by Tiana Laveen
Aaron leisurely looked over his shoulder, the right corner of his mouth twitching in a satisfied smirk as the fallen fucker’s family wailed and moved about like mindless, enraged chimps in an enclosure.
“Order in the court!” Judge Cole hollered, beating the block once more.
“Ain’t no order in this damn court! Aint no justice!” A female voice screamed, old and withered with time. Aaron presumed it to be the fella’s mother, a tormented, worthless womb who bled forth a bastardized son of a bitch for a child. He tossed a lazy glance in her direction. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm as she leaped up and down, tears streaming down her dull, ashen black face. She raised her hands to the ceiling as the whites of her eyes widened, now clearly visible. “My son is fightin’ for his life because of this monster!”
Just then, a black man, the color of a brand spankin’ new baseball mitt with long, swinging dark dreadlocks and a scowl on his protracted face, made a mad dash in Aaron’s direction. His shackles and restraints rattled as he waited for the bastard, craving so much another taste of the withered fruit off the derelict family tree…
Yeah, come on over here, boy…get you some. I’ll fuck you up in these chains ’nd all…
Scuffling, hollering, and falling about ensued as Aaron stood still as frozen time amongst the chaos, watching the frenzied beast come under harsh attack from nearby overwhelmed guards and officers who’d put a swift end to his advances. Swirls of uniform gray created a mayhem cloud right before his eyes. Aaron’s lips curled at the ends just so as he clicked his tongue against his freshly cleaned teeth, pissed at how things had gone from downright despicable to a travelling circus show of emotional buffoonery. The judge sounded the gavel once more, but it was no use. Aaron leaned in close to his attorney. Her skin smelled of floral sweetness and her bright auburn, wavy hair brushed softly against his cheek as he placed his lips almost against her pearl-earring clad ear.
“One damn year, huh? You couldn’t do better than that?” He jammed his tongue roughly inside of his jaw, stifling a series of curses.
She looked at him, somewhat appalled, her vibrant green eyes dancing about as if he’d asked her to do anything short of perform her job. His gut tightened a time or two as he narrowed his glance on her, blaming her for his damn predicament.
“Aaron, that is actually a fair sentence, but we will appeal.” It was all she offered as she turned away, clasping one hand over the other.
She isn’t worth two bent, fuckin’ cents… If she doesn’t get me out of this shit, I am replacing her ass. A goddamn year! I’ve never served more than a few months.
“Mr. Pike,” the judge spoke. “Do you have anything to say to the family of Clarence Gable?”
He rose from his seat once more, stood there for a trice, rocked back on his thick-soled black heels, and then peered towards the ceiling lights… How much they reminded him of the fractured sun rays he’d soon not see from behind prison bars. He turned around, his manacled ankles and wrists clanking, metal songs of soon-to-be lost freedom as he maneuvered just so. Clasping one hand over the other along his taut gut, he looked at the ebony animals with their woolen hair and dead eyes, the entire miserable lot of them.
“Yes, I have something to say.” His lips twisted in a roughish grin before he cleared his throat to speak. “Fuck each and every one of you motherfuckers!”
He burst into echoing bellows of throaty laughter, the kind that is born from the apex of the gut. The crowd erupted once more, falling all over each other and bursting at their fleshy seams. The gavel struck hard against the wooden block as pandemonium ensued, creating a beat to a heated musical tune drenched in bedlam. His body was suddenly pushed back and forth in the ruckus and as he swayed to and fro like a sailor on rocky waters. But, amid the commotion, he added a few more touching words to end his sermon.
“I beat that nigger’s ass and I wish I would have killed that worthless piece of shit! Would have done the world a hell of a lot of good! One less fucking brainless jackass to deal with! WHITE POWER!” he screamed out, the veins straining in his neck as he held his chin as high as he could muster.
“Get him outta here!” someone screamed out, more than likely a guard fearful of his own damn shadow.
