Dying to Live
-
The JZA
- Posts: 9411
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
Dying to Live
Malik about to pull out a new Royce
-
Soapy
- Posts: 16565
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16826
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Oz
Royce sucked his teeth as he leaned against the wall outside of the school, staring down at his phone as he waited for Rana to respond to his numerous calls and texts. She said she had something to go to for some after school thing for Roni but assured him that she would be on time to pick him up.
Most of the students were long gone and the few that remained were those who were participating in various after-school activities. In the distance, he could hear the ping of metal baseball bats hitting balls, and he knew the gym would be filled with the team running drills in preparation for their next game.
It reminded him that U-High was only a couple weeks away from their spring tryouts and the subsequent spring camp.
He definitely didn’t want to be hanging around after hours then with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be out on the field for the first time since he was five.
Sighing, he swiped over to the Uber app on his phone, preparing to call for a ride, knowing that Rana would be more than a little pissed off that he didn’t wait for her despite her lateness. But he was willing to listen to the rant if it meant that he didn’t have to wait much longer to get home and go to sleep.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar brunette approaching. Alix walked toward him, saying a brief goodbye to another girl walking alongside her before the two of them went their separate ways.
“Hey, buddy,” she said, a slight smile on her face.
“I got a name, yeah,” Royce said, trying to get to his CashApp to transfer some money for the Uber. “And buddy some shit you call white boys anyway.”
She laughed. “You hang around a lot of white boys to know what people call them? You’re kinda fifty-fifty with that between Jonah and Malik.”
“That’s more than you fuck with, huh?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a knowing smile playing at her lips. “What are you still doing here anyway? You don’t strike me as the type to want to join student council or math club.”
He looked up from his phone and shook his head. “I don’t even know what the fuck math club is or what they’d do. Sounds like some boring ass shit to be real with you. But no, I’m trying to get home. My sister ain’t come when she was supposed to.”
“I got you,” she said, starting to walk toward the parking lot.
“Nah, I was gonna get an Uber.”
She stopped and turned back toward him. “Even though you seem to like Malik more than you like me, I’m going to let that slide. I’m going that way, anyway.”
He hesitated, feeling a need to refuse. He already felt he was getting too close to Malik, Jonah and Alix, the last thing he wanted to do was to start taking favors from any of them. He’d be gone at the end of the semester, headed back to Houma, but his near-death experience had impacted how he viewed karma.
Somewhat.
“Nah, I’m good,” he said. “It’s gonna take a minute for you to get all the way over there with the traffic and I don’t want to put you out your way.”
Alix shrugged and started to walk toward her car again.
He went back to trying to transfer the money, seeing that he was a few dollars short of being able to give any kind of tip, even if it was only a dollar. He shifted on his feet, pain beginning to spring up in his leg from how long he’d been standing.
“I’ll give you some gas money,” Royce called behind her, pushing away from the wall.
“Your call. I told you I was going that way,” she said over her shoulder.
…
Minutes later, the two of them were sitting in traffic. Royce didn’t speak, but that didn’t stop Alix from rapping along to a song that he’d never heard before.
“How we don’t get dizzy, bitch, when all we know is spin. Caught him by myself ‘cause he wasn’t even worth the ten. You make the diss then you get hit. We sliiiiide!” she sang, hands flying everywhere as she rapped, creeping forward in traffic.
Royce had to reach over and grab the steering wheel to stop the car from shifting into the wrong lane. He turned the music down a bit.
“Why you ain’t listening to some Taylor Swift or something? At least some Ariana Grande. That’s more your kind of music,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “This is the same music we were listening to the other day.”
“I thought you had that on for Malik.”
“You thought wrong. Malik doesn’t listen to Marty.”
“To who?”
“Sleep or grind, grind gang, Brandywine baby, horeshoe youngin, Sherwood baby, Sherwood Marty.”
Royce started laughing. “Who you trying to convince you down? NBA YoungBoy is right there. Kevin Gates, right there. Listening to some random ass motherfucker from Baton Rouge not changing that you look like you belong at a Catholic song.”
“I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything. I like what I like. I can’t help it if it doesn’t fit whatever box people want to put me in. You wouldn’t like it if I did that to you now, would you?”
“I’m the person everyone expect me to be.”
“Hardly.”
“So, you liking what you like. Is that why you and Malik ain’t work out?”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as the traffic started to move. “No, me and him didn’t work out because he wanted the high school sweethearts thing and wanted me to follow him to whatever school gave him a scholarship.”
“He good, ain’t he? Sounds like you fumbled the bag.”
