A Sip of Hennessy

by Lucinda John

  “I told your ass you were going to end up like me. This is only the beginning, though. You’re going to sink lower.” Akio’s breath reeked of rotten onion. Lifting my hand to my nose, I tried to block the unpleasant odor that escaped her lips.

  “Akio, if you don’t get your stank ass out my face, Imma whoop your ass!” I fumed. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with that bitch and her issues. The more I inched toward my breaking point, I became no longer able to control my actions.

  “I’ll see you at the crack house soon. I’ll even save a seat for you.” Akio loudly chuckled as she stumbled away.

  On the other side of the box sized cell, she grouped up with her other crack head buddies, hanging out as if they were on the block instead of held up in a musty box.

  “Hennessy Daniels, you’ve made bail!” The CO called out and unlocked the cell door.

  Turning to my mother, I gave her ass the finger as I scurried out of that hell hole.

  “What the fuck did you do to get locked up, ma?” Dre asked as he leaned against the driver's side of his car, smoking a cigarette.

  “It’s a long story.” I sighed, relieved that someone came and got me. “How the fuck did you know I was in here?”

  My first phone call went to Nookie. When she didn’t answer, I called her again, leaving her a voicemail, letting her know I was in jail. She was the only one who knew, so to see Dre picking me up instead of her blew my mind.

  “I was at the hospital, checking on one of my partners when I saw the police arresting you and shit. I had to call up my lawyer to get you out.”

  “Well, I ain’t ask you to do shit for me.” Sucking my teeth, I folded my arms across my chest, trying to figure out how I was going to get home.

  My phone and wallet were in my car that was parked in the hospital’s parking garage.

  “Damn, ma, no need to be so hostile. I’m just trying to help.” Dre hoisted his hands in the surrendering position.

  “Nah, kid, don’t think I forgot how you was popping all that big shit in front of my nigga the other day.” I grunted. “Shit, you suspect as fuck right now. It’s not a coincidence that my nigga get popped after taking over your turf.” I glared at Dre with fire dancing in my eyes. If I had a gun in my possession, I would’ve bodied him right in front of the jailhouse.

  “One thing about me, I’m a real ass nigga. If I was the one who popped your nigga, I would have told you straight up. I been quiet for a week, out of town, trying to get my money right. A nigga just came back in this morning after getting the phone call that one of my homies lost his battle with cancer. A few niggas tried to fill me in on what went down, but I wasn’t trying to hear all that bullshit. My A1 just got his wings, ma. As fucked up on the inside as I am over that shit, I still made it my business to come and see about you.” The pain in Dre’s eyes showed how sincere he was.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I mumbled.

  “It is what it is.” He shrugged. “Wassup with it, man? Where you want me to drop you off at?”

  “My car is back at the hospital,” I replied, making my way over to the passenger side of his car.

  “Alright.” Dre nodded and tossed the butt of his cigarette on the ground before smashing it with his foot.

  “How your nigga holding up?” Dre asked as he pulled into traffic.

  “I don’t even know.” I shrugged.

  “Damn, that’s fucked up.” He shook his head. “On some real shit, I would have never popped your nigga. I like your pretty ass too much to cause you any pain.”

  “What about your block?” I asked.

  “I would’ve come to a mutual decision with that nigga before it came to war. We all the same niggas, a product of our environment with the same hustle. Shit, all I wanted to do was come home and eat. After sitting down and doing that bid, I wasn’t trying to get knocked on some bullshit ass murder charge.”

  “I feel you,” I mumbled.

  In silence, I gazed out of the window, taking in the scenery. Tears slowly trickled down my face as I felt myself on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Not knowing if Miami was really alive or not had me feeling as if I was sitting in limbo. My mental health was all fucked up. I didn’t know if I was coming or going.

  “I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do if I lose him,” I shouted before breaking down in a fit of tears.

  My shoulders violently shook as I wept. The pain in the center of my chest became unbearable. The thought of losing Miami left me stricken with grief.

  “Why me? Why the fuck does everything bad have to fucking happen to me?!” I weakly sobbed.

  My body went numb. There was no more fight left in me. In an effort to console me, Dre pulled over. Placing the car in park, he wrapped his arms tightly around me. Melting into his embrace, I looked up to the sky, wondering if this was what my mother meant when she said I would hit rock bottom.

