by Brick
A deep laugh sounded off and another cat stepped up to plate. It was just me, Jabba the Hutt, and Jar Jar Binks. Around me were two beds. I figured this must be where the prison population who was about to be transported chillaxed, because it was a little too cozy for my taste. Something in me realized that it was probably that way so they could get away with fucking me up. I was ready for it, excited and expecting it. Which was why I casually moved to rest against the wall and check out my enemies.
“Pretty? Shit! That nigga is pussy ready. Ey yo! You that Enzo cat huh? Heard ’bout cha. It’s true you an Orlando man? Fuckkkk do you know that last time an Orlando went to prison, that nigga got got?” Jabba sputtered out, getting closer in my face to glare into my darkening eyes.
I kept quiet and gave a yawn. A nigga was bored, but I was going to let them do them, just to see how much they knew.
“Ah yeah, I heard about that shit on the block. Nigga was found with his dick in his mouth. Got dayum shit was bloody ’n’ ya know what? We got the same shit for any nigga claiming to be him, don’t we, Chunk?” Jar Jar taunted as he also came up to me with his ashy hands rubbing together.
“So is it true? Yeah, we know it’s true. Micah got a little gift for you, nigga, since you like hanging an’ shit,” Jar Jar continued.
From the moment I walked into the cell until the moment I was escorted out, everything that went down was like a wonderful haze that I clearly remembered. A menacing smile spread across my face. My hands clutched at my sides, digging into my palms. All it took was one head butt to that nigga Chunk’s nose and a quick arched punch on the top of Jar Jar’s matted locs to set everything just right. The rough sound of grunts and hisses surrounded me. I pushed my way out of being surrounded by the two dudes. Don’t get me wrong, this battle was hard since I was outnumbered, but it was all about perspective that helped me survive.
Chunk’s beefy hands slammed me back against the wall, where Jar Jar snatched me to slam my head against the bed. Spit shot out from between my clenched teeth. My abs constricted so I could center my core and push back with my foot and a clean uppercut. I watched Jar Jar stare in shock while I pushed up to rush him and slam him into the bars.
The sound of Jar Jar’s yelp gave me fleeting satisfaction. Chunk came up behind me and snatched me up. Nigga squeezed my rib cage so tight that I thought I was going to black out, but that was cool because I lived in that zone. I dug at his arms then rolled my shoulders to unhinge them. This allowed me to slam my fist into his temple hitting hard enough to black that nigga out. I watched him stumble then growl like a drunk pit bull as he tried to snatch me.
Jar Jar stood confused and I just smiled and wiped the blood off my face. “What was that shit you said you knew about that Orlando cat? You said he was my pops? Shit, I don’t even know that, but it seems you know a hell of a lot. Let me holla at’cha real quick.” I smirked then headed after Jar Jar.
Chunk was still squirming from the pressure point hit I gave him and I paused to snatch him by the head and slam it into the concrete floor. I figured that would make Jar Jar think I was ignoring him and it pretty much worked out in my favor. As I kept smashing that dude’s head in, Jar Jar rushed me and sent me sideways into the wall. Blow after blow came at me, but I used a football move to slip to that nigga’s side in a smooth swipe, twist his arm behind him, and wrap my arm around that goon’s neck.
I gazed up at the ceiling studying the lights as I squeezed. Something like a sensation of pleasure mixed with raw hatred washed over me. It had me so hyped that I started laughing. Nigga tried to struggle but it only made it worse for him. He grunted and wagged around, then spit blood spewing from him, until I heard a pop and I sighed in pleasure.
“Why the fuck do I enjoy this so much? It’s like butta, my nigga. That choking sound you making? Shieet, priceless. Now let me tell you a secret that nigga that got got in prison. Yeah, that’s my pops; but guess what? It was my mom who helped get the man in prison who offed him. Side with who you know; and, nigga, you know nothing about me. You played wrong, night-night, nigga.” With that, I took the bed sheet off the bed, roped it around that cat, and let him swing from the top bar over Chunk’s dead and battered body.