In a matter of frantic moments, he was grabbed, tugged then hauled away in the continuous commotion. A blur of police officers surrounded him, some of whom worked shoulder to shoulder with him behind closed doors, while others shot him timid glances sprinkled with caution and trepidation…
Don’t worry; I won’t try to make a break for it… you fucking cowards… And I won’t send my wolves after you…
Aaron had a reputation for moving crowds, giving orders with only a whisper, and that reputation undoubtedly preceded him. It felt grand to be king…
“White Power!” he repeated over and over until his voice ran hoarse and the antediluvian, wooden double doors closed on him once and for all…
As he was swiftly ushered down the lengthy hall, people spoke around him in elevated voices while the odor of burning cigarettes and freshly extinguished cigars filled the area. His attorney yelled things, but he did not hear her, could not take in or comprehend a word she offered. No, he disappeared inside of himself, the cold hard shell he’d come to love. As he was placed in the police car and reporters from various news stations bumped into one another vying for his attention, their electronic devices in hand and urgency in their eyes, he drifted even further away until they became yapping smears and faded splotches pretending to be souls covered in human flesh. They continued on, springing against the car doors, pleading and carrying on, imploring him to speak, make a statement, make their day, give them a story to sink their bloodthirsty teeth into. They wanted something to wrap their greedy hands around and hold tight then toss the tidbits into the media-crazed listeners’ gaping mouths. Feed the beast…
Instead, he kept his quiet; he’d said his peace. This would be the longest stint of all, though he was rightly pleased that the judge hadn’t gone even further, thrown the unjust book at him. He surmised Judge Cole might not have been so bad after all. Maybe the liberal bastard was seeing the light, considering the ghastly vermin for what they truly were despite his bleeding heart ways. After all, the man’s court was inundated with the lawless, black bastards all damn week. Robberies, homicides, drug trade and usage, rapes…
They were the reason the country was suffering, falling apart—the original laws of the land taken for granted and all but ignored. The roaches were programmed to destroy all that was good, proper and holy. Wasn’t Judge Cole tired of seeing the same ol’ entitled fuckers, their primitive ways on full display, dumbing down the place each time they parted their fat, lying lips? Perhaps he was; conceivably, it was finally all becoming empty gin bottle clear.
I’m a true fighter, the genuine article. I’m the last of a dying breed. In serving this time, I pay the price for my future white sons and daughters. I pay the price, so that they may be okay, at peace, and their rights upheld.
Just then, the patrol car pulled from the curb and, not long during the slow quiet ride, they rolled leisurely past an old, leaden church, barely fit to stand. The windows of the drab, gray place were long and sallow like fatigued hound dog eyes, sullen as splintered wood framed them just so. A small cluster of people gathered around the place, some older ladies with flat, wide hips stuffed in floral print summer dresses and holding Tupperware containers and cheap, paper fans in their hands. Sweaty children, little boys laughed and hopped around in freshly ironed shorts and dapper shirts with tiny pockets.
He surmised they must’ve been having a special service, perhaps it was the pastor’s birthday. His chops twisted and turned, forming a serpentine grin as he observed all the pure, white faces.
He soon found himself staring into the eyes of a little girl, around the same age as his own. They simply glared at one another, the trance only broken by the scream of the church bell tolling, ringing out, and demanding to be hear
d over the roar of the patrol engine. His body oscillated lazily back and forth as the vehicle moved about the rural, bumpy road, jostling him to and fro like a mere pebble in an otherwise empty glass.
Then, the church grew smaller and smaller, and so did that little girl who still stood there, watching him disappear, swallowed by the day and inequality of it all. The bell rang out once more. A woman took her by the wrist and dragged her along the slight incline of the dying grass towards the open front doors of the church. The little girl went along, but kept her eyes on him… kept her head turned in his direction until she was ushered inside, cloaked away from his view. The church bell’s scream kept echoing in the air, sending a slight chill down his spine as he slumped uncomfortably forward, now face to face with his fate.
“Yes God… let the bell ring… Let. Freedom. Ring…”
Chapter One
…Two weeks later
THE CIGARETTE WAS named Rita. He’d affectionately called her that as he moved the thing about between nimble fingers and glared down at the glowing, orange spark that seduced him with her smoldering heat. Her thin, white body was the thing he’d dreamed of, and the bitch being a hot red head never hurt. Yeah… Rita, a sexy siren; she almost made his dick hard.
