“We had an agreement. What are you doing?” he stuttered, trying to push me to rationalize my actions.
“I know, and I appreciate your hospitality. Unfortunately, I can’t leave you dangling, knowing how I look, Hakem. You understand, don’t you?”
“No, no, I wouldn’t talk to the cops. Look around. Everything around here is an illegal operation. Please don’t kill me. I have no reason to give you up,” he pleaded.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
“Ay, dude, you ain’t got all day to be negotiating with his scab ass.” Spade lowered his pistol from firing three swift shots into Hakem’s upper body. “Grab our cash off that counter and whatever’s in that safe and let’s go!”
Pushing Hakem’s body off our money, I swooped it up and put it back in the bag I carried along with the contents from his safe. Before running out for good, I snatched the tape from the recorder and the camera from the wall, just in case.
“Come on, y’all—let’s truck it back to the D.” I jumped in the van and slid the door closed. “Our presence in downriver, I’m sure, is no longer well received.”
16
Juan
“Coleman, let’s go,” the prison guard’s voice bellowed into the eighty-foot room when he opened the door.
“I’d rather skip my hour of exercise today.” Not bothering to turn over, I couldn’t face another sixty minutes of torture being teased with time outside of this cage. That’s the only time I was allowed once a day to step outside of this room while the remaining twenty-three were reserved for me to go mentally crazy.
“Get up, Coleman, you’re leaving SHU.”
I hesitated.
“Coleman, if you don’t get your good-for-nothing black ass up, you’ll be locked down for the rest of the day at least.”
I flew off of the cot and was at his feet before my heart could pump another beat. My ears hadn’t heard wrong. I was officially being released back into the general prison system. However, I was carrying ten more years on my back.
“Damn, homie, I ain’t never think you were gonna rise from solitary. I was worried you weren’t gonna make it. That shit is meant to break you down mentally.” Gonz welcomed me back into our prison bunk. “Young bucks like you ain’t made to serve hard time.”
“Real talk, homie. That shit faded me. I think I cried by the twelfth hour,” I couldn’t help but admit. “By the end of the first week, I’d completely gone numb. My sister is on the outside getting whopped up on, and that punk-ass attorney of mine got me ten more years pending on my sentence that the warden personally delivered himself.”
“I told you about believing in the Great White Hope, homie,” he chuckled. “Me and my people don’t fuck with no man that takes a code to abide by any law of this America. All they asses want is for minorities like us to be locked behind bars. And can’t no man truly do for his family behind bars.” Gonz fed me knowledge. “My offer still stands.”
He offering twice was too much. If I would’ve hollered at him instead of snitching, this mandatory extra ten wouldn’t be a dark cloud lingering over my head. Plus, to make things worse, the warden promised me a transfer upstate. From the horror stories other inmates told, that’s the worst type of time to serve. “Hey, Ramos, real talk, I’ma need you to hold me down on this one.” Those were the same words Spade used when asking me to serve his time.
“Say no more.” He nodded, then stared me in the eyes. “For my help, you owe me one. In here, that’s all we got.”
“If you can guarantee my sister’s safety, then all is fair.” I stood, shaking his hand and should’ve felt a sense of relief. However, something deep down inside made me fear I’d made a deal with the devil.
“Write who needs to be taken care of, their facial and physical descriptions along with anything else that my men will be able to use to locate him. Please don’t hand me that sheet until you’re absolutely certain you want them handled. Regardless, though, you’re still in debt to me a favor.” Gonz called heavy shots, but my need to protect Jakia was too great.
* * *
“Hey, yo, Coleman, welcome back.” One of my fellow prisoners acknowledged my return from solitary.
I nodded, then turned back to the small television screen. Since the situation with Jakia was semitaken care of, for once, I could sit in peace and watch what was going on in the world. At some point during my isolated confinement, I’d come to terms with turning into an old man in here.
“Breaking News . . . The Motor City Murder has been solved. Detroit can now sleep with a little more peace knowing the perpetrators responsible for such a heinous crime are behind bars,” the news reporter broke through a commercial. “Live, reporting from 1300 Beaubien at Detroit’s Police Headquarters . . .
