The Reason Why

by Vickie M. Stringer

  Pam nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  “You promise? Promise me that you’ll wait for me, and that there won’t be no bullshit in the game.”

  “I promise you, Chino.”

  Chapter 39

  Numbers

  The state prison was an entirely different world. It was a place with its own codes, its own rules, its own laws and condition. It was a world unto itself. It was a place where the slightest sign of disrespect, whether real or imagined, could cost a person his life.

  The rules were that you took nothing, and you expected nothing in return. It was a place where all a man had was his word, and he didn’t break that word for shit. His word was his bond.

  Another unwritten rule in prison was that you stuck with your own. Prison was divided not only along racial lines—blacks stuck with blacks, and whites with whites—but along geographical lines. Columbus stuck with Columbus, Cleveland with Cleveland, Dayton with Dayton, and Cincinnati with Cincinnati. You stuck with your city, and you represented your city. All the hoods and crews within the city came together and got down for one another. There were no hoods in the state joint, just cities and towns.

  “What up, family?” Pee Wee said, greeting Chino and some other Columbus cats. “What it do?”

  Chino and Pee Wee exchanged handshakes. “It do what it do, baby!”

  “Little Chino, we balling tonight?” Pee Wee asked.

  “Hell yeah!” Chino told him.

  Pee Wee was a habitual. He had been in and out of the joint his entire life. He caught his first beef killing his stepfather in his sleep after he had beat his mother. The juvenile prosecutor had it in for Pee Wee and made sure that he did time for the murder. He’d never been out of prison for more than two years since that first conviction.

  Pee Wee was prison built. He was six foot four, two hundred and eighty pounds of muscle. He looked as if he were a bodybuilder, straight off the cover of MuscleMag. His bald head and the hoop ring in his nose made him look like an evil bull. The jail guards avoided him and so did everyone else. He had killed more than three men with his bare hands. He was a trustee within the system, so he was allowed to reside in lower-security prisons.

  Little Dice, another Columbus resident, put his arm around Chino. “Pee Wee ass can’t ball! This nigga is just going to go up to the rec yard and jack rec. Old brick-shooting ass nigga!”

  The Columbus boys broke into laughter.

  “Who we playing tonight?” Chino asked.

  “We got them Dayton boys tonight,” Little Dice told him, “and if we win tonight, we play Cincinnati for the championship.”

  Chino high-fived Black, Pee Wee, and Little Dice.

  Black was another prison-built cat that looked like he could be on the cover of Muscle and Fitness. He was doing a stretch for armed robbery. The fool had robbed a jewelry store and got caught when the automatic door closed and locked. The jewelry store workers locked themselves in the rear of the store and simply waited for the police to arrive. Black was showcased on the news as one of America’s stupidest criminals. The fellas on the yard teased him about it all the time.

  Little Dice was a street hustler that was down for yayo. He had gotten caught up with five keys and a trunk filled with weapons. The state gave him thirty and the feds gave him five on top of that. So when he left the state, he would have to go and see the feds. It was fucked up that they ran his time consecutive instead of concurrent. He swore that his lawyer sold him out and copped a deal with the feds so that one of his rich white clients could go free. It was the system, Little Dice often claimed. It was stacked against black folks and designed so that the white man would always win.

  Chino and his Columbus partners made their way through the long, winding chow line toward the serving bar, where other prisoners would slop the day’s meal onto their trays.

  “I guess this shit is supposed to be spaghetti,” Little Dice told them.

  “Spaghetti surprise,” Black added. “I know this ain’t supposed to be hamburger meat.”

  “It looks like ground-up hot dogs,” Chino said, staring at the slop.

  “Y’all don’t want it, pass it to old Pee Wee,” he told them.

  “Aw, nigga, your big hungry ass will eat anything!” Little Dice told him.

  “You can have this shit,” Black told Pee Wee. “You got some chips and a candy bar in your locker? Shit, a nigga gotta eat something.”

  “All right,” Pee Wee said smiling. “I’ll give you a candy bar, but you know what that means?”

