Sitting down in a chair was a very handsome Mexican man, who was lean but muscular. His olive skin was smooth, and he had a five o’clock shadow on his face. He also rocked a low-cut Caesar, and he didn’t wear a prison uniform like everyone else. He was wearing a short-sleeve, button-down Hawaiian shirt that was unbuttoned to show off his six pack. Leather sandals covered his feet, and he had on jean shorts. He smiled at the fellas while inviting them to come closer.
“Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to my pad. My name’s Paco Hernandez,” he said.
Swag tossed his head back. “What’s up, bruh?”
Everyone else remained silent.
“So, you guys have names?” Paco asked.
“I’m Swag.” Swag looked over at the crew. “This is my cousin, Brad, and the twins are Tyler and Travis.”
The spoke in unison. “What’s up?”
“From what I see, y’all some bold dudes to stand up to my man Midnight.”
“Bruh, where we from, respect is earned, not given,” Swag said.
“I feel you on that. So where you dudes from, and what brings you to Brazil?”
“We from St. Louis, Missouri, in America, and we got busted for trafficking,” replied Travis.
“Dude.” Swag frowned as he looked at Travis. “Shut the hell up, man. We don’t know this cat like that.”
Paco waved him off. “It’s cool. But if you all was working for me back in Houston, Texas, you would’ve been in the clear and back home smoking a blunt or screwin’ a chick or two.” Paco and his crew started to laugh.
Swag responded. “Now that we told you about us, what’s your story, playa?”
Paco laughed as he lit a Cuban cigar. “Well, I run the Hernandez Cartel in Houston and Mexico, along with my father, Paco Hernandez Senior.”
The fellas had seen and heard everything about the Hernandez Cartel. They were ruthless, coldblooded bastards who ran the fastest growing illegal business, from supplying cocaine to illegal gambling and trafficking young girls and boys for pleasure. The Hernandez Cartel was worth over a billion dollars, and the numbers continued to grow every day. The Hernandez family ran Texas to south of the border. They didn’t play when it came to money and would kill you right in front of your mother or child if you screwed them over in any kind of way.
“Let me introduce you to my crew.” Paco looked over at his men. “This is Ike. That’s Rock, Landon, Miguel, Nash, and of course you all met Midnight.”
All the Hernandez soldiers nodded to the fellas, and they nodded back.
“Now that we all friends, sit and join us. We don’t bite, unless you do. Let’s play cards. Midnight, go in the cooler and get our new friends a beer.”
The guys didn’t know what they were getting into with Paco or the Hernandez Cartel, but if they could somehow protect them from the rest of the prisoners, it was okay with them. Plus, a beer didn’t sound too bad. They needed a beer or two after all they had been through. Too bad Stan wasn’t around to taste one.
As they started to play cards, Stan stayed on Brad’s mind.
Chapter 18
Taste of Insanity
For the next few days, the fellas stayed close to Paco and the members of the Hernandez Cartel. Being that they moved around with them, none of the other prisoners bothered them. Brad, Swag, Tyler, and Travis explained to Paco and his crew their situation in Brazil, but Paco’s story was way different.
Paco and his crew came to Brazil to have a vacation with no Hernandez Cartel business and no drama, period. Everything was going good, until Paco was at one of Brazil’s hottest night spots, talking to a Brazilian firecracker. She was one of the many mistresses of a Vietnamese crime boss, and the night ended up in a blood bath, leaving eight murdered. After that incident, the Hernandez Cartel members were going through all kinds of hell, with the media saying that it was a war between them and the Vietnamese crime family.
Paco’s father, Paco Hernandez Sr., and his lawyer were doing everything they could to get Paco and his team out and back on the streets of Texas. Paco even offered to help the fellas out if they agreed to accompany him and his people back to Houston to work with the Hernandez Cartel as their debt. To Swag, Tyler, and Travis, if they had a good chance to get out of that filthy hellhole, they were on board.
The main thing on Brad’s mind was his freedom, but Brad for damn sure wanted to make sure Diamond had her freedom too. He couldn’t understand why he was falling so hard for a woman he barely knew. Maybe he could save her too, and to keep his boys and Paco’s gang off his back, he agreed to be a part of the Hernandez Cartel if they were released.
