I sat on the bottom bunk in silence for a few seconds before I got up to call a guard. It had finally sank in that I wasn’t goin’ home for a long-ass time.
“Hey, CO,” I called out several times only to be ignored.
“Shut yo’ ass up before I send yo’ ass to the hole,” the CO finally replied.
“You ain’t gon’ do shit,” another inmate yelled.
“Inmate Jackson, you betta shut up before I send yo’ dumb-ass to the hole wit’him,” the CO snapped.
“You ain’t gon’ send him nowhere,” another inmate intervened.
“Suck my dick, bitch,” another inmate hollered out.
Before long inmates were yelling and screaming throughout the pod.
I shook my head before sitting back down on my bunk. “These cats in here are crazy. Hey, Ya-Ya,” I called out to my next door neighbor.
“Wassup, young blood?”
“I just wanted to say thanks and I’ll see you in the mornin’,” I said.
“No problem and I doubt if you see me in the mornin’,” Ya-Ya said.
“Man, what’s all this talk about you not bein’ here?” I asked, confused. “You ’bouta break out? If so let me in on it!”
“Naw, young blood. I got a plan though.”
“I’m for real, if you bustin’ up outta here I want in,” I said desperately.
“We’ll see,” Ya-Ya said.
I pulled the thin state blanket up over me and said a prayer. I could have sworn that I heard crying coming from Ya-Ya’s cell but brushed it off before drifting off to sleep.
At 6:00 a.m. the inmates were awakened by the bright lights that came on every morning like clockwork.
“Chow time,” the first-shift CO, Hood, called out.
I got up and quickly, threw on my jumpsuit, splashed some water on my face, and ran my toothbrush through my mouth before walking out of my cell. I walked past Ya-Ya’s cell and looked in, noticing he was still asleep.
“Ya-Ya, you betta get yo’ ass up before these petty-ass COs put you in the hole,” I called out. “Ya-Ya,” I repeated. I then walked into Ya-Ya’s cell and pulled the blanket from over his face and found him with his eyes wide open, dilated to the back of his head like he was in a state of shock.
I took two quick steps backward. “What the fuck! CO, CO,” I called out frantically.
“What the fuck goin’ on?” CO Hood yelled as he ran down the range with his partner following close behind. They ran into Ya-Ya’s cell. “What the fuck?” the CO asked, rhetorically.
“Everybody roll in,” CO Brown yelled. “Roll the fuck in.”
All the inmates in cell block C complied, fearing they would be sent to the hole. But of course this fear didn’t stop them from talking shit and ghost hollering as they rolled in. I stood inside of Ya-Ya’s cell with the two COs still in shock. CO Brown pushed his man down and waited for backup from the other COs. He pulled the blanket all the way off of Ya-Ya’s body. He was completely naked with a hypodermic needle sticking from the brim of his penis.
“I wonder where the fuck he got the needle from?” CO Hood asked, confused.
“I don’t know, but this is one less muthafucka we gotta count tonight,” CO Brown joked.
“True dat,” CO Hood said, giving his partner some dap.
“I know we gon’ be on lockdown for the rest of the night so we can finish that game of dominoes we started the other night,” CO Brown said.
“I can’t wait to whoop that ass.” CO Hood smiled.
I couldn’t believe these two clowns was laughing and joking while my old friend lay dead. I was escorted back to my own cell and the block was on lockdown for the rest of the night. They were forced to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner inside of their cells. I wasn’t in no mood to eat the slop they served. I sat speechless the entire night, not talking to anyone.
A few days had passed and even though I still hadn’t got over the initial shock of Ya-Ya’s death, I knew I had a bid to do and couldn’t do it by worrying about the loss of my good friend. I was in my cell doing pushups when CO Brown escorted my new cellie into the cell. I got up off the floor and moved out the way.
“Meet ya new cellie,” CO Brown said, sarcastically, pushing the crazy-looking dude into the cell.
I looked at my new cellie and could tell by his eyes he wasn’t wrapped too tight.
Damn, I hope I don’t have to fuck this nigga up, I thought as my cellie began unpacking his belongings. “Vomo,” I introduced myself.
