The 'N' Word, Book 1

by Tiana Laveen

  “That’s Mia Armstrong,” Danny explained. “She comes and teaches some of the guys how to read. She worked with George, too. He said she was ok, not too bad. I think he had something for her; he talked about her all the time at one point. George wanted some of that jungle pussy, bestiality at its finest!” The man laughed, as if the shit was hilarious.

  “Don’t you ever say something like that! You hear me?!” Aaron roared, feeling himself coming undone. “Don’t you ever say George had a thing for a nigger!”

  “Aaron, hell! I’m sorry!” Danny raised his arms in surrender, his expression solemn and regretful. “I was just kidding! I’m just—”

  “You were just nothing!” He huffed and swallowed, feeling a wave of shame encircle him like grotesque vultures over a dying man. The thing clawed its way along the sandy dunes in the desert of his soul. He knew his outrage wasn’t simply at Danny’s careless words; it was for himself, a reprimand for ogling the woman. He glanced back over at her, and surmised the guard must’ve been happy with her response for the guy had walked away, leaving her there for him to observe once more.

  And then… at that moment, he locked eyes with her, and his breaths came out harder and harsher.

  Stop looking at me… just turn away. I don’t have the decency to turn away from you, so I need you to do it for both of us, okay?

  He pleaded with the woman without moving a damn muscle or uttering a word. When she took several steps back, he exhaled instant relief and watched her walk the path around the place until she disappeared back inside the building. He resumed his hard dribbling then, banging the thing hard as hell against the ground. After a few moments of getting his damn head back on track, he brushed his shoulder against Danny, leaned in real damn close…

  “I didn’t give any orders for an attack or the stabbing. I need you to tell me who did. Do you understand me?”

  “Of course man, yeah… you got it.” He nodded emphatically as they scooted about the court.

  Aaron turned on a dime and made a basket. He then put his finger up, “Score, 2-0… May the best man win…”

  Chapter Nine

  TODAY HIS LETTER smells like fresh lemon zest and cigarette smoke…

  Mia sniffed the damn thing as she rested lazily in her bed, the ebony and ivory Damask print sheets pulled tight and high around her as the night gave way to an unseasonably cool chill. Diana Ross’ ‘Missing You’ played softly in the background. Placing her cup of hot honey tea with lemon down on her nightstand, she sighed. The allure of the soft pink light in her bedroom made the ultra feminine area appear sweet, matching her mood, with a dollop of sultry to boot. She ran the ball and heel of her freshly lotioned left foot over the top of her right, drew in a deep breath, and began to read the thing…

  Hi Melissa,

  I apologize for not writing in a few days. My mission was to write you every other day, but I’ve fallen short. There have been some things going on that have had me a little distracted but I’d much rather concentrate on getting to know you right now. In any case, thank you for your last few letters. In the second to last one, you once again stated that, due to my incarceration(s), you didn’t think it was a good idea to pursue a romantic situation with me. I will admit to you that I was disappointed since I’ve tried to convince you with openness and honesty that I could be a viable option. Regardless, I meant what I said in my first letter to you. You owe me nothing.

  You still don’t, but I can share some things with you and we can build a friendship and then, maybe, along the way, I could change your mind? Yes, I am persistent, especially when it comes to something, or someone that I want…

  Mia paused and held the damn thing close to her chest, hoping that his sentiments would somehow imprint on her heart and change her damn mind. She was already sinking in deep… She hung on by a frayed thread, and it was only a matter of seconds before she’d fall to her demise.

  He was just too damn irresistible.

  I think you are someone I could enjoy on a deeper level. It’s like we get one another, understand one another. It’s not just the smell of your letters, but how you write and express yourself. I also like how you described yourself and I’ve envisioned you so clearly in my mind.

