TYCE 3 (12 page)

“No I don’t have anything on me!”

The skin tight jump suit I had on left no room to hide anything.

“Empty your pockets for me and place the contents on the hood of your car.”

My nostrils flared. It was to fucking hot outside to have to deal with this bull shit!

“I don’t have anything in my fuckin’ pockets and there aint no fuckin’ dope in my car either!”

“Ms. Dupree, am I cursing at you?” The officer approached me.

“No you’re not.”

“Then I would appreciate you calming down and not cursing at me. I’m just doing my job.”

“And I’d appreciate if you would believe what the fuck I’m tellin’ you, but we can’t always get what we want now can we?” I rolled my head to make my point.

Just as I said that a holice issued SUV rolled up and parked behind the patrol car. A Hispanic Officer quickly got out of the automobile and opened the back door to let his dog join the curb side party. I watched the biggest German shepherd I’d ever seen approach my car. With his purple tongue wagging-the dog along with the officer started to search my car starting with my front bumper.

“You have no right to search my car!”

The Hispanic Officer momentarily looked at me.

“If Sebastian indicates a hit we have every right to search you car with or without your consent. Now put your back against the fence and shut up.”

“You shut the fuck up! This is bull shit! I’m not a fuckin’ drug dealer! You punk ass holice officer’s don’t have anything else to do besides harass people all day. Talkin’ ‘bout some bogus ass tip you supposedly got about me. That’s straight bullshit and you know it!”

Officer Blake gently grabbed my arm and moved me toward the fence about six feet away from my car.

That fucking dog was all in my car sniffing over my seats, my dashboard and my door panels. When the mangy mutt moved from my back seat to my trunk he started to wag his tail rapidly. When the officer moved his pet detective to the back of my ride the dog started barking and scratching at my back bumper.

“We got a positive hit! Good boy! That’s a good boy!” The cop praised his hairy partner.

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back. I’m going to put you in cuffs while we conduct a search of your vehicle.

“Fuck that punk ass dog! I don’t have any drugs in my fuckin’ car!”

I was pissed off and although I didn’t want to show it I was getting really scared. A traffic jam was beginning to form as nosey on lookers applied their brakes to see what was going on. Several people congregated on the corner watching the drama unfold before their eyes.

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back!”

“You’re not about to arrest me for this bull shit!”

 
 
 
 
 
Blake reached for my wrist and I quickly pulled my hand back out of his reach. Again he tried to grab my wrist, but this time he was faster and got a hold of my forearm. The kick boxing training I had must have taken over at that point, because the next thing I knew my left fist was connecting with his jaw as I threw a quick hook to his face.

 
 
 
 
 
The cop’s head snapped back but the unexpected punch only made him mad as he slammed my body into the fence using his elbow. He then stuck his right leg out and flipped me over his thigh sending the front of my body crashing into the hard sidewalk. I felt my titties mash into the pavement while flashes of pain erupted in my stomach as he placed his knee in my back.

“Don’t fucking move!”

“I jus’ had a baby you bastard! Get the fuck off me!” I screamed into the hot ground.

 
 
 
 
 
The dog was now straining against his leash as he tried desperately to attack me. At that point I decided to stop resisting and let the officer place my hands in metal bracelets for the first time in my life. The last thing I wanted to do was get bit by a hungry ass dog.

 
 
 
 
 
After the brief struggle I was placed in the back of his patrol car and there I sat in silence as people around me pointed and laughed at my unfortunate circumstance. Once I was under control the officers resumed the search of my Jag concentrating on my back bumper. The arrogant Hispanic man was on his back looking under my bumper.

 
 
 
 
 
I watched in horror as his hand came from under my car handing Officer Blake a fat ass brick of cocaine wrapped in plastic. His shaggy arm went back under my bumper and retrieved another brick. Then another brick, and then another brick! He didn’t get up off the ground after that. Instead he shifted his body to the other side of the car and more white bundles were passed up to his partner. Tears streamed down my face as I counted 10 keys of cocaine all sitting on the top of my trunk in a nice neat stack.