  Clad in a two-piece stonewashed grey pantsuit with a white blouse tucked underneath, I sat next to Nookie, clinging to her with my sweaty palms. For the first time in six months, I was finally laying eyes on Miami. Unfortunately, we were sitting in a courtroom, separated by the bailiff, judge, and lawyers.

  A month after the big blow out at the hospital that resulted in my arrest, I was finally informed that Miami was stable and had been released to the infirmary. The moment I found out he was in jail, I took Miami’s jailhouse stash and headed to his lawyers’ office. The following month, he was placed in general population, where we were able to talk on the phone. However, right before I was scheduled to visit him, I was told that all of his visiting privileges had been revoked. That was the last time I heard from him. After applying pressure on Miami’s lawyer’s neck, he filed a motion for a speedy trial, confident that he had all the evidence he needed to win Miami’s case.

  After spending hours sitting in the courtroom, hearing the state’s case against Miami, then his lawyer’s defense, I was ready for all of this bullshit to be over. The past six months had been nothing but pure hell for me. Tortured by the void I felt from Miami being in jail, I started popping Percocets again, in order to cope. Shit, this morning, I popped one just to get my nerves under control. I knew better than to be doing drugs, especially in the condition I was in, but I couldn’t help myself. The more I tried to stay away from the dangerous drug, the more I felt myself depending on it.

  Burning holes in the back of Miami’s head with my eyes, I pleaded for him to look back at me just so I could blow him a kiss. Let him know that no matter what, I would remain by his side. From behind, Miami looked as if he’d lost a lot of weight. The suit I bought him to wear for court struggled to fit comfortably against his once broad shoulders. His once neatly trimmed hair was now growing into a short fro due to lack of maintenance.

  Dropping my head into my hands, I prayed that Miami would be released. I needed to take him home, so I could clean him up, cook him a feast, filled with his favorite foods, and suck his dick until he passed out before we started our new journey in life together.

  My breathing caught in my throat the moment the judge returned to his bench to deliver his verdict. Nookie tightly gripped my arm for support as we impatiently waited to hear Miami’s fate. Miami was instructed to stand to his feet while the judge delivered his verdict

  “In the case of the State of Florida vs. Miami Isaac Wright, I find the defendant guilty of all charges and sentence him to serve fifteen years at the Baker Correctional Institution,” the judge called out before banging his gavel.

  “Noooo!!!!” I jumped out of my seat in cried. “You can’t do this to me, judge, pleeeeease,” I blubbered, feeling as if I was going to lose my balance.

  Miami hung his head, too afraid to look back. For the first time in the five years we’ve been together, he didn’t keep his word.

  “Order in the court!” The judge continued to bang his gavel.

  Watching the bailiff slap cuffs on Miami’s hands to carry him out, I felt as if my heart was slowly being
ripped out of my chest.

  “You can’t take him from me… nooo! What am I going to do?” I defeatedly sobbed.

  Standing to my feet, I ran up the aisle, jumping over the bench that separated the prisoners, judge, and lawyers from the general population. From my peripheral vision, I saw the bailiff dislodge his weapon as I lunged toward him.

  Pow! Pow!

  He fired two shots that sent me falling down at Miami feet. Miami’s eyes widened in shock, and he dropped to his knees, trying to wiggle his way out of his cuffs to help me.

  “Shorty, why would you do some stupid shit like this?” He choked out. I could see the tears pooling in his eyes before they trickled down his handsome face.

  “You lied to me. You told me you was coming back home,” I whispered.

  My body felt as if it had been doused in gasoline, then lit by a match. Gasping for air, I could feel my chest cave in as I struggled to breathe.

  “Don’t do this to me, shorty, don’t die on me,” Miami sobbed. “Somebody help her! Come fucking help her!!” he yelled. “Come fucking help her, come apply pressure to her fucking wounds!”

  Staring up at Miami, fresh tears rolled down my face as I began to cough up blood. My breathing became labored, but I had to tell him—he needed to know.

  “Miami… I’m… I’m… pregnant…” I relentlessly breathed out before my eyes rolled and finally closed.

  To Be Continued…

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