Christmas in the Hood (19 page)

“Just wondering, that’s all.” Fats smiled. He was really wondering if Laquesha knew that Melissa was bringing in that tar for Rock. Rock had just informed Fats the night before that he had convinced his girl to bring him three grams of heroin packaged in balloons. During the visit Rock would swallow three balloons, containing a gram of heroin each, then shit them out later. He told Fats that he could make almost a thousand dollars a gram. Now that was a come up, Fats thought, heroin on the street cost seventy-five dollars a gram. If he could convince Laquesha to do the same thing, then it would be all good. But Fats didn’t know how to bring it up, so he’d hoped that maybe Melissa had told Laquesha what she was doing. But, obviously, she hadn’t.

“Daddy, Daddy, lookee here,” Yvette said, holding something up to her daddy’s face. Fats came out of his illicit moment and looked to his daughter.

“What’s that, baby girl?” he asked. Yvette was holding up a little bracelet that she wore around her tiny wrist. It was one of the last gifts Fats had bought her before he got locked up, a charm bracelet from Tiffany’s. His daughter held up the bracelet on her little arm, beaming with pride that she was wearing her daddy’s gift. “That’s beautiful, baby girl,” Fats said.

“I know.” Yvette grinned. “Will you get me more for Christmas?” she asked, looking into Fats’s face, batting her big brown eyes. “Please, Daddy? And get Mommy one, too?” Fats felt nothing but love for his daughter as she pleaded with him.

“And I want a new bike, too, Daddy,” Maurice chimed in as if
on cue. Both Yvette and Maurice smiled. Fats felt all eyes on him, and he was thinking about how he wasn’t gonna be able to get them nothing, but he couldn’t tell his baby girl and son that.

He reached his arms around both his kids and held them close. “I’ll get you all whatever you want. Just let Daddy know, and I’ll make it happen.” Fats smiled. “You know I got a direct hookup to Santa Claus.” Yvette squealed with delight at that, and Maurice lit up, too. Laquesha gave them some quarters and told them to go get their daddy a soda and candy bar from the vending machine. When they ran off, she turned to Fats.

“Now, Felix, don’t be telling them kids no lies. You know we don’t have no money. How you gonna buy them presents for Christmas with money we don’t have?” Laquesha scolded. She loved Fats to death, especially for the way he treated and responded to the kids, but she knew the reality of the situation. And she didn’t like leading her kids on in any type of way.

“Naw, La, it ain’t like that,” Fats said. “You know I’m a hustler. I’m gonna figure something out.”

“Oh yeah, like what?” Laquesha asked. Fats wanted to blurt it out, but he didn’t know if it was the right time to bring it up. He knew that if he could convince Laquesha to bring the drugs, they’d be straight. For Christmas and everything else.

“You know I’m working on some moves, La,” Fats said. “I just need to know if you with me or what?”

“Of course I’m with you, boo. You know I got your back, but you need to let me know what you’re talking about.” Fats looked back toward the vending machine to make sure his kids weren’t on their way back. “It’s like this, La.” Fats lowered his voice. “We can come up.”
He looked over toward Rock and Melissa. “You see, Rock got Melissa making moves for him on the balloon tip so that he can get paper from in here.”

Laquesha got a real serious look on her face and pulled her hand away from Fats. “Felix James.” Her voice now stern. “I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. With the kids and all? I won’t do any such thing!” Fats grabbed his girl’s hands again and held them in his own.

“Damn La.” He tried to ease the tension. “Don’t be getting all excited.” He looked around to check on the kids again. “They doing it and it’s all good, so why can’t we be doing it, too?”

Laquesha saw the intense look in Fats’s eyes and took a minute to consider his proposal. She knew a few of her homegirls were doing stuff like that, plus when she was just a little girl she used to take weed up to her dad while he was at USP Lewisburg.
But the kids
, she thought. If not for the kids she would be down for it all the way. She wouldn’t think of subjecting her kids to that type of situation, though. What if something went wrong? Fats was asking a lot of her.

Fats saw Laquesha contemplating and figured that if he said the right thing, he could tip the scales in his favor.

Just then, the kids came back.

