Prison Throne (19 page)

             
He looked down at her, kissed her lips and squeezed her tighter. “I’m coming back to you, Snow. Just trust me.” He knew what else he had to say but he was hesitating. “And when I do, I’m going to give you a child of your own.”

             
Jackpot!

             
Snow hopped up, straddled Rasim and looked down at him with a wide smile to match her wide eyes. “Are you serious, Rasim?”

             
“I am,” he exhaled. “I know this has been hard for you and that you sacrificed a lot. It’s time for me to return the favor.”

             
Snow thanked him as best she could, with a steamy fuck session. They made love the entire night until neither could cum anymore and she lay in his arms until the morning.

At sunrise, instead of it being a normal day, Rasim had work to do. He woke up, showered and sat at the kitchen table as Snow prepared a healthy plate of fried eggs, wheat toast and bacon. When his belly was jammed, he was given his first cool glass of Mimosa in a crystal flute.

He held it in his hand, looked up at Snow as she stood behind him, and then downed the entire glass in one gulp. Rasim hadn’t drank in years but being wasted was a part of the plan. He needed to be fucked up when he sat in front of his parole officer.

Snow poured him glass after glass and his head wobbled around and he could barely hear.

              After drinks were served, Snow sat across from him and rolled splif after splif at the kitchen table. When she was done he smoked all five blunts and she even joined him a few times. When the drunk and high session was concluded, Rasim lost complete control of his neck and the only thing he saw was the ceiling and the fan.

             
Now that he was blitzed, she assisted him into her car. Since he didn’t have access to his limbs, he fell headfirst in and she pushed his legs and feet inside before closing the door and driving him to his parole officer.

             
When they arrived, she parked in front of the center. Tears rolled down her face and when she wiped them away, more followed. She wanted to be strong. That’s what he demanded of her but he was hammered so she felt he wouldn’t notice.

She rubbed his hair again and moved in for a kiss but he threw up in her mouth. She squinted while tasting the foulness of the champagne, eggs and meat and she opened the door and spit it out.

Shaking her head, she grabbed napkins from her glove compartment and cleaned him up the best she could.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he responded with several bobbles of his head. “I think I did too much.”

She giggled. “You think?” She wiped some creeping tears again. “You just make sure you come back to me, Rasim. Because for some reason, I feel like this is it between me and you.”

“I don’t give a fuck what happens in there, I will be back for my wife.” He pushed the door open and toppled to the ground. It was the only time she ever saw her husband minus the grace. Eventually he made it to his feet and slammed the door so hard her eardrums rang.

She didn’t help him this time. He was out of her hands. Instead she watched as he swerved toward the large glass door leading to the office.

Before long, he vanished inside.

CHAPTER 20

RASIM

CUMBERWOODS FEDERAL CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION – MEDIUM

Face up, looking at the bunk above his head, Rasim wondered once again if he made a mistake. Successful at violating his parole, he was now forced to consider what lay before him. One hand rested in the back of his head and the other was tucked just under the belt line on his brown prison khakis.

             
He had been there for a week and still had not seen his son. Although he didn’t have a bond with him yet, he didn’t want him to get killed before he had a chance to save his life either. The love he held in his heart for Stanley was primitive of course. He was his son and at that moment it was nothing more or nothing less. The goal was to reshape his damaged mind due to Rasim missing the wonder years, so an event like this would not happen again.

             
Originally Rasim assumed that he would go directly into general population but the captain reviewed his sheet and considered him a high risk. After all, Rasim held dominion over the DC population and with a wave of his hand could cause an all out war.

So the captain kept him segregated pending an interview. The purpose was to reach into his mind in the hopes of seeing Rasim’s position and motives. But Rasim put on a show worthy of an Emmy of course and now he was waiting on the verdict.

              When Rasim’s cell door opened, he sat up on the bunk. It was Officer House, a handsome fellow, with swelling muscles that threatened the threads of his uniform. House’s motto was simple: follow the rules and you’ll have enough respect from me to have an easier ride. “Let’s go, Nami,” the guard said. “You’re being transferred to another cell.”

Rasim stood from the bed, strolled up to the officer and turned around. Cool handcuffs were placed on his wrists and he was escorted to his new home.

When they arrived to his cell, he spun around and faced the bunk and Officer House removed the cuffs. After he organized his spot, it was showtime. He stepped to the mirror on the wall, adjusted his white Kufi and bounced out of the cell.

