Prison Throne

by T. Styles

  Snow thought she was hearing things. She stopped sweeping and tried to see if she recognized the black woman’s face. She didn’t. Frowning, she asked, “What you doing calling on my husband?”

  The girl grinned and said, “Never mind, forget I even came by.” She turned the radio up and pulled off.

  Snow started to consider the possible reasons the girl would pull up to her house. She figured it must’ve been a bitch with a soft crush because over the last six months Rasim received a lot of bodywork for his truck.

  Now that she thought about it, every time she turned around his truck was in the shop and she didn’t understand why. Rasim always took great care of his vehicles and maintained maintenances from the time they crawled off of the showroom floor to the moment he sold them and bought another. So he shouldn’t have needed that much work.

  But the girl, although pretty, was not his body type. So she shrugged and walked back in the house to wash clothes. The whites were in the wash and she was preparing the pile of dark clothes when she dipped into pocket after pocket until she felt something folded in a pair Rasim’s jeans.

  Slowly she pulled it out and saw the words KING AMONGST KINGS Auto Body Shop scrawled on the front. The contact person’s name was Queen Dower.

  Snow’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

  Well she never saw that bitch coming.

  ****

  Queen hustled about her auto body shop after a very profitable weekend. The tight black jeans she wore along with the red low-cut top presented the perfect amount of whore necessary to lure some of the more profitable hustlers to purchase expensive tires and rims.

  After seeing Rasim two days back to back, for two weekends in a row, thanks to Mindy running interference, Queen was certain that when he was released he would leap into her arms like a pitbull puppy fresh out the cage.

  Queen flung her long brown hair over her shoulder and was all smiles and giggles until the bell rang indicating another customer entered her place of business. Within a moment’s time, she was staring into the beautiful big brown eyes of Mrs. Rasim Nami.

  Queen had pushed Snow into a corner and now she was ready to attack.

  Queen’s eyelids fluttered rapidly in several attempts to change the view but to no avail. Fifty flaps later, Snow was still staring calmly in her direction.

  She raised the creased business card Queen left in her husband’s pocket and said, “You rang?”

  Queen knew the card would cause trouble but she wasn’t prepared for the aftermath. Had she considered the possibility that Snow had transformed into a bold bitch, she would’ve created a plan. Instead of dealing with the matter at hand, Queen shuffled papers around on the counter as if she were trying to locate her lines. When all seemed lost, she sighed and said, “You can sit over there.” She pointed to the left. “I have to help my customers first and then I’ll be right with you.”

  Snow swaggered to one of the large king’s thrones as if she were wearing a cloak, took a seat, crossed her legs and patiently waited.

  Hoping to test her patience and force Snow to leave, Queen did all she could to stall. At first she helped people who she already assisted, then she took to doing her cashier’s job by taking phone calls and order requests. And then it got extra weird when she completed the janitor’s duties and took to cleaning the break room.

  But when all of the antics were over, when the performance was done, Mrs. Rasim Nami was still waiting, wearing a smile as cool as an afternoon Jamaican breeze.

  It was time.

  Queen knew it.

  So she had better muscle up.

  Slowly Queen strutted around the counter and toward the throne next to Snow and said, “Long time no see.”

  Snow nodded but preferred to get straight down to business. “So you’re fucking my husband?”

  Queen’s tongue flitted around like a butterfly before landing safely at the bottom of her mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Snow sat back in the chair and ran her hands down the sides of her thighs before clasping them in her lap. The diamond ring she wore was larger than a bag of convict knuckles and shined so brightly Queen titled her head slightly to remove the shine out of her eyes.

  Snow was angry, hurt and embarrassed but that’s not the impression Queen received. Snow smiled as if she could care-the-fuck-less what the tart did with her husband. In fact, a few of her employees, who huddled in front of the store as if everything that needed to be done existed out front, assumed the two of them were best good girlfriends Snow was grinning so wide.