My cellie didn’t open his mouth; he just continued maneuvering around the small cell as if I didn’t exist.
For the next several weeks, my cellie would sit in the cell staring at the wall without saying a word. I asked around about this strange cat I was forced to live with, but nobody knew anything about him. One inmate told me he’d heard that the dude killed his girlfriend and two kids execution style and continued living with them for almost two months, feeding them, bathing them, and even going as far as changing their clothes. The horrific smell from the decomposing bodies was what triggered the neighbors to call the police. I didn’t know whether to believe the story because the nigga hollering this was known to lie more than me. But my cellie’s actions showed signs that there might be some truth to this story.
“Shut the fuck up befo’ I kill you,” I thought I heard my cellie say late one night.
“What?” I asked, still half asleep.
“You snorin’ too loud, nigga, and I can’t sleep,” my cellie said, angrily.
“Man, chill out, I can’t help it,” I said, shocked that my cellie could even talk.
A few minutes later I drifted back off to sleep. My cellie must have quietly lowered himself from the top bunk with a pillow in one hand and a shank made out of a toothbrush in the other. He positioned himself over me bringing the pillow toward my face with the shank raised, ready to kill. Once he lowered the pillow down over my face he stuck the weapon in my side. I desperately struggled from my sleep to try and protect myself from the vicious attack. My cellie was in a rage, he kept sticking me over and over. He was very quiet and quick. Luckily, one of the guards finally decided to make a round and witnessed what was going down in the cell.
“Hey, what the fuck goin’ on in there?” the CO yelled loudly while pushing his man down.
In a matter of minutes, the pod was full of COs. They opened up my cell and rushed in. One CO pulled out his Mace and sprayed my cellie in the face. He was in such a rage, it didn’t even faze him; he continued going off. Not knowing what to do next another CO hit my cellie upside the head with a billy club, causing him to fall unconscious to the cement floor.
“Get these two dirt bags outta here and take ’em to the infirmary,” one of the lieutenants instructed. “Its gon’ be a long night, so everybody get your stories straight; the major gon’ be on our asses about this one.”
After being rushed to an outside hospital and spending the next month in the prison’s infirmary recovering, I returned back to my housing unit. I spent the next few months getting my body into shape; I refused to let another nigga catch me slipping. I came to terms with the fact that if anybody else had the heart to pull another silly stunt like my old cellie did I would be spending the rest of my days behind bars and wasn’t fucked up about it.
Chapter 4
Not Always the Man
I grew up in the game at a young age. I could remember when my pops used to take me on dope runs with him, tryin’ to show me the proper way to serve the feins. I had a lot of respect for my pops until he’d gotten my dick sucked by a prostitute named Candy at the age of nine. It felt good at the time, but I knew it was wrong. What typa women would suck a young boy’s dick and what typa parent would encourage it? From that point on I’d lost all respect for my father and women. Every bitch I fucked wit’ after that I treated ’em like shit! Even the ones who didn’t deserve to get dogged, I dogged. They had my father and Candy to thank for that!
One thing I hated most a
bout myself was how I’d inherited my father’s whorish ways. I wanted to fuck everyone and I do mean everyone. Ever since I could remember bitches had been throwin’ pussy at ol’ Marquez Thomas Pryor aka Budz. So I made it my goal to run up in every bad bitch I ran across. Hell, I couldn’t blame ’em though; I was one sexy-ass muthafucka if I do say so myself. Oh, and I had my father to thank for that, too, because I took after him. We both stood six feet one inch with washboard abs. My pops always told me that bitches didn’t want no out of shape–ass nigga, but that went both ways. We both had dark, chocolate skin with short, wavy hair that I always kept nice and tight. All the bitches was hypnotized by my light brown eyes, which I also inherited from my father. As I sat back and reflected on my life, I’d fucked so many bitches I was almost tired of gettin’ pussy and ass. I hated to admit it; sometimes my dick wouldn’t even get hard I fucked so much. I guessed that was all a part of being a player.
