by Wahida Clark
“Hi, I’m Michelle.” Some white girl, looking like a crackhead, says to me.
“Who gives a fuck,” I answer her.
“You got a cigarette?”
I ignore her and walk down the metal stairs to where the phones are. The TV is blasting and there are several card games going on. Half the place is sleep, but it’s still noisy as hell. I dial Faheem.
“Collect from Jaz.”
“Hold on. I have a collect call from, what did you say, ma’am?”
“Jaz.”
“From Jaz. Will you accept?”
Dial tone.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“No he fuckin’ didn’t!” I dial again. This time he won’t even answer. I want to cry, but I can’t look like no punk in here. I don’t want to call my mom, so I call Kyra. Fine fuckin’ time for Faheem to not be speaking to me.
“Collect from Jaz. Will you pay?”
“Jaz?” It’s Marvin.
“Jaz. Will you pay, sir?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Hey, Marvin.”
“What’s up, Jaz? You just missed Kyra. She went to school.”
“I need a favor. I’m down here in the Mercer County Jail. I need you to call Faheem and tell him where I’m at.”
“Damn, baby sis. You all right?”
“No. Tell Faheem I need a lawyer and to get me the fuck outta here. I also need somebody to get the key from Faheem and get my car. It’s still parked at school.”
“I’m on it, baby sis.”
“Thanks, Marvin. I really appreciate it.” I hang up. Fuck Faheem. He don’t have to worry about me calling his black ass again.
“Jaz! Hey, Jaz!” I turn around to see Melissa. She is my brother Darien’s “baby mama.” She’s a professional booster and paper hanger. “I thought that was you,” she said, trying to squeeze me to death. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Wrong place, wrong time, girl. How you doing?” I can’t tell her my business. She talk too much. I’ll let her read it in the papers. I try to change the subject.
“How’s my niece Myesha?” I asked her. She’s talking, but I’m not listening. My mind is foggy. This is the last place I want to be.
“Jaz!” She’s looking in my face.
“I’m listening.” At least Melissa takes care of her daughter. She’s just addicted to her hustle. I don’t even ask her what she’s in here for. She’s still yapping.
“Melissa!” I try to shut her up. “I can’t get the guard to give me shit. I need a washcloth, soap, toothbrush, comb. Look at me.”
“Come on.” She pulls my arm. “I’ll get you hooked up.” After about twenty minutes of haggling, she sure does get me hooked up. I have everything, even a new pair of panties and some shower shoes. I still feel like shit, though, and I’m hungry as hell.
By the time I shower, it’s time to get in the lunch line. I can’t believe what’s supposed to be lunch. They give me a small metal cup with a metal spoon and tell me not to lose it. The cup has some watered down Kool-Aid in it. One gulp and it’s gone. They give us a metal tray, divided into sections. One section holds four cold French fries, one holds a dried-up hot dog and the other has what I guess is chocolate pudding. I sure did take the free world for granted. I can’t eat the hot dog, because no one’s sure if it’s pork or not. I do eat the four French fries, but I’m scared to eat the chocolate pudding. I walk over and sit down at the metal table and stool that are bolted down to the floor. Melissa is eating.
“Where’s your hot dog?” she asks.
“It was hog, so I gave it away. Why, you wanted it?”
“Yeah.”
“I hope you don’t be feeding my niece that shit.”
She shakes her head, but I know she’s lying. That’s one of the reasons I plan on building a boarding school. Bring these kids up right.
“Look over there,” she tells me.
“Where?” I ask her, and she points to these two ugly, black, troll-looking, bulldaggin’ twins.
“That’s Marla and Darla,” she says. “They head up the welcoming committee.” One of them is playing with this Mexican girl’s ponytail and the other one is picking up her food tray and metal cup, instructing the girl to come eat in their room. The girl gets up like a dummy and goes into their room. They cover up their cell with a blanket. After about an hour, the girl comes out looking like she seen a ghost. Melissa sees me staring at the girl and starts laughing.
“You’re the newest kid on the block. They’ll be coming after you next.”
