That afternoon after Ant D had gotten off the phone with Mike, he’d been in a real good mood. He’d just talked to his homey and had some of that good white girl in his system. He’d been taking lines up his nose the whole time he was on the phone with his best friend. As soon as he hit the end button, he thought about the pretty young thing that had been sweating him at the Mickey D’s a few months back. Damn, he should’ve been run up in that.
As he scrolled through his contacts, he realized that he didn’t even remember her damn name! Ant D racked his brain trying to recall what the girl’s name was. He knew it was something with a J, but what? Jasmine? Naw. Jalissa? Naw. Jessica? That was it! That was her fucking name… Jessica. He found her number, called her up and asked her if she wanted to come over and “chill.” She had readily agreed, and within minutes of stepping through the door, Ant had her clothes off. She’d been a little nervous at first, but after a couple of drinks and a few pulls from a blunt full of that exotic she was open to do any and everything.
Now Ant had her on her knees sucking and jerking him off at the same time. Ready to get his nut, Ant took her hand off of his dick and held her head firmly in his hands as he began to aggressively fuck her mouth. “There you go! Take that dick, take that dick. Take… that… dick!” Each word was emphasized with a forceful thrust inside of her mouth. At one point Jessica gagged and almost threw up, but she managed to keep her lunch down as Ant continued to have his way with her teenaged mouth. He closed his eyes and pumped faster and faster in and out of Jessica’s mouth until he felt like he was about to explode. “Oh shit, oooh shit! I’m finna bust!” Jessica had sucked dick before, but she’d never let anybody cum in her mouth. She really wanted Ant to like her though, so when he began to tense up, she just sat there and shut her eyes really tight and waited. Within seconds, Ant’s semen was exploding inside of Jessica’s mouth and down her throat. She swallowed as much as she could but there was so much that it was coming out the sides of her mouth and dripping down her chin.
Ant shuffled over to the coffee table and grabbed his phone. Just as he flipped it open and was about to take some pictures and capture the beautiful mess that he’d turned Jessica’s innocent face into, the “Many Men” ringtone began playing. Damn! Ant thought. Who the fuck is this!? He didn’t recognize the number and for a second as he looked down at Jessica, he seriously contemplated not answering. He was still naked from the waist down, his pants still bunched around his ankles. “Who dis?” he barked, annoyed.
“Ant, it’s me. Me and mama got locked up for some bullshit. We downtown in the county.”
“Huh? Meka, stop fuckin’ playin’,” Ant said, laughing. He watched with regret as Jessica got up off the floor and began to put her clothes back on.
“Nigga, do it sound like I’m playing!?” said Meka, in a tone that was devoid of any humor. “Ain’t nobody playin’ Ant! Me and mama got arrested at the hospital while we was up there visiting Mike.”
“What!? For what?” he asked, as he reached down and quickly pulled up his Polo drawers and Sean John jeans. Damn, his little freak session with Jessica was definitely over now. And he didn’t even get the chance to get the pussy. Fuck it. At least he had gotten some good head from her young ass.
“I ain’t really got time to go into all the details right now Ant. One of the C.O.s was cool enough to let me use the staff phone so I could call your cell. I just need you to be ready to get us outta here.”
“I’m on it. How much the bond is?” asked Ant, putting his Jordan’s on.
“That’s the thing. They ain’t set no bond yet. They talkin’ ‘bout the judge ain’t gon’ be back until after Christmas to do bond hearings.” The black male sergeant who Meka had sweet talked into her letting her use the phone was giving her the sign to wrap it up. “Look, I gotta go. As soon as we get a bond I’ma let you know how much it is.”
“Alright, bet. Mama ok?”
“Yeah, mama straight. Just have somebody on deck to be ready to get us the fuck outta here Ant.” The line went dead.
$$$
As soon as Meka had finished her call, the sergeant escorted her back to the large holding cell where the rest of the females were held. As he unlocked the cell he brushed his crotch up against Meka’s hand and pretended it was an accident. It reminded her too much of the shit her Aunt Gladys’ boyfriend Ray Ray used to pull. She had been a shy little girl, scared to speak up back then. She wasn’t now. “Muthafucka, if you ever try to handle me like that again, when I get outta here I’ma make sure I find your ass and chop that lil’ shit off… then stuff it down your goddamn throat,” she said menacingly. Sergeant Whitmore shoved Meka roughly into the holding cell and quickly slammed the heavy metal door shut before locking it.
There’s never a good time to get locked up, but getting locked up on or around any major holiday had to be the worst. Not only were you away from your loved ones but everybody was on fucking vacation… including the judges. This meant that even if your charge (or charges) weren’t that serious, you still had to wait an extra day or two to get a bond set, when normally this was done upon your arrival at the jail.
Gloria had somehow managed to doze off in the corner with Meka sitting next to her on the hardened concrete slab against the far wall. She’d just been complaining to Meka hours earlier that she didn’t think she’d ever get any sleep on that uncomfortable slab and here she was knocked out. The body is funny like that. When it was tired and really needed to rest it would take that respite wherever it could.