  “You left me a message, Queen,” Snow said wiggling her foot. “You even sent your truck to my home. Now if you are fucking Rasim, and I assume that you are, what the fuck do you want with me?” She smiled brighter. “Be a woman, shawty. I’m here.”

  Snow was tougher than the heels of a barefoot islander. And there was no use in lying and Queen knew it. “You are correct. I am fucking Rasim.”

  Snow was gut punched. Although she already knew it was true, hearing it was a whole ‘nother animal. She smelled a woman on him a long time ago but in her haste she assumed it was Selena. In all of those torturous days she never thought that Rasim would return to the sea to pick another fish. “So if you’re fucking Rasim, what do you hope to gain by contacting me? Why not just do you, boo-boo?”

  “I want the prize.”

  “Being?”

  “Rasim.”

  Snow shook her head and laughed. “You will never get my husband,” she assured her with soft headshakes. “Not in the way you want him at least. You were a sexual exploit, honey. He desired a ride and you provided your pussy for his amusement and pleasure. But now, well now, sweetheart, I’m afraid the carnival is over.”

  Queen frowned and whipped her hair over her shoulder in nervousness. “He wasn’t saying that when he ate my pussy,” she said slyly. “As a matter of fact every time you kissed him, you were licking me…just…like…Rasim.” She was feeling herself now. She even took to brushing imaginary lint off of her shoulder blades as if she’d already won a prized fight.

  “You waited a long time to use that phrase, didn’t you?” Snow giggled. “I’m talking about the licking your pussy thing.”

  Amazing!

  Snow was correct.

  Queen studied those lines in the mirror obsessively. Except, in the screenplay she wrote it was said when Snow came to her and Rasim’s home begging him to take her back. But now she was embarrassed that her words didn’t hold much weight.

  Why was Snow Nami smiling instead of crying?

  “You’re absolutely right,” Snow conceded. “Every time I peck his lips I’m probably tasting remnants of you.” She paused trying to force her tears back with an even brighter smile. She would not give the bitch the satisfaction of seeing her fall on her sword. “But tell me something. Was it good?”

  “Spectacular.”

  Snow nodded. “That’s dope.” She paused. “That’s real dope. But where do you think he got his technique?” Snow pointed at herself. “Because I guarantee you that you, my dear, have tasted way more of my juicy pussy than I ever have of yours.” She touched Queen’s leg with three fingers. “Understand something, sweetheart. Without the benefit of my love, Rasim is as worthless in life as my jeans.” Snow sat back and grinned.

  “Meaning?” Queen said sarcastically.

  Instead of verbalizing her point Snow elected to give old girl a visual. She stood up, wiggled out of her jeans and released them to the floor. With that, she sat back on the throne. Everybody in the shop admired the tattoo artwork on her leg, particularly the way RASIM appeared to crawl down her pretty yellow thigh.

  Shit, even Queen was in awe.

  It’s funny. Before meeting The New and Improved Snow, she could never see how such a soft-spoken woman could hold such a strong man. Now she understood. He had made her into his image and his work was great.

  “Without the warmth of my body, Rasim does not move, just like my jeans
. So you see, sweetie, instead of disrespecting you should be on your knees and praising the true Queen.”

  Queen bit at the inside of her bottom lip. “He wants to be with me,” Queen muttered with a quivering jaw.

  “He didn’t tell you that,” Snow said confidently. Although he cheated she would bet what remained of her heart that her husband would never go to those lengths for her twat. “The nigga was about to die before I returned myself to him. I am his savior, Queen. Not you.”

  Queen smirked and leaned back in the seat and crossed her legs. “We’ll see about that.”

  Suddenly things had gotten interesting. Snow reclined and observed Queen closely. She peeped the way Queen’s chin was pulled so high that she had a clear view of her inner nostrils. She observed the way Queen’s shoulders stretched from side to side as if she were wearing a football player’s shoulder pads. Snow laughed lightly and said, “Wait a minute.” She pointed at her. “You think you got the juice.”

  “What?” Queen asked, never having seen the movie Juice before.

