Durty South Grind

by L. E. Newell

  Skeet rapped his gnarled knuckles on the pane one last time. “About time, nigga; I’ll be out at the basketball court. And don’t have me out there all morning waiting on your jive ass, either.” He gave him a staunch salute before disappearing.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Sparkle pressed his fist to his mouth and stifled a yawn. He stood to stretch his five-foot-ten, coffee-brown frame, twisted the kinks out of his neck and staggered to the wash basin to handle his hygiene.

  With Skeet’s footsteps fading, his thoughts flowed to the image of a sweet, young filly hunching up under him, giving up husky sighs and pussy aroma from his hard grinding fuck. He smiled at his dull image in the metal mirror and splashed cold water on his face. He brushed his teeth, picked out his mini fro and started putting on his prison whites for the last time.

  Several minutes later, he checked the creases in his pants as he exited his room. He strolled down the catwalk toward the winding stairs. As he reached the steps he heard an all-too-familiar voice grumbling in a country drawl.

  He immediately felt that old tingling of hatred run up and down his spine. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to ignore it, so he slowly angled his head sideways to acknowledge the voice.

  Old “Chew Tobacco” Jones was grinning at him, displaying a row of brown, crooked teeth. The big burly country hick, his distinctively foul body odor disturbing the air, placed a swollen hand on the railing. He tapped his ever-present nightstick along the wall as he approached in a rolling gait.

  In a skunky wisp of air, he said, “Damn, boy, you trying to ignore me or sumthang?” He stepped a few feet closer before continuing with a nasty sneer. “You best to keep yaself oudda trouble now.”

  Sparkle pinched his nose and spoke, holding his breath between clenched teeth. “What’s up, Stank Breath Chew Tobacco?”

  The CO’s face turned beet red as he frowned and growled, “Whaddafuck you say, nigga boy?”

  Sparkle pinned him with cold-killer eyes and blasted his funky ass. “Cracker-ass, redneck bitch, who gave your dumb hillbilly ass permission to speak to me?” He paused and rubbed his nose again, letting it sink in. “Get the fuck outta my face.” He turned away to stifle the laugh that was boiling up from his gut. A look of total shock spread across Jones’s face.

  A red-faced, neck-throbbing Jones grabbed his throat as if he were about to choke on his wad. His neck got puffy red as he opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He shifted his head back and forth, checking to see if anybody was watching this boy belittling him. Then he gritted, showing all of his tobacco-stained brownish teeth. He pulled back his nightstick to strike before Sparkle leaned in closer to him and hissed, “Yeah, stanky muthafucka, do it and let’s go see the magistrate.”

  The hillbilly opened his mouth again to speak but Sparkle cut him off. “Yeah, bastard, I said it. I’m a free man today and if you hit me with that damn thing, your ass is gonna do some time. Yep, some muthafuckin’ time in here with these killa niggas that you been fucking over all these years.”

  With the stick frozen in midair, he squinted his hate-filled eyes, heaved and lowered the stick. “You black bastard, you better hope that your sorry ass don’t ever come back this here way again. Your ass will be mine.”

  “Bitch-ass cracker, your funky ass better pray that I never see your ugly mug on the other side of these fences.” Sparkle’s deadly look sent a shiver down the CO’s spine. He backed away with trembling lips.

  Sparkle cocked his head to the side and scratched his chin, and then took a deep breath to keep from laughing. Turning abruptly away he started walking down the stairs. He could feel the fire snorting out of Jones’s nose, along with the hate darting from his eyes, burning a hole in his back.

  He didn’t give a fuck how Jones felt with all the fucked-up shit he used to do. Brushing the confrontation out of his mind, Sparkle continued out the door. Immediately, he spotted his boy Skeet and his kid Lil’ Jack in an animated conversation. They were seated on a bench beside the basketball court. As he strolled toward them, they broke out in wide smiles.

  Skeet nodded toward the sidewalk and the pair walked up ahead of him. Sparkle got dap and backslaps from dudes congratulating him for surviving his bit and wishing him well on his return to the bricks. He eventually passed all of the well-wishers and walked between Skeet and Lil’ Jack, placing an arm around each of their shoulders.