  You said you had black hair and light brown eyes. I bet you’re really pretty, Melissa. Your letter smells like summer rain and fresh baked cookies. Speaking of which, I get so hungry reading your letters. Sometimes they smell like food; other times, you give me the play by play of what you cooked for dinner and baked for dessert. I miss home cooking. You said you’d make me some cookies in your last letter, too, and I can’t wait to sample them. I won’t hold being a Democrat against you. That’s a joke, by the way. Sometimes it is hard to convey humor in letters. Anyway, I figure since you shared a bit more about yourself, I’d share a bit more about me, too.

  You already know a lot about me, but I’m willing to go a bit further. I told you that I was seeing the prison psychiatrist against my will. He’s new here at Holman. Now, I’m not crazy, okay? I should have said that the first time I brought this up to you. I am pretty aware of what is going on and have all my faculties. I am mentioning this to you because this guy is really pissing me off but the strange thing is that I now kind of want to see what will happen, so I’m opening up, cooperating. I have strong beliefs, and he wants to challenge them; that’s the game people like him play, but what he is doing first is trying to break me down as a person. You can’t change someone’s mind without dissecting them a bit as a human being, relating to them on some level, and then you can get in there and change their mind after you do all of that work, you see?

  Mia paused and smiled, replayed the last paragraph in her mind. She knew that Dr. Owens’ technique was 100% correct. She’d had to use similar tactics on some of her students, and as of late, Zion’s counting and anxiety upon her late arrival had given her a novel idea – she’d soothe him through rhythm and music. Music was simply math to a beat, and it struck her in a flash. The boy loved harmonies; he’d dance and sing and play on the keyboard to the percussion. The last few days she’d experimented, and lo and behold, not only were his meltdowns lessening and ending faster, he was calmer and his listening skills had greatly improved. Yes…one had to be broken down, but finding the key to get inside them and do such proved the trickiest part of all…

  Melissa, no one has been able to change my mind about my beliefs and trust me, some have tried. This man, however, for the first time, is starting to make me want to at least listen to him. I don’t know what it is, but he knows how to push my buttons yet make me want to listen at the same time. I guess that’s a good thing. He also figured out something I’ve never told anyone, but I will tell you, because you’re a stranger and it can’t be used against me. That’s more humor by the way. The secret he found out is that I like to write.

  So you must understand my excitement that you enjoy it too, and not only do you enjoy it, you’re really good at it, Melissa. I didn’t have the heart to tell you right away. I had to build up the courage. I’ve always enjoyed writing but refused to let anyone know when I was younger because I didn’t want to get made fun of. My friends wouldn’t have found that too cool. One time my mother found some stuff I wrote, some short stories, and she really laid into me. That sure as hell didn’t help, either. But those days are long gone, and so, I want to share with you something I composed. Now, don’t judge me too harshly. I’m not much of a poet, I prefer to write down ideas, speeches, things like that, but this is a poem I wrote about the type of woman I want in my life. Okay, here it goes:

  MY BRIDE TO BE

  What is a soul?

  Living under a moss covered rock

  Not standing for what he believes in

  Six feet under, cocooned in a pine box

  What is a gent without a woman?

  A divine spirit by his side

  He drifts above and below her

  He’s the breeze, and she’s the sky’s guide

&n
bsp; When I ruminate about where I’ve been

  I know now what I’ve become

  And I want to merge and blend

  With a lover

  I want to develop into ‘one’.

  Alone with her at last

  She sees the genuine me, and I have no shame

  She carries my heart in her hands

  She’ll have me whole and my last name

  I’m a fighter

  I give no reasons for what I know to be true

  When it comes to my future wife

  There is nothing for her I won’t do

  I don’t know who she is

  But I hope to look into her eyes soon

  And when I take her hand in mine

  She’ll know she’s my moon

  A woman is a gift

  And with her, I’ll have nothing to hide.

