No More Games

70

Shad's Point Of View

It took me about an hour to get to the state prison. I sat in the car, nervous as hell. I had hit up one of my homeboys that works as a correctional officer in the prison to let my other homies that are locked up in there know that I'm coming through.

I wanted to see Jermaine but I know there's some things I needed to handle first.

As soon as I got out of the car, I flipped my hoodie over my head in the attempt to conceal my face a little. I know I'm far out of town but you just never know sometimes.

"Please place your cellphone, wallet and all pieces of jewelry in this container," One of the officers at the first security checkpoint said. "You will get them back at the end of your visit."

After I gave up my belongings, I went through the second security checkpoint where I went through a whole body scanner and filled out another sign in sheet before I was finally let inside the visitation area.

I wasn't going to lie, I was a little scared. Being inside this prison was intimidating.

"Sir, you'll be down there at booth seventeen." A female officer pointed across the room.

I thanked her and made my way over.

This place was huge. Each side of the room was just rows of booths filled with people visiting their loved one.

I got into my booth and waited. A minute or two later, my homie, Walter is escorted in on the other side of the glass, cuffed and shackled.

We immediately smiled as soon as we saw each other. He sat down and we both picked up each of our phones, pressing it against our ears.

"Young blood! Damn, Nigga! It's been years, blood!" Walter said excitingly.

"Maaaannnn. . ." I was so shocked to see him, I was almost speechless. He looked completely different from the scrawny guy I always knew him as. "Nigga, you're buff as shit! Is that all you do in here? Lift weights?"

"I mean, there isn't much options in the pen," he laughed then got serious. "How you been, young blood? I heard about that crazy shit that went down at the hospital a few months back."

"I've been getting by, bro. I'm definitely doing better day by day." I sighed. "Seeing my brother in-law killed so gruesomely just really fucked me up in the head."

"Damn. . .that's some crazy shit. You even saw the killer kill himself, right?"

"Yeah. . .hey, enough about me, though," I changed the subject, trying to avoid the images of that evening from replaying in my head, "you ever talk to the other guys in there? How are they?"

"They're straight. Sometimes I don't ever see some of  them cause we all get rotated and moved to different blocks every couple months." He said. "I do often see that Jermaine dude, though. I can tell that nigga sinister as fuck."

"That's actually who I came to talk to you about," I looked around before scooting in and leaning closer to the glass. "I got a serious job for you, bruh."

He just stared at me for a few seconds then he looked over his shoulder. "I'm in here for seventy-one more years, you know I don't give a fuck about anything or anyone," he inches closer to the glass, "so you know if you want me to have someone off'd, we gotta talk about what you got to offer me."

"I just want him hurt. Not dead. But talk to me," I gestured, "tell me what you want."

"Five-hundred dollars on my books and a cell phone."

"You want me to smuggle in a phone?" My eyes widened in shock. "I can do the money thing but the phone is risky, bro." I talked low enough to not be heard by anyone else.