Invincible: A Novel Page 2

  “’Cause I’ve known you for a long time and I don’t have to worry about you doing any grimy shit. And besides, our moms are friends and I know y’all going through hard times right now so I figured this could help both of us!”

  She told him to let her sleep on it and she would let him know tomorrow, although she already knew the answer was yes. There were just too many bills in her household and she needed some kind of income.

  Tomorrow came around and she told him it was cool with her. He chilled with her for the first few hours so he could walk her through the process. “It’s simple,” he explained. “You hear the knock … tell them to slide the dough … you slide the smoke—everything is done. The door is double bolted so you’re safe, and if something goes wrong I’ll be right down the block. Plus, I got somebody keeping their eye on the spot.”

  “Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing down the block that’s so important that you’re not here collecting your own money?” she asked.

  “I’m down there knocking off base; that’s where the real money is.”

  “Don’t you feel funny selling that stuff knowing what it does?”

  Jake knew that she was referring to the fact that his father was a crackhead. “Yeah, I feel a certain kind of way being that my pops is a basehead, but I’ll feel even funnier being broke with a basehead pops. Plus I’m only gonna do this hustling shit until I can save enough to buy a clothing store and a laundromat. After that I’m going to find the flyest chick in the city and have kids and move out of this shit. That’s my plan, what’s yours?”

  “I’m going to graduate and move my moms outta here,” Kim said. “I have a boyfriend who goes to school in Cali. Maybe I will go there, I don’t know yet.”

  “You got a man in Cali?” J.B. asked kinda shocked. “Ain’t that kinda far? Why don’t you get yourself a nice New York college boy?”

  “I haven’t met one yet.”

  “I got a homie.” J.B. sort of smiled. “He’s in college and he’s cool. I think you might like him.”

  “No thanks, J.B.” she said returning his smile. “I always knew there was something crazy about you ever since we were young. You never paid attention to anyone. You were always in your own world—very rebellious but still very kind. Now here you are offering me a job and a nice college friend. I hope I don’t look like I need handouts. What is my moms telling your moms anyway?”

  “Damn girl, chill out! I told you you were cool so I felt a’ight telling you about this shit. All my closest friends are way outta town or not around, plus I know you kinda stay to yourself so that works for me. If you were a bird I wouldn’t have asked you to join my empire.” J.B. laughed, and so did Kim.

  ———

  The elevator opened.

  “Ooohhhhh shit, J.B., nah nigga—not you!” It was his homie Reggie from high school. “Damn, nigga, I ain’t seen you since Lord knows. I heard you owned a clothing store with mix tapes and the whole shit … fly mommies helping niggaz and all that. What brings you to hell this time, my nigga?”

  “Attempted murder,” Jake told his friend. Seeing the look on his old friend’s face, he explained, “Two niggaz in the store start beefing with each other over Lord knows what, next thing I know guns come out. Nobody was shooting, just yelling and aiming at each other. I was trying to tell them chill out but they just kept yelling. Next thing I know one of ’em turned around and told me to get on the floor. His partner told the girls to do the same and then walked to the front door and locked it. Niggaz was on some real-life movie shit, son. When they told me to open the safe I popped that shit open for ’em with no hesitation. After I handed the dude all the money, they took off for the door. Where the smart mu’fuckaz fucked up at is they never bothered to search the girls for a burner … they only searched me. My girls are required to tote at all times, so I grabbed one of their tools, ran out behind the cowards sparking off. Hit ’em both: one in the leg and the other in the shoulder. Next thing I heard was ‘get on the floor,’ which brings me here.”

  “Damn, J.B., how much cash you kept in the safe?” Reggie asked, genuinely sorry about the bad one his old friend took.

  “Two hundred thou,” Jake said, “which the police stole from them. So now I’m beat for the paper and I got a case.”

  “I thought you could pop a nigga for trying to rob your property, ain’t that a law or some shit?”

  “It probably is, Regg, but on paper I don’t own the store—I’m just an employee. If I was down as the owner the feds would’ve been on my ass about where I got the loot to buy a store.”

  The bell in the elevator went off. “Okay,” the CO said. “The ride’s over.”