  It’s only a matter of time

  Before I claim and fall in love with my bride…

  –Aaron Pike

  Mia read the poem twice, smiling at each and every word written. Such dualism woven inside the complicated man. It was as if he knew her intimately, for he loved the same things she did… the written word. What beautiful sentiments danced in the troubled fellow’s mind…

  Taking a deep exhale, she clutched the thing to her chest as she slowly closed her eyes and leaned back into her soft, fluffy pillow, disappearing a bit inside the depths of her mind. Images of the tall, large man fractured the darkness behind her lids…

  Seeing him through the fence, practically crystal clear, had made her heart jump rope to an off-beat chorus. The towering man with tattoos up and down his arms made her pause, and pause again. His body was nothing but a display of hardened muscles, a brick wall of perfection, and his light gold eyes caught not one ray of sun, but still shined as if there were no clouds in the sky. Worst of all – they stared at one another for the longest time. He wouldn’t turn away, almost as if it were an impossible feat. Feeling a bit self-conscious, she’d finally spun around, releasing them both from their newly formed obsessions.

  She had seen him, knew the face of the man behind the words…and… she had no doubts now…

  She couldn’t let go…

  “I’M GLAD YOU decided to accept that this is more than likely the best recourse for you, Aaron.”

  “It’s not the best recourse. I’m doing it to pass time.” He shot a glance at the boy with the gun, and faced Dr. Owens once more.

  The man struggled, his eyes making it quite clear he didn’t buy the lines of bull placed on the table for him to snort clean up his nose. Regardless, after staying up half the night, Aaron realized he needed someone to talk to, someone to give their view of the situation, a view that was educated and not full of fanfare.

  “Here’s the deal,” he began. “There are some uprisings, I guess I could call them, goin’ on in the prison that I had nothing to do with, yet they are being pinned on me.” He ran his hand across his chest as his gut churned with slight apprehension. The foul taste of breakfast lingered in his mouth. “I don’t like that. I’m not happy about that.”

  “I see. Do you know who is behind it?” Dr. Owens sat back, hands clutched together as his infamous soft office music played delicately in the background. It was something classical once again, with violins and other string instruments, all tumbling over each other, the musical notes climbing and climbing, then falling flat, lifeless, against the backdrop of a mood that ran slightly lukewarm.

  “I’m not sure but I have a few suspicions. I’ve asked around, but no one seems to have any answers.” Setting his eyes upon his cuticles, he ran his left thumb across his right, smoothing the skin over and over until it was sure to bruise. “Whoever it is, they are trying to destroy me and take over the organization under the guise of being in charge of my freedom committee.”

  Dr. Owens coughed into his hand, swiped at his long, narrow nostrils with the back of his knuckles, and peered at Aaron in a delicate but discriminatory way, almost as if he believed he were being paranoid.

  “Hmmm, would you say you have many enemies, Aaron?”

  “Yes, I have plenty, more than my share. It comes with the territory. When you have to go in somewhere and destroy sects based on them not following the rules, procedures, and protocols, people get…emotional. Sometimes, they are people that you liked, had a friendship with; sometimes they are not. Either way, my work does not entail allegiance to people, Dr. Owens. I work for freedom and nothing and no one else.”

  “Okay, yes… I see.” The good doctor reached forward, slowly removed the cap from a bottle of water and took a slight swallow before placing it back down. “That would mean the person responsible would have been someone you possibly trusted at a prior time. Someone that people would believe you’d sent orders, too.”

  “Yes. It bothers me, concerns me.” He took a deep breath. “Anyone that would do this is power hungry, not concerned about proper leadership.” He glanced at the man’s desk, taking note of several neat stacks of papers. One sheet of paper had a lilac color, a similar shade to the last letter he’d received from Melissa…

  Swiping a hand along his forehead, he sighed. “I have to do this right, though… I have to be careful. I can’t do anything until I confirm it.”

  “Do anything such as?”

  Aaron swallowed and slid his weight to the far right side of the chair, making it whine from the uneven weight. “That’s only for me to know, Dr. Owens. I want to talk about something else with you, now. I’m finished with this discussion.”

  “Okay…and what would that be?”

