Church Girl Gone Wild (21 page)

I was naked and flouncing around like a fish out of water, with a Bible-strong mothafucka on my back. And Toi still thought that was the ideal time to tase me in my damn groin. All my muscles clenched up and kept clenching, in the most painful, tightening feeling. It was like hitting your funny bone except you felt it everywhere. Reverend Matthews let me go and glared down at me as he climbed over me and saw himself out.

Toi's voice was full of hurt. “Y'all crab apple–ass niggas don't roll far huh? Were you gonna tell me or did you want to have me in the dark until the first James family reunion just like your daddy?”

“Toi, it wasn't something—”

“Just go, Dontay. Don't call me, don't try to see me; just forget you ever knew me. You've been playin' me all this time when I trusted you.”

As soon as I could move, I got up and started getting dressed to the soundtrack of Toi crying into her pillow. I did that shit, her heart was broken, and I could feel mine breaking with her. Rev didn't have to put me on blast like that. He could have pulled me to the side and said something. The nigga could have at least let me decide how to break the news to Toi. A tear tried to burn its way out of my eye blurring my vision up. I wanted to say something to Toi but I couldn't find my voice over the scratchiness in my throat.

Reverend Matthews was camped out in the living room. “You better find yourself a mop. That's the only way you'll see a dollar in Hampton Roads now,” he mocked me.

I cut my eyes at him and kept going. That cocky motherfucka was gonna get his one day. I picked my money up off the floor and balled it up into my pockets. The house rocked when I slammed the front door behind me. I wanted it to collapse on that devil hiding in Christian skin. I was hoping he'd run out and confront me again. I'd rock that ass to sleep with a solid right.

I was awakened by the loud clank and electric hum of the lights coming on. It was morning: time to face what I'd done. I glanced down from the top bunk and stared emotionlessly at Antonia's pale, lifeless hand hanging over the side of the bottom one where I'd left her. I couldn't move her back up top and there was no point in trying to. Anything done to a body postmortem was sure to leave a mark once the blood stopped flowing, and I didn't want to leave any evidence of foul play. I guessed nights of watching
Snapped
reruns on TV had taught me more about being a killer than I'd thought. Mentally I kicked myself for not making her climb back up before finishing her off.

The demon on my left shoulder was mocking the angel sitting on my right.

You did that
.
You sinned, you've broken one of the sacred Ten Commandments. But it's not like you had a choice. She would have eventually beaten your ass to death if you didn't handle her first. What's done is done. Repent and you'll be back in His good and merciful graces.

“Open up, seventy-three! Open it up!” Officer Blakely rushed in and I sat up wide-eyed and dazed.

“What the fuck happened in here? I need a medic in zone two block 0039, cell seventy-three. Inmate down; we have an inmate down! Get a unit in here now!” She radioed for help and slid Antonia's body onto the floor. She was feeling for a pulse, looking for a heartbeat.

“What the fuck you do to her, bitch? I know your ass did something! You did this shit? What the fuck did you do to her?” Officer Blakely was hovering over Antonia's body, glaring up at me furiously.

Everything happening around me was a blur. Another female officer came out of nowhere and yanked me down from my cot. She directed me to stand outside of our cell. As a precaution I was cuffed: my hands behind my back, and shackles were placed tightly on my ankles. I could already hear the whispers going up and down the block. Mirrors were sliding out of several bars as some of the inmates tried to get a glimpse at all the commotion.

“Yo, yo, you hear that? Church Girl killed Antonia.”

“That little scary-ass Jesus freak murked Antonia?”

“She ain't do that shit; she ain't crazy enough to do something like that. Antonia probably tapped that 'til she passed out or something.”

I stared straight ahead, like I could see everything and nothing at the same time. My thought process was hell; maybe if I looked a little crazy the other women would believe I'd killed her while the guards would find the cherries and know otherwise.

At that moment Officer Blakely shook her head up at the other CO and radioed for the coroner to come up. She picked up the cherries that were beside Antonia's body and placed them in a Baggie, handing them to the other CO. She got up and marched toward me, scowling, her hand on her nightstick.