“It’s been a long five weeks, but after tirelessly scouring the city, all parties involved in the Motor City Murder have been apprehended and are awaiting official sentencing. The mayor along with his staff would like to apologize and thank the city for standing beside the administration and officers who have worked the case.”
The city of Detroit was just how I left it—under complete distress and bullshit. They never cared about the citizens unless it meant collecting revenue from us for tickets and citations. Not having a long list of choices to keep me occupied in this hellhole, though, the breaking news story conference had become the highlight of my day. That’s until the devil himself appeared on the screen.
So that’s why his chunky paste face ass couldn’t help me with my case. Oh, Mr. Big Shot aka the False Great White Hope was too high profile for a slum like me. Anger ripped through my body as I fought hard to contain myself. When he leaned on the podium and promised his dedication, commitment, and trustworthiness to the city of Detroit—I was revving up from zero. When I spotted his tricky black briefcase, I lost my cool straight to one hundred.
“Detain the prisoner! Coleman, have you lost your mind?”
I’d tossed the steel chair I was sitting in straight into the television, shattering the screen into a million pieces. I knew I was getting led back to the SHU.
Jakia
Being home was much better than being cooped up in that ratchet motel room, but the whole feeling was bittersweet. I couldn’t get settled and situated when I didn’t know when for sure we’d be pulling out. Juan wanted me to pack. However, the first thing I needed to do when I got enough strength was to write to him. We had a lot of pen pal catching up to do. Not to mention, I had to break the news to him that I’d killed his first niece or nephew.
Trying hard to play the mind over matter game, I rolled around on Spade’s and my king-sized bed trying to get comfortable enough to bear down until the cramping subsided. I tried visualizing butterflies and flowers, counting backward from 1,000, and even talking to God out loud. My efforts were in vain because no form of hope brought me a moment of relief. Moving my hand around in the bed for my phone, I called Spade but knew he couldn’t be my last and final resort.
“You think I give a fuck about you cramping? That’s on you for trying to sneak a nigga with a baby. I bet you’ll think long and hard next time you wanna go around forgetting to take your pills while cheating with the next nigga. I don’t know what in the fuck you thought this was.” Spade was going in on me and hadn’t paused to re-up on his words.
I guess my punishment for fucking around on him was never going to end. He might not have brought it much yesterday, but I was paying for that neglect today.
“I thought you were ready to work on a family,” I responded, almost too low for even me to hear.
“What?” he shouted into the phone. “Have you been sniffing out of my dope packages on the sly? You sound like a fool if you think I’m trying to have kids. I ain’t ready for no kids, especially by your ditzy ass. Besides, for all I know, that could’ve been that dead man’s baby. And I fa’damn sure wasn’t about to have a hand in raising that.”
Spade was going in on me like I wasn’t his wife. The rude remarks and disses d
idn’t stop with Rocko’s encouraging laughter in the background. I wanted to go in on him, but I didn’t have the strength. My body simply couldn’t handle the extra stress or consequences that would come from trying to be tough.
My head was banging, I could barely open my eyes, and my stomach was pushing clots out the size of my fist. I’d soaked through ten superabsorbent maxi pads in two hours. Something was drastically wrong. Instead of Spade being an insensitive thug for his no-good-ass cousin, he should’ve been at home nursing and catering to me—the woman he vowed to cherish and love. But the joke was on me. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up like Lezlee.
“Hello! Earth to Jakia,” he yelled, noticing I was off into another world. “You better say something, girl.”
Naw, not this time. Fuck what I got coming ’cause it can’t get any worse. He’s already sent me to the baby chopper and got me pushing the fetus out in our bed. I’d taken this struggle to the head alone so far, so I guess I had to continue doing so.
Spade kept screaming my name into the phone, but I refused to respond. I wasn’t getting ready to waste what little energy I had left in my body defending my character, loyalty, or love to him. When he left me here alone to finish the medical abortion and insert the remaining RU-486 pills alone, I lost all hope our marriage would stand the test of time.