Blood was everywhere. I wiped theirs off of me, sat on the bed, and shouted, “Oh shit! Fat bastard just fucked up this gangly looking nigga then had a heart attack! Y’all niggas need to do something with that! I wasn’t supposed to be in here. I’m a celeb, man. This the fuck y’all do to celebs?”
After that, I was dragged off and both Deebo and Uncle Phil glared at me, pissed off. Now after my fun with Jar Jar and Chunk, I sat in my private holding cell ticking off the time.
“Where’s my fucking phone call? I got a lawyer I need to get, too!” I shouted, hoping to piss off more cops.
A deep voice softly penetrated my cell, making me glance up to see a tall nigga with short locs and cardboard-brown skin approaching me. He rolled his sleeves up to show me his forearm, which had the branding DOA on it. Disgusted, I pushed myself up to study the nigga’s beard-covered face. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties. He was almost as tall as I was from what I could tell when he walked into the cell with me.
“Whatever you need, I got for you. I’ll set you up with a lawyer and get you out of here and back on the field, fam; just know you got backing in the law,” he explained, brown eyes locking on me to make sure I was paying attention.
“I ain’t got no fam through you and I don’t need a lawyer by you, either,” I retorted. I thumbed my nose and definitely kept my chin up while watching him. There was nothing in him that I could trust. Which was why I kept my distance while wondering what this cat was going to say next. Blood stained the front of my tee and oversized jail-issued pants, as my fists clenched by my sides.
“It’s a code I have to stand by and that’s helping fam, cousin. You’re an Orlando for sure. Chill and relax. I’ll get you out of here,” he said again, keeping his words low to where only I could hear.
“A’ght then, but check it. I wasn’t playing. I want my call. On a secure line, in private,” I countered.
“I got you. Just sit still, fam,” I heard this nigga who said he was fam say. I watched him walk out while slamming the door and that was the last I saw of him until what felt like two hours later.
He walked in and tilted his head up. “Get up. It looks like you don’t need your call, fam.”
“What you mean?” I hesitantly stood and kept my distance.
“You have guests; follow me. I got you set up in a private spot, no ears or eyes,” he explained with a smirk while walking out.
See, how my mind works, I already was thinking that I was being set up on some more shit, but I followed anyway. Shock hit me hard when I saw Shy with Angel by her side, sitting quietly and waiting. My aunt—well, mom—sported a black-and-gold scarf that wrapped around her head like a hoodie. She had on all black again, but this time it was a simple fitted black long-sleeve top and leggings with boots that reached her thick thighs. My mom sported a pair of glammed-out shades and she tapped her long nails on the table before her.
Angel sat beside her, pulling out a water bottle I was sure was mixed with the healing fruit juices my mom always sipped on. Bianca also had on all black. She sported a pair of jeggings, with open black utility boots. She had a hoodie short black jacket that covered her long white tank and her breasts were peeking out in a caramel hue. I shifted on my feet and noticed that her natural hair was styled in a way that hid her face under the hood she wore as well and I gazed at both women with a smile. I wondered what they had to say.
Heading inside, I glanced around and sat with my cuffed hands in front of me. “’Sup, Tía? ’Sup, B. What’s shaking?” My words were coded. I didn’t trust anything that was around me. Unfamiliar surroundings did that to people.
“We came as soon as we could, especially since there was no call,” Shy explained while taking a sip from her bottle. She held up her hand then continued. “Which I
know wasn’t your fault.”
I gave a nod and let her continue.
“Several things are going to happen. We have your lawyer on retainer. As you sit here, we have some things working on your behalf right now. One is your release okay?” she coolly said, keeping her emotions level even though she allowed me to see her true feelings in her eyes.
It was tripping me out because I hadn’t seen that side of Shy in a long time. The woman in front of me was the woman I got a glimpse of when I was a kid and told her about my coach. She was the woman who went stone cold when I explained that my assistant coach had reached out to touch my shit, and she was the woman who disappeared for days, only showing up several weeks later after that same assistant coach went missing. A killer was in front of me and I understood that she was only there to see if I was safe and to take names and memorize faces.
It had me smiling and leaning back in my chair. “Yes, ma’am. I’m cool with that. Do the plan and I’ll wait this shit out.”
