Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose (22 page)

It had been a week since Meka had first discovered that she was pregnant. She still hadn’t told Ant. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to. With them being on the run, their situation was extremely tense and precarious. They were constantly on the move, changing motels and getting different rental cars as they tried to stay as low key as possible. With all of this going on, the time just never seemed right. Plus she just didn’t know how her brother would respond to the news that he was going to be a father. His coke habit was getting worse, and constantly being cooped up in these rooms wasn’t helping. But Meka knew she had to tell him. She had to.

“Ant…”

He was sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxer briefs. He had his tattooed back to her with the TV turned up watching an episode of Maury.
“Everyone, this is Latecia. Welcome Latecia to the show.”
On cue, the crowd began to applaud.
“Latecia is here to prove to a man named Rob that he is the father of her 1 year old son Jaquan.”
A picture of a cute little brown skinned baby boy appeared on the screen. The audience members all “awwwed”when they saw him.
“Now here’s the catch,”
said Maury, pausing dramatically.
“This isn’t the first time Latecia’s been sure that a man was Jaquan’s father. This is what happened last time…”

“Ant…” Meka said, louder.

Footage of the previous time Latecia had been on the show began to play.
“Maurice; in the case of young Jaquan you are 99.9 percent… not the father!”
Latecia fell out of her chair to the carpeted floor. Latecia began flailing her arms and legs about like she was a fish fresh out of the water. The man she had been so sure was the father of her child only seconds before, jumped out of his chair excitedly. He began doing the running man dance ATL rapper Shawty Lo had made popular in his video “Dey Know”. Ant D busted out laughing.

“Meka, you gotta see this shit! This dumb bitch on the floor crying and this fool ass nigga on stage dancing,” he said holding his stomach as he continued to laugh.

Meka snatched the remote off the bed and turned the TV off, finally grabbing her brother’s attention. She went and stood in front of Ant with her back to the TV. “Meka what the fuck—

“Ant, we need to talk,” Meka said, with a serious look on her face.

“Ok, but why you turned the TV off though? Maury was just---

“Fuck Maury, Ant!” exclaimed Meka. “We gotta talk,” she reiterated.

Annoyed he said, “Ok Meka, what’s up?” He knew he’d been treating his nose a little more than usual, but they were on the fucking run. What else was there to do? He braced himself for the lecture that was sure to come.

Meka took a deep breath and blurted out two words: “I’m pregnant.”

Ant was completely silent. Was Meka playing? This had to be some kind of joke right?
That’s exactly what this is
, he thought to himself. Meka was trying to clown him. They used to try to get each other with jokes like that when they were younger. Ant laughed. “Good one Meka. I ain’ t even gon’ lie. You had me fucked up for a lil second,” he said rubbing his nose with his thumb, sniffing. He needed a line.

“No, Ant. This ain’t no joke. I’m really pregnant; for real.

Damn, Meka really tryna get a laugh off on me. Fuck it I’ll play along.
“Ok, Meka, you pregnant. What? You tryna go on Maury and find out who the father?” Ant asked laughingly. Meka reached back and smacked the shit out of her brother. The sound of the blow seemed to echo throughout the small confines of the motel room.

“Don’t play me like I’m one of them birds that be going on that fucking show,” Meka yelled into her brother’s face. She sighed. Calmly she said, “I don’t need to go on Maury to find out who the father is Ant, ‘cause the father is you…”

The realization that his sister was dead ass serious hit Ant like the proverbial ton of bricks. He was shocked and speechless. He was going to be a father. Ant had been in shootouts, stabbed, and chased by the police. He’d robbed niggas, kidnapped their loved ones, and had taken more than a few lives. He’d done all of that, but ironically, it was the thought of bringing a life into the world that scared him the most. Ant had never known what it was to be afraid of anything… until now. The idea of being responsible for a life other than his own had him shook. He
really
needed a hit now.

