by Ashley
C.J. sat back in the shadows, watching Estes speak as he hosted the five-star beachside dinner. His guests sat at a long fifty-person table. The men were arranged closest to Estes, then the wives, and the children at the very end. Everyone was dressed in their finest threads and the string quartet that played soft music set the formal tone. Estes had spared no expense as they sat with tiki torches burning around them, illuminating the beach as the waves gently washed ashore.
C.J. was amazed that this was no special event. It was just a way of life for a man of Estes’s stature. C.J. had always thought his father was the biggest gangster alive, but Estes was next level. Everything from his home, his clothes, his stature, and even the company he kept was elite. There were no street soldiers. All of Estes’s men, even his pawns, dressed in suits. He had never seen a group of people that looked so carefree.
He wished he could relate to the feeling. Ever since his father went away and his mother was caged, all C.J. did was worry. He never knew how long his next situation would last. The instability of his life made him feel like a tumbleweed, blowing in the wind. He never knew where he would end up. Even now, among the comforts of Estes’s estate, uncertainty dwelled inside him.
C.J. watched as Estes and the rest of the men rose from the table. He quickly made his way over to clear the plates they left behind. Four children sat at the table as their mothers carried their wine and conversation over to the shoreline. C.J. worked around the kids, but as he reached in to grab a dish, one of the boys pushed over his glass.
“Clean that up, mutt,” the boy said, causing the rest of the kids to burst into laughter. C.J. gritted his teeth, but didn’t react as he picked up the glass. The kid knocked over another one. “That one too.”
C.J. felt his heart begin to beat rapidly but he kept his composure. He turned to take the dishes into the villa. The kid stuck out his foot and tripped C.J., causing all the good china to fly out of his hands as he came crashing to the ground.
C.J. jumped up and pushed the boy so hard that he fell back against the table setting. C.J.’s reaction was a shock and he left no time for the kid to react. He grabbed the taunting boy by his expensive necktie and threw repeated blows to his face. The kid had a slight weight advantage over C.J. but C.J. was swift on his feet. He ignored the feeling of his bones aching as he punched with all his might.
“Oh, my goodness! Boys stop! Estes!”
C.J. heard the screams as the kid used his weight to push C.J. off. He charged at C.J., trying to scoop him below the waist and put him on his back, but C.J. kept his fists flying. His blows were vicious as adrenaline urged him to fight harder. When the kid slammed C.J. on the sand, his breath left him. The impact knocked the wind straight out of him. C.J. rolled over on his side and gasped for air, but before either of them could escalate things further they were pulled apart.
“I’m going to kill you!” the boy shouted as he spit blood from his mouth. Judging by sight it was obvious that C.J. was the victor. A woman rushed over to him.
“Mijo, look at your eye,” she cried as she cupped his hands in her face. The kid moved his head out of her grasp.
“Let your mommy take care of that,” C.J. said as he breathed heavily. “He started it. I was clearing the table and he jumped bad at me,” C.J. stated.
“Don’t baby him. You lost a fight?” the kid’s father shouted angrily. “How am I supposed to make money off you if you’re losing to some fucking black kid!”
The kid burned a hole through C.J. he was staring so hard.
“Go get some ice for that eye. What am I supposed to do with that?” the man asked as he turned toward Estes. “He’s in the pit tomorrow night. He can’t go in like that. You either owe me money to forfeit the bout or you put someone in to replace him. Until then, put the fucking kid on a leash.”
Estes shot C.J. a stern look as the party cleared out. “Already, you’re costing me more than you’re worth,” Estes stated. “I hope you like to fight because you will be taking the place of that young man tomorrow evening. You’ll be fighting at the pits.”
CHAPTER 7
Mo felt like a caged bird as he lay on the cot, looking up through the skylight above him. He was grateful for that window. Not every bunk had one and it reminded him of the light he had to look forward to at the end of this dark tunnel. The next few years of his life, the most influential ones, would be spent inside. No mama, no daddy—he would be raised among the wolves. The lap of luxury that he was supposed to inherit had been toppled and instead he was now a gutter rat, just trying to fight for his piece of something … anything … that would help him get through the worst time of his life.
