring her back to me. Please give me the strength and help to be the husband she wants and deserves. Please help my son so that he doesn’t die because of my sins. All I’m asking is a chance to be a good father. To be a good husband. To be a good man. I’m asking for Your mercy.”

  Rasim rose up for a few seconds and prostrated again.

  When he was preparing to stand up and leave, Parker came into the mosque and whispered, “I’m sorry to bother you, Rasim. But your counselor said your wife is waiting on your call.”

  ****

  Rasim held the phone to his ear so close it almost muffled out her sweet voice. Just hearing her talk was like music to his ears. He figured Allah was great but he never expected Him to move so quickly. “Where you been, baby? I haven’t spoken to you in months.” It’s funny how absence made his voice softer. The last time he spoke to her, he was yelling but now his tone was gentle as a baby’s kiss.

  “I’ve been out, Rasim,” she responded in that breathy tone she was known for. “Where else would I be?”

  He recognized how she was using his words against him but he didn’t appreciate the humor. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked pacing in the place in front of the phone booth.

  “Listen, I didn’t call to argue with you. I reached out because I heard what happened to your son. I know you wanted to help and I hate that the past affected his future. What happened to the man who hurt him anyway?”

  Rasim didn’t want to talk about that bullshit but he didn’t want to be ignorant either. “He locked down. They’re taking him to another prison later.” He wanted to say that wherever he landed his reach was long enough to touch him but of course the call was recorded.

  “That’s good to hear,” she replied knowing full well that he had plans to lay the stabber to rest. He should’ve bucked them all on the day he busted Levi. “So how is Stanley now?”

  “In critical condition,” he sighed. “This is what I was talking about, baby. This is why I didn’t want no kids. They fuckin’ used him against me.” Rasim paused realizing he was saying too much over the phone. “Anyway, I’m hoping for the best. How did you find out?”

  “Selena. She was bouncing off the walls too. Said something about Stanley having a fractured jaw and now this.”

  Rasim rubbed his temple. “Selena, need to back the fuck up and relax.” Rasim leaned up against the wall and looked up at the light. He had another question, although he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for the answer. “Snow, are you…are you dealing with another nigga?”

  She exhaled. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?”

  His guts bubbled even more. “Yeah.”

  “Yes I am.”

  Rasim lost all reason and religion.

  He pushed off the wall and yelled, “But why?” He startled a few
inmates who were already terrified of him as they walked by. They hustled down the hall before they gained a fractured jaw like Stanley or suffered dying in their sleep like Montana. “What would make you do some shit like that, Snow? You’ve never been with another man outside of me. Not every nigga is gonna respect your body like I do, baby. You gotta be careful.”

  “Who said I never been with another man but you?”

  Rasim was as stiff as his first hard on. “So…so you…you saying before I came back in here that you were with another nigga? Outside of me?”

  “Yes.”

  His free hand crawled into a fist and he pumped it repeatedly like he was about to give blood. “Who the nigga, Snow?”

  “Rasim, please don’t—”

  “Who?” he roared.

  “Somebody from Strawberry Meadows.”

  Rasim touched his stomach. “When, Snow?” he yelled. “What the fuck you doing to me? You want me to zap out on these niggas in here? And get ten to twenty?” he paused. “Huh?”

  Hearing his statement an inmate who was on the phone next to him immediately hung up on his mother. The old woman was in the hospital and everything. But the last thing he needed was to be a victim of Rasim’s wrath so he bounced.

  “I was with him the last time I left you,” she responded. “When I was gone all of those months and came home to find you on the floor under the sink with blood pouring out of your head. After you put a rock to your face.” She paused. “He took care of me then and he’s taking care of me now.”

  Every vein in Rasim’s body pulsed and bubbled. “So when you left me you were living with another man the entire time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t ask.” She paused. “Don’t be so surprised, Rasim.”

  “Just because I fucked some bitch? You would go this far?”