“Bullshit! Just make sure you don’t let them jump me.”
“I got your back.”
“You better have it.”
Just then about ten guards come running on the tier.
“Lockdown, ladies! To your cells!” They keep screaming it over and over.
“Something must have gone down with the men,” Melissa says as she hurries toward her cell. I take that as a cue and hurry to mines. Now I know why the white crackhead was trying to start up a conversation. She’s my cellmate. They keep us locked down until dinnertime. As soon as they crack the gates, I run to the phone.
“Shit!” All of them are turned off.
“Excuse me,” I say to the guard. It isn’t the same sister from this morning. This guard is ghetto fabulous. Long, flashy nails, crimped hair standing tall on top of her head, tight-ass uniform with plenty of cleavage.
“They’ll be on shortly.”
“When?”
“They’ll be on shortly,” she repeats.
“Jaz!” That’s Melissa, calling me to get in line to get our dinner tray.
“When do you think they’ll turn the phones on?” I’m desperate.
Melissa looks like she’s almost six feet. She swings her ponytail back, looks down at me and says, “When they damned well feel like it.”
I let out a sigh. We get our trays and sit down. It’s the same watered-down Kool-Aid, a fish patty, carrots mixed with peas, two slices of white bread, what looks like mashed potatoes, and again that chocolate pudding. I’m starving. No sooner do I put some ketchup on my fish patty and dump the salt and pepper packets on my vegetables, that Melissa kicks me under the table.
“It’s show time,” she says.
The troll twins are coming our way. I ignore them and start to eat.
“What’s your name?” The ugliest one says and begins running her hands through my hair.
“You have nice hair.”
“Don’t touch my hair,” I tell her, still eating like a savage. She stops.
The ugly one picks up my tray.
“Come eat with us,” she says. That must have given the other one courage, ’cause she starts back playing in my hair. I look at the one who’s rubbing my hair and then I look at the one who’s carrying my food. I’m still hungry as hell. I grab Melissa’s tray and decide to go after the one with my food. I bang her over the head with all my strength. I keep hitting her like I’m in a frenzy. I hear clapping and whistling. Her twin sister doesn’t even try to help her.
The next thing you know, I’m lifted clean up in the air and carried to my cell. They literally throw me inside. I bang my elbow against the stale toilet bowl. It seems like twenty or so guards are in there yelling, screaming bowl and locking everyone down. Since they don’t have a hole for the women, they keep me locked in my cell. They don’t even bother to do nothing to the ugly twins, and they don’t bring me another tray of food. I’m pissed.
It’s Friday, so that means I’m stuck in this dump for the entire weekend. They give me phone restriction as a punishment and I’m not able to take another shower until Sunday morning.
I’m in a depressed funk. I sleep and cry the whole weekend. I miss my bed. I miss Faheem. I miss everything that I took for granted. I try to figure out what Faheem probably said when he found out I was locked up for drugs. I’m pouring salt all over my wounds. I had been able to keep this hidden from Faheem for almost two years, but after this, I m
ight as well give up on us getting things back the way they were.
About 7:00 Monday morning, the guard with the ran-over shoes tells me to get all of my belongings.
“Am I being released?” My heart’s pumping fast.
“I don’t know. Where’s your belongings?”
“I don’t have anything.”
They give me back my clothes and tell me to put them on. The clothes feel good. Then two brothers with U.S. Marshal jackets ask my name and some more questions, then handcuff my feet and wrists. They’re real cordial, and make sure nothing is too tight. Now I’m in Federal custody.
“Where am I going now?” I ask them.
“To the Big Apple,” says the one who looks like he’s been partying all night.
The clock says 12:20 when we pull up to New York’s MCC, Metropolitan Correctional Center. They transported me in a van. I got to listen to WBLS and they brought me some Burger King. I had to eat it with the handcuffs on, but I managed.
They put me inside a holding cell with a phone and unchained me. I was so thankful for that.