“I guess your ass ain't hear shit huh?” Blakely stood eye to eye with me. One hand rested on her favorite weapon of choice, her baton, and the other on her radio.

“I think I might have heard something, but I chalked it up as a false alarm.” I couldn't help throwing her own words back in her ugly, fat face. I knew I'd said enough at that point, maybe too much. So I just shut up.

Officer Blakely rolled her eyes at me and directed her gaze back to Antonia's body. “I don't see no marks or bruises; there's no skin under her fingernails. Nothing indicating foul play.” She looked at me again, her voice a questioning growl: “She was eating those cherries in there?”

“I don't know, ma'am. What she did or didn't do, eat or didn't eat was between her and the Lord, I imagine.” I answered her in a singsong, matter-of-fact tone.

My response almost sent her through the roof, as she leaned her scrunched-up bulldog face in closer to mine. She was so close I could smell her Listerine and coffee-scented morning breath. She roughly poked me in the center of my chest. Inwardly I flinched, but outwardly I didn't even blink at the gesture.

“We'll see what the coroner has to say 'bout that shit. Now, get your monkey ass back in there.” Her eyes narrowed to dark slits and she hissed between clenched teeth, “Antonia was more important than you think. You all up on that praying shit. Well you better pray word don't come back that this shit wasn't an accident or I'm going to personally show you hell on earth, bitch.” Droplets of spit flew from her mouth and landed on my cheek like flecks of hot lava. She grabbed my shoulders and roughly pushed me inside before unshackling me. I climbed back up onto my cot and lay back, crossing my arms behind my head and staring at the ceiling.

My nostrils flared in disgust but I didn't move a muscle. I just feigned the appearance of complete and absolute indifference. I heard the click-clack of Officer Blakely's shoes as she stormed off. They were carting Antonia's body away and removing her things, and I couldn't believe what I'd gotten away with. Murder.

This would be my first breakfast alone since Aeron's release. My hands were clammy and it felt like I had a gazillion moths flying around in my stomach as we got in line to go to the cafeteria. No one was looking directly at me, but I could tell all the side eyes were definitely on me. I cracked my knuckles; it was bad habit from when I was a kid, but I was so nervous I couldn't help it. Lady, the inmate in front of me, flinched at the sound and glanced back nervously. A sneer spread across my face, and she quickly faced forward.

In the serving line I blindly waited as the servers filled up my tray. My mind was a blur of activity from psalms of forgiveness to the eerie look on Antonia's face as she drew her last breath.

“Bring your ass over here. Hurry up. Hurreeeeee up.” Say was waving frantically from a table in a corner the moment I walked out of the serving line. Milan was seated next to him as usual, nudging him in the side with his elbow. I didn't even get to set my tray on the table or put my hind parts fully in the chair before he was going in, whispering questions left and right, his neck and wrist just a-flying and snapping with each and every word.

“Hi, ho. What the fuck? E'rebody saying you nixed Juarez ass. Now I know my darling little boo-boo ain't no cold-blooded killa. What Juarez do, slip on a Ding Dong wrapper in the dark, fall, and bump her head or some shit? Why you ain't call nobody when it happened? Why you ain't tell the COs that shit? Um, why you ain't saying shit? What da hell went on up in that motherfucka last night, woman?”

Say gave me an exasperated wide-eyed stare, crossing his arms flamboyantly across his chest and popping his lips at me simultaneously.

“Bae, maybe it's because you ain't took a breath, pause, flash, or nothing long enough to even give the girl time to blink. She sitting over here looking like Bambi on the highway and you a damn eighteen-wheeler right now.” Milan's tone was calm and protective as he addressed Say in my defense.

“Bitch! A: how she looking like Bambi? That motherfucka was a boy; so B: you might want to compare her to the motherfucka who killed Bambi momma. We obviously got ourselves a gorilla, cough cough, I mean killa in our midst. Aeron leaves and this heffa wants to become a member of Murder Inc. Where dey do dat at?”

