She squirmed underneath me and tried prying my hands off her face. The more she fought, the tighter my grip got. Her face was turning red, and her punches were becoming weaker and weaker. When I felt my point had been proven, I aggressively pushed her head into the mattress and mushed her face one last time before letting it go. I started to take another round of head, but it wasn’t even worth it.
“I can’t believe you put your hands on me,” she said in utter shock and disbelief. Swooping up the money off the bed and the bills that fell to the floor, she stuffed it in her tattered bootleg purse and tried rushing for the door. “Fuck you, Street! I hope something happens to you out here. Something real fucking bad.” She called herself putting a hex on me while rushing out of the room.
“If it does, it won’t be by yo’ hand, ho! Na get the fuck on up outta here before I do it again.”
Wiping the sweat I’d built up from fighting with Jamika off my forehead, I pulled out my cell to see who I’d missed a call from.
Damn! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I had not missed the call at all. During my scuffle with Jamika, it was apparently answered. I saw the counter at a minute and nineteen seconds. The caller had not hung up. They’d just been completely quiet. Plus, they’d heard everything said between me and that hood ho I should’ve chased up out of here for threatening me. After a second more, the silence was broken. I knew exactly who the caller was.
CHAPTER 30
TRINITY
“Sit your ass all the way up and stay at attention, Jackson,” the prison guard shouted. She blew her hot breath in my face, then slammed her wooden baton against the steel bench I was sitting on, sending waves of vibrations through my nerve-wracked body.
I was sick within my gut that I was restrained. It had been more than seven hours, and the only time I got to stretch my legs and arms and relieve the pressure from my cramped stomach was during the five-minute bathroom break they allowed me to go on over two hours ago. My body barely had enough energy to take in oxygen, let alone keep a perfect posture. I tried sitting up but ended up slouching to the right again.
“Inmate, you better get up before I get you up,” the correctional officer growled again, making me ball my fists up. “Down, girl. Before I have you processed into max.” She played against my vulnerability.
“Whatever will make you feel safer,” I couldn’t help but mutter.
“What was that, inmate?” She got down into my face, antagonizing me while abusing her power. She knew exactly what I’d said but was testing me to say it again.
“Whichever you can get me to the fastest, I’ll take it so I can sleep. I’m tired as hell of you and these bullshitting-ass circumstances.” I reworded my response, yet with the same attitude as before.
Compliance was not my strong suit. I didn’t have much experience knowing how to walk a fine line with people or rules. I was well aware that I was gaining a bad reputation with the detectives and guards, but I’d never been a breakable bitch. I wasn’t sure I could even look myself in the mirror if I cooperated with the law against my husband. I was Calvin’s anchor and his muthafuckin’ accessory. I’d take those titles to my grave, and I knew it was the same way with him. He would never allow me to be the fall guy. Just like I wouldn’t ever fold.
The correctional officer was still in my face, saying li’l slick shit to get a rise out of me, when another inmate leaped up and did some gangster shit that even my gangster ass could not fathom doing. Like dominoes, every single guard and detainee began sounding off. Even I couldn’t help but dropping the common hood response, “Hell naw.”
“CO Tindal, we’ve got a live one,” another CO yelled to get the attention of the guard who’d made herself my personal tormenter.
“What in the fuck? Yank that degenerate up.” Her command echoed throughout the room.
The detained chick was turning red, looking like she was about to pass out, yet she was smiling like a joker in excruciating pain as she attempted to bite her tongue off. As if I were watching a movie, I witnessed blood pouring off her lips and from the corners of her mouth. Even with two guards trying to pry her lips open, they couldn’t stop the young girl’s suicide attempt. My eyes had seen some cold, ruthless, and sick shit, but this right here was mad psychotic. Li’l momma’s charges must’ve been mighty helluva and coming with a possible life sentence for her to be so driven on taking her own life.
When we caught eyes a few hours ago, both sitting here waiting for our fates to play out, I thought about Porsha and sized her up as the same age. I was now forced to think about what it would be like to get the news while I was a prisoner that my daughter got murked or killed herself in jail. Even with me raising her rough and around some of the grimiest cats of Detroit and the surrounding hoods, I didn’t prepare her for jail.
“Let her go and stand back.” CO Tindal’s voice sounded like a screeching siren. “Arm up.”
Before I got to question what was about to happen, Tindal pulled out the same nightstick she’d rattled me awake with and slammed it straight across the girl’s lips.
Silence and stillness fell over the room as the young girl’s lip, nose, and forehead split open. It wasn’t until her limp body collapsed to the floor that someone started squealing and crying.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Get me out of here. I don’t wanna die,” another inmate yelled out, terrified and in shock.
“Shut up before you’re next,” CO Tindal warned the girl. “You cannot test an officer of the law. You all’s little friend was told to follow an order, and instead, she made the conscious decision to march by the beat of her own broken drum. Now before you is her consequence and what could be your consequence if you dare to test me or any one of these fine officers within this facility.” She ended her speech with her eyes on me.
I dropped my head and bit my lip. It was about to be a hard muthafuckin’ time walking down my days until trial.
Shorty Gotta Be Grown Page 21
