Life Without Hope (62 page)

fucked up, it’s a wrap with me, my life is over.”

“
No, what about the trial? The jury didn’t reach a verdict yet.”

People in the visiting room turned and looked in our direction,

including the CO.

“
I was with you when you were on the grind, when we didn’t

have shit, we dreamed together, lived together and if we have to,

we’ll die together. I don’t want to live my life without you. I love

you L.” A lone tear distilled down her ebony cheek. Through teary

eyes, she tried to smile, and at the same time, keep the panic out

of her voice. Her fear of the inevitable, even to the end, I was

going to keep it gangsta. I saw her bottom lip trembling. This shit

was getting too emotional. With my mind made up, I knew what

I had to do. I rose to my full height towering over her.

“
Go to the Chateau, get my Bible and bring it to my lawyer,

Hope.” Pearl tried to grab me and I pulled away and saw the hurt-

ful scowl on her face. “I never want to see you again! You have to

promise me you’ll never come back here again.”

With that I walked off, my legs felt like rubber and my heart

was hemorrhaging a trail of blood behind me. Black Pearl had

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always been like a little sister to me, there was no way I was going

to fit her in with a ball and chain around her neck and expose her

to my own self induced torture. She was too young and she didn’t

know what she would have been getting herself into, the misery

and hurt that destroys a woman within, like some virulent disease.

A woman that waits on a phantom lover that will never come.

Always waiting, always hoping until she finds that time is her

enemy, too.

My pride wouldn’t just let me walk out of that visiting room

no matter how hard I tried. Maybe it was my sweltering ego or

even Trina for that matter; whatever the case, in passing I could

not resist stepping to Big Mike. I had to. I walked right up to him

like I knew him. I secretly enjoyed the terror stricken scowl on his

mug when he looked up and saw me. I glanced over at Trina. A

million episodic memories flashed on the screen of my mind.

Trina, the Brooklyn chick, who stole me blind. I thought about

the luggage full of money she walked away with as I lay in bed

writhing in pain, body riddled with bullets. I thought about the

woman that had introduced me to a game bigger than life, the real

mastermind behind a million dollar plan.

Ain’t no longevity in the

dope game, stick and move. Get out within a year.

I felt my top lip curl up as I looked down at the both of them.

The only thing

missing was the gun in my hand and I would have put both

their asses on fire with them hot balls. On the inside I raged with

violence. I wanted to take the crime to dude bad! “Wuz up Trina?”

I said coldly. She rolled her eyes at me, turning her head she

sucked her teeth disdainfully. I felt my hand coiling like how it

feels when you’re about to slap the shit out of somebody. “How is

the good Christian brotha doin’?” I asked sarcastically. With a

mouthful of pizza, Big Mike looked up at me in between bites. I

could see the puzzled look in his eyes, the way people look at you

when they’re trying to assess your motives.

“
I’m aiight,” he grunted. I could tell he was trying to act hard

by his demeanor. He had a mouthful of gold that looked like

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chipped old pennies. He wore his jumpsuit about two sizes too

small, showing off his huge arms.

“
So dis the muthafucka you was waiting on? Had me acceptin’

his collect calls and shit. Huh bitch?!” I said stepping closer to

Trina getting ready to swing. Her eyes bulged at me in frightened

disbelief.

“
L, man you wrong! Nigga if you got beef wit me you could

have waited until we got into the unit,” Big Mike said and stood

up.

“
Nigga it didn’t start in the unit. You been grillin’ me with the

screw face ever since you got here,” I said. I created a scene as I

continued, “And you, bitch ass nigga, I ain’t got no respect for a

nigga that snitch on his friends and family.” With that Trina’s jaw

dropped as she looked at him. I took a step closer hoping to get

off a punch first. I really wanted to punish dude and get one of

them gold trophies out of his mouth. The CO started to walk in

our direction. I played it off and whispered as I smiled. “My nigga,

I’m tryna holla at you when we get back into the unit.” With that

said I strolled off. My life tr ying to serve God was going to be dif-

ficult. The old folks had a saying,

what would Jesus do?

*****

I waited in the unit for Big Mike, strapped with my joint in

my pants, a box cutter stolen from the R&D department. By the

time the 4 o’clock count came around, he still had not shown up.

A sexy female CO with fake European hair and nails approached

me. She wore her pants tight with ass for days. She had ghetto

written all over her, and for some strange reason, it made her

appealing. Twice I already offered her some money to let me hit it.