  “Aw, fuck you, nigga!” Black told him.

  The rest of the fellas broke into laughter.

  “Them candy bars is bait so I can trap my girls,” Pee Wee told him, laughing while grabbing his dick.

  “Fuck you, you Darth Vader head muthafucker!” Black shouted.

  The crew was so busy laughing that none of them paid any attention to a Dayton cat creeping from around the serving bar. When Chino got to the corner of the bar and turned to get his drink, the Dayton cat stepped from around the metal serving station with a twelve-inch shank. Chino saw him just in time and jumped out of the way, while dashing his drink in the attacker’s eyes. The blade caught Pee Wee in his side.

  “YBI, muthafucka!” the attacker shouted. “Get yo hand outta our pocket, nigga!”

  Pee Wee fell back, Black caught him and lowered him to the ground.

  Chino swung his tray at the attacker, striking him in his nose. Blood splattered everywhere. The attacker charged at Chino full steam.

  Chino swung his tray again, striking the attacking YBI member in his throat, but the attacker’s forward motion sent the knife plunging into Chino’s left forearm.

  “Got dammit!” Chino screamed.

  The attacker yanked his knife out and turned, grabbing his throat. He was coughing severely. Chino grabbed his bloody forearm. Little Dice shoved Chino out of the way and kicked the attacker in his ass, sending him flying into another serving bar headfirst.

  A crowd started to gather.

  “Dayton!” somebody shouted. All of Dayton’s prisoners raced to the front where the action was.

  Columbus cats recognized Chino and Little Dice and muscled their way to the front. Dayton and Columbus stood opposite one another about to square off.

  “What the fuck’s happening here?” the Dayton shot-caller asked.

  “This nigga shouted YBI and tried to stick my nigga!” Little Dice shouted.

  “He stuck Pee Wee!” Black said to the Columbus boys.

  The Columbus shot-caller looked at the Dayton shot caller. “Your boy representing YBI came at my dudes.”

  The Dayton shot-caller turned to his people. “Ain’t no city thing.” He nodded toward the attacker. “Mop his ass up for starting shit. I done told his ass. He either gonna roll with Dayton or not at all. Ain’t no fucking cliques in here!”

  A shot rang out.

  “Everybody on the floor!” a guard holding a shotgun shouted. “Grab some dirt, cocksuckers!” He fired into the air again. Soon he was joined by other guards on the tier with M-16 rifles, while even more guards with long batons strolled into the cafeteria. The prisoners all hit the floor.

  Lying on the floor, Chino shook his head. That shit was still following him. YBI must have put a hit out on him. Two of them cats in the New Yorker had gotten killed that day in the park, and they must be blaming it on him. But most of all, they were really mad about him doing business in their territory. Old boy shouted for him to get his hand out of their pocket, not that this was for his homeboys. This told him one really important thing—YBI was after his ass, and he would have to deal with them for the foreseeable future. Getting out of Columbus was now a priority. Getting out of prison and getting back to Pooh was a must. They would go after her too, just to get to him. They had no fucking morals or scruples. They were just cold-blooded dope boys and killers. And now they would have to send a message.

  Chino glared across the room and watched as his attacker spit blo
od out of his mouth and continued coughing nonstop. Chino had hit him in the throat as hard as he could with the sharp edge of the tray. The guards were frantically working on him.

  “Die, muthafucker, die!” Chino said under his breath. It would be one less muthafucka he would have to worry about.

  Chapter 40

  They Can’t Hold Me

  “Whose is it?” Chino asked, going pound for pound inside his Pooh. As much as he wanted to be gentle and make love, he couldn’t help but explode and join the ranks of rumored minute men. Pam lay on her side thinking how fast he came, but she excused it because she was so happy to be back in the arms of the love of her life. Chino had come home after fifteen months under a first-time offender early release program.

  Pam began to move from underneath the sheets when a hand grasped her firmly on her right ass cheek.

  “Where you going?”

  “I’m going to wash up,” Pam explained.