  They all got off. “Where they got you housed at, my nigga?” Reggie asked.

  “Third floor—northwest side … How about you, Regg?”

  “Second floor—southeast side. I got the shit on smash, too! I got pull in this bitch. Ain’t shit changed from the streets. You know me. I’m all about that paper. You wanna get moved to my block I can make it happen.”

  “Nah, Regg, I got some shit to handle. If I don’t see you coming off the V. I., I’ll kite you in a few.”

  “No doubt, J.B. Hate to see you in here but it is good to see you. Holla if you need something. One!”

  Jake still had to go through the rest of the usual routine that the jail made all inmates go through before their visits: drop your drawers, lift your nuts, turn around and split your ass cheeks, show the bottoms of your feet, open your mouth—and after all that they still gave him a small-ass jumpsuit.

  When Jake stepped into the visiting room, despite how overcrowded it was, he spotted his girl right away and walked to her table. She stood up to greet him with a cold hug and short kiss, then they both sat down.

  “I’m pretty sure you knew I was locked up like five days ago. What took you so long to get here, Kim?” Jake cracked right off the bat. “I know we ain’t been on the best of terms but if it’s going to be like this maybe it’s best that we come to some sort of agreement right now!”

  “Nigga please, you should be lucky that I’m here at all with yo grimy ass,” Kim shot right back. “The store—my store, since it’s in my name—is fine, like all the rest of my properties.” That’s why I’ve been doing all my shit on the side anyway. I knew you weren’t reliable for shit in the long run, she thought. “What I came to do is be a courteous bitch and have the decency to let you know you’re on your own on this trip. Don’t expect a visit, a letter, or anything from me. I’m through with you and I don’t want you thinking I’m going to be here for you when I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I love you, but I’m not in love anymore. I’ve dealt with seven years of your bullshit and now I’m through. I came to relay any messages you have for your lawyers or workers.”

  Jake wanted to reach across the table and choke the bitch for coming off at him the way she did but that would get him nowhere. “Thanks for letting me know what was up,” he said instead. “I’m sorry things got so bitter between us in the past two years, but I didn’t know you felt this way. If I did I would’ve let you out of your misery a long time ago, baby.” Jake kept his eyes locked with hers. “And as far as needing your help for anything, I’m all right. I can help myself out.” He told her “Good luck” before getting up and walking toward the CO, leaving her sitting at the table with a face that looked mad, sad, and confused all at once.

  The nerve of this nigga, she thought. Her plans were to leave him upset and somehow he managed to flip it on her. She wound up being the upset one. “He really doesn’t give a fuck,” was all she kept saying to herself. A single tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek as she left the visiting room thinking: He’s really crazy … all of these years for nothing.

  J.B. felt like this had to be the worst day of his life. He hated to be so cold to Kim but the fact was he was in a situation and she wasn’t riding. Then there was that other business. There was a chance he might not make it out of this one. Something d
idn’t feel right and he wasn’t sure if he played his hand right with Regg earlier. Could Reggie be the enemy? Could the police have planted the letter? One thing he did know was that when he got back to that block anybody who got within arm’s length of him was going to have a problem. If today was his day, he was going out hard-body style.

  STANDING TALL

  When Jake was escorted back to his block after leaving the visiting area, he did the same thing he’d been doing since his incarceration five days ago. He sat on the edge of his bunk and read anything and everything he could get his hands on. Reading usually helped to clear his head, but for some reason it wasn’t working for him today. Having read the same newspaper three times probably had something to do with it. Besides, who was he fooling; his mind was still on that crazy letter he got earlier. Peeking over the top of the sports section, he scoped the block for anyone who appeared to be watching him, and it seemed like everyone was watching. Fuck this. Tired of sitting around waiting, Jake decided to do some shit that hopefully would throw the mystery letter writer far left. He sprang off the bunk and stepped toward the garbage can that was kept near the back of the block. When he got there he called for the trustee. “Yo, let me get the gloves.” The trustee had a puzzled look on his face but knew better than to ask questions. Jail wasn’t the place to blatantly mind another man’s business. The trustee went to his bunk and came back with what Jake asked for. Jake slid the thick rubber gloves on and began to rummage through the garbage can. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. Part one of his plan accomplished, Jake returned the gloves to the trustee and headed back to his sleeping area to pack his stuff.