  Snow waved her off with a toss of her hand. Her lack of movie knowledge was annoying at best.

  “It doesn’t even matter.” Snow paused. “You know what, originally I was going to come in here, yank you outside by your hair and deposit you in several trash bags in my trunk.” She continued to read Queen before she pointed at the window to her left.

  Queen rocked in her seat when she saw the entrance lined with hood soldiers who made it obvious by the way their thumbs hung on their belts that they were strapped and ready for Snow to utter, “Attack.”

  When Snow could smell the fear, she snapped her fingers so that Queen was focusing back on her where the attention rightfully belonged. Besides, those men would not make a move without her command. “But now that I’ve spoken to you, I think I’ll teach you a lesson instead.”

  Queen didn’t feel so bold anymore. It was clear who had the juice and it damn sure wasn’t her. “What about Rasim?” Queen whispered.

  “To give you a head start in your futile attempt to steal my husband, I will keep this little meeting a secret from Rasim. Because if I ever told him that you stepped to me, you would be wearing a smile a bit wider on that stupid face, along with a burning tire around that snake-like neck of yours.” As Snow parlayed with Queen, her phone rang in her purse. She picked it up and reviewed the caller. “What do you know?” She maneuvered the phone so that Queen could see the screen clearly. “He’s calling me already.” She tossed it into her purse, removed her wedding ring and threw it in Queen’s lap. “I’m going to show Rasim what happens when my love is no longer available. And you will bear witness.”

  CHAPTER 22

  RASIM

  Rasim had been shitting nonstop ever since he first tried to reach Snow a week ago and was unsuccessful. He sent emails. He called obsessively. He even sent Backward Jake to the house to check on things since, outside of Brooklyn and Chance, who were out of town, he was the only person he trusted. After awhile it became obvious that either Snow was ignoring him on purpose or something else was terribly wrong.

  Rasim couldn’t get a wink of sleep since she disappeared. He was beside himself with worry. Prison was the last place a man with troubles needed to be. The mind had nothing to do all day but think of the worst case scenarios and Rasim had considered them all.

  At the end of the day, Rasim had one question. Where was his wife? Where was his precious Snow?

  Yes, something was definitely up. At first he thought it was Queen but he knew for a fact that Snow would’ve stepped to him if she found out about her. At least he hoped. Plus, Queen would never play with her life in that way. There were very few things in the world he toyed with and Snow Nami was not one of them. He expressed that to Queen…fiercely.

  Besides, Queen already had a husband and he was certain that she didn’t look at him in a long-term type of way. He was smart enough to know that. She even told him that when they spoke recently on the phone.

  But if all that were true, and if all that could be said, why wasn’t Snow answering the phone? If she was trying to get him back for treating her badly, it certainly worked.

  Game over.

  After his stomach grumbled, he looked at his son who was cleaning his shoes on the floor. Stanley’s mouth was wired due to his jaw being fractured but unlike when he was with his friends, he didn’t flap his gums to the powers that be. He took the face crunch like a G and remained silent. Stanley finally realized that talking too much had gotten him in enough trouble to last a lifetime. If nothing else, he learned a firm lesson.

  Rasim couldn’t believe he had given up a year of his life for this kid. He wasn’t even sure if he was worth it. All he could do was hope so.

  Instead of telling people that Stanley was his son, Rasim announced that he would make him his slave, thereby stealing him from Gordon. When asked why, Rasim said that Stanley approached a king without permission and servitude was the punishment.

  Gordon didn’t like the situation one bit when he learned that Rasim stole his golden boy. You have to understand. Selena kept Stanley’s commissary stacked and since nobody outside of the prison fucked with Gordon, he had gotten used to the fringe benefits. Essentially Rasim reduced him to broke nigga status in one day flat. But what could he do? Step to Rasim, get stole in the face and risk being cross-eyed for the rest of his life? No. It simply wasn’t worth it and Gordon knew it.