“I didn’t fumble shit because I didn’t need him to get me a full ride anywhere,” she said, sucking her teeth. “Following a man is how my mom ended up pregnant and single at 17. I’ll pass on that. Besides, I can’t be going to LSU with some dude worrying about what I’m doing 1,000 miles away in West Virginia. You don’t bring sand to the beach.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you wild for real. Must got bodies like Von on your resume.”
“I just prefer being able to have fun while I’m young. I’m not a relationship kind of woman right now, you know? Don’t act like you weren’t running through those hillbillies down there in Houma.”
“You calling them hillbillies and they were all just like you, though.”
She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively at the comment. “Please. I’m often imitated but never duplicated. Malik isn’t still in love with me because I’m some basic bitch. I’m one of one.”
“You over here making it sound like bro simping behind some golden pussy or something like that. He plays ball and I saw him with them girls the other day. He ain’t worried about your ass all that much no more.”
“I’d have you simping, too,” she said, turning her to look at him at a red light.
He shook his head. “Never that.”
Alix only smiled and turned the music back up, going back to rapping along to Sherwood Marty as they trudged their way through Baton Rouge’s notorious rush hour traffic.
~~~~~~~~~~
The low hum of conversation filled one of the day rooms at Dixon Correctional Institute, punctuated by the occasional chatter of dominoes and checkers on the scattered tables. Jeremi sat one of those tables, his body slumped slightly in the plastic chair, his eyes fixed on the checkboard in front of him though his mind was far from the game. Two older inmates were playing, their moves deliberate and slow. Jeremi wasn’t interested in checkers, but it was better than sitting alone in his cell.
He still hadn’t adjusted to life inside. The walls felt like they were closing in on him more every day and the weight of his situation pressed heavily on his chest. He had kept to himself as much as possible, speaking little, avoiding trouble. There were a few others who knew Jamie who’d taken him under their wing, but protection only went so far.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremi saw a group of inmates approaching. His body tensed instinctively, though he kept his gaze on the game between the two older men, hoping they would pass by without bothering him.
One of the men – a tall, broad-shouldered figured with a cold, calculating stare – stepped forward. His jumpsuit was unzipped to the waist, revealing the arms of someone who’d been locked up for decades with nothing better to do than lift weights and exercise.
Jeremi knew him as Slick. That’s what everyone else called him. Someone said he was an OG from Houma, serving a couple life sentences. Jeremi figured he was from the east side of the city given he’d never heard of him.
Slick stopped at the table, standing next to Jeremi. The older inmates who had been playing checkers immediately sensed the tension. Without a word, they stood up and moved away from the table.
The man stared down at Jeremi.
“You know who I am, lil’ nigga?” Slick’s voice was low but menacing all the same.
Jeremi didn’t respond, partially out of fear and partially because he felt that if he looked up he would have to acknowledge that the man was talking to him. His hands clenched under the table, his heart thudding in his chest, but he kept his eyes down.
The man grabbed the collar of Jeremi’s jumpsuit and lifted him up. “I asked you a question, nigga.”
Still, Jeremi remained silent, noticing the other inmates in the room going through great lengths to show that they weren’t looking in that direction.
Slick let go of the jumpsuit and Jeremi slumped back into the chair. He nodded to one of the men standing beside him. The other inmate looked around, checking for guards, as he reached into his waistband and pulled out a sock.
Jeremi glanced at the old sock, noticing the outline of a padlock inside of it.
His eyes darted around the room, looking for help whether that be in the form of an inmate or a guard, it didn’t matter. He could see the guard on duty in the control room talking to a female guard on the opposite side, oblivious to what was going on as he flirted.
“You a whole bitch for the motherfucker willing to shoot my boys. Kill one of my boys,” Slick said, wrapping the loose end of the sock around his fist.
Jeremi’s breath hitched in his throat. He looked up. “Hey, man. Look—”
“When you call your pedophile ass brother, let him know Kevon Lafitte got something for his bitch ass, too. Them punks fight, too.”
“Gua—”
Jeremi’s shout was caught short as Kevon swung the sock with brutal force, the lock making a sickening thud as it connected with the side of Jeremi’s head. Pain exploded through his skull, and he slumped sideways in the chair.
Kevon swung again, and again, not caring where the lock hit as long as it hit Jeremi’s body. Jeremi’s vision blurred from the pain as blood trickled down the side of his face.
An alarm began to sound and the inmates immediately jumped to the floor as guards poured into the day room. All except Kevon who continued his assault until he was set upon by the guards with their batons.
Jeremi slumped to the floor as the guards called for medical assistance.
“You better slit your fucking wrists, bitch ass nigga!” Kevon shouted at Jeremi as he was subdued by the guards. “This gonna be everyday until I feel like I got my get back, motherfucker!”
