by Nikki Turner
The gay girl continued, “These mafuckers better bring they ass. Ain't nobody trying to sit down in this motherfucka all day and then have to be moved to the jail. This is some bullshit.”
“What you in for?” the girl who had been talking to Mercy asked the gay broad.
“Petty larceny,” she replied.
“How much yo' bail?” the girl asked.
“Five hundred.”
“Damn, all you need is fifty dollars, and you can't get out? Shit, I wish my bail was only five hundred. I keeps that type of change in my pocket.”
“Oh, my peoples is coming. You better believe that. You can lay flat and bet that my peoples will be here.” She looked the nice girl over, not believing the girl was getting slick out the mouth with her.
“What you in for, Big Money Grip?” the gay chick asked the nice girl.
“Murder, and I ain't got no bond,” she snapped.
“Damn,” Mercy said, looking up at the girl. At that moment she didn't feel so bad after all. Mercy knew enough about the law to know that half of the stuff they were charging her with would eventually be dropped. But even then, the little crappy charges that would still be hanging over her head weren't for murder, that was for sure. She knew that she had a bond, and even if nobody came and got her she was going home one day, but ol' girl was a completely different story. She had a murder rap. She was going to be sitting for a minute, if not for the rest of her life, if found guilty. And in Mercy's eyes that was far worse than her own predicament.
Mercy could feel a little tension between the two chicks. She also heard the guard approaching the cell, jingling keys getting closer and closer.
“Alice Smith,” the guard called. “ATW.”
The gay girl jumped up, and at that moment she looked at the other chick. “All The Way means I'm all the way out of this bitch.” She grabbed her sweat-suit jacket and said, “I told you my peoples was coming.”
“How about ATW don't always mean you going home,” the girl said, pissing on the gay chick's parade. “Shit, don't let them fool you. You could be going to the next jurisdiction to get another stack of warrants.” Nonetheless, the guard escorted the gay girl out of the holding cell with her blowing a kiss to the other chick on her way out.
“By the way, my name is Yorkey” the nice girl said to Mercy.
“Mercy,” Mercy responded.
“Want a piece?” Yorkey asked Mercy as she pulled out a Snickers bar.
“Thanks,” Mercy said. The two of them were soon talking as if they'd known each other forever. Yorkey explained that her murder rap was really self-defense. Her ex-boyfriend had gone crazy when he saw her with another man, and he had attacked her in her own house. She had to kill him or he was damn sure going to kill her.
“What about you?” Yorkey asked. “Who did you assault?”
“Oh, nobody important. Just this jealous-hearted bitch who wouldn't shut her mouth, so I shut it for her. I tried to knock her teeth out.”
“Well, she'll probably drop the charges, soon as word gets out on the street about it,” Yorkey assured her.
They talked for a few hours, and Mercy told Yorkey all about living in the foster homes and how she just wanted to take care of her little niece. Yorkey listened to everything. Then she said, “When you get out of here, and I know you will, you need to try to do something with your life. I can tell you ain't the kind of person to just lay around and let people walk all over you. Your daddy was right. You better than that.”
“I hope you get out, too, Yorkey. You don't need to be spending your life in one of these shit holes.”
After a while they ran out of things to talk about. They watched as the deputies brought the male inmates in from court, and Mercy sat on the bench wondering what she could do to get out. As her thoughts continued, she heard a familiar voice call out her name.
“Mercy? Is that Mercy in that cell?” the voice asked.
Mercy ran to the bars. “Who is that?” she asked.
“Who you think? It's Shawn, yo' brother,” Nayshawn said. “And what the fuck you doing in here?”
“Long story,” Mercy sighed.
“I'm listening,” he shouted back. Although Nayshawn was the younger brother, he seemed like the older brother. The system had turned him into a man before his time.
“I got da fighting. Some broads jumped me. They all took warrants out on me and shit.”
“You just like Daddy was, strong as shit. You know Daddy would beat a motherfucker down.”
“I know.”