I call Marvin and Kyra collect again. Kyra gets all hysterical, wondering what I got myself into. After I finally convince her I’m all right and she calms down, she tells me that my bail was set at $200,000. That means we gotta come up with $20,000 in cash. She makes sure to tell me that Faheem is very pissed. He said he had no idea of what the fuck I was doing behind his back. He said he don’t know what to expect next from me. He wants to know what other skeletons are going to come out the closet. That shit hurts me bad, him saying that.
But Kyra also tells me that Faheem did go pick up my car and parked it in front of the house. He got me a lawyer and gave Angel the $20,000 cash for my bail. Kyra says that my bail hearing is set for tomorrow and that I should be out by then. I’m so glad to hear that.
The Feds, from what I’ve seen, are much different than the county. The food is better, it’s a little cleaner, and they even gave me a physical exam, which included a pregnancy test. And guess what? I’m pregnant. Five and a half weeks. When it rains, it pours. I thought that I was utterly depressed locked down in that cell all weekend, but when they tell me I’m pregnant, that’s really depressing. I’m pregnant by a nigga who won’t even talk to me. I’m in jail. I’m not finished with college yet. What else could go wrong?
Okay, for starters, it’s now Tuesday, and I haven’t been called to go to court. I’m feeling nauseous. I miss Faheem, but I refuse to call him. I don’t want to talk to him over the phone. We gotta talk face-to-face. So I call Kyra again and she says that I will be out Wednesday.
Noon on Wednesday, they come and get me for my bail hearing and to read me my charges. Angel, Kyra, and Roz are sitting in the courtroom. I’m charged with “manufacturing meth with intent to distribute.” Faheem gave my lawyer a $50,000 retainer, so of course he’s very nice to me. When they release me, he tells me to be in his office first thing in the morning. He also says that I’m facing up to fifty years, and that Brett is already trying to negotiate a deal with the government.
When I get out front, my three friends are waiting for me. I burst out crying. Kyra is glowing, sporting her round belly. On the way home, I finally tell them I’m pregnant and that it don’t look like me and Faheem will get things back the way they were. I tell them that a jail term is gonna put off me finishing school. They tell me that Marvin’s birthday party is in two days. They think I should go, ’cause it would lighten me up. Plus, Faheem will be there. I tell them I’ll be there, even though I’m scared shitless to face Faheem.
Chapter 27
When they pulled up in front of Jaz’s house, the Escalade was parked out front. They dropped Jaz off and left. It was almost 6:00, and she was ecstatic to be home. She couldn’t get over how good it felt to sit on her own toilet, to soak in a bathtub, and then lie in her own king-size bed, with clean sheets and a soft down comforter.
She was mentally drained and physically exhausted, so as soon as she finished eating, she went straight to bed, even though it was only 9:30. In the hours that she’d been home, she kept hoping Faheem would call. The only call she got was from her girls, checking up on her. By the time she went to bed, she knew Faheem wasn’t gonna call and she decided that it was over between them.
She was at the lawyer’s office the next morning by 9:00. Talking to him only made her hurt more. She took on this attitude: Fuck it! You do the crime, be ready to do the time. There was nothing she could do now to take back the mistakes she had made. She could only move forward.
After she left the lawyer’s office, she went to the college to reschedule a couple of exams that she’d missed. Then she decided the rest of the day was all about her. First, she went to the Hyatt and ate a big lunch. Then she got a full body massage and mud wrap. She got a facial and got her feet and nails done. She went shopping and bought a black halter dress by Versace and some shoes to match. She picked up a silk Armani shirt for Marvin to thank him for helping her out. When she got home, she ate again, soaked in the tub and went to bed. She put the dead bolt on the door just in case Faheem decided to stop by.
The next morning Jaz stayed in the bed until 11:00. She took her time getting up and dressed, and didn’t leave the house until it was time for her hair appointment at 4:00. Paul, her hairdresser, hooked her up, and that made her feel a little better. Afterward, she went home and ate again. The baby was giving her an appetite that she was not used to. She took a warm bath and soaked for almost an hour. Then she moisturized her skin and started getting dressed for Marvin’s party. She didn’t even know why she was going. If it wasn’t for Kyra calling and leaving message after message on her machine, she probably would’ve stayed home. She didn’t want Faheem to think that she was coming just to be begging and pleading with him.