When Glo awoke, it was morning. She didn’t know this from being able to see out of any windows. There were none. She assumed it was morning because she noticed a whole new shift of C.O.s on duty. A couple of them had already come through, looked into the brightly lit holding cell and conducted their head count to ensure that no one had escaped. Meka was still asleep, her head resting upon her mother’s shoulder. Glo looked down at her baby girl, who looked so innocent and peaceful while she was asleep. Although it was pointless to keep beating herself up about the past, it was impossible for Gloria not to think of how differently things would’ve turned out if she hadn’t abandoned her children. Unfortunately, it was something she’d have to live with for the rest of her life.
“Breakfast!” Suddenly there was a loud bang as the metal flap in the middle of the holding cell door was opened. Brown trays with sausage, eggs and a biscuit were inserted through the hole in the door. Women who’d been there long enough to be accustomed to the routine were already lined up at the door to receive their food and small Styrofoam cups full of watered down orange juice. Meka woke up groggily, wiped her eyes and ambled over to the door to get a tray for her and Glo. She handed her mama the trays, then went back and got two cups of juice before returning to sit on the slab beside her mother.
Sitting inside of a filthy, cold, cell full of prostitutes, crack heads, and other women who’d been arrested for a variety of charges definitely wasn’t how Gloria had envisioned spending her Christmas morning. There were fourteen other women in the holding tank. Some had been in there for more than a few days without being able to wash. More than a few of them had come in off the street without washing their asses anyway, and you could definitely tell by the stench. The holding area reeked of ass, pussy, underarms and vomit. Only the brave or those that had an extremely full bladder bothered using the disgusting toilet.
There was a dark skinned butch that kept glancing at Meka in between bites of her food. “Bitch, is there a muthafuckin problem!?” Meka suddenly blurted out, tired of the unwanted glances. She stared at the dark skinned heavy set woman, who looked more like a man that was sitting by the door. “’Cause you damn sure keep lookin’ over here like it is,” Meka said, getting to her feet.
The heavy set butch stood up as well. Her name was Brenda. She was a big, tall, mean looking woman with a pockmarked face and a low haircut. The rest of the women in the holding cell immediately got quiet. As they anticipated a fight, the tension in t
he holding tank became thick enough to cut with a dull butter knife. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you talkin’ to lil’ girl, but I got yo’ bitch, bitch. I’ll beat yo’ ass… in front of yo mama.”
For a second, Meka was thinking she might’ve bit off a little more than she could chew. Her heart began to speed up a little bit but she wasn’t about to back down. “You know what? I think maybe the po-lice made a mistake and locked you up in the wrong place. They shoulda put yo’ ugly ass back in the zoo where yo’ monkey lookin’ass belong!” Meka quipped. The holding cell burst into laughter at Meka’s joke.
The laughter, at her expense, pushed Brenda over the edge. Unable to outwit Meka with her words, she figured she’d beat her physically. She charged wildly at her. As soon as she was within striking distance, Meka cocked back the thick, hard, plastic brown tray she had in her hand and hit Brenda square on her nose. There was a loud crunching sound as her nose broke. Brenda cried out in pain as blood poured from her broken nose. A broken nose wasn’t enough to stop Brenda’s mean ass though. She charged again, this time ducking the tray as Meka swung it. She grabbed Meka in a bear hug and easily threw her to the ground, before straddling her. Meka bucked, but with Brenda’s full weight on top of her she was unable to get out from under her as she got pounded with blows.
The whole thing had escalated so quickly. One minute the two women were shooting daggers at each other with their eyes, then words were exchanged, and now Meka was on the floor getting her ass whooped by Brenda. Gloria couldn’t just sit by and watch her daughter get her ass beat though. She jumped up from the concrete slab and leaped onto Brenda’s back. She wrapped her arm around her thick neck and tried to choke the life out of her big ass.
The C.O.’s heard all of the commotion inside of the cell and came running, keys jingling. One of the female guards opened the same flap they had just used to put the breakfast trays through. Without as much as a warning a large dosage of CS gas was sprayed into the cell. The metal flap was immediately slammed back shut; making sure the gas had nowhere to escape. Within seconds, the fight between Meka and Brenda was over as the entire holding cell began to feel the strong effects of the riot gas. Brenda abandoned her attempts to hurt Meka and instead began to concentrate on the burning sensation she felt all over her skin. Some women tried to yell out but the gas was making it hard to breathe, let alone scream. Eyes and noses were running. One girl fell out on the floor and began having an asthma attack.
$$$
Mike arrived at the detention center in extreme pain. The ride over from the hospital had been a grueling experience. Every bump and turn caused Mike to close his eyes and grimace. Metal shackles around his ankles bound his legs together and the tight handcuffs around his wrists restricted the movement of his hands. The restraints were completely unnecessary, but Detective Patterson had insisted upon them being used during the transport. He claimed that Mike was a ‘flight risk’.