The moment he passed the first corridor, two inmates, Parker and Shawn, followed Rasim to protect him with their young lives. No orders had to be given either. Rasim was king and the moment they received the intel that he was arriving, they signed up for the duty. Rasim knew the young men’s fathers who were both killed at one time or another while on the dope battlefield so he knew they came from the proper breed.

With each step of his boot against the grungy floor, men of lesser caliber felt their hearts stop. Moments earlier they were loud-mouthed fools looking to scare newborn punks who hadn’t been in prison longer than a few months. But now that Rasim was on the block they avoided eye contact for fear he’d pull their cards. They wouldn’t dare try that weak ass game on him.

Past the fakes, past the intimidated, he continued until he reached a pool of men of his stature. Men who were noble but due to a wrong move here or a glory killing there, before long, they earned the epithet of
Career Criminal
.

Rasim greeted the menfolk with firm handshakes and eye-to-eye contact. Although they were pleased to see their comrade, they didn’t want him behind the wall. He was good people and they respected him.

Rasim had made each of them wealthy in and out of prison and they owed him their lives. They were Timothy, Whitaker and Eddie of southeast DC.

True gladiators.

“Aw shit, look at Hairy Monster,” Timothy joked.

Rasim rubbed his growing beard. “You know what it is. I needed a change.”

“Speaking of change, let’s get to the question at hand,” Timothy said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What you doing back in this bitch?” Timothy was a large light-skinned male with hanging black moles over his face. They itched terribly and every now and again he’d scratch one off too roughly and it would bleed and topple to the floor. He was the last nigga you wanted around your food.

“It’s a long story,” Rasim said as he stood with his hands clutched before his body. Remembering he was in prison, despite his soldiers holding the line, he glanced around to assess his surroundings. “Let’s just say I made a wrong move and now I’m back.”

“I’m surprised they brought you here though,” Timothy said. “This joint been so crowded they been tossing niggas out the window just for space.”

“Well I can’t say I want you in here either but I’m happy to see you well, homie,” Whitaker interrupted as he clasped his hands behind him. Whitaker was tall and dark–skinned and wore a six-inch cicatrix across his face.

“So what’s up, Ras? You still heavy on them weights?” Eddie questioned as he play boxed him from below. “’Cause you look like you grew a knot or two.” He chuckled.

Eddie stood 5’5” if you were giving credit for how high his chin extended toward the air. If not, he was 5’2 with more wrinkles on his brown skin than what was normal for a man of twenty-two.

“How ‘bout I show you instead,” Rasim challenged, rubbing his hands together.

“Shit you ain’t said nothing but a word.”

The four good friends and Rasim’s personal bodyguards hit it to the yard talking shit the whole way. Once outside, he scanned the environment for the one man he felt was worth a year of his life. Stanley. His only son. After a thorough stationary investigation, he spotted him standing next to Gordon who was lifting heavy. Gordon was lying on his back and sweat puddles rolled away from his face while watering the grass beneath him.

Stanley’s hands were cupped in front of him. Head low. Eyes against the ground. When Rasim squinted he saw that his face was outlined with so many blue bruises that he looked as though he was ready for a casket.

Rasim didn’t feel like lifting weights anymore.

Upon seeing the condition of his son’s face, Rasim’s muscles bubbled all over his body like cooking popcorn in a bag.

Judging by the stiffness of Stanley’s stance it was obvious what was going on. His man-child belonged to Gordon.

Rasim’s forehead started sweating and his upper lip was glistening too. The urge to commit homicide was so strong he could see himself with a solid twenty if he made an imprecise move.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He had to calm down because this wasn’t the plan. Getting arrested for shaving Gordon’s arteries would not help himself or Stanley in the least. But before he could activate his new plans, his comrades noticed the shift in his disposition.

“You aight?” Eddie asked touching his forearm with a firm grip. He was short but it didn’t mean that he would avoid a battle or a fresh scar if Rasim deemed it necessary. Before receiving an answer, Eddie scanned the yard himself for a hometown villain who could’ve caused his friend such dismay.

“Naw, I’m cool,” Rasim lied as he looked away from his son and pretended to be focusing on a band of Virginia niggas huddled in a group like a losing NFL team. “Just thinking about some shit that’s all.”

He dropped his hand. “Oh,” Eddie responded in a relieved tone. “You know the rules, man. Once you in here, the outside world don’t matter.”