Still, she did want to talk to Faheem. She knew she owed him an explanation for getting involved with this shit, especially after she was the one who made him stop selling when they first got together. Plus, she wanted to thank him for posting her bond and retaining a lawyer for her. She knew that only a nigga who got your back would do some shit like that. Faheem didn’t hesitate coming to her aid, not even knowing what she had done. Faheem was definitely of a rare breed.
She put on her black Versace dress with the long split coming up the thigh. The dress showed plenty of cleavage, and she wore no bra. She checked herself in the mirror and could see that she had started to put on a few pounds. Even her breasts were getting rounder. She put on a beaded choker, with iced-up earrings to match. She slipped on her black Versace slingbacks, sprayed on some perfume, fingered her hair, grabbed her purse and Marvin’s gift, and out the door she went.
“Kyra lives in the fuckin’ boondocks!” Jaz cursed out loud in the car. She got lost and had to call Kyra for directions. By the time she got there, it was ten minutes to ten. Marvin had just finished cutting his cake.
There was a big crowd at the party. Jon B was squealing, “Alright Wit Me.” The atmosphere was nice and Jaz smelled food. She was no longer nervous, because she hadn’t seen Faheem’s car out front. On the ride over she’d decided she didn’t feel up to explaining anything to him tonight. She was glad he’d decided not to come.
She looked around and checked out all the fine brothers who was in the house. Obviously, from what was parked out front and all the Armani, Versace and ice flashing, they were some ballers. As she eased through the crowd looking for a familiar face, she noticed that Kyra had hired caterers and servers.
Jaz stopped at the beautifully laid buffet. At first she didn’t know what to choose. She settled on cheese and crackers, strawberries and grapes. As she piled the food on her plate, she noticed a bunch of brothers in the room to her right. Most of them were smoking blunts, talking and laughing. Jaz scanned their faces and saw Marvin, a brother named Khalil, and then did a double take when she saw Faheem.
“Aw, damn!” she cursed under her breath. Faheem was puffing on a blunt and talking to two other brothers. S
he couldn’t deny that the brother looked good. Her nipples got hard just from the sight of him. He wore a black Armani turtleneck sweater. That thing was defining all of his muscles. He had on the black leather pants that she had bought him.
Faheem glanced up and saw Jaz checking him out. She watched his eyes roam all over her body as he kept on talking. For a second she thought his eyes rested on her belly, which had started to swell a tiny bit. Then some female with a long weave and a sequined mini-dress tapped on the door and called his name. Jaz turned away and went to find Kyra.
She found Kyra and Angel upstairs. Angel was wrapping Marvin’s gift.
“Always at the last minute, huh, Angel?”
Angel and Kyra looked up at her and started laughing.
“Shut up!” Angel joked.
“How long have you been here?” Kyra asked, giving her a hug.
“About a half hour. The place looks real nice. Y’all got it goin’ on!”
“Thanks. I’ll be glad when it’s over. I’m beat. How are you?”
“I was fine until I saw Faheem.”
“I’m sure you was. I know you noticed that he didn’t come alone,” Angel said.
“Yeah, I saw her. The bitch do look good. I have to give her that.”
“What’chu gonna do?” Kyra asked.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Shit. You better go get your man!” Angel yelped.
“You didn’t even tell him you was pregnant, did you?”
“No, Kyra. I didn’t.”
“Like I said. Go get your man. Don’t be stupid, Jaz. That nigga is good to you. Or would you rather have a scrub-ass, lying, can’t-fuck ho?”
“Fuck you, Angel.”
“I rest my case. Go get your man, Jaz. You the one started all this shit in the first place.”
They didn’t have to tell her twice. Jaz left the room and headed downstairs. She stopped on the stairs and scanned the room in search of Faheem. When she spotted him, he was talking with the female with the long weave and sequined mini-dress.
“Fuck it!” Jaz said as she approached Faheem. She had nothing to lose, so she was going for what she knew.