  Rasim was lying on the bed trying to hold his bowel movement when he thought again about his missing wife. His asshole already burned due to defecating constantly and he could no longer take the pain.

  He was already having a shitty day, literally, when Montana Scissor Hands from uptown approached the door. He gained the nickname because he had successfully killed two people that the government knew about by way of slicing their throats. But there were many more lining the Chesapeake Bay.

  When he tried to gain entrance into Rasim’s cell he was stopped by a soft nudge to the chest by Shawn and Parker who remained on guard, only taking breaks to shit and sleep.

  Rasim looked at who was visiting and reluctantly said, “Let him in.” He didn’t want to see anybody unless the person had hazel eyes and her last name was Nami but in jail he had to deal with niggas with stinky feet.

  Irritated that the young boys laid hands on him, Montana brushed his chest, mugged them both and bopped inside of the cell. His arrogance was legendary and he made plans to show them later.

  Rasim stood up and gave him the universal black man handshake. Clearly at this point folks forgot that he was Pakistani.

  Rasim adjusted his Kufi and flopped back on the bottom bunk. His old cellmate received a pardon so he had the cell to himself. He was working on having Stanley moved into his room so he could keep a better eye on him but that would take a month to work out.

  When Montana saw Stanley on the floor he frowned. “You still got this bitch ass nigga taking up your breathing space?” Montana was intent on bothering Stanley who was cleaning shoes and minding his own business.

  “He aight,” Rasim said, not feeling like witnessing another attack on his child.

  Besides, the other prisoners had gotten so vicious with Stanley that Rasim took to staying in his room with him just to keep him alive. It didn’t make any sense because every time Stanley asked if he was his father on a sheet of paper, because he couldn’t talk, Rasim said no. Although it was clear that he was protecting him. Not only that but Selena told him Rasim was his dad.

  “He ain’t aight to me,” Montana glared. Out of odium, he plucked Stanley’s head so hard it pierced the flesh and bled through his scalp.

  When Rasim saw blood, he jumped in his face as visions of body blows danced in his head. When he remembered to keep the lie alive, he calmed down and said, “I said leave the little nigga alone, man. He cleaning my shit now.” He sat back down and clasped his hands in front of him. “Now what can I do for you?”

  Stanley rubbed the top of his head and
felt the blood. It was no use in crying. Rasim told him that if he saw him crying again, he would pop his eyes out and send them to his mother. Stanley believed him too. So he picked up the shoe and handled his business.

  Montana thought Rasim was a little overprotective of the snitch but to each convict his own. He shrugged and said, “I’m here ‘bout Snow.”

  Rasim rose again but this time he would remain standing. His nostrils flared wildly as he waited for clarification. “What about her, nigga?”

  Montana was shook. Where was the southern hospitality Rasim had given him moments earlier? “Ya’ll…ya’ll still married?”

  Rasim stepped closer and Montana didn’t realize it yet but Parker and Shawn were already in the room ready to move something. They stood directly behind him.

  “Why you ask me some shit like that?” Rasim huffed and puffed.

  “Oh…I…’cause I thought ya’ll weren’t together. Since I see you with the broad Queen and all.”

  Dude was disrespecting on so many levels. “Let me tell you something,” he stepped closer, “even if I choked her with my bare hands, and snuffed out her life, she would still be my wife. And I had better not find out that nobody touched her and that includes the pallbearer.”

  Oh shit! Montana thought.

  It wasn’t until that moment that Montana remembered that he and Rasim were not equals. Unfortunately he allowed the routine activities they shared as prisoners to cloud his judgment and now it was too late.

  He swallowed. “Uh, it’s just that…you know…my man said they saw her smiling in the grocery store with some dude the other day. So I was coming to ask you if you knew about that shit.”

  Montana would have been better off prison shanking Rasim because it would have the same effect for his life. Death.

  Rasim’s guts rocked even more and he placed his hand on his stomach in the hopes of calming them down. He felt dead. Light on his feet. Like he was no longer of that life.