The juvenile detention center tried hard to disguise itself as something other than a prison. Bunks were only locked at night and the boys had “privileges” that they earned until they gave a reason to have them revoked. To a boy who came from a kingdom, no amount of privileges would make this feel like anything other than what it was: captivity. Mo sat up abruptly as another kid walked into the room. He was heavyset; his stomach was round and tested the buttons of his blue uniform. His hair was long and unruly. Mo noticed the black eye that was now turning green as it healed on his face. Damn that had to hurt. He’s dark as hell and that bruise is even darker, Mo thought. The kid didn’t speak. In fact, he kept his head down as if Mo wasn’t even in the room. Cool with me, Mo thought.
Mo didn’t have anything inside. Everything had to be purchased and with nobody looking out for him on the outside he knew he would have to come up with a plan. Three boys entered their cell and circled around his roommate.
“What up, Fat Boy? Ya mama came and stacked up your account today. Let’s go shopping,” the kid said. Mo said nothing. He was silent as he waited to see what his roommate’s reaction would be. It wasn’t hard to see he was intimidated and Mo quickly did that math, knowing that the black eye had come from this crew.
“Nah, man she didn’t. She couldn’t afford it this time,” his roommate replied.
“Well you got to pay me something. Fuck you got up in here?” the boy asked, rifling through his roommate’s things as if they were his own. Anger flooded Mo. He had a temper and Mo wasn’t too fond of bullies, but if his roommate wasn’t going to stand up for himself, Mo felt like it wasn’t his place to intervene. “All you got is books nigga! You a fat mu’fucka, but you ain’t stupid, huh? Soft ass,” the boy mumbled as his sidekicks laughed, one of them even going so far as to push the roommate down on his cot. The loudmouthed kid moved over to Mo’s side of the room.
“Nah, man. Ain’t shit this way for you,” Mo said.
“What?” the kid challenged as he got in Mo’s face.
“I ain’t stutter,” Mo stood. He was always down to shoot a fair one. He had the heart of a lion inside him and once challenged there was no backing down.
“What do we have here, gentlemen?”
The woman that walked into the cell interrupted the confrontation before it could even get started.
“Do I need to write up some infractions? I know those books must have fallen on their own. Right?” the blond woman asked as she looked around the room, searching for answers. “Monroe Diamond? You want to tell me what’s going on here?” the lady asked.
Mo didn’t speak. He wasn’t into snitching. He didn’t need anybody to come to his defense. The woman grew frustrated and pointed toward the door. “If you are not assigned to this bunk, make your way out,” she demanded.
“I’mma get you,” the kid said.
“You know where to find me,” Mo answered. Hostility was in the air.
“Here is your package. These are the only things you will be given in here. Everything else going forward must be purchased. You can remove your clothing and place them in here after you remove the uniform and essentials that are inside,” the woman informed.
Mo nodded and took the burlap bag she extended. Before she left the room, she said, “Stay out of trouble.”
He didn’t respond
because he knew that trouble would come looking for him.
When he was alone with his roommate Mo bent down and helped the kid pick up his belongings. “Why you let ’em dog you like that?” he asked.
“That’s Roach. He’s on B block with the rest of the fourteen- to sixteen-year-olds. Everybody pay for peace in here. You either let him spend on your commissary or have a problem with him,” the roommate responded.
“You scared of him or something? He need them niggas behind him because he can’t stand on his own. You got to stand up to him and he’ll stop fucking with you,” Mo said.
“Ain’t no standing up to Roach. Last one that tried got caught in the mess and ended up with thirty stitches. Roach split him from ear to ear,” the roommate replied.
“He knows who to try that shit with,” Mo replied as he shook his head in disbelief. “Hey man, what’s your name?”
“I’m Joey,” the kid said.
“Mo,” he replied as he handed him the books and stood to his feet.
“Your last name is Diamond? Like for real?” the kid asked, intrigued. Most people were never allowed to get close to the family and their last name rang so loudly in Miami that many people claimed affiliation without even being part of the family at all.
“Yeah,” Mo replied, casually.