Shy slowly stood. She walked to me and kissed my temple, whispering in my ear, “Your shadow is with some Misfits for extra safety and to make sure you are able to concentrate on the big picture. You don’t have to worry about a thing; we have you.” She wrapped her arms around me and then headed to the door. “You two need to speak. I’ll be getting some air. I have people here to speak with.”
In the moment, I turned quickly to glimpse the woman I was becoming accustomed to having as my mother. “You good though?”
Shy turned and gave me a calm smile then blew a kiss my way. “Like a predator, yes, I am. I love you, Shawn.”
I frowned and she walked out leaving me with Angel. I turned quickly to see Bianca eying me wearily.
“Is she good for real?” I asked low.
Angel gave me a nod and played with her fingers on the table before me. “I’m making sure she is. Yeah, she is. So, you just okay with being in here?”
I chuckled and shrugged. “No doubt. I’m keeping my cool. Besides, last time they had a problem with holding an innocent cat, the whole place got shot up. I doubt they want that trouble again.”
A lighthearted laugh came from Angel. She knew very well who I was speaking about and she sighed. “Look, I’m making sure—”
“Hey, do something for me?” I calmly interrupted.
“Ah, yeah?” she muttered glancing at me.
Her eyes were a nutty tone to the point of turning dark and I sighed. “Just listen, a’ight? There’s no time to say I’m sorry in a deep way, but I am. A nigga has very few people to trust, and since I appreciate how you handling my tía, all I can do now is deal with whatever comes with trusting you; and that is me saying I’m sorry. A’ight? Also, with that comes this: I need you to hold down my fam. Handle whatever you gotta do to get close to a nigga we both know. I’m depending on you to be smart, cunning, manipulative, and lethal, a’ight? Like how you made it into the NFL: use those skills to take this shit further. I’m counting on you to be my hands when I can’t. Like now. Can you do that? If you can’t, if you too chicken shit or if you really just plain dumb, just ride out now. Ask my tía to set up you up nice and go somewhere and disappear, a’ight?”
Angel gazed at me and, for a moment, I thought she had tears. It caused me to glance away to calm my own emotions and wait for her response. When she muttered, “Okay,” I turned my head to study her.
“Thank you, shawty, but what does that mean exactly?” I asked for clarity.
“Means I’m here for your aunt above all things, and even . . . you know who.” She glanced around then rubbed her shoulders. “I’m not feeling you in here, so you need to come on okay? Whatever you need I’ll help and do it because I’m not some basic bitch like you thought I was, so I’ll learn what I have to and make it work for your safety,” she passionately stated.
I watched her stand and move to rest a hand on my cuffs, but what she did next shocked the shit out of me. Her hand moved like lightning striking a tree to slap my face. She gripped my jaw and leaned down close so that only I could hear, “Don’t put your hands on me again because I’m not some sour foul bitch. You did me dirty, nigga, when I was on your team. I did everything, everything, you asked of me. Other niggas were gunning for you and I had your back. You held me down and protected me; that gave me something I ain’t ever had and now I’m giving you that back. But don’t you ever, ever put your hands on me again, Enzo. I’m telling you, or I promise on everything I know, I will try my best to kill you, nigga. Tell me okay.”
My dick thumped in my pants and I gave her a smirk. My eyes slightly turned dark as I stared at a woman who I could now read like a book. “Kiss me and hold my dick for a moment and I’ll see what I’ll say.”
Her eyes narrowed and I chuckled when she tried to fight a smile breaking through. I thought she was going to back up, but she gave me that kiss, and our tongues danced. She tasted like fruit, strangely, and I enjoyed it, especially the feel of her soft lips against mine and then her hand on my dick. I heard her sigh; then she frowned, stepping back.
“Where’re your piercings?” she quipped.
My head shook again and I shifted in my chair. “They made me remove all that shit. It’s cool, just how they do it. B. Remember what I asked. I know my tía got you handled in what we do in cases like that. Listen, follow, do your thing. I need a Bonnie, be that.”
“I will. I should go,” she whispered, eyeing me hungrily.
