ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) (23 page)

             “Stay true to what, Mike? To what?! These streets don’t give a fuck about you!!
I
do! What about me?! What about the baby? What about staying true to us,” pleaded Nikki, looking deep into Mike’s eyes.

              Frustrated that Nikki couldn’t understand the values that had governed his life for so long, Mike got up and told her they’d talk about it later.

   She argued, “What if there is no later, Mike? You don’t have to go. Stay here with me, baby.
Please
.” He wrapped his arms around Nikki and held her close, in her embrace finding reprieve from a life of abandonment and pain from not being wanted, and not being loved. He wished he could make her understand how important it was to retaliate for Meka, but she was from a totally different world. They held each other in silence, neither wanting to let the other go. 

      All of a sudden…
BOOM
! The front door of the apartment imploded, and police in blue uniforms and black vests with yellow writing on them that read Greenville County swarmed into the apartment with their guns drawn. Mike’s first instinct was to go for his gun, but Nikki was there with him. He didn’t want to jeopardize her life, or the life of his unborn child. For he had no doubt that those scary ass, trigger happy, crooked ass cops wouldn’t hesitate to kill them both, and have their deaths ruled “justifiable homicide.” He’d seen it happen too many times. So when they pointed their guns at him and Nikki and yelled “
Sheriff’s Office, get on the ground—NOW!!
”, he followed their instructions and got on the ground. Crying uncontrollably and confused, Nikki did the same. The officers forcefully pulled their arms behind their backs, and using more force than necessary, placed cuffs on them both.

                “Mike, what’s going on?”

                “Nikki, everything…”

                “Shut the fuck up, boy,” yelled one of the officers, as he grabbed Mike by the arm and snatched him up on his feet. His pink face only inches from Mike’s, he said, “Your ass is goin’ down, motherfucker! We got your fuckin’ ass now, boy! I bet next time your ass will stop when you’re supposed to!” The officer’s breath stank, and spittle flew from his mouth into Mike’s face as he spoke.

                  Mike looked directly into the cop’s eyes, and returned his hateful glare. He said, “As soon as I make bail, I’ma make sure to stop by your mama’s house and get some of that good head she got. Heard that bitch can suck a mean dick. It’s too bad she ain’t do the world a favor and swallow yo’ sorry cracker ass...”

    Before he could say another word, the cop sucker punched Mike in the gut, causing him to double over in pain.

      “Get their sorry asses out of here! And don’t forget to read ‘em their goddamn rights! I don’t want no fuckin’ technicalities biting us in the ass later on.”

Chapter 25

   The ride downtown to the county jail was one that Mike had taken on numerous occasions over the years as a juvenile offender, so it really wasn’t a big deal to him. Taking chances, and living the life that he and so many others like him lived on a daily basis, it was an inevitability that sooner or later you would get locked up. Almost every black male in the ‘hood at some point in time had to experience the inhumanity of being caged like a wild animal. Somehow over the years, doing a bid had become a badge of honor, provided you went in and came back like a man. It was a rite of passage into manhood. That misguided way of thinking was what had so many young brothers doing 35, 50, and 75 years without parole; never to see the outside streets again.

               Though Mike could more than handle himself, it was Nikki that he was mostly concerned about, as they approached the jail in separate cars. She was the type of girl that had never been in any type of trouble in her entire life, so he could only imagine what was going through her mind right now. Whatever it took, he had to see to it that she didn’t get mixed up in any of the charges they were getting ready to throw at him. The thought alone of her riding in the back of that police car, with his unborn child in her womb, behind some bullshit he did pained him more than any physical pain he’d ever experienced.

              Once at the county jail, both Mike and Nikki were placed into separate holding cells. The holding cells were tiny concrete boxes that reeked of sweat, vomit, and urine. They were rarely, if ever, cleaned. The walls were filthy and littered with years of graffiti, dirt, and only God knew what else. That was where the “suspects” were kept until they faced arraignment, a process in which they were taken before a judge, told of the charges that were being brought against them, and whether or not they would be eligible for bond.

              Mike didn’t know exactly what the charges against him were, but whatever they were, he knew he’d have to take responsibility in order for them to let Nikki go.

    After hours upon hours of waiting in that nasty ass holding cell to be called (a subtle tactic often used by the police to coerce confessions and information out of individuals), finally Mike was pulled out, handcuffed, and walked down the hallway by a deputy to the judge’s chamber.

    “Ok, let’s see what we have here,” said Judge Anderson. He looked down at the stack of warrants in front of him, as he sat behind the elevated judge’s bench. “Failure to stop for a blue light, reckless endangerment while driving, unlawful possession of a firearm, possession of marijuana…” The litany of charges being read by the bespectacled, balding, Judge Anderson went on and on. Mike just looked up at him with a blank stare. Unfortunately this was a position Mike was all too familiar with, so he knew the protocol: remain silent.

   After all the indictments were read, Judge Anderson looked down at Mike and asked, “Do you understand all the charges that I just read, that are being brought against you?”

   Mike remained silent.

   “Now, I understand that there was also a young lady at the scene of the arrest… So Mr. Smith, I’m going to do you a favor. You have two choices. You can either own up to the drugs and guns in your apartment that were found… or she can take the fall with you, and y’all can spend the next twenty years being pen pals in the Department of Corrections. The choice is yours.”