  Everything he owned was stored in a bin and kept under the bunk. In no hurry, he transferred the items from the bin to his laundry bag. Even taking his time it only took a couple of minutes to get his belongings together. Shower shoes, towel, soap, deodorant, writing paper, a pencil, a couple of magazines and newspapers and he was done. They weren’t allowed to have much, and he had even less.

  He laid his bag on his bunk and walked over to the TV area. Half the dorm was sitting in front of the television watching a college basketball game. If he was going to be getting the business while he was here, he would give a little, too. Jake turned the television off and addressed all who were listening. “Whichever one of you gentlemen want a problem with me”—he looked at each man sitting and standing before him—“when the CO makes his ring … play the bathroom. Bring your shank, your homeboy, whatever it is you’re into … other than that I’m tryin’ to chill. But I ain’t into no niggaz sending me threatening letters like some sweet nigga. I’m use to bitches doing that shit—not real niggaz! And for a little extra incentive … anybody who gives me the info on which faggot wrote this letter there’s a five-hundred-dollar commissary award. Sorry to interrupt y’all niggaz show!” Then he put the TV back on and started to walk to his bunk, but before he got there Jake got a couple of buyers on the tickets he’d just sold.

  They were two of the biggest dudes in the dorm, and they weren’t feeling Jake pushing that macho shit in their block. “Fuck you put your hands on my TV for?” one of them asked, followed by a looping right hand.

  Jake bobbed the punch but got caught with a short jab from the first guy’s partner. Maybe that move was a wrong one, Jake thought. This wasn’t the beef he was looking for. Neither one of these guys was likely to be the mystery letter writer, but he had no choice but to use the situation to his advantage. Without much more thought about it, Jake started to do one of the things he did best … cause pain.

  The two brawlers were getting the best of Jake, but that would soon change. He started timing the one on his right who was laying stomps. He was slow, but if one of them size fourteens caught him right, Jake figured it would be lights out for him. The guy on the left was trying to punch him in the head. What an idiot, Jake thought. He could’ve broken my ribs already. When the internal counter in his head said “now,” Jake grabbed the leg of the dude who was trying to stomp him out. Before the dude ever knew what had happened, Jake had taken a bite out of his Achilles tendon like it was a piece of chicken. Bingo!

  Big man dropped to the floor. One down and one to go. All the squats and crunches Jake did helped him to spring off the floor back onto his feet, quickly leaving him squared up with the big headhunter. Jake shot two quick left jabs at him that not only connected, but left the big man stunned, though only for a second. He snapped out of it and rushed Jake with a wide, right-handed head shot. Jake sidestepped the wild punch and let loose his own right-left combo to the body. The gut-wrenching blows would have dropped a normal human being, but big man ate the blows then resorted to the wrestling thing. Grabbing Jake wasn’t the smartest move to make. By now, big man was banged up and too tired to slam Jake. Jake delivered a vicious head butt and gave big man a floor spot next to his man with the ate-up Achilles.

  Jake was breathing hard and trying to catch his breath to prepare for the ass whipping he was about to receive. The CO in the booth had probably pulled his pin alerting the turtles—the Fuck You Up Squad, as the inmates liked to call those cops in their riot gear—to come shut down whatever and whoever the problem was. No turtles showed though, just CO Frazier. He was walking toward the three men laughing as if he just heard the funniest joke in the world. “You fucking punks got some nerve lying on the floor like two bitches in a doghouse,” CO Frazier admonished. “All that extorting and tough-guy shit y’all been pulling on everybody. Today wasn’t y’all day, huh? I tell you what—I got two passes on the desk for you assholes to go to the nurse and get your shit fixed up. Tell her some bullshit story you would have told police or the DA, but I ain’t see shit and I’m pretty sure you two tough guys ain’t rats, right?” Not waiting for or expecting an answer, CO Frazier turned his attention to Jake. “Billings,” he said in a stern voice, “at my desk … Now!”