“Here, Daddy,” Yvette smiled as Fats took his soda and candy bar. Maurice sat down and started eating his Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, and Yvette chewed down on some gummy bears. Laquesha got up in a huff like she was mad, but really she wasn’t. She was weighing the pros and cons of Fats’s proposal. She strolled over to the vending machine and bought herself a cherry cola.

Laquesha watched Fats with the kids and was on the verge of
deciding if she would go through with his suggestion when she noticed three COs walk into the visiting room to confer with the CO stationed at the desk. They all got up and walked over to Rock and Melissa. Laquesha knew exactly what was up.

Chapter Three

B
ack on the pound the next day the whole jail was buzzing about Rock getting hemmed up on the VI. Homies stepped to Fats to find out how it went down. Foul play was suspected, but nobody was drawing any conclusions just yet. No one knew with certainty as to what really happened.

“Damn, slim,” said Country. “How they get my man like that?” Fats didn’t really know, but he wanted to oblige his big homie, who was one of the most respected D.C. dudes on the pound, and at least tell him something. Country had been down for over a decade and had seen time in all the pens, so this FCI shit was nothing to him; plus he’d been down Lorton back in the day, and all the young’uns had heard the war stories about Lorton. Country was known as a go-hard southeast gangsta through and through, and Fats jumped at the opportunity to be down with the big homie.

“I don’t know, moe,” Fats told him. “I didn’t see him doing nothing suspicious with his girl. Five-oh just rolled up and grabbed dude, no bullshit.”

Country rolled his eyes and screwed his face up. “Those fucking redneck crackers,” he growled. “Always fucking up a nigga’s
move with they bamma-ass shit. You didn’t hear Rock telling nobody about what he was doing, did you, slim?”

Fats double-checked Country on that one because Rock had mentioned the move to him the night before. He moseyed up into Fats and Mel-Mel’s cell and could hardly contain himself knowing he was about to make a move and come up.
The stupid nigga probably ran his mouth to everyone
, Fats thought. Loose lips sink ships.

“Three grams of tar, moe,” he told Fats and Mel-Mel. “Straight from the city. We gonna get that bread, no bullshit.” Fats had also noticed that Mel-Mel had that glint in his eye.
Let me find out this old-timer’s a dope fiend
, Fats thought at the time. But it wasn’t to be. Something went wrong, and the move turned disastrous. Dudes on the pound were saying that Rock’s girl, Melissa, got arrested in the parking lot, and that Rock was looking at a street charge if he passed any balloons in the dry cell.
And they sure as hell had him up in that motherfucking dry cell watching Slim’s every move, waiting for him to take a shit
, Fats thought. The word was that they supposedly had the whole transaction on videotape from the visiting room, too. Fats knew from his limited experience in prison that dudes talked a lot of shit on the pound. Who knew what was really up?

Country was focusing in on Fats with a crazy look in his eyes.

“Did I stutter, little homie?” Country asked. “You can’t hear or what, slim?”

Fats came back to the present. “Yeah, I mean, naw,” Fats stumbled. “I didn’t hear Rock tell nobody nothing. No bullshit, moe.”

Country seemed to accept that and hit rocks with Fats. “Check it out, slim.” Country changed gears. “We balling later at
the gym on the rec move, so bring your fat ass up there. You know we putting together a little team for the homies to represent in the winter league and for the Christmas tournament. I know you got a lil’ game, so I wanna see you up there. I need you to get your game tight because if you can hit those trays consistently, it’ll help us do something, awright?”

“Awright, moe, bet,” Fats said.

Country bounced, leaving Fats in the common area of Poplar B-Upper, wondering if he should call his girl Laquesha and find out what happened to Melissa. He knew the bus had gone back that morning, and he wondered if they made it to the city yet. Fats had really enjoyed his visit, even though it was only for one day. He already missed his kids. After what happened to Rock and Melissa, Laquesha wasn’t feeling that balloon shit. She wasn’t having no more of that kind of talk. Just when Fats felt like he had almost convinced her, Laquesha had shut it down, period. No ifs, ands, or buts! But Fats was still scheming. He had to come up some way.

Maybe I should get in hobby craft
, he thought. Then I can make my kids something for Christmas! Fats knew a lot of dudes would be making leather-craft stuff—like purses and wallets and the like—then sending them home to their families. A lot of dudes used hobby craft to hustle by making things, then selling them to other people who sent them out as gifts. They did ceramics in recreation, too. Fats had seen a lot of nice pieces, but he didn’t have the funds to make any purchases.
Shit, I don’t even have the funds to buy the material to get into the class
, he thought.