Royce sucked his teeth as he leaned against the wall outside of the school, staring down at his phone as he waited for Rana to respond to his numerous calls and texts. She said she had something to go to for some after school thing for Roni but assured him that she would be on time to pick him up.
Most of the students were long gone and the few that remained were those who were participating in various after-school activities. In the distance, he could hear the ping of metal baseball bats hitting balls, and he knew the gym would be filled with the team running drills in preparation for their next game.
It reminded him that U-High was only a couple weeks away from their spring tryouts and the subsequent spring camp.
He definitely didn’t want to be hanging around after hours then with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be out on the field for the first time since he was five.
Sighing, he swiped over to the Uber app on his phone, preparing to call for a ride, knowing that Rana would be more than a little pissed off that he didn’t wait for her despite her lateness. But he was willing to listen to the rant if it meant that he didn’t have to wait much longer to get home and go to sleep.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar brunette approaching. Alix walked toward him, saying a brief goodbye to another girl walking alongside her before the two of them went their separate ways.
“Hey, buddy,” she said, a slight smile on her face.
“I got a name, yeah,” Royce said, trying to get to his CashApp to transfer some money for the Uber. “And buddy some shit you call white boys anyway.”
She laughed. “You hang around a lot of white boys to know what people call them? You’re kinda fifty-fifty with that between Jonah and Malik.”
“That’s more than you fuck with, huh?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a knowing smile playing at her lips. “What are you still doing here anyway? You don’t strike me as the type to want to join student council or math club.”
He looked up from his phone and shook his head. “I don’t even know what the fuck math club is or what they’d do. Sounds like some boring ass shit to be real with you. But no, I’m trying to get home. My sister ain’t come when she was supposed to.”
“I got you,” she said, starting to walk toward the parking lot.
“Nah, I was gonna get an Uber.”
She stopped and turned back toward him. “Even though you seem to like Malik more than you like me, I’m going to let that slide. I’m going that way, anyway.”
He hesitated, feeling a need to refuse. He already felt he was getting too close to Malik, Jonah and Alix, the last thing he wanted to do was to start taking favors from any of them. He’d be gone at the end of the semester, headed back to Houma, but his near-death experience had impacted how he viewed karma.
Somewhat.
“Nah, I’m good,” he said. “It’s gonna take a minute for you to get all the way over there with the traffic and I don’t want to put you out your way.”
Alix shrugged and started to walk toward her car again.
He went back to trying to transfer the money, seeing that he was a few dollars short of being able to give any kind of tip, even if it was only a dollar. He shifted on his feet, pain beginning to spring up in his leg from how long he’d been standing.
“I’ll give you some gas money,” Royce called behind her, pushing away from the wall.
“Your call. I told you I was going that way,” she said over her shoulder.
…
Minutes later, the two of them were sitting in traffic. Royce didn’t speak, but that didn’t stop Alix from rapping along to a song that he’d never heard before.
“How we don’t get dizzy, bitch, when all we know is spin. Caught him by myself ‘cause he wasn’t even worth the ten. You make the diss then you get hit. We sliiiiide!” she sang, hands flying everywhere as she rapped, creeping forward in traffic.
Royce had to reach over and grab the steering wheel to stop the car from shifting into the wrong lane. He turned the music down a bit.
“Why you ain’t listening to some Taylor Swift or something? At least some Ariana Grande. That’s more your kind of music,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “This is the same music we were listening to the other day.”
“I thought you had that on for Malik.”
“You thought wrong. Malik doesn’t listen to Marty.”
“To who?”
“Sleep or grind, grind gang, Brandywine baby, horeshoe youngin, Sherwood baby, Sherwood Marty.”
Royce started laughing. “Who you trying to convince you down? NBA YoungBoy is right there. Kevin Gates, right there. Listening to some random ass motherfucker from Baton Rouge not changing that you look like you belong at a Catholic song.”
“I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything. I like what I like. I can’t help it if it doesn’t fit whatever box people want to put me in. You wouldn’t like it if I did that to you now, would you?”
“I’m the person everyone expect me to be.”
“Hardly.”
“So, you liking what you like. Is that why you and Malik ain’t work out?”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as the traffic started to move. “No, me and him didn’t work out because he wanted the high school sweethearts thing and wanted me to follow him to whatever school gave him a scholarship.”
“He good, ain’t he? Sounds like you fumbled the bag.”
“I didn’t fumble shit because I didn’t need him to get me a full ride anywhere,” she said, sucking her teeth. “Following a man is how my mom ended up pregnant and single at 17. I’ll pass on that. Besides, I can’t be going to LSU with some dude worrying about what I’m doing 1,000 miles away in West Virginia. You don’t bring sand to the beach.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you wild for real. Must got bodies like Von on your resume.”