 
 
 
 
 
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I kept thinking I was dreaming. I bit my tongue hard hoping it would wake me up from this nightmare, but all I felt was pain inside my mouth. I prayed I would wake up in my little twin bed, laying in my living room, holding my baby girl while she slept peacefully in my arms. The world around me got blurry as tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks. If I thought Tyce could hear me, I would scream his name at the top of my lungs. But he was back at home with our daughter and I was on my way to the Lynwood Detention Facility.

I had 10 keys of dope, an assault charge, resisting arrest, and trafficking charges hanging over my head.

My tears were seasoned with fury as reality set in.

Somebody had set me up.

All I could do was cry. I felt like throwing up but all I could do...was cry.

Soloishness

 
 
 
 
 
Khari had just finished off six ounces of milk and I was burping her just like the baby book instructed. I sat her little body on my thigh, placed my hand gently between her neck and chest, and rubbed and patter her back. After about a minute my little girl let out a gassy burp keeping her small mouth slightly open.

 
 
 
 
 
She was beginning to move a lot more as opposed to just laying there. I also noticed she would watch me; her tiny eyes moving from left to right as I played peek-a-boo with her. My little woman loved movement, so before I ran her bath I put her in the swing that I had stationed in the kitchen. I never left her alone, so moving the swing into the kitchen was automatic for me.

 
 
 
 
 
The kitchen sink was Khari’s temporary Jacuzzi, because it was easier on my back. I was careful not to make the water too hot as I squeezed Johnson & Johnson bubble bath soap into the strong stream. Carmela was busy putting the finishing touches on the dinner she prepared for me and Angelique. She sprinkled some sort of green herbs over the slow roasted Cornish hens and smiled when she took the baby red potatoes out of the hot oven.

“Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes.” She announced.

“Damn that smells good. You got me over here drooling in the bath water.”

Carmela walked over to me rubbing her hands on her apron. It was a common thing she did when she was nervous about something.

She touched my arm. “I want to thank you againfor providing a job for me and for saving my son. He’s doing much better now. He’s back in school and making new friends.”

I smiled down at her. “Don’t mention it Carmela. It was my pleasure. I wanna thank you for puttin’ extra cheese on my egg sandwiches jus’ how I like em. Oh, and for letting me know how much soda Angelique was drinkin’ behind my back.” I winked.

She smiled as she turned around and started putting tops on all the pots to keep the food warm.

“Should I prepare the plates after you give the baby a bath?”

“Ummm yeah. Angelique should be back in a lil bit.”

I went over, picked up Khari and laid her on the soft pallet I made for her on the table. I unbuttoned her footsie pajamas, took off her diaper and set her cute self in the sink for a bath. I loved giving my daughter a bath. She always smelled so fresh and clean afterward. Someone should make cologne that smelled like newborn babies for extra funky ass niggas…that shit would sell like lotion at a swimming pool.

Phone Call

 
 
 
 
 
The inside of the cold building was gray. It was a sick looking gray absent of any life or energy. The sun didn’t exist in this morbid underground universe, just depressing gray stone walls.

 
 
 
 
 
I sat on a hard ass bench next to six other women. We all had our own clothes on but I was told by an ancient hooker that would change after we were processed. When I asked her how long that would take she laughed and said. “Fuckin’ forever.”

 
 
 
 
 
The old hoe was right. The six of us were joined by five more women. We all sat there for five hours before we were finally processed. That procedure included fingerprints, mug shots, and giving the rude ass deputy personal information about us. After that we were all hustled into this big holding tank with all the other new chicks that were in the same boat as me. The only upside to being in the tank was the free phone. Granted you had to wait to use it because it was so crowded in there, but still at some point you got to make a phone call.

 
 
 
 
 
I counted 62 females including myself all packed in this funky ass room with no windows. The majority of them were crack heads and prostitutes but a few looked like normal girls. I found an empty space on the wall and put my back to it. My legs ached and my back was throbbing. My stomach was hurting and getting worse with each passing second.

 
 
 
 
 
There were no clocks on the wall and after being stripped of all my personal belongings I didn’t have a clue what time it was. I estimated it to be around ten o’clock at night. I knew Tyce was worried sick about me and I was anxious to call him. My first priority was to let him know I wasn’t dead and my next priority was for him to get me the fuck out of there!

 
 
 
 
 
After several inmates used the phone I finally got my chance and hurriedly dialed my man’s number. I paused when the phone started beeping in my ear. I looked at it a bit bewildered.