  “The pen pal you assigned to me, well, one of them… I want to talk to her, like really talk to her, on the phone.”

  “I didn’t assign anyone, Aaron. It was random.”

  Aaron shrugged and glanced towards the window. “Doesn’t matter; it was your program and I uh…” With a finger, he traced circles in his palm, following the lines and creases. “I appreciate it.”

  “Well, thank you for your candor, Aaron. I take it someone is writing you that you enjoy conversing with for you to make such a request?”

  “Yeah, quite a bit, actually. She’s nice… she’s smart, too. I figure if, you know, I watch myself, you might help me out, let me get some private conversations with ’er. I want to hear her voice and not be lookin’ over my shoulder and worryin’ about who’s listening in. I think it would help me quite a bit.”

  Dr. Owens looked at him, his eyes hooding just so… He hoped the man caught his drift…

  I’ll help you, if you help me…

  “Aaron, I can see that a lot is on your mind, perhaps more than you’ve mentioned. I imagine the ideas of a woman who excites you on some level, causes you to also think about past relationships you’ve had, not just romantic but business related, as well as family connections. This leads right into what I wanted to discuss with you today.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’d like for you to tell me a situation with a woman that you trusted, but she perhaps violated your trust. I would also like for you to tell me about a woman that you loved. You can start with either one first, or,” the man shrugged his slight shoulders, “perhaps they are one and the same.”

  Aaron smirked, cocked his head to the side and shook it vigorously. He then shook his finger at the scoundrel, too. “You slick, slippery, sly son of a bitch!” He chortled. “You’ve been dying for this opportunity! I want somethin’ and now you want somethin’, too.”

  Dr. Owens smiled pleasantly, as if he’d done nothing of the sort.

  “Fine.” Aaron let out a low exhale as he placed each of his palms on his thigh and took a deep breath. “Let’s go right on ahead and get into it.”

  “Thank you for being open to it, Aaron.”

  “I have ten more months with you. I may as well accept that this is how it is going to go down, so…” His shoulders slumped. “Now is as good a time as any.”

  “I’m listening. Please begin…” Dr. Owe
ns opened a fresh page in his notebook and turned on his recorder.

  For a moment or two, Aaron disengaged, like a plug falling from a socket. He wanted to renege on the deal, tell the man he’d fight to the bitter end once more. Instead, he took a deep breath and braced himself…

  “I don’t remember loving my mother. I imagine that I did at some point in time but uh…” he started. He sank his teeth into his lower lip as he caressed the top of hands in a soothing sort of way. “It must’ve been over with real quick.”

  “Interesting, I see,” the man stated dryly as he kept his face glued to the paper, busily jotting notes with his right hand. “Continue.”

  “I had a mother though, Dr. Owens, a good mother. I loved someone else who took my biological mother’s place. It was a neighbor.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Her name was Patti. Patti was a crazy woman who took care of me. She was a crook, too. I loved her just the same, if not more.”

  “A criminal?” The doctor slowly met his gaze, pausing as if the words resonated with him on some deeper level.

  “Yeah, she was a crook, a felon.” A twitchy smirk broke through his placid expression as the memories of the woman swarmed him like warmth from a blazing fire. The lashes of memorial heat batted against a glorious day of deliberations, but the weather forecast was schizophrenic; it could change on a damn dime. “The day would go like this.” He exhaled, sat a bit straighter. “Patti did her usual rounds. For her, this was payday. She’d only go to the more well-to-do parts of town, wasn’t any need dabblin’ in our neighbors’ backyards; they were just as fuckin’ broke as we were. Can’t get blood from a turnip.”

  Dr. Owens gave a slight smile, pen tight in his grip as he wrote, and his brows dipped somewhat with each quick movement.

  “On Fridays, the biggest bulk of the packages would be dropped off, so that was her day to put in the most work. I’d usually be riding shotgun. She trusted me to be a good look out, but shouldn’t have… I was useless in that department.”

  “What did Patti look like, Aaron?”