I was thirteen when my father was killed in a house fire along with several other dope feins on Eightieth and Drexel. At first I was hurt, but when I found out my father was no longer selling crack but smokin’ it, my hurt turned into anger. But that explained why he stopped coming around so much. I often wondered how and why he went from being “the man” to a fucking crackhead! My mom thought I wigged out because I didn’t shed a tear at his funeral. The funeral was closed casket. My father’s body was so badly burnt he could only be identified by his high school football championship ring on his skeletal finger.
After his death, I spun out of control. My mother couldn’t tell me shit! I took all the anger I had built up in me and turned it into making a profit. I took everything my father had taught me about selling crack and put it to use. I started staying out all night slanging on Seventhy-ninth with the old heads. They couldn’t believe a young cat like me knew so much about the dope game. They saw how ambitious I was about makin’ my money; they didn’t fuck with me and dared anyone else to. During the day the block was too hot, so I went to school, not to learn but to sell my rocks. I wasn’t proud of it, but I turned a lot of young muthafuckas into notes. Hey, if they didn’t give a fuck, I didn’t either! Only thing I cared about was my money!
I never had a problem wit’ a nigga getting in the way of me building my empire until this country-ass nigga Vomo from North Carolina moved into my hood and tried to plant his seed. I gotta give it to the nigga, he had heart. For that reason and that reason only, I opened up my turf to him and showed love until he tried to get greedy and started stepping on my toes. I quickly put a halt to that shit and we’d been enemies ever since. To this day I thought the real reason why Vomo had crossed me was because I’d been fucking both his baby mommas. It wasn’t my fault; they was the ones throwing the pussy my way. What was I supposed to do, turn it down? I told the nigga my bad, but he was still acting like a bitch about the whole situation. So I said fuck it and kept fucking both of ’em until I got tired of them hoes. I sent ’em back to him, but they didn’t want him, they wanted me. What was a man to do?
“Pryor, get the fuck up and pack up. You made bail,” the CO yelled into my cell interrupting my train of thought.
I quickly got up from my bunk. I looked around the cell and decided I was leaving with what I came with: absolutely nothing.
“CO, I’m ready,” I yelled.
The CO came and unlocked my cell. I smiled all the way down the corridor. I already knew my time on the streets was limited. Before I got sentenced to prison, I had to get my affairs in order and quick. My attorney told me for the right price he could get me six months, nine at the most. I had no choice but to run with it because a gun charge usually carried two to five years, so I was a lucky muthafucka. I waited for them to process me out, hailed a cab, and got as far away from the county jail as possible.
Chapter 5
Just Doin’ Me
Business was booming. I was making a killing selling my rocks. I thought I was the shit ’cause I started gettin’ clout in the hood with the notes. I was still working for my mom from time to time, but I had my own money to make. After a long tiring day on the block, I decided to head home and get dressed for the party Nikki and Sierra was throwing. My momma hated that I hung around them saying they were too advanced for me and I needed to find some girls my own age to hang with. I was sixteen now and felt I should be able to run with whoever I wanted to.
I had another friend, Kellie, who I hung around with from time to time, but her parents were strict as fuck. She wasn’t allowed to do nothing; she was barely allowed to leave off the porch. She had to be home before the street lights came on; she wasn’t allowed to talk to boys on the phone, let alone have a boyfriend. All her parents wanted her to do was keep her head in the books. I guess that was okay, but damn, let her be a teenager. My momma wanted me to hang around Kellie all the time but after arguing back and forth with her about me not wanting to, she gave in and said when I come home pregnant don’t think she gon’ take care of no damn baby. I just rolled my eyes and continued doing what I was doing. A lot of the shit my momma said went in one ear and right out the other. I shook the thoughts out of my head and walked into my apartment building.
“You got somethin’?” some clean-cut white guy I’d never seen before asked. It wasn’t unusual to see a white note in the hood from time to time, but this guy didn’t sit right with me.
“What you lookin’ for?” I asked, skeptically.
The white dude looked around the hallway before answering. “Fifty,” he replied.
Any other time I would have jumped at a fifty dollar sale, but it was something funny about this guy. He didn’t have that note look. He looked more like the feds than a fein.
“Yeah, I got somethin’.” I smirked. “I don’t know if I got fifty, but it might be close to it. Where yo’ money at?”
