“Dixyn, I got ya money as soon as you get back too,” Kendra called after her.
Notti requesting to see her made Dixyn feel like she was back in high school on her way to the principal’s office over some unknown violation. Since she’d started dancing at the club, she’d had little to no contact with the owner. In fact, Dixyn would be surprised if Notti even remembered her stage name.
His office was located right above the club, giving him a bird’s-eye view of the entire joint. Slowly, Dixyn made her way up the dimly lit steps. When she reached the top, she saw a bright light coming from beneath the door all the way down the hall. She could faintly hear voices; the closer she got, the louder they became. When she reached the door she was unsure of what do, whether she should just enter or wait it out. Then the sound of a certain voice pricked her ear. It was B-Dub; she knew that New York accent anywhere. What is he doing here? she wondered.
Since the last incident, Dixyn hadn’t gotten a call or text from B-Dub. She hoped he had disappeared for good, just as quickly as he entered her life. Now she could hear Notti discussing B-Dub’s less-than-legal activities in the club.
“. . . B, I hope I don’t sound ungrateful, unappreciative, or anything like that. But you gotta stop pushin’ ya stuff in this joint, dog. I got word from a friend of mine in the sheriff’s department that they supposed to be doin’ a big bust soon. You know this is my place of business. This is how I eat. I’m not a jack-of-all-trades like you, or a hustler. I’m a businessman. I sell my patrons the idea of havin’ a good time. Drug dealin’ is bad for business—”
“Listen, you fat bastard!” B-Dub snapped. “You wasn’t sayin’ all that a couple months ago when ya rent was all backed up, when ya Atlantic City gambling habit had ya ass damn near in the poorhouse! My money was good then, but now all of a sudden it ain’t good no more. I don’t believe that shit you shovelin’ ’bout some imaginary bust. Ya money got right, now all of a sudden you don’t want a nigga round no more, fam . . .”
Dixyn had heard enough and quickly made her way back down the hallway, but the voices coming from the office grew louder.
“B, don’t be like that. I paid you back your money and then some. But business is business. B, we’re in two different occupations, from two different worlds.”
“Yo, you just think ya gonna be able to do me like this? Me, the nigga who came to ya aid when no one else would?” B-Dub warned. “Fam, if you think you just gonna do me like that, you got anotha muthafuckin’ thing comin’ . . . Believe that!”
* * *
Dixyn found Kendra and collected half of her pay up front for the bachelor party the following night. She hid out in the locker room to avoid both Notti and B-Dub. After twenty minutes or so, she slid out of the club undetected, preferring to spend the night alone at home over dancing for dollars.
Chapter Seven
Before Dixyn arrived at the Henrico County Regional Jail, she already had a preconceived notion of how it would look. Boy, was she wrong! There were no twenty-foot fences with rows of razor-sharp barbwire adorning them, no prison guards armed with high-powered rifles ominously overlooking the grounds. Instead, what she found was a state-of-the-art burgundy-brown brick facility that looked almost like a college campus. Still, deep within the confines of the jail lay the love of her young life, Bryce Winters.
Dixyn entered the facility to register for her visit with her fiancé, and the first thing she noticed was how chilly it was in there. The climate-controlled room gave her goose bumps all over her body. The jail was immaculately clean from top to bottom, not a speck of dirt on the floor. Dixyn was surprised to see so few black visitors lined up to see their loved ones. What she did see was lots of poor white trash females who looked like they were fresh out of the trailer park. Most of these women’s hair was undone and some were missing teeth. The dress code for the day must have been dirty denim blue jeans. Dixyn thought to herself, I guess I didn’t get the memo. She almost felt out of place in her high heels, slacks, and short-sleeved blouse. Thank God the line wasn’t too long, because Dixyn didn’t think she could bear the sight of these woman much longer.
“First time here?” a woman asked her.
“Why?” Dixyn replied defensively.
“Because if it wasn’t, you would have known to fill out the visitor registration form,” the woman informed her.
“Well, where is it?”
“I have an extra one right here.” The woman handed it to Dixyn.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Just do as I do and you won’t go wrong.”