The cell door opened, and the guard put in one more inmate. Everyone turned to see the fresh meat, but Brad and the fellas knew it was Stan.
Stan looked a god awful mess. His face had many scabs on it. His eyes were puffy, and his teeth were yellow. His hair was matted and nappy. He wore a prison uniform that looked way too baggy on him, and with his head down, he kept fidgeting.
Paco looked at Stan, then at Brad and the fellas.
“Do you all know that crackhead?”
The fellas could look at Stan and tell his mind was gone. They couldn’t afford to have him tag along if they were in Paco’s gang, and they didn’t want to lose that connection, because that gave them a good chance of getting out of Brazil.
“Hell, naw, we don’t know that fool!” Swag spat.
Brad looked at his cousin, who had no emotion on his face. He knew Swag was a cutthroat kind of dude who would throw his own sons to the wolves in a minute to save himself. Stan meant nothing to him, nor did he mean much to the others, who were looking for a way out.
About twelve men went up to Stan, shoving him around like he was a common prison bitch.
“Ahhhh, leave me alone!” Stan cried out. “Just leave me alone and keep y’all hands off meeeee!”
Hearing Stan’s screams and cries really disturbed the fellas, but there wasn’t much they could say or do. Interfering would mean serious trouble for them, so in the moment, silence was golden. Stan tried running, but he tripped over to the Hernandez Cartel side of the cell. He had on a tank top, and his face was bloody. His blood mixed with his tears as he glared at his so-called friends. He looked at Brad, who had so much sorrow for him in his eyes.
Stan extended his hand to Brad. “He . . . help me!”
Brad wanted to help him, but before he could, Paco pushed him aside and kicked Stan right in his face, breaking his nose that busted clean open and started gushing blood.
“Midnight and Rock, throw that piece of shit back out there.”
Both Midnight and Rock stood on both sides of Stan, picking him up.
“Noooooo!” Stan screamed as they threw him back to his predators.
Paco and his crew laughed as they watched Stan get beaten and ganged raped. Brad and the fellas joined in the laugher. On the inside they wanted to cry, but their freedom was way too valuable.
Love you, bruh, thought Brad, closing his eyes as he continued hearing his best friend’s screams.
Chapter 19
What About Your Friends?
On the prison courtyard, everyone had their own sections from the gang associations, nationalities, and so on. The fellas had never seen anything like this, except in prison documentaries they watched back home. Brad saw one of the Bosnian gang members do a drug deal with another inmate. Some of the gangs worked out on some of the equipment the prison supplied to them.
The fellas could see prison guards up and down, watching the place at all times. Security was real tight, so no one was going to escape anytime soon. If you tried, the guards would shoot you dead, no questions asked.
When the fellas were in the mess hall earlier, where the food looked like dog shit, one of the Asian inmates told them that a few days ago, his friend tried to escape. The guard let his friend climb the fences as high as he could, and when he was about to cut the barbed wires, one of the guards that was on the fifth floor of the building shot his f
riend in the face, letting him fall to his bloody death. To make the story even grosser, the Asian inmate told them that the guards just let the vultures eat his friend.
The fellas knew right then this prison was ruthless. Overseas prisons made American prisons look like the late Michael Jackson’s Neverland. It was a good thing for Brad, Swag, Tyler, and Travis that they were under Paco’s protection in there, especially since one of the gangs picked a fight with another gang.
The fellas sat on the bleachers as Paco and his crew played basketball with the Arabs. Paco offered the fellas to play, but they refused for now, so Paco gave them some courtesy marijuana to ease their minds. It was one of the many benefits of being under his protection.
The fellas sat there for a moment, not believing this shit was real. Everyone was hoping this shit was just a bad dream that would go away and they would be back in St. Louis, kickin’ it.
Swag went over and over in his mind what had gone wrong with this. He knew Armand had something to do with the setup. Swag would never admit it, but deep down, he was sorry he had ever gotten his boys involved with this foolishness.