A smile spread across my face and I watched her walk out, her ass jiggling in a way that had my dick in pain. Turning in my seat, I moved on to the next plan on the list. Time was my friend. Deebo and Uncle Phil’s friends came into the room I was in, snatched me back up, and threw me back in my cell. I swore these niggas were a little too enthusiastic about this shit but it was what it was.
Several hours later a man—who resembled the dude given to my aunt to watch over her whenever she needed to head out of the house—appeared in my cell. I was lying back on my cot with my arm over my face when I heard the lock to the bars open up. I felt like being a prick so I was spitting out T.I.’s “Trap Muzik.”
With my foot tapping against the wall, banging out a beat, I beasted the lyrics: “‘Man wherever I be, the Feds got me scoped out, motherfucker let my nuts hang.’”
“‘Block out the duc canes, cook it to it bubbles, double fast as a mustang.’” I heard an accented deep voice finish the lyrics.
My head turned to the side and recognition had me standing up quickly as he walked into the room with his briefcase, a crisp gray suit, and slick, shiny shoes. He rubbed his light white speckled lined goatee and in his dark eyes he held amusement and something else: surprise. Calling him Mirror wasn’t going to happen in this case. I understood he was playing another role, so I kept quiet until he spoke.
“It appears they have been holding you wrongfully, Mr. Banks,” he explained, while taking two strides to my cot and sitting on it. “Looks like it won’t be a thing to get you out of here. Wrongful accusations about a past they can’t prove was part of a RICO lifestyle. Holding you longer than is protocol as well as unnecessary physical assault against you, quite a mess it is, mi friend,” Mirror explained, his accent lilting out from time to time.
That familiar nerve in my jaw ticked the more I clenched my teeth. It took everything in me to keep my words back so I took several breaths while Mirror’s voice dropped into a faint whisper. I also kept my eyes on the door just in case and gave him responses with a nod of my head.
“Has Micah been in here?” he questioned and I shook my head no. “Just so you know, he’s on the premises. I saw him. Also your aunt”—he paused, letting me know that he knew the truth of my creation—“filled me in on everything. I noticed that cop with the branding is one of DOA’s former cunts. Whatever yuh agenda is, use him to yuh fullest, mi friend.”
Mirror stood, scribbled some notes while looking around the cell, and then gave a curt nod, returning to a British accent. “Your civil rights were violated
. This is going to go in your favor, and don’t worry about those two missing people. The real culprit has been identified and they are seeking him out. Foul scum in the streets but the most ruthless know how to die poetically. I’ll work your bail; just keep your fist out of cops’ mouths. This will only take a few, mate.”
“What about the drugs and gun?” I asked.
“We’ll see what we can do about that. If anything, people love the bad boy, but for now, let’s focus on your bail, mi friend. Don’t worry about a thing. Yuh family has you as yuh just saw,” Mirror reassured me.
Another nod came from me, to let him know I understood. I sat where he had, rested my ankle on my knee, and laid my head back against the cold brick wall with an internal smile. I needed to shave, shower, and get back on the field. Micah and me had some things to discuss and since he was somewhere around here, I figured that conversation was going to be scheduled very soon.
An hour later, Mirror came back with the DOA cop behind him. I checked how that cat eyed me as I slowly walked out of my cell with Mirror behind me.
The cop stepped forward and I muttered low, “Wherever the rest of them are at, you let them know what’s up. We’ll have a family reunion on my terms when I want it, a’ight?”
“No doubt, cousin. I’ll relay that intel; anything else you need?” the cop asked me and I gave a shrug before responding.
Keeping my hands behind my back, I did a rundown just for this dude’s comfort. “It’s a nigga gunning for me. Having me step in to make sure that he doesn’t get his hands on power that ain’t his to have. Nigga is a turncoat, a pussy-ass bitch who has been manipulating what is my birthright. He has eyes in here; get those eyes corrected or dig them out, a’ight?” Not watching the cop anymore, I stared straight ahead down the hall waiting, seeing how this would work out.
Like clockwork, the cop cleared his throat and gave a nod. “I got you. If you need me, you can find me as Lieutenant Bryant. In the streets they call me Fuego because I play with fire.”