The Kiss of Death [Dave East]

13

MARCUS STARED AT THE GUARD WHO WAS ON watch with content in his eyes as he dug into his grits. His mouth was filled with the sweets as he took a sip from his glass of water. "Man, Vegas one crazy ass dude. You choked out a guard so he could play music?" Cruz asked, shoving his plate away. The first thing Marcus noticed about his inmate was how much of a picky eater he was. He wouldn't touch anything that you didn't have to dip in ranch. "I'm being released today. How much you want in commissary? A hundred?" Marcus asked genuinely, grabbing the turkey bacon from Cruz's plate. "That sound good." He laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.

The guard leant into his shoulder to hear whatever's being spoken to him through his walkie. He looked in Marcus' general direction, approaching intimidatingly. "You're being released. Let's go." He tapped Marcus' shoulder. "Ima miss you kid." Cruz laughed, dapping him up. Marcus smirked widely, locking fingers with him. "You got a place in The Union." He added, his smile shone vibrantly. "You my family Marcus. You should know ima die in here." Marcus' smile slowly faded at his stinging words. He wanted to say more, reassure his friend that he was going to make it. That he was strong for going through shit that no regular would've survived. But he didn't get the chance to, as the guard roughly grabbed his bicep, dragging him through the caged doors.

He was surprised that the clothes he came in with six years ago still fit like a glove. Although it wasn't much. It was a simple black crew neck, some nike sweatpants and a thin golden chain dazzling around his neck. He slide his feet into his still freshly white non-creased Air Force 1's, smirking at the satisfaction. "I don't wanna see you in here no more." The front lady said teasingly, writing down on some files. Marcus chuckled leaning over the table waiting for her to finish. "I don't know, Ian never seen you come in and out of this place. Might take you around the city." He joked, watching her fight off a smile. She scribbled down one last thing and then slide it towards him. "I don't think my fiancée would like that." He let out an unexpected chuckle. Not to embarrass her, but it was out of surprise. "You wish her a good day for me." He gave her a smile filled with gratitude.

He busted open the door, for the fist time he was able to breathe and see further than those thick fences in the prison would let him. He spotted a Mercedes Benz parked out front and falsely white man with ginger hair was leaning against the passenger seat. Staring right back at him. "Are you Marcus?" He called out, running his palms over his chest to smoothen any wrinkles. "Who you?" Marcus yelled back, ignoring his question. "Andrew Dixon. I picked up the case of Anissa Reed. But I wanted to talk to the man himself." Andrew explained, he approached a timid Marcus and removed the thick shades from over his eyes, folding it and tucking it into his collar.

He lifted his hand out, shaking Marcus' wrist firmly. "In the mood to go for a ride?" He suggested. Marcus approached the beautiful car, balling his fist at his sides. "I know how to kill folks with my knuckles." He said casually, cracking the door open. "Threatening someone who's trying to help you. Not a good impression." Andrew chuckled, walk in towards the drivers side. "Just laying things out in the open, Andy." He sat in the seat, slamming the door shut behind him. Andrew mirrors his actions, revving the engine.