“Sayzano, Murder Inc.? Really? They ain't even relevant anymore, and who the hell anybody in Murder Inc. ever murder, fool? You need to shut up before I shut you up; you are talking out the side of your neck right now.” Milan was starting to turn a bright shade of pink after this last statement.

As funny as their whisper argument was getting, I had to put a stop to it before they got out of hand. Leaning forward, I lowered my tone barely above a whisper. “You two need to stop this right now.” I did my best to keep my face blank, barely moving my lips as I spoke. “I did what I had to do and that's all y'all need to know. Okay?” I narrowed my eyes for emphasis, feeling like an angry mother hen, looking back and forth between the two of them until they nodded in understanding.

I was certain no one else had heard me, but anyone with even the slightest bit of common sense could look at Say and Milan and figure out what I'd probably just told them. They both sat there, slack-jawed, wide-eyed, and dead silent. Anyone with a lick of common sense knew the two of them were never quiet at the same time. You would have thought Antonia'd just risen from the dead and sat down at the table with us.

“I need both of you to act normal. Like none of this ever happened. It's a normal day and, Say, if you don't mind, my roots are something else. Can you freshen up my braids later?”

The smart reply that I was expecting from Say never came; he instead nodded slowly and stared down at his tray. Picking up my fork, I scooped up a heap of runny eggs and shoveled the bland-tasting mess into my mouth. Say and Milan followed suit. We spent the rest of the time eating in silence.

“I do have one question, Eva.” It was Milan who spoke first as we were clearing our trays, his voice a barely audible whisper as he stood beside me. “What do you think Aeron will do when she gets word of all this? That's still her family. They all members of La Legal De Represalias. Them some stupid powerful, filthy rich, and extremely brutal people when they get crossed. If they don't like the news it's gonna get very bad, very fast,” Milan stated as he glanced around nervously for eavesdroppers.

“A member of the La Di La what?” Sputtering the letters, I turned to give Milan a good stare down, my expression showing my obvious confusion. Aeron had never mentioned whatever he was talking about, so this was all news to me.

He gave me a frustrated eye roll, slicing his hand through the air quickly and then through his hair in an agitated nervous motion, pulling it out of its neat ponytail. He fidgeted with getting it tied back behind his head as he explained.

“The Law of Retribution or Law of Talion.” He paused, giving me an expectant look, but I still had no idea what he was stalking about. “The Lot. It's like a gang, some kind of underground organization. Why do you think Blakely let Juarez do whatever the hell she wanted to? You might wanna go unite with the sistas or some shit, because you gonna need backup. If any of the Latina members in here find out and they think you seriously did something to her, they're gonna do something to you, sweetheart. Your little ripple might have started a damn tidal wave.”

I didn't say anything. I honestly had no clue what to say. Before being here I knew next to nothing about gangs or gang affiliation. The thought never occurred to me about how Aeron would actually react to her sister's death, let alone the fact that either of them could have ties to an actual gang. I shrugged at Milan as if I didn't have a care in the world and ignored his look of exasperation and anger. At this point the only thing at the top of my prayer list was to make it out of prison and get my daughter. Second on my prayer list was my request for an absolutely spotless coroner's report.

After breakfast I skipped going out to the yard and instead decided to start doing some research. I walked into the rec room and signed in. The correctional officer behind the check-in desk never even looked up. She was too busy with the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, lost in a conversation about some drug dealer who managed to get another officer to help him escape. His baby momma called asking where he was and the warden didn't want to give her a solid answer. I wanted to listen further but didn't want to catch her attention and get put out. The room was about the size of a small classroom. One wall was covered in shelves of encyclopedias and law manuals; the other was a random assortment of outdated magazines.

There were three raggedy prehistoric-looking Gateway computers side by side on a long table at the back of the room. Fortunately no one was using them. It was just too nice of a day for anyone to want to sit up in this dusty old closet surfing the Internet. Well, anyone except for me that is. With no idea where to start, out of habit I pulled up my Facebook account and logged in. I was thankful my password and everything still worked.