  Lil’ Jack smiled up at him and said in a squeaky voice, “Damn, big bro, you finally gonna get the chance to be a hood star again, huh?”

  Sparkle blinked several times as he returned the smile. He’d always been amazed at how much Jack smiled like a girl. Hell, he was shaped like one, too. He used to joke with him all the time about him being a mistake of nature. For a moment Sparkle thought of what a helluva pimp Jack would make on the ho stroll on Auburn Avenue. He’d personally pumped enough game into his head to pull it off, too. A lot of dudes around the joint didn’t realize how coldhearted the little fella was.

  Because of his friendship with Skeet, they had become really close. Even though Jack was a near replica of the sexy diva Toni Braxton, he’d always treated him human without any of the homosexual bullshit involved. Sparkle figured he really appreciated it; he never acted feminine when they were alone. Often Skeet had him boy-sitting whenever he was at work in the gym or out hustling drugs and parlaying tickets.

  He rubbed Jack’s curly head. “Little bro, I’m going out there to do the straight-and-narrow thing.” He winked.

  “That’s good man; that’s good.” Jack nodded.

  When they got halfway down the long curved sidewalk, Jack spotted one of his sissy friends. He patted Sparkle daintily on the shoulder. “Hey, I know that ya’ll two probably got some things ya’ll wanna kick around before you leave. I’m going to holla at Miss Queenie over yonder, so take care of yourself, handsome.” He twisted his little hips in the direction of his partner.

  When they got out of earshot of the throng of niggas hanging out in front of the mess hall, Skeet nudged him in the side. “Ya know dat thangs are gonna be rough out der, my nigga; ya sure you gonna be able to handle that for me?”

  Sparkle could tell that Skeet had doubts about him coming through with the drugs they had discussed over the past few months. “Homefolks, all you got to do is let me know that you done sent that package request to your sister and I’ll be on that thang right away.” He put his arm around his shoulder. “Make sure that you keep these niggas outcha business, so we both can get paid.”

  Skeet cocked his head to the side with his sneaky smile. “Yeah, man, we got this plan down tight and I sho nuff gotta keep these nosey-ass snitches outta my shit.” He paused to scratch behind his ear. “Man, I hate to make you feel like I’m doubting you and shit. But you know how damn near everybody who gets out be claiming dey gonna do des and gonna do dat. And folk never hear nothing from them; go straight ghost on a nigga.”

  Sparkle stopped about ten yards from the entrance to the main control office and pulled him by the wrist. He stared straight into his eyes. “Yo, peeps, you remember that day when you cracked that fool upside the head? He was set to steal on me about that slum-ass reefer he was trying to gorilla down my throat?”

  Skeet lowered his head and started massaging the bridge of his nose, listening intently.

  “Well, baby boy, that alone is enough to keep my mind on the struggles you gotta go through in this crazy house. So you can count on me, dog. Word is bond, like it’s always been with us.”

  “Yeah, I feel you, man.” He continued to look down in shame for doubting his main man.

  The captain who ran the control room came out the door. “Say, man, they been hollering for you on the walkie-talkies for about a half-hour now. What’s up, you ain’t ready to go home or something?”

  “Hell yeah, I’m on my way now, Captain.” He turned away from him and embraced his buddy one more time. “My nig, I gotcha. Have your sister holla at a nigga when she get the paperwork,” Sparkle whispered
.

  Skeet grinned like a black Cheshire cat. “It’s on the way as we speak. Hell, that there’s a wrap; make sure you take care of yourself out there.”

  “Shit, dog, that’s automatic. You stay strong up in this hellhole.”

  “No choice, partner; no choice.”

  Sparkle rubbed his chin as he squinted at his boy and then looked around the compound for the last time. “Man, I sho’ ain’t gonna miss this place here.”

  “Yeah, man, I feel you on that there.” Skeet nodded, following his gaze.

  Sparkle lifted his chin and gave Skeet one more brotherly hug. He headed into the control center, toward freedom.