Brad looked over at the other side of the yard to see a room that men were coming in and out of. He knew they were up to no good. When a big German came out, Stan followed behind. Stan was butt-ass naked with his head down. My God, Stan.
Brad remembered back in the cell and in the mess hall, the Nigerians and the Russians were bidding on Stan. The Nigerians gave the Russians a piece they couldn’t refuse, and from then on, Stan was the property of the gang called the Nigerian Warlords. As soon as they bought him, they made him in to a sex slave to pimp out to the men in prison and to themselves. The men were paying the Nigerian Warlords anything from money and drugs to renting some of their own slaves to get a piece of Stan’s fresh meat.
The next guy that was going to run up into Stan was a Chilean man, who gave the Nigerian Warlords the latest issue of Playboy magazine and his watch. One of the Nigerian Warlords looked at the items and nodded. The Chilean man knew that was the signal to take Stan in the room. The Chilean man pushed Stan then followed behind and closed the door. Brad noticed that when Stan went with the man, he didn’t fight or even speak.
* * *
Stan, who was in the dark and dirty room getting banged out by the Chilean men, knew he had lost everything, from his job to his unfaithful-ass girlfriend. The Nigerian Warlords had stripped him of his dignity, and most importantly, he was betrayed by his friends who he thought were so loyal. They used to talk about loyalty, but he knew the fellas were full of shit.
Fuck ’em, Stan thought. For now, he was going to play his role as the new prison bitch, until he got his bloody revenge. The blood he wanted to taste was Brad’s. As the Chilean man was still hitting him, huffing and puffing almost ready to cum, Stan thought about the day he went into that cell and he reached for Brad to help him. He knew the other fellas were for self. He just knew his buddy Brad would help him, but in Stan’s bloody red, teary eyes, Brad had failed him. Stan was going to taste the revenge on all the fellas that did him wrong.
Bitch ass, Stan thought, giving a twisted face, knowing his anus was hurting bad. Revenge will be mine.
* * *
Brad sat there shaking his head. “What have I done?”
“What, bruh?” asked Tyler, taking his braids down.
“Damn, my shit is itchy.”
“Dudes, do y’all see what I’m seeing?” said Brad, turning his head.
Swag turned around and looked at the room where Stan was getting raped. “Man, chill out wit’ that shit.”
“Oh, so you just gon’ pretend that’s not our friend getting pimped out by them damn Nigerian Warlords like a ho and getting raped in that room,” replied Brad, pointing to the room.
The fellas were quiet for a moment until Swag spoke up. “First off, B, you my cousin and I love you, but you really need to chill out wit’ that shit. Secondly, Stan blew his own fuse. If he had a strong enough mind, he wouldn’t be a ho for ’em African dudes and getting his ass fucked right now.”
“Yeah, man. You gotta remember he ain’t really no friend of ours. We”—Travis circled his arm around Brad—“been friends. Nah, we been like brothers to each other for last ten years. Our bond is way stronger than what we had with that fool.” Travis took a puff from his marijuana before passing it to Swag.
“Yeah, man, remember you introduced that dude to us. That dude was just someone you worked with,” said Tyler coldheartedly.
“Yeah, he was never really one of us anyway, B. He didn’t fit in to our crew anyway. Soft-ass dude,” said Swag, taking two puffs from the marijuana, letting it take its effect. “See, B, me, the twins, and you, we fam. We been through too much with each other—good, bad, and as ugly as these prison walls. So do us all a favor and just cut Stan off altogether. It’s for the better.”
Brad just couldn’t believe that his boys were saying this shit. Brad couldn’t sell out his friend like that. He was going to make one more attempt to keep the group together.
We came to Brazil as a team to do this trafficking shit and get this money that completely blew up in our faces, thought Brad, lying back on the bleachers. Now look at us, locked up in a shitty overseas prison that makes the ghetto of St. Louis look like a walk on the beach. And our boy is being beaten and raped constantly by inmates just to get their sick nut off.