Depression hit me like a tidal wave as my profile picture stared back at me. That wasn't me, couldn't be. The girl in the picture had her hair pinned up with soft curls falling around her ears. There was a golden glow to her light brown skin from the camera flash, making her already large brown eyes look even larger. I looked at a me I didn't know anymore, a version of myself that was radiant and alive and in love with my fiancé and the Word of God.

My friends list used to be around 500 or so people. They were mostly members from the church, business clients, and associates. I didn't have very many friends outside of that. Rejection set in as I scrolled through the names of the fifty-two people still on my list.

The devil on my shoulder was being a real jerk today, giving me thoughts of doubt and self-loathing. Had it been another church member I probably would have done the same thing myself. Deleted them from my life, scared the dirty association might tarnish my name or leak into my livelihood.

My heart skipped in excitement as I passed over Brother Hall's image. He was always such a sweetheart, helping me with the kids during vacation Bible school and always offering to cover choir rehearsals when I had to work late. His profile was a collage of images from things he'd done recently around the church. There was one of him standing in the crowd, towering over everyone around him. His eyes were closed and his hands were in tight fists as he lifted them in praise. Gone was the nappy fro I remembered. His haircut looked good on him; it gave him a dignified, intelligently handsome appearance.

It was a far cry, but what other choice did I have? I hit the message button and nervously constructed an e-mail that would hopefully get his attention and get him to give me a little help. I needed money in my commissary and I needed someone I could trust to help me with my legal proceedings and maybe even trying to get Jada.

Using my sleeve I quickly brushed the tears from my eyes and hit
SEND.
I was about to close the page when a picture in the corner of the screen caught my eye. A chill shot through me as I stared at the People You May Know section. There was a dark, blurry image of a couple, like the picture had some kind of filter on it, but I'd recognize Dontay's gray eyes anywhere. The name beneath the picture was Ms. LoveKush Bettathantheythink Bankhead. I squinted at the thumbnail-size picture. The figures were both shadowed out; he was standing behind her and their faces were blurred all except for his eyes. It appeared to have been done intentionally, like with some sort of photo editing program.

My hands were frozen in a claw-like position over the keyboard and mouse. I was afraid to click on the picture and enlarge it, paranoid that whoever this woman was would know I was secretly stalking her page. A thousand and one things ran through my mind all at once.
Did they take that picture before we got locked up? Was he cheating on me with this woman? If so how long had it been going on?
My finger was unmoving above the mouse; my heart thudded loudly in my ears drowning out everything around me.
Click that shit. Just do it.

“Yooooo, you Church Girl, right?”

I physically jumped and probably even died for a half a second from fright as someone grabbed the back of my chair and swiveled me around. The room flew by in a quick blur. I could feel all the blood physically drain from my face in panic as I sat facing five Hispanic women I'd never seen before.

“They said cha ass was mute or some shit, but I don't believe dat. Nah, I think if chu know waz good, chu gonna talk to us.”

The woman speaking was short, squat, and box shaped. A white bandana held her hair back from her round face, making her penciled-in black eyebrows and lip liner stand out starkly against her olive skin. I glanced around nervously looking for the guard who was at the desk, but of course she'd miraculously done the unthinkable and vanished.

“Okay. Wh . . . what would you like to discuss?” I sounded like a straight-up punk; my voice was small and shaky.

A smug smile spread across her face and she nodded to a tall, thin chick behind her. It happened so fast I didn't have a chance to blink, swallow, or even recite the Lord's Prayer. Someone grabbed me up from the chair and pinned my arms behind my back. A rough, callused hand slammed across my forehead, craning my head back, fully exposing my neck.

The one who had been speaking all this time walked up to me and held up a small blade. Cross-eyed, I tried to stare down my nose to focus on it, scared if I took my eyes off of it I'd feel it in my ribs or running across my throat. My neck muscles were constricting painfully from the awkward placement of my head. She came up to me as if she were going to give me a hug and placed her cheek right up against mine. Stale cigarettes and cheap body spray filled my nose as the tip of the blade barely touched the side of my throat. Her voice hissed into my ear like a snake that'd learned to speak broken English.