  “Nah, we not finished yet.” Chino went at it again, and although he lasted several minutes longer, he still was only getting over the frustration of blue balls and Vaseline from his time in the joint. As Pam lay there, Chino ran inside the bathroom, relieved himself, and was back on top of her before Pam knew it. Pam could barely move. She too had been celibate for the last fifteen months, and with Chino ramming himself inside her like there was no tomorrow, her insides became dry and raw, but she couldn’t quit now. Her only thoughts were of pleasing her man.

  Pam pushed Chino back onto the bed and mounted him, pushing her legs alongside his body and pressing down, riding his member as deep as she could take it. Sweat began to roll down her back, as beads of sweat sat atop his top lip. Their rhythm, their lust, and the fifteen months apart got the best of both of them and they began to grope at each other.

  “Uh . . . Uh . . .” Chino groaned.

  “I love you, baby,” Pam whispered.

  “Whose is it?” Chino asked gripping her waist.

  “Yours.”

  “Whose?”

  “Yours!” Pam screeched repeatedly, bringing them both to a climax.

  Chino pulled up to the hood park and climbed out of his new whip. As soon as he had touched ground in the free world, he had gone and copped himself a new Toyota Land Cruiser. This one was considered a big boy whip as well, but the color on this ride was ice blue with snow white leather interior, ice blue piping, and chrome AMG rims. He hadn’t had a chance to take the SUV to the stereo shop and get a system put in it yet, but that was next on the agenda. He had other things to do first. He still needed to contact Dragos and pay him off, as well as pick up all the money that he had in the streets. Most of it from his crew.

  “Chino! My nigga!” Rock shouted, rushing over to him.

  “When did you get out, my dude?” Chris J asked.

  “My nigga, my nigga!” Infa said.

  “What up, kinfolk?” Corey shouted.

  “Chino! Big baller!” Ant shouted.

  They all embraced him one by one.

  “Man, why didn’t you let us know you was getting out?” Rock asked.

  “I wanted to surprise everybody,” Chino said. “Besides, I didn’t want them YBI niggas to know that I was getting out. I need time to get my feet on the ground first.”

  “Man, fuck them hoes!” Chris J declared. “We got ya back, kinfolk. Them fools wanna trip, we can trip too!”

  “I got me a brand-new AKM just for the occasion,” Rock said.

  “And I got me a tec-9 that I’ve been dying to try out,” Infa told him.

  “Yeah? Them niggas tried to get at me while I was in the joint,” Chino told them.

  “Bullshit!” Rock exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

  “Serious as a heart attack. Them fools sent a nigga to dance,” Chino said. “I busted his shit wide open. Fucked up his throat. They had to put a tracheotomy in that nigga’s neck.”

  “Damn, kinfolk!” Corey said. “You put in work like that?”

  “Hell yeah! I fucked that nigga up!” Chino bragged.

  “Man, we gonna have to split them niggas’ wigs and them GI Boys’ wigs,” Ant declared. The GI Boys were the Gary Indiana Boys. They were one of the out-of-town crews that had migrated into Columbus and set up shop. They were one of the most violent drug crews in Columbus—wild, take-no-shorts niggas. Their first and last reaction was to shoot and then ask questions later.

  “What are we into it with them niggas for?” Chino asked.

  “They tripped with Infa at the club,” Ant told him. “And they jacked Joe Bub Baby last week. Caught him slipping at a 7-Eleven.”

  “Man, fuck Joe Baby!” Chino declared. “I ain’t worried about his fat ass. They should have shot his bitch ass.”

  “That fool was asking about you the other day,” Rock told him.

  “Man, tell that nigga to keep my name outta his mouth!” Chino said. “So what them GI Boys tripping with you about?”

  “Over a bald-headed bitch.” Infa shrugged. “Man, fuck them niggas!”

  “Man, how yo pockets doing?” Rock asked.

  “I’m straight,” Chino said. “I just need to get everybody’s paper.”

  “You got that,” Chris J replied.

  “As soon as I get to the crib, you can get it,” Rock told him.

  “Same here, kinfolk,” Corey said.