Rasim heard him but he was on some other shit. He knew if his next statement was related to Stanley in any way, then later that night, when his comrades were lying in their bunks going over the dailies, at least one of them would be perceptive enough to peep the father-son resemblance in spite of the hair that covered Rasim’s face.

So he produced another conversation about this bad bitch he fucked five years ago that didn’t exist. It worked too. If his homies loved nothing else, they were suckers for a good New Pussy Story.

Fifteen minutes later he figured he stalled enough. So he focused on Stanley again and asked, “Who the kid with the banged out face?” He pointed at him.

“Aww, that’s some snitch from DC,” Whitaker responded rubbing the scar on his face before allowing his hand to plop down. “He was involved in that church robbery that happened uptown not too long ago.”

“Oh yeah?” Rasim responded with raised brows.

“Yeah,” Timothy added as he took a moment to scratch around one of the larger moles on his face. “Young boy caught a case of bitch teeth and got a lesser sentence than his homies. But them niggas got shipped out Philly somewhere, I think.” Timothy looked at Stanley with disgust. He hated lip flappers. “Gordon bitch ass be having that snitch doing all kinds of shit too. Cleaning his room, buying stuff from the commissary using his account and everything. I even saw him brushing the nigga’s teeth one day.” He shook his head. “It’s pitiful but the boy had it coming.”

The moment the last statement rotated off of Timothy’s lips, Stanley disobeyed Gordon’s rule and looked up to stretch his neck because it caught a cramp and hurt something terrible. When he saw his father standing in the yard, he grew goggle-eyed, released his cupped hands and bounced confidently in Rasim’s direction.

“Hold up, what type shit the young boy on?” Eddie said as he peeped the lad’s course, which was headed their way.

Parker and Shawn stepped in front of Rasim, eager to slap him back into the head lowered, eyes down, immobile stance he was known for all day. Eddie grabbed the hidden shank with intentions to slice.

But the moment Stanley was in front of them in preparation to speak, Rasim stepped up and stole him in the face so hard that he fractured the lower level of his jaw.

His only child passed out cold.

CHAPTER
21

SNOW

Snow was driving down the highway with more shit on her mind than her heart could hold. Her hands shook as she steered the car on the way to see her husband. It had been three whole weeks since she laid eyes on him. And for a bitch like Snow who moved based on her nigga’s heartbeat, the separation was pushing her toward the brink of insanity.

              When she saw a traffic accident up ahead her eyes popped open and she clutched the steering wheel tighter. Apparently a black Honda thought it could give a red Porsche some competition and found itself in the family way…pregnant with a guardrail stuck under its body. Meanwhile the driver of the Porsche was already clocked in at work.

             
Snow sighed because she knew the hour was approaching for visitation to be over and if the traffic jam didn’t vanish soon, she wouldn’t be able to see her love until next week. Truthfully she was supposed to already be there but one of their mules got arrested in the middle of the night and Snow had to make provisions. She hadn’t had a moment’s sleep.

             
When her cell phone rang she gripped the purse in her seat and wrestled with the lotion, mirror and Victoria Secret’s catalogue all while her eyes remained on the road. When she felt the coolness of the phone in her palm she snatched it, turned it on and pressed it against her ear so hard air got trapped in her drum and she had to release it and reapply just to hear.

             
Due to the traffic jam, she couldn’t move any further. So after listening to the greeting and accepting the option to speak to Rasim, she waited to hear his voice.

The first thing she heard was huffing and puffing.

She could tell by the way his agitated breath pushed into the phone that he wasn’t in a cheery mood. “Where the fuck you at?”

             
She swallowed and looked at the pregnant Honda, which was just being separated from its baby. The guardrail. “Behind a traffic accident. I’m coming as soon as I can, baby.”

             
Rasim’s breaths grew heavier, causing Snow’s intestines to roll like a belly dancer.

             
“Why you didn’t leave earlier, Snow? Huh? You didn’t want to see me? You fucking up already and it ain’t even been a month yet? Huh? Tell me now!”

             
Of course she couldn’t tell him what happened over the phone. She needed to wait until she saw him to give him the details.

Rasim was no stranger to the penitentiary system and Snow was no stranger to holding him down. But something else was up. She was shocked at the tone of his voice and it didn’t feel right. Was he guilty of something that she was unaware of?