He gave all of them names as of late; it made the time go a bit faster. After all, boredom was the shit incubi were woven from. Wasn’t it once said it was the Devil’s playground? No truer words had ever been uttered. Given a place to play, boredom would destroy the mind of the most rational of men.
Aaron had gotten a rude awakening upon his arrival. He was told the ol’ stand by rules had changed since his last stagey appearance there. For one, inmates were no longer allowed to smoke in their cells. However, he was in isolation; thus, a special, carefully wrapped amends was made for him, the guidelines twisted, broken, and their tormented remains tossed aside over one shoulder like a pinch of salt, in hopes of a wish come true. The condition—that unspoken wish—was that he’d keep his mouth shut and not cause a ruckus. His mere presence had the natives restless and talking, and not in tongues.
As he listened to Georgia Satellite’s, ‘Keep Your Hands to Yourself’ playing on the radio, he and Rita slumped down on his rock hard bed, the damn thing cold and angry against his ass cheek and hipbone. The thin sheet and blanket did little to provide warmth and comfort; their existence was nonessential, seemingly there purely for aesthetics.
“You goddamn son of a bitch!”
Aaron slowly looked up and peered at the man on the other side of the iron bars. He tapped his foot a few times; the black boot settled once more, but the damn dust didn’t. Ignoring the man, he retreated into his own thoughts as if nothing had been said at all.
Goddamn it. When am I going to be moved into a normal unit? Down here in isolation, in these old run down turtle shit shell cells! No electronic doors, no upgrades, just concrete and threats…
“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” The guard yelled a bit louder as he placed a hand on his non-existent waist. “What the fuck did you do, Pike?! What did you say?”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he replied in the calmest of tones as he tossed his cigarette onto the floor, then stomped it with the tip of his boot. Poor Rita… her light went out entirely too soon…
“You know what the hell I’m talking about, Pike! You started a goddamn riot!”
The corners of Aaron’s mouth curved in sheer satisfaction as he slowly got to his feet and approached the man who stood there as if he had the whole world in his hands. He immediately took notice of a layer of sheen on the short, squatty fucker’s nose as they stared into one another’s eyes. On a long exhale, he took him all in, memorizing his target’s every nuance. Wrapping one palm around an icy bar, and then the other from within his miserable cage, he looked down at the guard, seriousness etched in his expression.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, cowboy. Don’t make me tell you again.”
“Call it off… call the shit off!” He plunged his finger in his face. “We finally got everything settled down, but they vowed to do it again and again until you’re released from here. I’m not playing around with you, Aaron! Not playin’ one bit!”
Aaron lowered his head and slowly ran his hand over his short, buzzed dark hair. The prickly yet soft feel of the even cut felt a bit soothing against his large, calloused hand. He slowly returned his gaze to the man, stared him in the eyes.
“Well, Bill, looks like you got a bit of a problem, now don’t cha?” He grinned, his heart filled with a renewed douse of immodesty.
“No, Pike, you have the problem. Do this shit again and see what happens. You’ll be in here for the remainder of your sad life!” The little man’s light brown eyes gleamed with delight, as if his words held water, the kind Jesus turned into wine.
“Are you… threatening me, Bill?” Aaron cocked his head to the side, catching his partial reflection in the dark, iron bars. “I know you wouldn’t be so reckless as to do such a thing, now would ya?” He laughed lightly, a tickle in his throat eliciting a few coughs as he pushed himself closer to the bars, feeling the chill of the metal rest against his ribcage. Thoroughly enjoying how the fucker leaped back, like a cat startled by a hissing snake, he took the man in once more, this time laughing directly in his face.
“What’s wrong? ’Fraid of your own shadow?” he teased.
Aaron surmised his shadow was a coward, too…
“I can smell the fear on you, Bill. How does your ol’ lady even psych herself out, huh? How can a woman be attracted to a sniveling shell of a man like you, huh?”
