Daddy Dearest (3 page)

Like most prisons, the yard was always swarming with activity when it was warm outside. Inmates could be seen lifting weights, making sports wagers, and occasionally soliciting homosexuals.

But on this Friday, at Bunn Correction Facility, the yard was just about deserted. A track and field event was airing on television, and hardly any man had passed up the chance of seeing the world’s female track stars in their skimpy outfits.

Hammer was an exception. Not only had fourteen years of incarceration taught him to have patience, it also taught him unwavering discipline. He missed a woman’s company just as much as the next man who had been incarcerated for as long as he had, but he never gave in to lust.

In his opinion, lusting was a weakness; a weakness that he caused a lot of men to indulge into risky activities that had more often than not resulted in H.I.V. He also didn’t give into masturbation; he allowed his dreams to relieve that pressure. It was messy, but it was natural, and more gratifying to him.

Now as he stood on the basketball court alone, he studied the rim, immersed in his thoughts.

Now if I make this shot, I’m going to get some mail from Cataya today.

He shot the fifteen footer and missed badly.

“Damn!” he exclaimed, as he retrieved the ball. He positioned himself behind the three-point line.

Come on, Hammer. Tighten up. If I make this shot, me and Taya will be real close when I come home.

When the ball swished in the net, and Hammer pumped his fist in the air like an excited kid. This was a daily ritual that Chaplin Stephens vehemently protested, saying that it was a reckless measure that didn’t have anything to do with fate or reality. Hammer somewhat believe this to be true, but he did whatever it took to give himself hope for the future.

Sometimes it was harder for him to be optimistic in a place that had befallen on him when he had only been doing what any man should have—for a person who probably didn’t deserve it.

His routine was interrupted when a very skinny man approached him with urgency.

“Hammer! Hammer! I need some help man this dude is trying to kill me because-“

“Hold up, Bobby!” Hammer demanded. “Slow down, I can’t understand a word that you are saying.”

Bobby took a few deep breaths and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“He said that he’s going to kill me. I need your help,
brother-in-law
.”

Hammer mumbled something that was unintelligible to Bobby before shooting a three-pointer. He led to the right as if he was guiding the ball in the rim.

Swish
!

It was only then that Hammer turned back to him. “Who’s trying to kill you, Bobby?”

“Sparky, the head of the Dirty White Boys.”

The Dirty White Boys were an organized gang of Caucasians that had their hands in a lot of illegal activities on the compound. And being that he knew Bobby so well, he was ninety percent positive of how the problem had arisen.

“Why?”

“Why, what?” Bobby asked, glancing over is shoulders. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Why is Sparky trying to kill you?”

“Because he want me to pay him for some garbage heroin that he fronted me.”

Hammer retrieved the basketball and laid it up. His suspicion had been accurate. “I’m staying out of that one.”

“Come on, Hammer! I can’t believe that you’re still mad because I didn’t keep my word when I went home. That’s not a real reason to leave me out here to get murdered; I’m your brother-in-law.”

Hammer shook his head in disgust. He knew that Bobby only used the ‘brother-in-law’ title for leverage when he was in need of something. Otherwise, he kept his distance because he was caught up in the hype surround his sister’s death.

Hammer was very grateful that Bobby was a coward down to his heart. Because if that wasn’t the case, he knew that he would have a serious problem on his hands.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with that. I wasn’t expecting nothing form you in the first place.”

“So why are you tripping on me for then?” he asked, lifting his arms from his side. “We ain’t never had no problems with each other.”

“Because I’m not going to let no child molester/dope fiend keep me from getting home to my daughter. And nobody else for that matter.”

“That’s real fucked up, man.”

“Nah,
man
. That’s real life.” Hammer walked off, leaving Bobby the yard to himself.

* * *

Hammer walked in the Chapel the next morning, on time as usual. He was amazed that he actually enjoyed working there, cleaning up and doing odd jobs. The atmosphere there put him in a serene and collective state of mind, like he was in another place all together.

Chaplin Stephens had hired him ten years ago, and they had unintentionally built an incredible, but dangerous bond.

The bond was incredible because the Chaplin had a way of simplifying Hammer’s most complex problems. His mighty insight had helped Hammer get through many rough patches that he had endured during the course of his prison sentence.

Their relationship was dangerous because if it was ever discovered by the prison’s staff they knew that there would be some stiff repercussions for both of them.

Now as he neared the Chaplin’s office, he could hear a strange sound coming from behind the door. Chaplin Stephens responded immediately to his knock and closed it behind him.

“Good morning, Bobbit.”

“Good morning. That could only mean one thing,” he said, referring to the inmate on the phone crying.

“Unfortunately, you’re right.”

Hammer shook his head sadly. He dreaded ever being summoned to the Chapel for anything other than to report to work. His heart went out to each inmate he heard being summoned even if he wasn’t sure of the reason. The Grim Reaper seemed to have the hot hand.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but the utility closet is locked. I need to get in there for the supplies.”

“Sure, sure.” He went over to the closet. “Have things been okay at home?”

“They’ve been the same”

“Have you talked to your daughter?”

“Yes, I talked to her last night.”

“Did she watch the program?”

“No. She was too busy at the mall with her…friend.”

The Chaplin picked up on Hammer’s change of tone. “Is there something wrong with her friend?”

“Uhh, he’s on the sweet side, if you know what I mean.”