“Damn, man. Yo’ family is made.…”
“I ain’t trying to spread that around like that though so that’s between you and me,” Mo said.
“You got it,” Joey responded.
“Nigga and unbutton your shit,” Mo said. “Ain’t nothing wrong with being a big boy but at least be fly with your shit.”
Joey laughed as he unbuttoned the uniform shirt and let his white T-shirt show through.
“There you go, big boy,” Mo said with a smirk. “Next time them niggas press you, you get them up off you too. Don’t bitch out. You got them on size alone. Got to put some heart up in you. Them niggas ain’t gon’ be walking up in here like they own shit. This half my shit too.” Mo tapped Joey’s chest in encouragement and then changed out of his clothes. He kicked back on his cot. “Yo you mind if I borrow one of them books? I’m dry in here,” Mo said, referring to his lack of personal belongings.
“Yeah man. You good,” Joey said. He reached into his stash and tossed Mo The Autobiography of Malcolm X.
“Man, this look like a schoolbook. You don’t got nothing good?” Mo asked.
“That is good. It makes you think. Try it,” Joey said.
Mo knew beggars couldn’t be choosers so he nodded and put the book under his pillow for later use. He wished he had gotten paired with someone who wasn’t so weak, but then again, he had to be grateful because it also could be worse. At least with Joey, Mo wouldn’t have to sleep with one eye open.
* * *
Word spread overnight that Mo was the son of the infamous Monroe Diamond. By morning, every kid in his unit walked by his bunk just to peek inside.
“Yo Joey, what up boy?” a slim kid greeted as he sauntered into their bunk.
Joey wore a perplexed look as he slapped hands with the kid. “What’s up,” he replied.
“Just stopping through to show love. What up, man,” he said to Mo.
Mo nodded in acknowledgment.
“Make sure you check me on the yard during rec. We got a game going on the hoop court, Joey. Bring your man through,” the kid said.
“Yeah, okay,” Joey replied, his eyebrows raised in utter confusion as the boy left just as quickly as he had come.
“You don’t even know that nigga, do you?” Mo asked with a laugh.
“No!” Joey responded. “The thirst is real though! That’s the fifth dude that has come in here to chop it up with me today. I been in here for six months and ain’t never had this many people speak to me the whole time. Bro, this shit wild! You got them going crazy like you the pretty girl at school and they trying to shoot they shot.” Joey was in stitches as he laughed jovially.
“I told you not to say nothing to nobody,” Mo said.
“It wasn’t me. Roach or his boys must have spread word. He heard your last name yesterday and everybody in Miami knows it’s only one Diamond family,” Joey stated. “You crazy for not wanting people to know anyway. Niggas showing you mad love in here.”
“Yeah, it’s a lot of love, but it’s a lot of hate too that come with my name,” Mo stated.
“Yeah I hear you. I’m about to grab chow. You coming?” Joey asked.
“Chow? Like food?” Mo asked.
“Yeah, if you can even call it that, but if you don’t eat now, next meal ain’t until late,” Joey said. Mo’s stomach rumbled. It had been two days since he had eaten. He hopped up from his cot. “Lead the way.”
Mo walked out of the bunk and joked with Joey the entire way to the common area where breakfast was served. “Bruh? You really eat this?” Mo asked as he grabbed a tray and he turned up his face in disgust. He was accustomed to a standard of living and the slop that was being thrown on his plate was far beneath it. As he eyed the runny stuff that resembled eggs and pinched the bread that appeared stale, his stomach turned. “I ain’t eating this,” Mo said.
Joey shook his head. “That’s what everybody say until they stomach start touching they back.”
“Bruh, your stomach ain’t never touched your back,” Mo teased jokingly, all in good fun as Joey laughed.
“Fuck you, nigga,” Joey said in between chuckles.
They cursed like sailors, partly because they could, and partly because it made them feel like grown men. Joey eased into a seat but before Mo could sit down, Roach entered the commons.