  “I got you too, kinfolk,” Ant declared.

  “I got you.” Infa nodded.

  “Bet.” Chino nodded.

  “Man, you heard about Young Mike?” Rock asked.

  Chino shook his head. “What’s up?”

  “Man, that youngster is doing bad.”

  “His mind is fucked up, kinfolk,” Corey added.

  “He flipped out,” Chris J told him. “Got problems.”

  “Man, dude be walking around the hood talking to himself and shit,” Infa said.

  “What the fuck happened?” Chino asked, concerned. When he went down, Young Mike was still staying at the crib with Pam, and she had never said a word.

  “Man, while you were gone, he caught a bid,” Rock explained. “His girl broke bad on him, started fucking with this balling ass nigga from Cin town. Then cat daddy get out, he’s broke, he started fucking with some down-south niggas and catch a fresh indictment.”

  “Man, kid running around the hood looking bad,” Infa added.

  Chino nodded. “I’ll talk to him. As soon as one of y’all run into him, scoop him up and give me a call.”

  “So, is it on again?” Chris J asked, rubbing his palms together.

  “Hell yeah,” Chino told him. “I’ma get with Dragos in a few days and get us back on again.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Corey said happily.

  “You been home, yet?” Chris J added.

  Chino nodded.

  Chris J, Infa, and Corey exchanged glances. Rock looked away, and Ant couldn’t look at Chino.

  “What?” Chino asked.

  No one said anything.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Chino asked.

  “Man, this broad I’m fucking with be seeing your girl on campus with old boy,” Ant told him.

  “What? You talking about that nigga Erik?”

  Infa nodded. “Old boy is papered up.”

  “So, that don’t mean shit,” Chino said. “He papered up. Y’all think Pooh is fucking with this nigga?”

  Chris J shrugged. “That’s for you to decide.”

  “Don’t clam up now,” Chino told them. “Tell me what you know.”

  I just heard that the nigga is papered up severely,” Infa told him. “And that him and Pam be chilling and shit. Now, beyond that, I can’t call it.”

  “What she tell you?” Rock asked.

  It was the question that rocked his world. Chino thought about what Pam had told him. She had promised him that she wasn’t going to go out with this nigga again. Apparently, they had just moved their relationship on campus, away from the eyes of the people she knew that he fucked wi
th. She had lied to him, and what reason would she have to lie to him, other than the fact that she and this nigga must have something going on? His Pooh had been lying to him the whole time.

  Chino felt like he had been kicked in his gut. He felt his eyes grow a tiny bit watery, but there was no way in hell he was going to appear weak in front of his boys.

  “Man, fuck that bitch!” Chino said, dismissing the conversation. “Man, I’ma get outta here and go and make some collections.”

  Rock gave him dap. “All right then, kinfolk. I have that for you.”

  The rest of the crew gave him pounds and fist taps, and all promised to have his money ready for him. Chino climbed inside his Land Cruiser and pulled away. His thoughts turned to his Pooh. She had pretended the whole time that she had been down for him, and all the while she had been doing this nigga Erik. He was hurt, and also angry. He couldn’t picture his Pooh lying under another man. He had been her first and he thought that he would be her only. The thought of her giving herself to another man was killing him. And he wasn’t the type to take pain easily. It was eating him up inside.

  Chapter 41

  Don’t Be Afraid

  Driving back home, Chino thought about Young Mike. The boy had his hustle game tight. Pain wrenched deep inside of his gut. He just couldn’t believe it.

  He knew that Pam had grown close to his friend while he was away. She thought of him as a little brother. Why hadn’t she said anything? Chino pushed open the door to the apartment and stepped inside.

  “Hey, honey,” Pam said. She stood over the stove cooking. “I’m making your favorite tonight. A big juicy steak, a cheesy baked potato, and some cream corn.”

  Chino walked up behind her and stood silent. Pam turned and faced him.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Chino shook his head and looked down. His expression told her that something was wrong.

  “It’s Young Mike,” Chino said, softly.

  “What? Chino, what’s wrong with him?”