They both were quiet for a minute thinking about their father until Nayshawn broke the silence. “Damn, that's fucked up about dem bitches.”
“Ain't it?”
“Yup. I wish I was out there. I would beat them bitches just on GP,” Nayshawn said, letting his sister know that he had her back no matter what.
Nayshawn was really her half brother. Same father, different mothers. He was two years younger than she was, but he'd been sentenced to juvenile life only three years ago for an armed robbery after he ran away from a foster home. His mother had turned into a straight junkie after their father got killed. It had been a few years since the last time they had seen each other—when they were placed in the same foster home after being separated for four years.
Mercy thought back. It was the middle of the night, and as Mercy lay in bed she could feel a presence standing over her. When she opened her eyes, it was Nayshawn.
“Let's play,” Mercy remembered him saying.
The next thing Mercy knew, Nayshawn had climbed into bed with her and tried to touch Mercy in places that he shouldn't.
“I'm tellin,” Mercy threatened, although she would never have snitched on her brother. If she had learned nothing at all from her short stay with her uncle Roland, she'd learned that snitching was never an option. Her uncle had murdered two brothers who were the triplets to the dude who had snitched on his brother. He believed that when a man told, the only proper thing to do was go to his mother's house and hurt somebody to make a snitch feel the heat. So Mercy had only used the threat against her brother to scare him off. After that night it didn't go farther than that, but Nayshawn was embarrassed every time he looked at his sister. He'd started acting out until he was sent away. She never blamed her brother for what he did that night and loved him dearly. She blamed the system. It was the system's fault, for separating siblings. Brothers and sisters should always know each other. Never should they be apart.
“So, how you doing?” Mercy said, bringing herself back to the present.
“I'm maintaining. Just trying to knock these last years out.”
“You know I got Zurri's baby staying with me while she doing her time.”
“I know. That's good lookin out.”
“How you know?” Mercy asked curiously.
“Because you my sister and I keeps up with you.”
“A'ight now. Y'all know males and females not supposed to be talking,” a female deputy said. Of course Mercy and Nayshawn ignored her.
“I know when and if I get up out of here, I'm going to keep up with you, too. Fo' real. I'ma write you and hold you down. I promise,” Mercy said.
“Write me for real,” Nayshawn said in a sincere tone.
“So, what you doing down here now?”
“I got a street charge. A nigga tried me, so I had to handle my business.”
“So, you running up yo' time, huh?”
“Naw, just handling my business. You know you got to in here.”
“Well, know I'm here for you if you ever need me,” Mercy said.
At that moment, the deputy called out, “Mercy Jiles, ATW I'll be there to get you in a minute.”
That minute seemed like the longest of her whole entire life. She was smiling, and in spite of the reeking odor in the holding cell, the deputy's words were a breath of fresh air.
Yorkey looked at Mercy and said, “I told you it won't be so bad after all. And if you want to get the charge dismi
ssed, just take out a warrant on those bitches.”
“I do want it thrown out of court, but I don't do warrants,” Mercy replied. “I'm a real bitch, and real bitches do real things. And taking out warrants is some fake-ass, bitch-type shit.”
The cell door popped open, and Mercy gave Yorkey a hug and her phone number so they could keep in touch.
From the other cell, Nayshawn yelled, “Mercy, if I ever need you, I'm going to write you at Ms. Pat's house.”
“Aight, I got you. But I'ma write you as soon as I get home and get situated so you can have my address. Make sure you call me. I love you, bro.”
When Mercy got to the last door to finally exit the lockup, the first thing she saw was Chocolate Smooth standing there with De-onie in his arms asleep. A smile immediately crossed her lips. Mr. Bones, the bondsman, was also standing there with his Polaroid camera to take her photo in case she skipped out. He snapped his pic, damn near blinding Mercy, then was on his way.
“Yo, I'm glad to see you,” Chocolate said. “Your lil' baby been going off all day. After she heard me tell Ms. Pat that I was going to get you out, she wouldn't let me out of her sight. When I tried to leave, she held on to my leg and wouldn't let go. Ma, that lil' girl is strong as shit.”