He was gonna have to find another way.

He did have his other baby-mama, Kim, to consider, and she
was supposed to visit him the first week of November. She was a little more gangsta than Laquesha, so Fats was thinking maybe he could put something together with her. Fats knew his big homie Country could make all the arrangements, but Fats couldn’t shake the feeling from what happened to his man Rock. Somebody snitched on his boy.
But a nigga got to do what a nigga got to do
, Fats thought. Snitches or not! Fats knew the snitches in the federal prison system were vicious. He’d heard a lot of stories since he touched down on the pound, and the deal with Rock confirmed all the rap. Fats would have to be real careful if bammas were working like that. He would have to put together his plan and make sure it was tight. He wasn’t trying to go out like no sucka.

“Hey, Fats, what’s up there bro?” Mikey P greeted Fats as he walked down the tier. “How was your visit yesterday? I heard you had the kids up.”

Fats stood up and shook the Italian’s hand. Mikey P was still in good shape for an older guy, and his grip was strong. “My visit was good Mr. P,” Fats said. “But you heard about my homie, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mikey P sighed. “Rock. He’s a good dude. I’ve been doing time with him for a minute. A stand-up guy. Hopefully they gots nothing on him, you hear me. A guy’s gotta be careful who he tells his business to in these joints. Forget about it.” Mikey P slapped Fats on the shoulder and went on his way.

Fats was left there pondering.
Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas I gotta get mines together. Ain’t no ifs, ands, or buts about it
, he thought.

*  *  *

Later that day, Fats was in the gym balling with his homies. The D.C. mob wasn’t looking too hot, but with Country as a motivator, they would do all right. Fats busted out with a barrage of threes, so he figured he had one of the guard spots on lock. He was a little overweight and wasn’t that tall, but he could shoot and handle the rock way better than a lot of the bigger or more athletic guys. Plus, he played smart ball. Fats had run his junior high and high school teams but at age sixteen he had gotten Laquesha, then fifteen, pregnant with Maurice. So he dropped out and started hustling full-time to make ends meet, but the game never left him. He always made time to play blacktop or whatever.
If I could just get into better shape, I would be a beast!
Fats thought.

Country was thinking along those same lines. He knew Fats could score and push the rock. He was just a little heavy around the middle. Country had a couple of go-hard bangers but what the homies was lacking was a true go-to scorer. They had a couple of athletic wing-type dudes who could throw it down, but they didn’t really know the fundamentals of the game.
Hopefully, between me and Fats, we can school them and win this Christmas tournament
, Country thought.

After the runs, everybody was chillin’ in the bleachers while Country held court. “Man, fuck all these rats, slim,” he said to no one in particular, rather addressing all his homeboys as one. “The feds is full of snitches!” Country continued. “Down Lorton, we didn’t tolerate that shit. We’d run those bitch-ass bammas straight up out the yard and into PC or they’d end up with six inches of
steel in they eye. That’s how the fuck we was rollin’ back in the day, slim. No bullshit.” The younger homies like Fats listened intently. Although they had never done time in Lorton, they’d heard the stories of the notorious D.C. jail.

With complicit guards bringing in drugs and female CO’s selling their bodies, Lorton was sweet for the prisoners. The violence was everyday, and it was brutal. It mirrored the violence in the city, because back in the day D.C. was known as the murder capital of the world. It was rumored that dudes on the compound even had guns to settle their differences. In a way, the younger generation like Fats were glad they’d never had to step foot in Lorton. Because it was a dog-eat-dog world, either kill or be killed. Lorton was so corrupt that the feds shut the prison down and absorbed all the D.C. convicts into the federal system and now they were flung coast to coast all over the BOP. The feds were a whole lot tamer and safe even though all the homies were much farther from home.

At recall Fats walked with his homies back to the block. A shower was definitely in order. Good prison etiquette declared that a convict didn’t walk around like a Viking. The water was free, so fuck it. Fats was up on his personal hygiene anyhow, unlike a lot of these bammas whom he was forced to deal with on a day-to-day basis. A lot of them still had that crackhead mentality. After his shower, Fats knew it would be time to call Laquesha to see what was up.