   Without even a moment of thought or hesitation, Mike looked directly into the eyes of the old pale faced judge, and finally broke his silence. “Everything in the apartment was mine.”

   “Are you absolutely sure about what you’re saying, Mr. Smith? You have been advised of your rights, and stated that you understood them. As you know, anything you say can and will be used against you in any future proceedings.”

   Mike knew that admitting to the fact that everything the officers found upon their search of his apartment was his was an open admission of guilt that could not be taken back later, but he also knew it would free Nikki, so he never even thought twice. “Yeah, I’m sure. And I understand my rights and all that, so can we just go ‘head and skip all this Law & Order bullshit, and get this over wit’, man?”

   There was a brief moment of silence as the judge busied himself signing off on some papers. Finally he said, “Bail set at $150,000!” and banged his gavel down. “Deputy, would you please get this worthless piece of shit out of my sight.”

   “Gladly, your honor.” The guard grabbed Mike roughly by the arm, and led him out of the judge’s chamber.

   They headed down a corridor, and then were buzzed through two heavily fortified double doors. Mike was led into the reception area where the dehumanizing process known as “intake” would begin. He got ready to have his mug shot taken, be fingerprinted, and strip searched.

$$$

    Almost a full day had passed since Nikki was arrested with Mike. She hadn’t seen him since they had both been placed into separate squad cars, and taken to the county jail. Her worse fears had become a reality. She’d been crying so much in that tiny, soiled cell that her eyes were red and puffy. She had no more tears left to cry, so she pulled her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth in the corner. Nikki was exhausted, both mentally and physically. She hadn’t even bothered touching the disgusting jail house trays of food they had been periodically pushing through a small opening at the bottom of the door.

    “Jones…Nikki Jones…” It sounded as if someone was calling her name from some far, far away place. It was a female’s voice, but Nikki wasn’t sure where the sound was coming from so she kept her head buried between her knees and prayed that her horrible ordeal would be over soon.

    “Miss Jones,” said the voice, “you’re being released.” As the words the guard had just spoken gradually registered in her brain, Nikki looked up and finally noticed the female guard who was standing at the entrance. She was so out of it that she hadn’t even heard the heavy metal door when it was opened, let alone noticed the guard standing there. “Did you hear what I said, Ms. Jones? You’re being released.”

    “Released?” Nikki knew what the word meant but after hours upon hours of solitary confinement, it seemed foreign somehow. Slowly, she got to her feet. She felt as if she was emerging from a dream, or a nightmare rather. Nikki followed the guard out of the cell.

$$$

   “Nigga, is you listenin’ to what I’m sayin’?! The po-lice kicked in my door, and arrested me and Nikki,” said Mike to Ant D, while using the phone at the guard’s desk where they did the processing. That was one of the few advantages of being locked up in Greenville County. More than likely one of the guards, who were predominately young and Black, had gone to school with you, had heard of you, or knew somebody that was related to you. So after Mike was dressed out in an orange jumpsuit and matching flip flops, he approached the desk and saw his homegirl Brandy Harris from Brutontown sitting there waiting to process him.

    Mike had quickly and discreetly, as there were eyes and ears everywhere in the detention center - both real and electronic, explained his situation. He told her that he’d throw her a little paper when he got out if she would let him use the staff phone to make a call instead of the inmate phone, which blocked you from calling cell phones. Brandy was from the ‘hood, and had a father, brother, cousin, and a baby daddy who were all incarcerated, so she sympathized with Mike. Plus she’d had a crush on him since back in the day, so she went ahead and let him use the phone.

   “Look here, they should be lettin’ Nikki go in a hot minute. So get her mama to scoop her, then give her the paper for my bond so I can get the fuck up out this bitch befo’ the weekend over.”

   “How much yo’ bond is?”

   “Hundred and fifty stacks.”

    “A hundred and fifty thousand?!! Goddamn, what the fuck they got yo’ ass charged wit’?” asked Ant D.

    “Just some bullshit from that chase, and some other shit they talkin’ ‘bout they found in the spot. Nigga, you know these crackers be jackin’ bonds up high as a muh’fucka so they greedy asses can get a cut, and put they sorry ass kids through college. But you already know what it is. Ten percent get a nigga out. So make it do what it do.”

   Brandy started motioning for Mike to wrap it up. The next shift would be coming on in a few minutes, and she wasn’t trying to get written up… not even for Mike. “Look, nigga, I gotta go.”

   “Don’t even stress that shit, my nigga. I got you! And as soon as you touch down, we goin’ to see Meka and find out who them fuck niggas was that fucked her up. After that… you already know what it is.”

    “Yeah I know, I know. Let me get my ass off this phone tho’, ‘cause it look like B finna have a goddamn seizure,” Mike laughed.

    “Ok, bet. Don’t drop the soap, muh’fucka,” Ant joked.

    “Nigga, fuck you!” retorted Mike, and he handed the phone back to Brandy. “Good lookin’ out, B, fa’ real.”

   “Ain’t no problem, Mike. If you need anything else when I’m on duty, anything at all, just holla’ at me,” stated Brandy, with a look of lust on her face that didn’t attempt to conceal the meaning behind her words.

   Mike knew exactly what the business was, but he had bigger, more important shit on his mind. So he just said, “I’ma get at you, baby.”