“I just prefer being able to have fun while I’m young. I’m not a relationship kind of woman right now, you know? Don’t act like you weren’t running through those hillbillies down there in Houma.”
“You calling them hillbillies and they were all just like you, though.”
She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively at the comment. “Please. I’m often imitated but never duplicated. Malik isn’t still in love with me because I’m some basic bitch. I’m one of one.”
“You over here making it sound like bro simping behind some golden pussy or something like that. He plays ball and I saw him with them girls the other day. He ain’t worried about your ass all that much no more.”
“I’d have you simping, too,” she said, turning her to look at him at a red light.
He shook his head. “Never that.”
Alix only smiled and turned the music back up, going back to rapping along to Sherwood Marty as they trudged their way through Baton Rouge’s notorious rush hour traffic.
~~~~~~~~~~
The low hum of conversation filled one of the day rooms at Dixon Correctional Institute, punctuated by the occasional chatter of dominoes and checkers on the scattered tables. Jeremi sat one of those tables, his body slumped slightly in the plastic chair, his eyes fixed on the checkboard in front of him though his mind was far from the game. Two older inmates were playing, their moves deliberate and slow. Jeremi wasn’t interested in checkers, but it was better than sitting alone in his cell.
He still hadn’t adjusted to life inside. The walls felt like they were closing in on him more every day and the weight of his situation pressed heavily on his chest. He had kept to himself as much as possible, speaking little, avoiding trouble. There were a few others who knew Jamie who’d taken him under their wing, but protection only went so far.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremi saw a group of inmates approaching. His body tensed instinctively, though he kept his gaze on the game between the two older men, hoping they would pass by without bothering him.
One of the men – a tall, broad-shouldered figured with a cold, calculating stare – stepped forward. His jumpsuit was unzipped to the waist, revealing the arms of someone who’d been locked up for decades with nothing better to do than lift weights and exercise.
Jeremi knew him as Slick. That’s what everyone else called him. Someone said he was an OG from Houma, serving a couple life sentences. Jeremi figured he was from the east side of the city given he’d never heard of him.
Slick stopped at the table, standing next to Jeremi. The older inmates who had been playing checkers immediately sensed the tension. Without a word, they stood up and moved away from the table.
The man stared down at Jeremi.
“You know who I am, lil’ nigga?” Slick’s voice was low but menacing all the same.
Jeremi didn’t respond, partially out of fear and partially because he felt that if he looked up he would have to acknowledge that the man was talking to him. His hands clenched under the table, his heart thudding in his chest, but he kept his eyes down.
The man grabbed the collar of Jeremi’s jumpsuit and lifted him up. “I asked you a question, nigga.”
Still, Jeremi remained silent, noticing the other inmates in the room going through great lengths to show that they weren’t looking in that direction.
Slick let go of the jumpsuit and Jeremi slumped back into the chair. He nodded to one of the men standing beside him. The other inmate looked around, checking for guards, as he reached into his waistband and pulled out a sock.
Jeremi glanced at the old sock, noticing the outline of a padlock inside of it.
His eyes darted around the room, looking for help whether that be in the form of an inmate or a guard, it didn’t matter. He could see the guard on duty in the control room talking to a female guard on the opposite side, oblivious to what was going on as he flirted.
“You a whole bitch for the motherfucker willing to shoot my boys. Kill one of my boys,” Slick said, wrapping the loose end of the sock around his fist.
Jeremi’s breath hitched in his throat. He looked up. “Hey, man. Look—”
“When you call your pedophile ass brother, let him know Kevon Lafitte got something for his bitch ass, too. Them punks fight, too.”
“Gua—”
Jeremi’s shout was caught short as Kevon swung the sock with brutal force, the lock making a sickening thud as it connected with the side of Jeremi’s head. Pain exploded through his skull, and he slumped sideways in the chair.
Kevon swung again, and again, not caring where the lock hit as long as it hit Jeremi’s body. Jeremi’s vision blurred from the pain as blood trickled down the side of his face.
An alarm began to sound and the inmates immediately jumped to the floor as guards poured into the day room. All except Kevon who continued his assault until he was set upon by the guards with their batons.
Jeremi slumped to the floor as the guards called for medical assistance.
“You better slit your fucking wrists, bitch ass nigga!” Kevon shouted at Jeremi as he was subdued by the guards. “This gonna be everyday until I feel like I got my get back, motherfucker!”
-
Soapy
- Posts: 16565
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
That was some slick dirty mack on the low from Royce, nasty work
Glad someone getting their get back for Rom, we know Royce ain't gonna do shit
Glad someone getting their get back for Rom, we know Royce ain't gonna do shit
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16826
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
-
Soapy
- Posts: 16565
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
-
djp73
- Posts: 13183
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16826
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47