The one thing about Brad was that he was a loyal dude to the end. He was going to do his damnest to persuade his boys to help their friend and get whatever little sanity he had left. “Look, y’all, this ain’t us. Look at how we doin’ Stan, man.”
They all looked at Brad like he had shit on his face.
Brad was determined to get through to his boys. “Swag, you know the street game better than any of us here, so I know you can handle a street dude like Paco. Can you at least talk to him?”
In Swag’s mind, that was a definite no, but he decided to play his cousin along. He looked at Brad up and down. “Talk to that dude about what, cuz?”
Brad looked at his cousin, dumbfounded. “Swag, bro, you know how this underworld street game or whatever this shit you call it goes!” Brad took a deep breath, calming himself down. “Cuz, please. Can you at least talk to Paco man to man? Maybe he could buy Stan from them Nigerian Warlords, put Stan under his protection so that no one can touch him. We can work wit’ him while we’re here for now. So once when we get back to the States, Stan will be somewhat together in the head.”
“Brad!” shouted Tyler, looking at him like he was crazy.
Travis gave him the “bruh, that shit ain’t gon’ happen” eyes.
“Man, we came into this bullshit together. We need to stick together. We got families back at home. Hell, Stan’s got family the most. They like the damn Brady Bunch. They need to see their son sooner or later, and we need to return him somewhat straight in the head. Come on, y’all, for our friend. Let’s help him.” Brad looked back at Swag, begging him one last time. “Cuz, are you willing to talk to Paco into buying Stan so that we can help get his shit somewhat together?”
“Hell to the nah!” shouted Swag with no remorse.
Brad was disappointed but not surprised by his cousin’s reaction. “Why?”
Tyler put his hand on Brad’s knee. “B, look in front of you. This place ain’t exactly Disneyland.”
“Yeah, bruh, Paco didn’t have to put us under his protection. What makes you think he’ll ever buy Stan from them Nigerian Warlord motherfuckas?” replied Travis.
Tyler took down his last braid. “Yeah, that dude is just damaged goods now. B, just let him go, man. Stan is a lost cause.”
“Yeah, man, just forget you ever met that dude,” replied Travis as he was lying down on the bleachers, letting the marijuana take effect as he closed his eyes. “Damn, Paco got the good shit.”
With no help from the twins, Brad looked over at Swag.
Swag gave him a crazy look. “B, cuz, don’t be lookin’ ov
er here.” He took another puff. “Look, my dude, that’s your . . . friend, and if you wanna help him, then that’s all . . . on you. Shit, cuz, if I have to live in this shithole, I may as well live like a king under Paco’s protection. Now, if you decide you wanna stick up for Stan and become a new prison bitch yourself, go right ahead. Don’t expect any help from me, Tyler, or Travis. You gon’ be all . . . on your own with that one. So what’s it gonna be, cuz?” Swag took another puff of weed and handed it to Brad. “Now, hit this shit and shut the hell up. That dude no longer exists to us. Period.”
Brad took a deep breath. He took the marijuana from Swag and took a deep breath. He coughed a little since he hadn’t done weed since high school, so he had to remember to puff-puff-give and fight the cough. He took another puff and let the marijuana fill his body, making it feel like Jell-o. The marijuana was just the thing he needed to take him out of this world for a moment and forget his problem. He realized his cousin and friends weren’t as loyal as he thought they were. He was letting the weed soak in. He couldn’t believe how his friends would sell a friend out for hood luxury in prison from a dude they hardly knew.
Brad laughed. Hell, I would.
Brad clearly knew his normal self was gone and the old weedhead asshole Brad was back. Why am I laughing at this shit?
In Brad’s mind, he knew he was a loyal dude and a good-ass friend to the bitter end. He wanted all the fellas to stay together in one piece. But at the same time, Brad didn’t wanna lose his protection from Paco, or the fellas having his back also. Brad, sooner or later, was going to get his boys to help Stan before he got in too deep and lost himself in this prison world. But until then, Brad was going to completely distance himself from Stan altogether. Brad took another puff of the good-ass joint before passing it to Tyler. He blew out the smoke, thinking he just blew all his troubles away.
Beating the Odds Page 12