  A couple of hundred miles to the north, an individual was tossing and turning in their sleep, struggling with the constant nightmare that punished and punished, year after year.

  The hot balmy breeze did little to stop the sweat from stinging the child’s eyes. The heat was unbearable. The countless number of mosquitoes nibbling on little arms, legs and neck couldn’t be swatted away, no matter how often and hard they swung. They kept biting and biting, growing bigger and bigger as the child’s blood flooded its stinger mouth, like a hypodermic needle pumping a junkie’s vein. The child got woozier as its life flow oozed down its arms.

  The foggy faces of lust-crazed men poofed into view and leaned closer to the terror-filled eyes, which quickly began fading in and out of focus. Ever so close, yet out of reach. A white one with stubby hairs rubbing harshly against the child’s burning skin, followed by a black one that ogled as slobber ran out of the corners of his mouth. His head angled from side to side like a lunatic; a brown one, then a yellow blurring in and out of vision.

  The faces continued to swirl madly around as the mosquitoes got bigger, jaws snapping and gnawing on the child’s ever swelling arms. Suddenly all the different colored backs appeared altogether in a hideous mass, sweating and stinking as they came into focus, going up and down, followed by a blood-curdling scream.

  The individual’s eyes shot open, a body consuming fear was causing the air to come in rapid gasps, hands rubbing vigorously all over the body that was drenched in flowing sweat, desperately trying to wipe away the icky feeling of total despair. He sat up in the unfamiliar surroundings, wondering how he had gotten there, brushing away oily hair that was plastered to the sticky forehead, before burying his head into his hands, scared to death as to why this kept happening. Tears from decades of suffering rolled down swollen cheeks, puffed with pain, wondering if the nightmares would ever stop; nightmares that were constantly increasing in frequency and intensity. Damn, something had to be done to make them stop. There was only one way to make them go away. And it would definitely come to pass. Please come to pass before insanity took over.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A New Beginning

  The noonday sun cast eerie shadows on the freshly painted wall when Beverly Johnson picked up the persistently ringing telephone. Atlanta’s newly appointed police chief listened intently to the familiar voice on the other end of the phone.

  Only moments earlier her mood had been really upbeat as she had given the city designers the final instructions on remodeling her office. At least now it had a little bit of a woman’s touch, with flowers and beautiful paintings to remove all of the masculine overkill.

  Subconsciously, she looked at the reflection on the blank screen of her laptop. The image of a proud black woman brought a bright smile to her eyes; the first ever appointed as the head of the department of public safety in a major American city. And why not, this was the same city where Martin Luther King Jr. had begun knocking down all those racial barriers so many years ago.

  She sighed and blew air upward that ruffled the ever-present bangs that rested on her brows. She pinched the bridge of her rather pointy nose and hung up the phone, pondering over the message that had brought a mixture of both joy and disturbance.

  “Damn,” she muttered and started punching keys to verify what she had heard. As usual the particular source proved to be reliable. With contrasting emotions buzzing loudly in her mind, she pushed away from her desk and walked to the window over-looking Peachtree Street and the downtown Atlanta skyline. It was the only city that she had ever really known. A city that she loved and had been entrusted to keep safe.

  She closed her eyes, wondering whether this was the start of a dream come true or the continuation of a never-ending nightmare. What was she to do? How long could she continue to live a lie? Folding her arms across her ample bosom, she looked to the clouds, thinking of all the people that believed in her. What would they do, especially her political enemies, if the truth about her past ever really came to light?

  She sucked on her teeth with the confidence that had gotten her to the status she now enjoyed. After a moment of meditation, she ran her manicured hands across her forehead and knuckled the corners of her eyes, pressing imaginary wrinkles. She spoke much louder than she thought. “We’ll just have to make sure that nobody finds out.”

  “Never find out what, bossa lady?” a voice stuttering with an oriental accent called from the doorway.

  A shiver of fear of being discovered ran down Beverly’s spine as she jerked around. Quickly regaining her composure, she spat venom. “Lieutenant Woo, how many times have I told you to knock?” She paused to place her hands on her hips. “Knock and wait for me to tell you that it’s okay to come in.”