Mercy quickly pulled Deonie out of Chocolate's arms and took her into hers.
As they started to walk away, Chocolate asked, “So how was your four hours in the Ninth Street Hotel?”
Mercy just shook her head. She didn't even want to think about that place anymore. All she wanted to do was go home and hold Deonie. She hadn't realized how much she missed her in just that little bit of time.
“Look, ma, sorry I took so long, but Mr. Bones was late,” Chocolate apologized. He continued apologizing for taking so long and not getting her out any quicker as they rode home.
Mercy stared out the window, suspicious of Chocolate. She didn't know why he went out of his way to bail her out. She didn't mean shit to him. As far as he was concerned, she was just some clerk at a local hotel who used to let him get rooms by the hour. But, hell, it wasn't like she had given him the rooms for free. He paid for them, so they were even. It was a business transaction; nobody owed the other squat. So why was he doing something for nothing now? Nobody had ever looked out for Mercy. So why now? she thought. What did this dude want?
As Chocolate continued driving, Mercy looked over at him and said, “Thank you.” Mercy paused because she didn't know what to call Chocolate. She had always referred to him by the nickname she had given him. Then there was the fake name he used to check into the hotel under.
“I don't know what I would have done without you,” she continued. Then she shook off that emotional shit and changed the subject. “I couldn't believe them bitches couldn't wear them ass-whippings like women.”
“Don't worry, ma, I got this one. No one wants to be labeled a snitch, not in the damn hood anyway.”
“Shit, or anywhere else for that matter,” Mercy added.
“When they get tired of people calling them five-oh, they'll come clean. Plus I'm going to holla at them myself.”
Mercy looked over at Chocolate again, surprised that he had her back like that. “Thanks,” she said.
“I told you, don't worry, I got you,” he reiterated. “I'ma hold you down.” He glanced over at her.
“Why?” Mercy couldn't help but ask.
“Because. I can tell you's a real down-ass chick. I know you'd look out for me if I needed you to. I look out for people who look out for me.”
“But I really ain't did shit,” Mercy said.
Chocolate, just like the nickname Mercy had given him, smoothed right on over Mercy's comment. “I like you and your style,” he said, concentrating on the road as he busted a right. “You gon' let me take you out tomorrow, right?”
Mercy stared at him and thought for a moment. Every fiber of Mercy's mind told her to decline, but her body did all the talking. “How about next week, when my face heal up?” she suggested.
“That's cool.” He smiled as he pulled up in front of Mercy's building.
Mercy went to get Deonie from the backseat of the car where she still lay asleep.
“I'll get her,” Chocolate said as he proceeded to scoop Deonie up.
He carried Deonie up the stairs and laid her on her bed. He then walked back down to the living room. “I gotta go try to make this bail money back,” Chocolate said. “I'll be by tomorrow to bring you some stuff to help nurse your face back so you can hurry up and get better and we can go out.” Chocolate smiled and winked.
“Look, what's your real name?” Mercy asked.
He looked down, then chuckled. “Raheem,” he said. He then walked over to Mercy and kissed her on the cheek. “I thought you'd never ask.”
That was usually Raheem's test to distinguish bitches from real bitches. Most hoes could not have cared less about his real name. The only name they ever gave a fuck about was Benjamin. At that moment, he knew Mercy was something special.
As Mercy watched Raheem glide away with his smooth stride, she was glad that she had let her body do the talking.
Just like he promised, Raheem came by to check on her the next day. He arrived with a Happy Meal for Deonie and soup for Mercy. They watched some movies that he had rented until the wee hours of the morning. The next morning he went to handle his business, but came back before dark with food and movies again. It didn't take long for this to become a routine.
Finally, one night Raheem and Mercy didn't bother with the movies. After they put Deonie to bed, Mercy took a nice long bubble bath. Raheem waited for her in her bed. When she came out, wearing nothing but a towel, Raheem's eyes told her he appreciated every inch of her. It was time, she knew, for her to let him get as close to her as he wanted to. And when she crawled into bed with him and felt his hard dick rub against her, she knew she wanted it, too.