Playfully she would always ask me was I serious, and laugh hys-

terically when I replied, “hell yea! Does a bear shit in the woods?”

So when she sauntered up to me at count time with a dead serious

expression on her face, that fat ass spread eagle on my bunk

flashed in my mind. At count time everyone would be locked into

their cells, that would be a perfect time. I touched myself as my

eyes roamed over all the curves of her body, she was jet Black. I

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watched her sexy mouth as she talked–there was something about

women with big lips that turned me on. She had about two or

three shades of lipstick on her large soup coolers. Sexy.

“
Thugstin, they want you in the LT’s office,” she said and

shrugged her shoulders to answer the question that she knew was

coming next.

“
Shit!” I cursed and took off to my cell. I had to get rid of the

knife. While I was there I stashed some cigarettes in my drawers.

Four deep, all rednecks, they escorted me to the LT ’s office.

Once there, I was informed that I was being placed in SHU for

my own protection.

“
That’s bullshit!” I protested to the redneck. They wouldn’t

even tell me why. I could tell they were hoping I tried to buck so

they could kick the bone out of my ass and say I fell down some

stairs. I had my suspicions that maybe Big Mike had something to

do with it.

They placed me into a cell with a Mexican that smelled like he

wanted to be left alone. He was locked up for murder. We got

along fine, chain smoked all night, while I talked about my

upcoming trial. The Mexican could speak no English.

The next day bright and early, the CO kicked on the door.

Scared the shit out of me. He called my name and opened the lit-

tle slot in the cell door handing me an envelope. He informed me

that I had a visit from my lawyer, Hope Evans, but once she

learned that I was in SHU again, she became upset stating that she

could not bear coming back there again. I looked at the neat

woman’s handwriting and opened the letter:

Dear Life,

I see you still have the propensity to find trouble or trouble always

seems to find you, even when you’re in prison. Don’t tell me you did-

n’t do anything wrong ... I’ve heard it all before. Whatever the case, I

apologize, but I could not muster the courage to drag myself back there

to see you with all the chaos and madness, it’s too much like touring a

slave ship, only worse!

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Anyway, I just came to update you on your case. I can’t lie to you,

this is a rough one. Jurors are a strange group. About as unpredictable

as the weather and need I mention Judge Statford is highly pissed to

say the least. So I must warn you of all the obstacles, in the event of a

hung jury. The government, with its unlimited resources of money and

paid informants will go to great lengths to try you again at the cost of

millions of dollars. Life, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I don’t think I

can make it through another grueling trial, but we’ll just have to cross

that bridge when we get to it. Right now, all we can do is be patient.

On a brighter note, boy, I want you to know that I fought for you

with every fiber of my being, every sinew of my strength. One day after

all of this is over, regardless of the outcome, you and I will sit down

and I’ll tell you about the birds and the bees, the lies and deception,

the birth and the death. I’ll tell why I fought for you till my very last

breath. Time is now a thief in the night; he waits for both of us, but

only if we lose.

Emphatically,

Hope Evans

Frustrated, I must have read Hope’s letter a hundred times.

What was she trying to tell me? What was she saying? My hands

began to tremble and then the rest of my body began to shake

involuntarily. I balled up the letter in my hands and threw it into

the toilet. What the fuck was she talking about? The birth ... the

death ... time was a thief.

I walked over to the window and looked out through the steel

bars. The sun felt hot on my skin. The Mexican lay in the top

bunk snoring with his mouth open. An angr y fly buzzed against

the windowsill. I watched him. He was no different than me, he

wanted to be free. About the only thing that a prisoner has that

the system can’t take away from him is his memories. Mental

mementos, everlasting reminiscence like old currency. Cherished

times will always retain their value to a prisoner by casting in on

all the vivid pictures that will forever be captured on the screen of

his mind. I thought about all my luxury cars, the clothes, the

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bitches, Black Pearl, Trina, Lil Man, Blazack, and always for some

reason, the woman, Hope Evans’ face flashed in my mind.

Instantly, I regretted taking her through this. Anyone could see the

trial was taking a toll on her body. She was thin as a rail and her

once beautiful complexion now looked ashen. Once again I

cursed, shit! I should have had trial on the streets. I turned to the

sound of the food carts. It was brunch time. The Mexican awoke

from a dead sleep giving me a startled expression, the kind that

said I was standing too damn close. I made a face and tried to

smile as if to say

my bad.

I walked over to the door as the CO put