During the other stints, he appreciated how hard she worked for him and told her in letters, calls and visits. But now he was short and it was as if he were trying to pick an argument on purpose. “You know I want to see you,” she said softly as she tried to release the urge to cry. “I haven’t been able to sleep since I haven’t been in your arms. I’m dying here, husband.”

             
“Then act like it, Snow! And get up here before I go the fuck off.” He hung up.

             
Snow made one more attempt to prevent her tears from falling but it was useless so she allowed them to roll. At one point she was crying so hard that she couldn’t see that the traffic jam cleared and allowed her a pass until she was honked out by the tractor trailer behind her. She cleared her vision by using her knuckles and pushed forward.

             
Lately Rasim was sure proving to be unreasonable. At first it started with him suggesting that she refrain from making a move in the morning until she received his call. A few days later his suggestions turned into demands and he added that she had better create an email account and be accessible there too. His possession reached all time heights and it was harder to juggle him now than it was when he was home.

             
With the threat of Rasim’s words still fresh on her mind, she hit it to the prison at lightning speeds. She removed her heel so that her foot could cover the gas pedal and she stomped on that like an expert drum major. Once Snow seriously applied herself, she was at the prison in thirty minutes flat before Visitor Registration was over.

Sweating, with her heartbeat pounding against the walls of her chest, she threw herself on the counter and scribbled her name on the sign in sheet.

Mindy, a fat correctional officer who hadn’t had dick since one of the inmates rubbed it against her inner jaw, for five dollars at that, grew heated when she saw her last name. There wasn’t a bitch in Cumberwoods or out of it that didn’t want Rasim. Why did she get to have him?

However, she and Snow had another mutual friend and her name was Queen. She was paid to do a job and had plans to be the best hater within her ability.

Stuffing her fists into her hips, she leaned back and scanned Snow up and down. She knew there was no way she would allow Rasim this visit and her only other duty was to find the proper reason why.

She looked at Snow’s shoes and they met code. She observed the blue jeans and they met code too. She thought all was lost until she saw the cream top she wore. Although a C.O. with good intentions would’ve allowed Snow in anyway, because you really couldn’t see a thing, Mindy was anything but honorable.

She rubbed the whiskers sprouting on her chin and said, “You got another shirt, right?”

Snow looked down at her blouse, which was not revealing in the least. “No,” she said softly. “What’s wrong with—”

“You ain’t coming in here with that,” she said shaking her head so hard she stumbled backwards due to getting dizzy. “You can’t be wearing nothing like that up in here. I’m sorry.” She shook her head some more. “If I let you in, I got to let other people in too and I’m not having that in my prison.” Feeling unbalanced, she flopped down in the rolling chair.

“Let the girl go, Mindy,” Courtney said looking down at her coworker.

Courtney was also a C.O. and whenever the inmates saw her face, they knew it would be a cool day because she respected the men despite the things they had done. She was a prime example that not every officer had ill motives, but it was the ones who did that fucked up the party.

Courtney wanted the inmates to see their family members, knowing that without support they would go mad and then that could be trouble for all.

Mindy, angry that Courtney’s happy-go-lucky ass was stunting her groove, leaped up and said, “Wait a minute, I don’t come bothering you when you’re doing your job so don’t come for me when I’m doing mine.” She was wagging her finger like a happy dog’s tail a little too closely to Courtney’s face. “I’m not having any of that in my prison. No sir-ree.”

Courtney glared at the mean spirited woman because although she was easygoing, she still reserved the right to rise on a bitch or two. “Ain’t nobody telling you not to do your job. But the man hasn’t seen his wife since—”

“How you figure?” she frowned. “His wife was up here last week,” Mindy advised trying to stir up the pot, which was already boiling over with shit. “So mind your business. Please and thank you,” she said sarcastically.

When Snow heard that his wife had been up there last week, she thought she was watching someone else’s life. The top of her forehead tightened and her nose burned. The sensation spread itself downward to her chest and it felt like someone was crushing her heart. “Excuse me,” Snow whispered, “did you say that…that his wife came up here already?”

Courtney, knowing the deal, shook her head and walked away. She tried to save Snow but Mindy opened a dumpster full of mess and she left her to clean it up.

“Look, I don’t get involved in inmate affairs,” she said rolling her eyes. “I’m just letting you know that you not getting in here with that shirt.” She shook her head again. “No sir-ree, you not coming up in my prison with that shit on.” With that, the hating ass bitch strutted toward the back shaking her head the entire way.