CHAPTER 25

Given the severe nature of his injuries and the less than adequate medical treatment at the county jail, Mike’s recovery was nothing short of miraculous. His wounds had healed without any further complications or infections. He had lost a lot of weight, but overall was in good health. As soon as the administration noticed that he no longer needed full time medical assistance, they immediately made him pack his shit and threw him into general population.

Due to the severity of his charges and his proclivity for violence Mike was assigned to M-Block in the ‘old jail’. The ‘old jail’ was the oldest existing part of the detention center and it showed. It was generally where they sent all the fuck ups and inmates with the most violent charges. The majority of the inmates assigned there were looking at serious time or the possibility of never seeing the streets again period. It was a powder keg. Violence often erupted over the slightest sign of disrespect. C.O.’s were not exempt from this violence. Many C.O.’s refused to work in the ‘old jail’ and many inmates secretly begged not to be sent there. Mike wasn’t one of them. He didn’t give a fuck where they put him.

The ‘old jail’ was huge. It consisted of two floors and was divided into blocks named alphabetically from A to Z. Each block was like a large holding cell with triple bunk beds, a small (sometimes) colored TV, and one stainless steel shower. There was a steel table in the middle of the floor which served a variety of purposes. Inmates did everything from eat their meals at the table, played card games, or used it to aid in their workout. Against the far wall, near the door was one telephone where you could place a collect call to whoever would accept the charges.

The cells were only designed to hold 12 inmates, but often had as many as 15 to 20 prisoners packed in there like sardines in a can. The numbers fluctuated depending on what day of the week it was and what quotas had to be met. When you have that many individuals facing that much time, with that little space, it was no wonder somebody was always getting laid out on a stretcher and sent to Greenville Memorial.

Before he was placed into M-Block, the captain on duty made sure to let Mike know that he was being watched. “Look, I’m gonna make this real simple and plain for ya. Just in case you’re kinda slow. I know some of you boys ain’t go that far in school,” said the tall, burly, red haired Captain, laughing at his own joke. “With your charges, you’re lucky to even be in Population. But I’ma tell ya this: I don’t like you.” Mike got the feeling that this cracker didn’t like
any
black people. “The first time you fuck up we gonna beat you like a goddamn slave and drag your black ass to the S.H.U. So do yourself a favor… don’t fuck up.” Still weakened from his wounds and the stay in the infirmary, Mike just looked at the captain and said nothing. It was time to start bidding.

$$$

“
Smith, you got a visit. Get ready,”
said the metallic voice over the intercom inside the block. Mike wondered who it was as he washed his face and brushed his teeth in the stainless steel sink that was connected to the commode. You could only put three people on your visiting list at a time. Gloria and Meka had been the first two names on his list. Then, after some thought he added this chick named Shareeta from Crestwood. He used to fuck with her before shit got serious with Nikki. She claimed she loved him. The feeling wasn’t mutual, but Mike needed somebody reliable out there in the streets to handle business for him. He had more than a few options, but Reeta had a good head on her shoulders and a fat ass on her back, so he chose her. The fact that she was thick as hell, with a cute face and slightly bowlegged didn’t hurt either. There had been no point in putting Ant D on the list. That was his dog but that nigga’s face was all over the news. He knew Ant wasn’t coming to the county; at least not voluntarily.

5 minutes later, the C.O. came to door and opened it. “Smith!” Mike walked to the door in his county issued orange pants, shirt and matching flip flops. On his wrist was a wristband with his name, I.D. number, and his picture on it. He showed the wristband to the officer to verify his identity.

Once out in the hallway, the door was quickly slammed shut and locked behind him. Mike followed the C.O. down the hallway to the room where visitations were held. There were other inmates milling about, waiting to be let in as well. Without being obvious, Mike observed the other inmates. He had to make sure there weren’t any potential enemies within his midst. He had to stay on point. He was well aware that more than a few niggas still wanted him dead.

