For the second time in hours, Lamar had been reminded that there was always a price for someone’s loyalty. Of his whole team, he would have never thought that Gunna would have lined him up for this.
“Shep, that nigga is the one that lined me up. The pussy tried to kill me, man.”
“Yeah—”
“Yo, the nigga Slam paid him to get me outta the way.”
“Wow!”
“It’s been real out there. I downed a lot of niggas, OG.”
“Yeah.” Shep snapped and cut Lamar deeply with his foul breath, smelling like four sweaty fat men playing jailhouse basketball.
“Gunna lined up the clown, Slam, too. The indictment is some bullshit, though. I guess he’s this CI#1 mutha fucka that this indictment keeps naming. But I am going to bring you up-to-date. Who’s my cellie? He ain’t no rat, is he? You know I don’t play that shit.”
“Nigga, I’m ya cellie.” Shep was smiling.
Later, after ten p.m. lock down, Lamar and Shep sat up, talking about everything that was going on in the streets. Lamar brought Shep up to speed on all the murders, Slam’s birthday party stunt, Nikia stealing his drugs and vanishing, and his soon-to-be baby’s mother, Amilli.
He had no idea that his first night back in jail would be the worse day of his life.
EPILOGUE
Seventeen Months Later
Four blacks.
Eight whites.
The verdict was in.
The trial was over.
Guilty on all counts.
Time had moved slow, but judgment day had arrived. Lamar walked onto his prison unit with a faux sense of satisfaction as if he’d just won his trial.
He didn’t.
Ignoring calls from his pals asking if he had been found not guilty, he slid into his cell. Shep wasn’t there because he had decided to take the witness stand and testify to all that Lamar had told him during their late night chats and so-called trial strategy sessions. Shep was moved off of the unit days earlier and separated from Lamar. His cell was empty and the walls were caving in. He sat on a plastic chair in his cell, staring at the walls that were closing in. He began to panic. Heavy breathing. Shortness of breath. Claustrophobia. There was the distinct stench of burning crack vapor choking him. Ah, the memories. He was crushed.
Lamar faced a life plus thirty years sentence, and he knew that the judge would give him every day of it. From the politics and news reports surrounding his situation, he was doomed. Looking around the cell, he wondered how had he lost his Ritz Carlton lifestyle and was now at a Days Inn. He laughed at the absurdity.
“Dunken, visit.”
Was someone playing games with him to get him out of the cell? He snapped out of his moment and asked the CO if he had a visit.
He did.
Lamar ambled back to his cell and checked himself in the mirror. He brushed his teeth, then headed back to the CO’s station, and let him know that he was ready to be escorted to the visiting room.
LAMAR WALKED INTO THE visiting area and to his surprise, he was looking at Nikia, sitting there with a devious little sneer on her face. How the fuck did this bitch get in here? She shouldn’t even be on my visiting list. He walked over and sat across from her. For a second or two, they simply stared at each other. Their once Bonnie and Clyde bond were reduced to hatred, and he didn’t know what to say. Hell, she’s up here visiting me, so she should have all of the words.
“So what brings you in here to see me?” he asked her, getting to the point of this meeting.
She stared at him. Tears welled up in her eyes but didn’t fall. “Why, Lamar?”
I don’t even know what this bitch is talking about; but, I already have a life sentence coming, and I won’t hesitate to choke the life outta this hoe right up in this fuckin’ visiting room if she pops fly.
“We’re family. My mother raised you,” she said.
“She raised you, too, but, that didn’t stop you from crossing me. For your jailbird dad at that. He wasn’t ever there for you like I was.”
“Lamar, you tried to kill my dad and your own daughter.”
He shrugged. “You making a point? How’d the fuck you get in here?”
“No, not really making any points. But I have a fake ID in that bitch, Amilli’s name. I am just stopping by to let you know that I am moving to the Dominican Republic with the child you tried to kill. I will also be using this same fake ID to get there.”
“Bullshit, Nikia! I’m going to need to see my child on visits and watch her grow up.”
“You tried to kill her.”