Dixyn ignored the comment, choosing not to engage any further in conversation with this stranger. As she filled out the registration form, she unconsciously began to stare at her ring finger. The absence of her engagement ring was enough to make her heart shatter all over again. She worried about what Bryce would say when he noticed. Her heart started pumping faster as she conjured lies to tell him.
“Who are you here to see, ma’am?” the corrections officer asked, looking up from his desk at the stunning black beauty before him.
“Bryce Winters,” Dixyn replied.
The officer busied himself punching the inmate’s name into the computer. Bryce had had a few scrapes with inmates and corrections officers alike since he’d been transferred from the Richmond county jail for his role in a brawl. Upon finding his information, the officer put in a call to his housing unit. “Bob, could you send inmate Bryce Winters down to the visiting room? He has someone here to see him.”
Dixyn watched the corrections officer the entire time. She couldn’t help but think how she could never do that job. Whether he admitted it or not, this guy was locked up for eight to sixteen hours a day, depending how long his shift was.
“I need to see your ID, ma’am.”
“Oh, of course,” Dixyn replied, producing her driver’s license from her pants pocket.
The corrections officer quickly reviewed it and passed it back. “Ma’am, just follow the yellow line on the floor. It will lead you directly to the visiting room. And if that doesn’t work, just follow the crowd. Unfortunately for some of our visitors, this isn’t their first time here, if you know what I mean.”
“Thank you.” Dixyn smiled as she went on her way to see her fiancé.
* * *
Bryce sat in the visitor booth in a bright orange jumpsuit with the words Henrico County Jail emblazoned across his back. Clear, thick Plexiglas separated him from the outside world. He impatiently waited for his visitor to arrive. Bryce thought it was either his private attorney or someone from the federal prosecutor’s office. Lately they had been offering a reduced sentence if he cooperated with their investigation. Bryce had flat-out refused to become a snitch for the government, even if it meant serving a lengthy sentence. His name and reputation meant more to him than getting out of prison a few years early.
Bryce busied himself looking at the other inmates’ sisters, cousins, girlfriends, mothers, wives . . . any female who crossed his sight. Only a few of these women looked good enough for him to have sex with. Bryce blamed his rampant sexual urges on his four-month incarceration; he wouldn’t give any of these broads the time of day if he were on the streets.
Jail was a far cry from the luxury Bryce had enjoyed a few months ago. Being imprisoned took a whole lot for him to get used to. He cursed out the corrections officers and fought with other inmates as he struggled with both the stress of his case and the everyday monotony of doing time. He had fought the institutional staff tooth and nail until slowly he came to the realization that he had to be here, so he might as well make his stay as pleasant as possible.
The sally port door opened, allowing Dixyn admittance into the visiting room. She was the very last person to enter, so it was easy to find her assigned seat—it was the only one still empty. As Dixyn walked along, her curves diverted inmate eyes to her body, which led to their significant others turning their heads to see just what their partners were looking at. Arguments so
on erupted.
“Damn,” one inmate moaned.
When Bryce finally saw what was causing this disturbance, he was shocked. This was not who he was expecting. The sight of Dixyn moving sensually toward his booth nearly stopped his heart. Yet his stoic expression stayed on his face. Dixyn beamed brightly at Bryce as she took her seat and picked up the phone. For a precious few moments, she couldn’t speak as she peered at him through the thick glass. Bryce just stared at her blankly.
“Hey, what’s up?” Dixyn said, breaking the ice.
“Nuttin’,” he replied. “What’s up with you?”
“Hangin’ in there, I guess.”
“You guess? I barely talk to you and you ain’t come to see me since I’ve been locked up, and the first thing you got to tell me is you hangin’ in there, you guess?”
Part of Dixyn wanted to come straight out and tell Bryce everything, from the stripping to dealing with his conniving brother. She wanted to tell him how fucked up of a predicament he had left her in. Yet she felt he probably had enough to deal with right now. Dixyn didn’t want to burden him any further. So she let him vent. Today she would try to be the bigger person. “You miss me?” she asked lovingly.