Before long, Raheem wasn't living in any hotels anymore. Mercy was his girl, and they shared the same address.
CHAPTER 5
The Getting Gets Good
Right off the bat, Raheem, AKA Chocolate Smooth, rolled out the red carpet for Mercy, introducing her to things she never imagined would be in her reach so soon. He banned her from the Rainbow clothing store and got her VIP at Nicole Miller. He stepped her up from the Ten Dollars Store to Bebe and from Hills department store to Macy's, but most important he updated her imitation Coach bucket bag to a Gucci tote bag.
Like Cinderella's fairy godmother had done, Raheem took his magic wand and turned Mercy's Chevette into a Nissan 240. He turned her secondhand furniture into a brand-new rich mahogany leather living room set that filled the entire apartment with the scent of leather. Her status changed from hoodrat to hoodstar all in a matter of three short months. And Brianna dropped the charges against her faster than a dealer drops a bag of dope when the po-po come around. In fact, Brianna was hardly anywhere to be seen lately. If Mercy came walking down the street, Brianna suddenly remembered she had somewhere to go and she was gone. Her little followers didn't have much to say now.
The getting was good, and soon Raheem became the first man, outside of her father and uncle, to ever show her any kind of love.
Although Mercy was much younger than the women he had kicked it with in the past, Raheem spoiled her all the same with sneakers, jewelry, hairdos, and all kinds of gifts whenever he made a trip to New York. Whatever Mercy needed or wanted for her and Deonie, he provided. Not only did he provide her with the material things she desired, he gave her his love.
“You're a very special lady,” he said on Valentine's Day as he gave her a diamond tennis bracelet. It was the nicest gift he had ever given her, and she was awed by it.
“What makes you think I'm so special?” she asked, clasping the bracelet around her wrist.
“You got heart and you got brains. And I can tell you're loyal. You got it all, boo.”
Not one nigga could fuck with the way Mercy felt for Raheem, and he knew it. Mercy
still had big dreams. She wanted to do something great with her life, something that would have made her daddy proud. Maybe with Raheem her luck had finally changed.
CHAPTER 6
Fuck Nigga$, Get Money
Mercy was in the kitchen, washing up the morning dishes while Deonie sat in the living room watching cartoons on TV, when she heard the doorbell rang. It was probably Ms. Pat coming over to take Deonie to her house for a while so Mercy could go shopping. Before she could get out of the kitchen, she heard the front door open.
“Hey baby girl, it's me!” she heard someone yelling in the other room. “It's your mommy.”
Mercy's heart fell to her feet. She ran into the living room to see Zurri with a big smile on her face, holding a lollipop out to Deonie. Poor Deonie stared at Zurri as if she didn't know what to do.
“You don't know your own mommy?” Zurri asked. Deonie hesitantly reached out for the lollipop. “That's my baby.”
Zurri swept Deonie up in her arms while Mercy stood there in shock. She had always known this day would come, but in the nine months she had been raising Deonie she had fallen in love with her as if she were her own child, and now she didn't know if she could face it. Zurri turned to her with a huge grin and gave her a hug with her other arm. “Hey Sissster,” Zurri whined.
A dry “hey” is what Mercy gave Zurri.
“You are just the best sister ever, Mercy. Thank you so much for making sure they didn't take my baby away.”
“When did they let you out?”
“Ummm, I've been home for about a month now.”
“Oh, for real. Well, why you didn't come by here sooner?”
“I had to get my shit together and make sho' I'm a'ight first. Plus I knew you had it under control,” Zurri casually said, then looked into Deonie's eyes. “Auntie Mercy was treating you good?”
Deonie smiled and nodded. “My auntie Mercy is the best.”
Mercy so badly wanted to be excited to see her sister, but she wasn't. She wanted them to bond, to catch up on lost time, but things were not going how she had always imagined they would. The connection that the two sisters should have had just wasn't there.