“You shut your damn mouth,” the guard spat, waving his finger at him. “Now get back away from these bars and sit your ass down. We’ll find out what to do with you and then—”
“What to do with me?” Aaron kept his position and frowned. “What you gonna do with me Bill, hmmm?” He bit his lower lip while a budding smile waited impatiently to burst forth from the joy of it all. “You gonna have a long talk with Jesus? Pray me away?” His eyes narrowed on the man as he imagined decapitating him right then and there with a twist of the neck and a firm, hearty yank.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll straighten up.”
“Straighten up ’nd fly right? It’s a bird… it’s a plane…Tell me to give peace a chance?” He shook his head. “You and the warden, huh? You gonna tell me that you’ll have me locked away so long, I’ll be a great grandfather before I ever get the hell outta here?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Pike.”
“Like that’s supposed to fuckin’ scare me.” He rocked from foot to foot…real slow, like a lion assessing his raw and bloody rations. “You ain’t gone do shit.”
“We got plans for you, Aaron.” The man swallowed hard, his thick neck barely showcasing the lumpy Adam’s apple under his fair skin.
“What do you have planned, huh? Nobody can make diplomacies for me. Do you know what that means, or am I speakin’ too high ’nd fancy for you? No matter, just know this. I’m the only planner ’round here, Bitchified Bill. Now, you turn your fat, sweaty, stinkin’ ass around,” he pointed lazily into the distance, “and you belly flop right on outta here, go find a rock to crawl under and die; but, before you go, you make sure I get to talk to my attorney, ya hear?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth and stood a bit straighter.
“I’m not doing shit for you, Aaron, and I meant what I said. You are in over your head and I can’t wait to see you fall.” The man turned to walk away, but just then Aaron called out, slapped the bars so hard the damn things made a piercing sound like a xylophone struck by metal. Grumbling ensued from nearby cells—muttered talk and protests coated in profanity.
“You let me get on the phone with my attorney, Bill, or there’ll be some folks by to pay you a visit. Now, you don’t want that, do you? And turn your ass around when I’m talkin’ to you! Don’t you ever turn your back on me.”
He kept his eye
on the guard as the man slowly faced him again. Slicking another cigarette out of his shirt pocket, Aaron cocked his head to the side and lit the damn thing as he fought an urge to give in great, violent, nasty detail what would happen if his demands were not carried out to the motherfucking ‘T’.
“You threatened a guard, it is going in your record,” the man stated calmly, though his forehead glistened with fresh sweat, the kind born from a nervous system going haywire. The kind that had fear as a mother and hatred as a father. Yeah… the sweat was born and now dripping down the side of the blubbery bastard’s face, baptizing him in the name of cowardly spirit.
“See, Bill.” His lips parted, allowing bounteous loops of smolder to creep like cautious fingertips through the gaps in the bars. They moved about like haze covered hula hoops, seducing him into a state of relaxation. “You just never know when to shut up. I’m going to give you a pass. You’re still fairly new here, don’t know any better. Now,” he squinted as if a bright flashlight were suddenly shone in his eyes while he kept his new girl tight between his index and middle finger, “I’m going to ignore what you just said to me, and then you’re gonna open this cell and let me make that call, you hear me?”
The man simply stood there and stared as the showdown morphed into something thick and mean. The damn thing had daggers and threatened to toss ’em, just how Aaron liked it.
“…I wouldn’t test me, Bill Parker who lives on Sunset Avenue, with two dogs, a wife, and three lazy ass kids…”
The guard looked about, his face red. Timidly, he took one step towards the cell, and then another.
“That’s right… keep comin’.”
Aaron grinned as he gave a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers. The guard took another step, checking his surroundings, and then another until he was back at the cell, facing Aaron head on. The men looked at one another, none blinking.
“Now.” Aaron tossed his cigarette onto the floor and stomped her out as he blew out a lonely circle of smoke out of his mouth. “I’m going to place my hands through this slot, you’re gonna handcuff me, and then you’re going to take that key out your damn pocket, slide it in this motherfucker, open the goddamn door, and walk me to the nearest phone.”