“No,” Bryce answered straight-faced. “How could I miss a chick who has minimum contact with me? She doesn’t write, I can’t call her. I’ve spoken to my attorney more than I have my so-called fiancée.”
Despite what he was saying, Dixyn saw the truth in his eyes. They were filled with love, there was no denying it. “Bryce, you’re full of shit, man. You just tryin’ to break a bitch down, once again. If you only knew what I was goin’ through just to keep a roof over my head—”
“Yo, where the hell is your ring?” he suddenly demanded.
A panicked expression flashed across Dixyn’s face before she caught herself. “I got robbed,” she said.
“What? Where? How come you ain’t tell me?”
“Ummm . . . I was out with Kendra and her cousin. We went up to some club in DC to celebrate her birthday. When the club closed, some bama followed Kendra all the way back to the car, trying to holla at her. I guess he got mad ’cause he wasn’t gettin’ no play. Next thing I know I got a pistol pointed in my face. He talkin’ ’bout Take off the ring.”
“What?” Bryce shouted.
“Yep,” Dixyn continued, “I wasn’t the only one that he robbed. The bama robbed Kendra and her cousin too.”
“For what?”
“A couple hundred dollars and they earrings,” she said.
“Yo, you shouldn’t been hangin’ out wit’ that cokehead bitch in the first place. If I were home, that wouldn’t never have happened ’cause you wouldn’t have been there. That bitch Kendra is bad news. Let this be a lesson to you to stay away from her.”
Dixyn couldn’t believe how masterfully she had crafted her story. She also couldn’t believe how easily she had convinced Bryce. Any way you put it, she was glad that part was over. “Bryce, guess what?” Dixyn said. “Ya brother Brian is in town. He finally came.”
She watched as Bryce’s face twisted up into a sour expression. “Word?” he responded, shaking his head in disbelief. “That nigga’s in town and he ain’t come to see me? Yo, stay away from him.”
Following Bryce’s orders wouldn’t be so easy for Dixyn. Her interactions with B-Dub were out of financial necessity, not choice. “But babe, that’s ya brother, I thought you said he’d have my back. What’s goin’ on with y’all?”
“Listen, I can’t git into all that over this jack. These walls have ears, know what I’m sayin’? Don’t trust my brother. The nigga is no good. If he weren’t my blood, I wouldn’t even fuck wit’ him.”
* * *
Bryce paced back and forth in the holding cell like he was losing his mind as the memories flooded back: Hours after the police had raided his Harlem tenement building, arresting him, his younger brother Brian, and his mother Bernice, Bryce still couldn’t believe it. Despite receiving several warnings from old hustlers about shitting where he ate, he’d continued making drug transactions out of his building. The money had been so good he couldn’t bring himself to close down his operation. So what Bryce couldn’t bring himself to do, the police did themselves, shutting him down and taking two innocent people to jail with him in the process. The police had gone through the Winters’s apartment with a fine-tooth comb until they found two ounces of crack hidden in a stash can, a hollow-bottomed coffee container, in the kitchen.
“Hey, Tweedledum, here’s your brother Tweedledee,” a policeman announced as he opened the cell door. “You two geniuses figure out who’s gonna take the rap for that crack we found at your apartment. It’s a goddamn shame you’s two assholes had to involve your mother in all this. Christ, if I had sons like you, I’d disown ’em. You got five minutes to talk it out. One of you’s is going home and the other is going to jail.”
Bryce recklessly eyeballed the police officer. All he could think about at the moment was how much he hated the cops. They always had some slick shit to say to him. Right now he wasn’t feeling it.
The cop shrugged off Bryce’s dirty look; he just smirked and walked off.
“So what we gon’ do?” Brian asked.
“What you mean we, bro?” Bryce replied as a knot formed in his stomach. “Yo, this is my beef, not yours. You and Ma ain’t have nuttin’ to do wit’ dis.”
“Yo, Bryce, don’t be stupid,” Brian said. “My nigga, you still on five years’ probation from that gun charge. If your probation officer gets wind of this, you goin’ up north. You gon’ do at least three to six . . .”