Defeated, Snow turned around, pushed the glass door open and took the walk of Denied Visitor Shame. When she made it to the parking lot, and then her car, she allowed the gallons of tears she held to flow freely. Otherwise it would have been impossible to drive the full four hours home.

What did Mindy mean by his wife came last week? Snow wanted answers and she wanted them now.

She was about to pull off when Rasim rang. She put the car in park again and waited for the greeting to select the proper keys and accept the call. The moment she did, Rasim yelled, “Where the fuck—,”

“Did you have a bitch up here last week, Rasim?” she snatched the mic from that nigga. “Because if Selena coming up here to see you, I’m done this time! I’m not fucking playing!” Snow was on fire and it felt good unloading on his ass. That is until she heard, click.

She overplayed her hand.

“Hello…hello.” She looked at her cell phone and saw the call was ended.

In all of the years she’d known or been married to Rasim, he never hung up on her before now. She was so devastated that her lips trembled like knocking cymbals and she lost her appetite.

She didn’t want to fight with Rasim. She wasn’t about that life. All she wanted was to be there for her husband and support him in his journey. Didn’t he see that? Couldn’t he feel her love?

Somehow Snow pulled herself out of the parking lot and took the long drive home.

The next morning she was lying in bed, on her side looking at the wall. Her head throbbed so bad it was hard to move. Would Rasim call her back? Would he send her an email? The answer was unequivocally no.

For two whole days he avoided all contact with her, sending her emotions on a frenzy. He didn’t even call to ask about business. Thinking something must be wrong, she reached out to his counselor, Joanne Franklin, and discovered he was not locked down or in trouble. She hung up before asking if he was sick so she got back on the horn and called the infirmary but he wasn’t there either.

It was obvious what was going on. He was sitting on his prison throne, probably eating smuggled in outside food and ignoring her purposely. But why? Was she that bad of a wife to deserve the isolation? To be frozen out of his love? When he knew how much she loved him?

She decided to write him a letter.

Dear Rasim,

I have been reflecting on our lives together. We’ve been in love since we were kids. I want you to know I have your back always.
And although we haven’t been doing too good with our love, I know things will get better.

She wrote a few more lines and then folded it up. When she mailed the letter she went back into the house to quarantine herself. It had been a week since she heard from her husband and approaching two.

In the beginning she would give Mute Candy the benefit of sending a text saying that she was fine. But when another week passed and she didn’t see her friend’s face or text, Mute Candy broke into the house.

Snow was lying in the floor in front of the TV, balled up in a comforter when she found her. Mute Candy cleaned Snow’s pussy since it was obvious by the way she smelled that she did not. The girls got her dressed, fed her and they all pulled her into the sunlight. For the first hour Snow was too devastated to talk but during the second hour she bawled her eyes out.

Since they were in the car when the mental explosion occurred, Mute Candy rubbed her leg and each twin rubbed a shoulder in an expression of love. Although they knew the pain she was having could only be repaired with the return of Rasim, they would not allow her to fall into the abyss without at least giving it a try.

Three hours later, the twins and Mute Candy had hugged her so much Snow couldn’t do anything but smile. She was still devastated but she refused to tell Mute Candy what Rasim was doing. She knew she would be back with her husband and hated the tension her best friend and man would have during the rough times.

The only thing was that Mute Candy was far from dumb. It didn’t take long for her to analyze the situation but she didn’t burden her with her opinions either.

A bitch was involved.

Point. Blank. Period.

Instead of pushing the issue, she and the twins took Snow to get her toes and nails done and then they went to the Cheesecake Factory for a few stiff drinks. When Snow was grinning and holding regular conversation, Mute Candy felt she was good.

With Snow all loved up and feeling better, she returned her home. And that’s when her nigga called.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed removing her shoes when she answered her cell. “Hello.”

“Snow,” he said softly. At first she thought she was dreaming because she didn’t hear the Cumberwoods greeting. But when he said, “Are you there?” she knew it was her man. He had a cell phone inside the walls.

What was a king without his spoils?

“Y-yes,” she stuttered.

“What you been doing?”

She responded by crying so hard he barely knew what she said. She missed him so much that hearing his voice stimulated her soul and caused a torrent of emotions. “Where…where…where have you…you been?” she managed while hiccupping in the process. “I wanted to die, Rasim. Why would you do this to me? Are you trying to kill me?”