“Hey, dude, you might have to swing me to my crib. This bitch might’ve tapped out for real.”
Whatever else he said wasn’t heard. I left the phone in the bed as I crawled and slithered across the floor to the bathroom. The cramps were making it impossible for me to stand up straight, plus I felt extremely light-headed and nauseated. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me something wasn’t right. I needed a doctor to save my life. Within seconds of me sliding my pajama pants and shirt off, I was hugging the toilet and vomiting, which turned into dry heaving my stomach insides and blood out. Shit was bad—really bad.
The cold, ceramic tile in the bathroom felt good against my hot skin. The touch of my skin was scalding hot. Not having enough strength to venture downstairs for the thermometer, after a few more minutes of resting in the same spot, I crawled over to the tub and turned the shower water on. Not only did showers and baths usually soothe and make me feel better, but also it was imperative I wash away the reeking smell of dead baby blood. The odor was horrific and making my healing process more unbearable.
Once clean, I’d figure out my next game plan. If Spade wasn’t here by the time I was out and dressed, Checker taxi services would be the only resort I had to the hospital. He would kill me once he found out I’d gone without his permission, but if I waited here too long, I’d be dead anyway. If it weren’t for him trying to keep me under his microscopic eye under lock and key, I could’ve had the surgical abortion and been in and out. This whole RU-486 option was turning out to be the worst experience of my life—next to getting twisted up with Spade in the first place.
Spade
The timer on the phone was still counting so I knew Jakia hadn’t hung up in a rage. Something might’ve really been wrong, and even though I didn’t give a fuck, I didn’t need her tapping out. Deep down inside, my gut feeling told me that baby wasn’t mine in the first place. Had it been, Jakia would’ve jumped at the opportunity to tell me the news like Tiff did. All the hiding Jakia did only made her story less believable, and I was back on the tip thinking about the night she cheated on me. After returning the rental to Tiff and retrieving Rocko’s and my stash, I was in the wind on her ass too, at least until I got my mind right out of town. These hoes ain’t loyal is more than just a hook to a song. However, on a new grid, I could re-up on a whole new flock.
“Hey, swing me past Walgreens Pharmacy right quick so I can pick this broad up some pads and shit. I’m mad as fuck about her trying to trap me, yo!”
“You silly as fuck, man.” Rocko bent the corner on two wheels. “How do you come up with the crazy stuff you say? Jakia’s your wife—wives can’t trap husbands and shit!”
“You a lie. And I’m gonna sign off on the death papers for every single baby Jakia thinks she’s about to bring into the house. Do I look like a car seat carrying type nigga to you? Hell to the naw!” I’d gotten hype and was now biting Rocko’s head off.
“Keep going; don’t stop! I swear you fooling tonight.” Rocko was drunk, just as I was.
He was ripping through traffic doing damn near 100 mph as I leaned back sipping from my fifth of Patrón and puffing on a Christmas cookie. We’d been partying on the profits we’d robbed from the doughboys a few days ago, and only to Rocko’s knowledge—I’d been having a love affair with white powder. One of our last celebrations in the D was in full effect—until Jakia called with her “woe is me” speech.
“But on the real, nigga—why’d you marry homegirl if you weren’t about to at least treat her right? I know you’re still hung up about ole boy we murked, but that cold case ain’t our worries anymore. Let it go ’cause the cops sure did!”
“Why not wife a bitch that don’t make you do no better? What other chick am I gonna find that’s as loyal as Jakia? Real talk, if she stays around long enough, I’m gonna renew our vows to do right by her.”
Rocko damn near crashed into a parked car pulling into the Walgreens parking lot. “Case and point proved—yo’ ass is a dog and is straight vicious.” He shook his head.
“Says the man who killed Lezlee in cold blood and bubbles,” I sarcastically reminded him.
He cut his eyes at me, then took a swig from his bottle. “Case and point proved again. Hurry yo’ ass up so you can take care of yo’ problems.”