“A man, wassup Mike,” a short stocky dude said as they waited to be admitted into the visiting room. He had a very distinctive scar on his neck, as if somebody had tried to decapitate his ass. Mike tensed up, but didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at him and mentally prepared for war. The wheels in his head were turning, trying to remember who the fuck this nigga was. Had he robbed him; shot him? Was he M.B.M.?

Within seconds, Mike had read the guy’s body language and determined that he didn’t pose any threat. In here, sometimes seconds was all you got; if that. “Aww, nigga you don’t remember me?” asked the guy, seeing the ice grill on Mike’s face. He started laughing. Mike remained silent, waiting for this nigga to expose his hand. “This Lil Black nigga!” the guy said with a stupid smile on his face. “From Washington St.? Remember? You used to fuck wit’ my sister Lexus.” Mike remembered the nigga now… barely. He hadn’t been fucking with Lexus for damn near 3 years. A lot of shit had happened since then.

“Oh, yeah. It’s been a minute. Wassup Lil Black?”

“Maaan, these muhfuckas got me jammed up on all types of shit dog. I got ‘bout thirty armed robberies, two home invasions, possession, assault and battery, failure to stop, resisting arrest, assault on an officer… all types of shit my nigga. All types of shit.” Mike didn’t know if this nigga was exaggerating, trying to impress him, or if he really had all those damn charges. If he really did have all those charges he didn’t seem too worried about it.

“Damn, that’s fucked up homey. How old you is now Lil Black?”

“Shit, I just turned 17,” Lil Black said, poking his chest out.
Damn this little nigga probably just started getting his dick wet and his life is over already
, Mike thought to himself. “But I don’t give a fuck though Mike. I can handle this shit. You know my daddy, brother and a couple of my uncles already doing bids. I’ma be straight when I hit the yard!”

Finally, there was a loud noise as the automatic door to the visiting room opened. Mike was relieved. This little nigga was trying to talk his fucking ear off! It was obvious Lil Black didn’t realize the seriousness of his situation. Or maybe he did, but was trying to convince himself otherwise. Whatever the case, Mike had his own fucking problems to deal with.

The inmates filed in and began to look for their loved ones. The visiting room was really nothing but a long corridor that had metal partitions that divided you from the other inmates. This gave you some semblance of privacy as you looked at your loved ones from behind the thick plexi-glass window. There were no seats. You had to stand up and talk through the receiver of the black phones if you wanted to be heard. And some of the receivers didn’t work.

Mike looked into each partition as he walked down the hallway, searching for a face that was familiar. He still didn’t know who had come to see him. For whatever reason, the pigs didn’t tell you that. As he made his way down the line he saw grandmothers, girlfriends, mothers, and sisters. But one thing that stood out in his mind was the fact that there were no men there to see anybody.
Maybe because all of us are already locked the fuck up
, he thought to himself.

He saw Lexus, who he guessed had come to see Lil Black. Damn, she was looking good as fuck. She gave him a huge smile and waved at him. Mike maintained his composure. He nodded his head and kept it pushing.

When he got to the last partition all the way at the end of the hallway, his face lit up as he saw somebody he hadn’t seen in a minute. He flashed his $40,000 diamond and ruby encrusted smile. The smile felt weird on his face. It was something he hadn’t done in a long time. He hadn’t had a reason to. Meka smiled back at him and picked up the receiver. Before she could put it to her ear Mike put his hand up, signaling for her to stop. He took his receiver in his hand and using the bottom of his shirt he cleaned the phone as thoroughly as he could. Meka followed suit.

“Wassup nigga!” Meka exclaimed into the receiver. She cracked a huge gold toothed smile of her own. She was truly excited to see her brother from another mother. The last time she had seen him, he was still confined to a wheelchair. It had been last year, right after Christmas when she and Gloria were coming out of their bond hearing.

“Ain’t shit,” Mike responded. “Biddin’. You know how this shit go Meka. It’s one day at a time off in this bitch.”