Once Mike was out of the dark blue police van, Patterson ceded authority to the detention center officials. “They’re gonna take real good care of you here Mike,” Patterson said sardonically. The Detective bent forward. “Just remember if you got any info for me that I can use to make sure and let me know, now. I’ll make sure to put in a good word to the judge for you,” he whispered into Mike’s ear before showing his stained teeth and winking at him. Mike didn’t even bother to respond. He just wanted to get out of the biting December cold. He only had on the thin hospital gown he’d left the hospital with and the cold air had him shivering. Not to mention, it aggravated his injuries.
Under the hospital gown thick white bandages covered the open wounds where doctors had extracted the high caliber missiles that had penetrated his body, and wreaked havoc upon his internal organs. Mike’s stomach looked like a zipper. He had staples stretching from his navel to his chest. There were also several bullet holes in various places all over his body that had yet to fully heal. Mike was in pain physically but it paled in comparison to the mental anguish he was experiencing. Nikki was dead. And so was their unborn son who’d been growing inside of her womb. He felt numb as he was finally rolled through a series of heavy steel automatic doors that led into the bowels of the beast; a savage beast that devoured its youth in the name of injustice and profit.
The C.O.s wheeled him through more automatic doors before they stopped inside of the sally port and waited to be buzzed into the reception area. Once inside, his restraints were removed and the dehumanizing process known as intake began. Mike heard his name being hollered out from some of the inmates in various holding tanks. A lot of the prisoners already knew Mike from the streets. Those that didn’t know him personally, had been seeing his face all over the news for the past couple of weeks after the shooting downtown. From the jail cells to the streets; everybody had been talking about that shit. It was ironic that the same incident that had snatched his girlfriend and unborn child from his life had also made him even more infamous and respected on the streets of Greenville. It wasn’t the fact that he’d been shot that the streets respected. That wasn’t anything special. People get shot all the time in the hood. It was the fact that he had survived.
After being searched, fingerprinted, having his mug shot taken and being given a wristband with his name and I.D. number on it, Mike was rolled even deeper into the labyrinth that was the detention center. The corridors that led to the infirmary unit where he would be confined were brightly lit. The inmates and staff looked on as he passed by.
When his wheelchair was finally brought to a stop, Mike was sitting in front of the nurse’s booth in the infirmary. “Hey Lisa, got another one for ya!” the C.O. yelled out. Mike glanced up into the glass booth at the nurses who were busying themselves preparing for the many duties of their shift. A light brown skinned woman stopped what she was doing and looked up. She came out of the nurse’s station and exchanged a few words with the C.O. before taking a thick folder from him. Mike assumed those were his medical records from the hospital. He just sat there in his wheelchair looking on. His body was wracked with pain, but he refused to show it or cry out for help. No, he needed that pain. The constant reminder of his loss kept him focused on the only word in his vocabulary that made any sense to him right now: revenge.
God knows Mike had wanted to start a new life and leave the street shit alone. Lord knows he had. That wasn’t even an option now that Nikki was dead. What was so crazy was that he hadn’t even been looking for love. “The only wife of mine is a life of crime,” was an old Jay-Z line that Mike and Ant D had both adopted as their mantra. And they had lived it to the utmost. Mike had vowed to never fall in love or catch feelings for any female while he was still knee deep in the streets.
Then he’d run into Nikki at Cleveland Park one Sunday afternoon. Nikki hadn’t been anything like the other bird bitches from the hood that Mike was used to fucking with. She was intelligent, beautiful and had class. She knew what she wanted out of life and was going after it. Nikki quickly became a part of Mike’s life and Hov’s lyric quickly became an afterthought.
Over time, Mike had eventually opened up to Nikki; sharing parts of his life with her that he had never discussed with anyone. They shared an intimacy that he’d never experienced with anybody else. Mike had been abandoned as an infant and raised by the state. His entire life he’d felt a huge void, as if something was missing. Nikki filled that void. She had been that missing piece. She didn’t judge him or try to change him. He didn’t feel the need to be hard around her all the time. When they were together, he allowed himself to smile and be vulnerable. Then she’d broken the news to him that he was going to be a father. He’d been ecstatic. A father; he’d get a chance to be something nobody had ever bothered to be to him.
Nikki had become his heart. In a hail of gunfire that was over within a matter of seconds, niggas had viciously ripped his heart out of his fucking chest. And it hurt. Having finally experienced what it was like to be loved unconditionally by a woman like that only mad
e the pain worse now that it was gone. The perception in society was that criminals were emotionless animals but even the hardest, most ruthless killer had somebody in their lives that they loved and cared about. Nikki…
Mike felt even colder and more ruthless now. He was past giving a fuck about anything but seeing the people responsible for his loss to experience the same hurt he felt. He’d already been dead twice so what else could they possibly do to him? Kill him again? He smirked at the thought. He had nothing to lose.
Mike’s mind was filled with nefarious thoughts of payback. Unfortunately, they would have to wait. The reality was that he couldn’t even stand up and go to the bathroom on his own. He was still extremely weak from the shooting. On top of that, he’d finally learned what he was being charged with: a double homicide that they claimed he had committed earlier that summer.
Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose Page 11