I climbed out of his cashed-out Chevy Impala and ran into the drugstore headed straight for the pharmacist. A nigga like me wasn’t getting ready to search through no aisle of feminine products. “Hey, yo, I need some help real quick.” I rudely cut past the few people standing in line. It wasn’t no thang ’cause if they wanted a problem I could bring one. I lived for setting shit off.
“It’ll be just a few minutes, sir. There are a few customers I need to help that were waiting in line before you.” The attendant looked up with an annoyed expression on her face. “So if you could please step to the end of the line, I’ll help you once it’s your turn.” She popped her white pharmacy jacket like she was some type of boss.
“Nah, I don’t think so.” I leaned over the counter blatantly staring at her chest. I wanted her to feel more than uncomfortable as I put her on blast. “Crystal, right?” I thumped her name tag with the upmost disrespect. “What I’m gonna need from you right now is to hear me loud and clear. Shut that register down or call for some immediate backup. A nigga like me is not waiting. You got that?”
By the time it was all over, I had walked out of Walgreens with bottles of Motrin, bags of maxi pads, cans of chicken noodle soup, and plenty of bottles of Gatorade to keep Jakia hydrated. Crystal, the same snotty-ass pharmacist, even had to fill the script the abortion clinic prescribed. I should’ve dropped it off, but my street world was much more important. The minimum wage-working clerk stocked me up with a care package that should have Jakia feeling better in no time.
“Damn, nigga, did you buy the store out?” Rocko laughed, handing me the blunt he was blowing on.
Jakia
The shower was giving me back a little life, but I was still passing large blood clots. As I sat in the tub letting the shower water run directly over me, I didn’t care about my hair napping or my makeup running. Looking pretty and covering my battle wounds was the least of my concern. As I spread my legs and pushed out more clots, I was trying to speed up the process and hopefully pull myself from out of my misery. The nurse from the clinic said the pain should subside soon, but six hours didn’t equate to “soon” in my book. The shower water had gone from scorching hot to lukewarm and was on its way to icy cold. I didn’t care ’cause I didn’t want to get out and face the world. A blunt would do me so good right now.
“Jakia, where is yo’ ass at?” I heard Spade yelling
through the house and commanding Rocko to search for me too.
Now I’m about to be really embarrassed. Why can’t he tell his psycho cousin to find another squat house until it’s time to leave Detroit? I leaned my head against the wall and held on tightly to the towel rack, bracing myself. Every part of me hated Spade to his core, but I was happy he’d come home to rescue me. I needed his help badly.
“Hey, I found her,” he called out to Rocko as he rushed into the bathroom. “What are you doing in there? Damn, Jakia, you sure know how to ruin a nigga’s night.” He turned the water off, then pulled me out of the tub.
Usually, Spade and Rocko stay on the sticks playing video games, but Spade got me dressed instead. He wasn’t comforting or gentle as he roughly slid my socks, pajama pants, and shirt on.
As he scooped me up in his arms, I cried like a baby. The feeling was bittersweet to have him coddling me, but I knew him comforting me would be short-lived. Spade wasn’t the type of man who wore his feelings on his sleeve. “It hurts so bad, babe,” I whimpered. “I wish you wouldn’t have made me kill our baby.”
“Okay, shh. Just breathe and chill out.”
“Please take me to the hospital.”
“Hell-to-the-no! You don’t need no damn hospital. The woman at Walgreens said this stuff should be enough to comfort you until the cramping is gone.” After handing me the prescribed meds from the abortion clinic, he dumped a bag of maxi pads, pain meds, and a few cans of Campbell’s soup onto the bed. “I’ll grab you some water to pop those pills and the remote so you can get comfortable.”
“No, please don’t blow this off, Spade. I promise you I need medical attention. I’m pushing out clots the size of your fist! If you leave me here with this bogus bag of feel-good, I’ll bleed to death. Ain’t none of this shit gonna stop blood from gushing out of my uterus!” By this time, I was screaming and crying loudly. I didn’t care about being humiliated in front of Rocko ’cause my struggle with Spade wasn’t a secret anyhow.
Graveyard Love Page 14