  The petite Vietnamese officer, the feared leader of the dreaded Black Cat drug enforcement team, squinted her cheeks and smiled. “Bossa lady, you aight? You ain’t never told me that.” She hunched her shoulders meekly and eased through the door.

  She had only taken a few steps and opened her mouth to speak further, but Beverly cut her off. She advanced aggressively toward her and growled, “Lieutenant Woo, I still did not tell you that it was okay to enter.”

  Woo’s eyes widened and she raised her hands in a defensive posture as she backed up. “Do you want me to go back out and knock first?”

  Beverly rubbed her forehead as she stared down at the floor for a brief moment before she spoke over her shoulder and turned around to walk back to her desk. “Naw, come on in and this had better be good.”

  Lieutenant Woo stepped forward timidly toward the chief’s large desk and placed papers on it. “Is it okay for me to sit down?” After receiving a curt nod from the chief, she eased into the chair and patted the papers. “I need authorization to hook up with the Red Dogs over in Decatur to straighten up those hotels along the county borders.”

  Beverly’s eyes squinted in concentration as she placed a hand over her mouth and leaned back in the seat. After watching Woo swallow a lump down her throat, she nodded for her to continue. Woo hunched her narrow shoulders and leaned forward. “That’s it, bossa lady; I want to clean up the whole strip on I-20. From Little Vietnam to Lithonia. What else is there to say?”

  Beverly pyramided her hands across the bridge of her nose, cocked her head to the side and stood. “Okay, go do your thing.” When she didn’t get an immediate reply from the diminutive lieutenant, she sat back down and started shuffling some of the paperwork that was piled on her desk.

  Woo sat puzzled for a few seconds and then pushed the papers further across the desk. “Thanks, but aren’t you forgetting to sign the papers?”

  Beverly didn’t take the time to look up and waved her dismissal.

  Woo blinked a couple of times and mumbled, “But…”

  “But what?” Beverly said sternly.

  “Are you going to authorize these or not?”

  “I just did and I’m sure that you’re going to do an excellent job.” She paused to lean back in her chair and stared back at her. “Oh yeah, and the next time that you come in my office, I’d really appreciate it if you would knock and then wait until you are welcomed in. Understood?”

  Woo gathered up her papers. “Understood.” She slowly got up to leave. When she arrived at the door and started to turn around to speak, the chief’s hand was pointing
toward the door. The expression told her that it would be useless to say any more, so she sighed heavily and left.

  When she closed the door, Beverly stared at it for a minute, wondering why she had come to her office. Especially when she knew that her staff handled that sort of thing. Was she trying to get closer to her since she was now the chief instead of one of her colleagues? Hell, she couldn’t really blame her for that. Or maybe she was being a little too paranoid because of the call. Check yourself, old girl, ain’t no need to start getting all unraveled now, she thought and then dug into her black purse to retrieve her cell phone. She punched in some numbers.

  “Might as well make sure that the playing field is all clear,” she hummed to herself as the phone rang. “Hello, you know who this is. There are some things I want you to look into.”

  A half-hour after entering the control room, Sparkle rolled down the window to catch the breeze in the old prison van. He watched the rural Georgia countryside en route to the bus station. Old gray-haired Sergeant Jones gave him a bucktoothed smile. “Yo family’s going to be waiting on you at the bus station in Atlanta? That’s where you’re going, ain’t it?”

  Sparkle was way too deep in his own thoughts to be paying him much attention. Sarge cleared his throat and repeated himself. Sparkle blinked. “Sorry about that, Sarge; my mind was way out there. Ah yeah, they’ll be there when the bus shows up. I think my sister said the bus would hit town around noontime.”

  “That’s good, man, that ya family be sticking wid ya and all.” The van shrieked to an abrupt stop and Sarge took the time to light a cigarette. The sudden stop caught Sparkle by surprise and forced him to brace against the dashboard. He was about to shout a number of obscenities before he looked up and saw an old country convenience store.