“Here it is,” he said pulling it out his pocket. “I’ll take whatever you got.” The way he looked around I knew he was up to some shady shit.
“All right,” I said taking my back pack off my back. “Come over here in the light so I can show you what I got.” I waved him over to an empty bench. I slowly unzipped my backpack. I could see the wide smile on this man’s face out the corner of my eye. I pulled out a small paper sack. I saw the man quickly look over his shoulder. “What flavor you want? I got strawberry, grape, and green apple,” I said pouring the flavored tootsie rolls out on the bench.
“What the fuck?” the man snapped.
“You asked me if I had somethin’! What you thought I was sellin’? Nigga, I sell candy.” I smirked.
“Ain’t this about a bitch! I don’t want no candy. I want crack!” he yelled.
“Well I don’t know what to tell you, man. I don’t sell crack,” I said frowning and picking my candy back up, throwing it back inside the bag.
“Well do you know where I can get some from?” he asked, hopeful.
“Let me think.” I looked up at the ceiling and twisted my lips as if I really was thinking. “Nope, now get ya police-ass on outta here.” I laughed as I pushed the button on the elevator.
“Shit!” he said as he walked away. I stepped on the elevator and watched as the man disappeared out the door.
“Better luck next time,” I said as the elevator doors closed. I walked through the front door and hurried to my room to stash my money. I could hear my mom’s music blasting from out of her room. That only meant one thing; she was getting ready to go out.
“I need for you to watch the door for me tonight. I’m goin’ out wit’ Stella and Mari,” my mom walked into my room and said, scaring the shit out of me.
“But, Mom, I’m goin’ to a party tonight,” I said.
“Whose party? I don’t recall you askin’ me if you could go anywhere!”
“Kellie’s mom is havin’ her a sweet sixteen party,” I lied, hoping she would let me go. I already knew if I would have mentioned Nikki or Sierra’s name, she would have said no off rip.
“Well the only partyin’ you gon’
be doin’ is up in this house, ’cause I need you to watch the door,” my mom said, smartly.
“Dang, how come Miguel can’t watch the door for you?” I asked.
“Miguel ain’t here and I don’t know where he at,” she said.
“I don’t neva get to go nowhere!”
“Yo’ ass been gone all fuckin’ day, so I don’t wanna hear that ‘I don’t never get to go nowhere’ shit,” my mom fussed as she turned to walk out of my room.
“She get on my fuckin’ nerves,” I huffed, but not before making sure she was out of earshot first. “I always gotta watch the damn door for her and she wanna pay me that little-ass bit of money. I got my own shit to sell!” I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch with a straight attitude. I picked up the remote and turned the TV on.
“You might as well fix ya face ’cause you still ain’t goin’ nowhere,” my mom walked into the living room and said. She grabbed her purse and car keys off the coffee table and looked over at me. “Now you already know what to do so there’s nothin’ that needs to be explained. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
“Whateva,” I said, rolling my eyes as she walked out the door. It never failed, every time my mom hooked up with Mari and drunk-ass Stella it would be four or five o’clock in the morning before she came home.
For the next couple hours the door was jumping. Around one o’clock all the traffic slowed down. Bored with nothing to do, I channel surfed and stopped when I got to Showtime After Dark. My mouth flew open when I saw these two white girls getting busy. I could see why my mom told me to stay away from these channels. I instantly got a sensation between my legs that I’d never felt before. It felt like my jukebox had a heartbeat. The more I watched the more it throbbed. I was the only one out of my clique who was still a virgin and I was cool with that. I was saving myself for Budz anyway. There had been times when Nikki’s twenty-five-year-old cousin, Oscar, tried to get me drunk and take advantage of me; he was cute and all but I couldn’t get past the rotten smell that came out of his mouth. Tired of the throbbing sensation between my legs, I unzipped my shorts and placed my hand in my panties. I took my middle finger and slowly stroked the hard thing that sat in the middle of my snatch. It felt good, a little too good because I started moving my finger back and forth a little quicker I was really enjoying the feeling until I was interrupted by a knock at the door.
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