“That seems to bother you.”

“To be honest with you, Chaplin, it bothers me a lot.”

He unlocked the closet. “Why, may I asks?”

“Because, I don’t want her to pick up any bad habits.”

“Bobbit.” He gently placed his hand on Hammer’s shoulder. “You have to give your daughter more credit than what you are giving her. She seems like an intelligent young woman, from what you’ve told me about her. So, I doubt very seriously that-“

“Sergeant Goines to Chaplin Stephens,” the two-way radio crackled.

The Chaplin pulled the radio from his belt. “Chaplin Stephens, over. Go ahead, Sergeant Goines.”

“Do you have an inmate by the name of Carl Bobbit there with you?”

Both the Chaplin and Hammer frowned.

“Yes, I do.”

“I need him in my office a.s.a.p.”

“Okay, I’m sending him now.” He replaced the radio. “What have you gotten yourself into, Bobbit?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t done anything.”

“Well, something is wrong. We both know that Goines doesn’t call anyone to his office unless he’s going to lock them up.”

Hammer knew this to be accurate. “There’s has to be a mistake, I haven’t done anything.”

“Well, you better get on down there. And don’t worry about a thing, God is with you.”

* * *

Sergeant Goines was what you called a ‘narcotic Sergeant’. Every drug investigation/bust that took place on the compound was headed by him. He had been known to turn a blind eye to any non-drug offense, unless the participant(s) was on his ‘hot list’. A ‘hot list’ was a document that contained every inmate that had been caught, or suspected of dealing/using drugs. These people were subject to getting searched or having a urinalysis conducted on them at any given time.

Hammer found himself hoping that he had somehow ending up on that list so he could be on his merry way once they did whatever they decided to do. He knocked on the Sergeant’s door, hoping, praying.

“Come in,” a man yelled form the other side of the door.

Hammer entered the office and was taken aback when he seen Warden Felts. He was sitting at Sergeant Goine’s desk like he was the CEO of Fannie Mae.

Sergeant Goines stood at the window, playing with a pair of handcuffs. His piercing blue eyes bore into Hammer like he was reading his mind.

“Come on in and shut the door, Bobbit.”

He done what he was told, while keeping his undivided attention on Warden Felts. His presence made Hammer very uncomfortable. They had an extensive past that dated all the way back to Hammer’s first year in prison.

He never knew how Felts had come to the point of loathing him. The only thing that was clear was the fact that it was to the point of no return. They were lifetime enemies.

Hammer had collected twenty disciplinary write-ups since he had been incarcerated, and eighteen of them had come from Felts in some sort of fashion. They usually came around the same time he was up for custody review.

Felts had promised him from the start that he would do his entire prison sentence there so he could give him hell every minute of it. So far, his prediction was accurate.

“For some reason,” Felts began, “you can’t seem to keep your nose clean.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“That’s not what Bobby Johnson is saying. You know that he was stabbed in his sleep last night.”

“Nah, don’t know nothing about that. I’m not in the same dorm with him.”

“Oh. He identified the inmate that assaulted him. We also know that the guy was only acting on orders.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Felts. I don’t have any beef with him. Nor do I have the power to give an order like that.”

“He told me that he had two confrontations yesterday. One of them was with you.”

“Ah, man! That was nothing serious,” Hammer said, not wanting to give them any kind of information.

“I guess a couple of bundles of heroin ain’t all that serious to you, huh?”

“I don’t deal with nothing like that; I’m about to go home.”

“Not on schedule if you don’t tell about this heroin operation that’s going on in my compound.”

Hammer suddenly realized why he had been summoned there. It was true that Bobby had put him in the mix by mentioning his name, but he had also named his assailant. So that case was closed.

Goines and Felt’s real focus was to find out who was dealing the drugs, and more importantly, how they were getting them in the prison. This case had ‘street charges’ written all over it, and right in their reach.

All they needed was an inmate who was familiar with everything that went on at the institution. Hammer fit the criteria because he had been at Bunn longer than any other inmate that was currently there.

The only problem with that was Hammer wasn’t a snitch. He also wasn’t dumb, so he didn’t let them know that he was hipped to them.

“What’s your angle, Felts? You know that I didn’t have nothing to do with that boy getting stabbed, and you also know that I don’t deal with no drugs. Do you hate me that much whereas you’ll willing to pull me into that mess? Knowing I’m trying to get home to my daughter!”

A mischievous grin spread across Felt’s face. It was a smile that Hammer had seen often over the course of the last fourteen years. So naturally, he knew what was to follow…

 –—Chapter Three–—

When Providence High School let out, a sea of students emerged from the building to get on the school buses. The ones who were fortunate and old enough to drive, pulled off in their fancy cars that their wealthy parents had bought them.

Cataya had had her driver’s license for well over a year now, bud didn’t own a car due to the fact that her father wasn’t comfortable with her operating one. This was another mater that she had challenged her father on and lost.

She was walking towards her bus when she heard Ching calling her.

“Cataya, come. I drive today.”

“Cool. You think you can take me to the mall? I want to pick up some shoes.”

“Sure.”

She followed him to a late model Lexus 460. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“What?”

“I thought that you wasn’t going to accept anything from your dad until he accepts who you are.”

“That before crazy man chase me.”

“Who chased you?!”

“Crazy man at your house last night.”