“Here go this pussy looking mu’fucka right here!” He was always loud, always attracting too much attention. Mo was slowly learning his characteristics and he knew they weren’t going to vibe. It would be a long sentence living in the same space with this kid. Roach stepped right up to Mo. “We got a star in here. Hey, y’all, this is Monroe Diamond!” Roach announced in grand fashion. The sarcasm wasn’t missed as Roach gave Mo a slow, hard round of applause. Mo’s jaw tightened as he stood toe to toe with Roach. Roach was two inches taller than Mo but size never mattered to Mo. The adage was true in his book: The bigger they were, the harder they fell.
“You think you hard?” Roach taunted. “I don’t care who yo’ daddy is little nigga, fuck all that Cartel shit. Them niggas done. Everybody know that shit is over. Miami for everybody nigga, your family fell the fuck off. My daddy used to be out there and he said your people wouldn’t let nobody eat. Shit done changed now. Cartel don’t run shit no more. As a matter of fact, your punk ass don’t eat shit in this bitch unless I say you can eat. Since your people wanted to starve niggas out there, I say you starve in here.” Roach smacked Mo’s tray out of his hands, sending food flying all over the cafeteria. Roach was grandstanding, testing Mo’s gangster and Mo gritted his teeth to control his temper because he knew in this moment he had to take the L. The kid was older than him by at least three years. He loomed over Mo menacingly, waiting for him to accept the challenge so he could give Mo the fade.
Mo wouldn’t allow himself to fall for the trap. He was outnumbered and outsized and even though there wasn’t an ounce of fear in him, he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t fight battles he couldn’t win, at least not directly. He would have to go for the smart victory and if he jumped stupid right now they would drag him simply because the numbers were on their side. He knew Joey wasn’t jumping in to help get some of Roach’s crew off his back so he was on his own. Walk away, he told himself.
A loud whistle blew as a guard looked over in their direction. “Break it up, shut it up, and clean it up,” he yelled sternly. “Now, or I’m writing infractions!”
Mo put his hands up in temporary defeat. “You got it,” he conceded. His mouth said the words but his feet didn’t move. He wasn’t walking away until Roach did. If his father had ever taught him anything, he had taught him this … he knew better than to turn his back on his enemy.
“I know I got it,” the kid boasted as he strolled away, continuing to loudmouth with his friends along the way.
Mo knew he looked like a sucker, but he would have the last laugh. He would simply bide his time and wait for the opportunity to present itself. When it was time to get even he would know it, but until then he had to just stay out of the way. He bent down to clean up the mess.
A guard came up behind him. “Get a mop from the kitchen.”
Mo stood, slightly perturbed that he was the one cleaning up when it was Roach who had made a mess and caused a scene. He was trying to keep his head down, however, so he held his protests as he found his way to the kitchen. It was empty as all the boys on kitchen duty were now serving the food. He grabbed an old mop then hesitated when he saw the mess of dishes waiting to be cleaned in the sink. He rushed over and searched for a knife, but found none. He had no time to mess around and grabbed the first thing he could find, a fork. He looked around to see if any eyes were on him and when he was sure the coast was clear he tucked it in his waistline then rushed back out to clean before he aroused suspicion.
“You good?” Joey asked when Mo returned to the table.
Mo sat, silently plotting his next move. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said. The growl in his stomach matched the growl in his heart and he stood to his feet. He leaned over Joey.
“I need you to do me a favor,” Mo stated.
The look in Mo’s eyes told Joey that he didn’t want to be a part of it, but it also told Joey that he didn’t have a choice. They were bunkmates and Mo was the first person who treated him with respect.
“I’mma put some heart in you yet,” Mo said as he walked away, headed for his bunk.
* * *
Mo sat in the back of the class, half-listening as he looked at the back of Joey’s head in the front row. The state tried to make the juvenile detention center a positive environment by providing classroom instruction. It was going to make Mo a productive member of society and give him a tool he could use toward success. At least that was the speech the entrance counselor had given him when enrolling him. Mo only signed up because Roach participated solo. His goon squad hadn’t passed the aptitude test to enroll with him so every day for an hour, Roach was separated from his pack. Roach sat on the other side of the classroom, a few rows up from Mo. Mo had made sure he walked in late so that Roach wouldn’t notice his presence until it was too late.