  Jake followed Frazier to his desk thinking: This guy sho is different from the usual CO.

  Once they were at the desk, CO Frazier got straight to the point. “Billings, I don’t know if you noticed but this is my house and I ain’t gonna stand for your cowboy shit. The two assholes you just beat up were scumbags for sure, but they didn’t bring attention to my house. They did all the shit on the low: extortion, rape, drugs, whatever it is they do, but they were quiet about it. The usual CO works their dorm for eight hours of the day. Not me, Billings, I’m in here for two shifts. That means when you lock down for the count or, in this case, stay on your bunk for the count, and when you wake back up, I’m still here. And I don’t want no fucking captain coming in here telling me shit, or asking me shit about my house. Now Ike and Cory ain’t gonna take that ass whipping like men even though they tried to jump you. Next time they come at you it’s going to be with weapons or with more flunkies. In case you didn’t know, this is a gang-infested jail … the Money Boys, the Northside Boys, the Spanish Crowns, and the 300 Crew … and you just fucked up two Northside soldiers. Which means you’re fucked. So I’m going to tell the captain to send you to PC when he comes around.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jake spoke up. “With all due respect I would prefer to stay right here. I’m a man and it is too many fags and funny shit going on in protective custody. Leave me here and I will deal with whatever I have to deal with. I don’t give a fuck about no gangs, and besides, I won’t be here too much longer anyway. I got court in a few days and then I’m bailing outta this joint.”

  Jake attempted to go back to the dorm but CO Frazier put up his hand like a flagger, stopping him from getting by. “Listen youngblood.” The CO got Jake’s attention. “You ain’t gonna make it in this house, them motherfuckas will kill you! Yeah, I see you can fight, but you don’t want the kinda problems you’re about to have.”

  “Just let me handle me, please. I’ll be a’ight,” Jake said, and just as he did, rec was announced across the PA system.

  “Okay, you can go,” CO Frazier said against his better judgment.
“But I’m going to keep an eye on you.”

  The whole dorm, minus Ike and Cory, flew out the door. Some to spread the word on what happened in their house, some to buy or sell drugs, and some just to kick it with a homie housed somewhere else. For the five days Jake was in the jail he didn’t go out. Today that would change!

  The yard and the kitchen were prime spots for drama to go down in jail because those were the places where inmates could link up with their buddies who weren’t in the same block as them. After the rumble on the block, Jake was mentally prepared to go all out as he stepped into the yard. His only problem was that he needed a weapon: that’s why he was trying to spot Reggie, which didn’t take long. Reggie came up to him mad excited. “What up nigga, you a’ight? I heard you was putting it down!”

  Jake gave Reggie the whole story, beginning with the letter he got before going on the visit, and ending with the fight and conversation he’d just had with CO Frazier.

  “That’s why I need the shank,” he said. “If I can’t get that I’ll take some batteries, and if all else fails I’ll just have to resort to the old soap-in-the-sock shit.”

  Reggie told him to slow down, before adding, “Them Northside niggaz is pussy but they deep in numbers.” Reggie then let him know that he was one of the founding members of the Money Boys and that he and a few of the Northside leaders was cool … so he would squash the beef. “Besides, there a few niggaz in T.M.B. that’s housed in the same joint as you. I already gave them the word to hold you down from anything that’s unfair. If a nigga wants you he gotta come head up, my nigga.”

  Jake thanked Reggie for holding him down but politely declined any other help besides the weapon that he asked for.

  Reggie wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Too late, the word is already in, but I’ll still give you the banger if that’ll make you feel better. I can get it to you before rec is over, my nigga, but I also got to let you know that your block is gonna get a shake tomorrow night and you don’t wanna get knocked with what I’m going to give you. I ain’t got no jail bullshit. I got real knives, nigga. I told you I got shit on smash in this spot. If you decide to move to my block then whatever you need we can get … cellphones, real food, drugs, a li’l pussy every now and then, the fly kicks before they come out, mix tapes or whatever.” Reggie could tell Jake was impressed by the way he was looking at him so he continued to brag. “Yeah nigga, everything in here gets ran by an elite group of men and you’re talking to one of those men.”