Until then, Bryce hadn’t even bothered to consider the time he was facing. He forgot all about being on unsupervised probation. He’d been too stressed about getting his younger brother and mother arrested.
“Yo, I got this, fam,” Brian told him. “Yo, officer, come back ’round here and cut my brother and mother loose.”
Secretly, Brian had always wanted to be a hustler, but Bryce never let him. He didn’t want to just do the nickel-and-dime, scratching and scrapping for re-up money either. He wanted to be a big-time hustler like Nicky Barnes or Rich Porter, a local celebrity, respected and admired by everyone, not just in his neighborhood, but all of Harlem.
Before Bryce could protest, the policeman was at the cell door. “I’m glad one of you’s dirtbags came to your senses. Your poor mother is in the interrogation room crying her eyes out,” the cop said, opening the door.
Inwardly, Bryce breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the cell. “I got you, bro,” he proclaimed. “You ain’t gon’ want for nuttin’.”
After Brian took the weight for his brother, the whole family came down on him. Some family members swore never to talk to Brian again. Even his own mother became distant. No amount of arguing and explaining could convince them of his innocence. Brian suddenly became the black sheep. This was the thanks he got for helping his big brother out of a jam.
Bryce was supposed to get him a paid attorney, but he never did. It took a little longer than expected for him to recover from the losses he suffered as a result of the raid. By the time he got back on his feet, B-Dub was up for sentencing. Without a good lawyer, he was sentenced to one to three years in a New York State correctional institution. Thus began an intense and lasting sibling rivalry.
From that point on, B-Dub’s life essentially spiraled downward into a life of pure crime. And he felt his brother owed him big time.
* * *
“Just tell me why. Why you talkin’ all crazy ’bout your brother?” she demanded.
“Cain killed Abel,” Bryce replied. “Did he not? And weren’t they brothers?”
Dixyn paused for a moment. She had not expected this. Now she was starting to see things from a different angle. Still, she didn’t know what larger conclusions could be drawn from the conversation. But what she did know was that she was going to heed Bryce’s advice. If B-Dub’s own brother had such choice words for him, they had to be bas
ed on something.
Somehow they managed to change the topic to Ava. Dixyn told him how well she was speaking, how tall she’d grown, all the progress their daughter was making under her mother’s tutelage. Bryce began talking about their relationship and all the things they needed to do to strengthen their bond, like staying in touch more often. The couple even reminisced about happier times. Although Dixyn knew that Bryce was facing a lengthy sentence, she tried to remain optimistic, hoping things could somehow work themselves out for the better. Yet deep down she knew this was unlikely.
Dixyn exited the jail with a funny feeling in pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure she and Bryce could stand the test of time, especially if he ever found out the truth about her and B-Dub. It was like they were now headed in opposite directions, living in separate realities.
Dixyn took the long way home to clear her mind and think at length about both Bryce and B-Dub. She could still hear Bryce’s voice in her head: Don’t trust my brother. The nigga is no good.
Chapter Eight
Kendra swung by Dixyn’s house to pick her up for the bachelor party. Dixyn preferred that they ride together rather than meeting her there. She wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible. Kendra had a reputation for being notoriously late, but tonight she was right on time. As she pulled into Dixyn’s drive, she glanced at her watch to be sure. It read 9 p.m.
“Damn, where fuck is this bitch at?” she cursed aloud to herself, then reached into her cup holder and grabbed her cell phone. She pressed a button and the phone rang a few times before Dixyn answered.
“Where are you, Dix? We on a tight schedule here. You need to get to the front door ASAP.”
“I’m comin’ down now.”
Dixyn eyed the row of stilettos shoes lined up neatly against the wall of her walk-in closet. She had acquired several pairs of “fuck-me heels,” as Kendra referred to them, over the past few months. But tonight she couldn’t make up her mind which shoes to pack. She contemplated whether to keep it simple with a pair of sexy black six-inch heels or to go with her personal favorite, the hot-pink ones with the highest arch. With Kendra waiting impatiently, she went with her initial instinct, grabbing the black pair and putting them in her bag.
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