College Fiend [A$AP Rocky]

Part Two: Twenty-one

5 Years Later

Proof.

That was the key to only spending five years in that place; they didn’t have enough proof. The prosecutors couldn’t prove that Quincy was the major criminal that they made him out to be. He probably was, and he didn’t have a chance to tell me whether he was or not, but nobody knew it for a fact. And as for me, the only proof they had that I’d killed Jaamani was a note from Flo, but it wasn’t long before they got a confession out of Flo that the note was written by her, a fake. For obstructing justice, she had to serve only a year in jail. She got out four years ago.

That’s four years for her do whatever she wanted, to jeopardize my life with Neffie even further.

Me and Quincy’s general charges were fraud, resisting arrest, and forgery; my initial sentence was five years, and his was fifteen. His lawyer eventually chopped it down to five, though. They charged Quincy with burglary, fraud, forgery, general misdemeanors, shoplifting, and sale of tobacco to a minor. You’d think that he would get nearly life for all of that, but it didn’t add up to much, and then the judge dropped some of the charges. It was after that when he was left with fifteen years, and a week before my release date we found out that he’d be getting bail.

It was who bailed him out that surprised me: none other than Marcus, the boy who played the coin-matching game with us. Clearly, Quincy forced him into it.

Today it was May 14th, 2003. I had no idea what was going on outside as we transitioned from the 90s to the 2000s—of course I heard the rumor that the world would end in 2000, but we all knew that was a lie, because the world can’t end before inmates finish their sentences.

“We need to go shopping.” Quincy said. We were walking away from the prison with the outfits that we wore when we first came in. My clothes smelled like burnt hair and sweat, or that could just be my scent. Either way, I was taking a shower as soon as I got to Maine’s house.

He came to visit me with Brian a few months ago, telling me that Wayne couldn’t stand to come and see me in jail. I understood. I wouldn’t want to come and see him in prison either.

Maine agreed to let Quincy and I stay in his house when we got out, free of charge until we got back onto our feet. It was strange thinking about how generous that was when Maine only knew my name. I’d danced with him once at the party, and Wayne probably told him about the kiss that we shared upstairs of his home, but that’s all the connection that Maine and I had. The only way I could accept going to his home without thinking that there was an ulterior motive behind that, was to assume that Wayne begged him to let us stay.

“Shopping is the last thing on my mind, Q.” I replied. That had become Quincy’s nickname in the prison, Q. He was well-liked and well-respected there. Not one of the top-dogs, but people had regard for him. I was the same, but the only reason that the girls respected me was because they knew who my boyfriend was.

They assumed that Quincy was my boyfriend. But the strange thing was that he never once told me he loved me, but Wayne said it right before I left. Maybe Quincy would have said it too, if we ever got to drive to our destination that he insisted on letting me choose. I’d never forget that night.

I’d never forget anything that happened before the cops caught us.

“So what’s the first thing on your mind?”

“Going home, showering, and waiting until night time to come back out.” I told him. Quincy stayed quiet for a while, walking by my side as if we weren’t holding a conversation, and then yawned.

“If you don’t want me to come with you to wherever you’re going tonight, it’s cool. I’ll stay back at what’s-his-name’s house and relax. I need to get as much sleep as I can in a normal bed, anyway.” He said.