“Ssssoo, Church Girl, one quesssstion, one anssssswer. Chu kill Antonia?” she asked, pressing the shank hard into my neck, and I winced, certain it was drawing blood. She then turned her head, placing her ear almost directly on my lips, waiting for me to reply.

“She did it, Janisa, she know she did. Just slice her ass up like she deserve.” The girl holding me provoked my interrogator in an angry whisper.

“No.” My whispered response was directed more toward this inner demon I'd somehow manifested. It seemed to love bloodshed, reveled in revenge, made me think of the most ungodly ways to handle situations.

“Oh. ‘No,' she says.” She turned to the other women and shrugged, they all started laughing. I didn't get the joke.

“According to her, I guess Antonia just died on her own. Wid no one in the cell wid her but dis bitch.”

The girl holding my limbs hostage laughed, tightening her grip even more painfully. Hell, any tighter and I wouldn't have to worry about being shanked; my neck would probably snap.

“I didn't kill her.” It was a pitiful attempt to save my life. I began to silently pray and ask God's forgiveness for everything I'd ever done. It was becoming obvious that they didn't care what I said.

I tried to shake the little voice that belonged to my inner demon out of my head. I guessed we all had it; some people just called it their conscience. Whatever it was, the only difference between me and these women was the fact that I refused to let my bloodthirsty inner demon control me, and they gave in to theirs every time.

The one with the blade turned back to me, her face contorted in anger at me speaking without being spoken to. She stormed over and punched me in the stomach with everything she had. The air whooshed from my lungs and the feeling of wanting to vomit and pass out at the same time took hold of my body. The girl behind me struggled to keep me on my feet as my body felt like collapsing in on itself from the pain. I'd never been hit before and definitely not that hard.

I was pulled roughly back up onto my feet and Janisa closed in for round two. A cold sweat was running down my neck and torso. I could feel the cotton fabric of my uniform sticking to my skin. Fighting back waves of nausea I tried to focus on Janisa as she closed the distance between us.

“I'll ask you one more time, Church Girl, did you—”

It happened so fast I had no idea how or why. Janisa fell away from me, a horrified scream frozen on her lips. She reminded me of the reaction my daughter had the first time she scraped her knee. There were a few moments where no sound came out, as tears slowly slid down her face. The sound caught up with her actions as if in slow motion as her scream pierced the air. It was all in a matter of seconds but everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. My captor released me in shock and I could hear her bump into the computer desk as she backed away from me.

The warm, rubbery portion of Janisa's ear flew from my mouth as I spat it toward the girl closest to her. She jumped back in terror and I smiled at her reaction, not realizing it made me look damn near insane. Janisa's blood was running down my chin and I could taste its metallic, coppery presence in my mouth, coating my teeth.
Lord, I'd better not get hepatitis or something from this.
Turning to the girl behind me, my intent was to gnaw my way through every last one of their asses and I lunged for her. I didn't expect her to react as quickly as she did. She kicked to fend off my attack, hitting me in the stomach.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Crashing to the cold, hard tile floor never felt so good. I tried to catch my breath before glancing up to see who'd come into the room and saved my life. It was a white male officer; he didn't look familiar. The Latinas all quietly scurried out the door like a herd of panicked deer. Janisa ran past him, hiding her injury. The female CO who was on duty walked in past him with her head down. She shot me an angry glance out the corner of her eye before plopping back down at her post behind the check-in desk. The white officer calmly walked over and helped me to my feet. “You okay?” he asked while brushing imaginary dirt off my arm.

“I'm fine, thanks.”

“Um, you're bleeding. We need to get you to the infirmary,” he stated, his expression showing genuine concern.

“It's not my blood,” I replied coldly and began wiping the blood from my mouth on the front of my white shirt.

“Well, are you Evaline De . . . De . . .” He hesitated, trying to get my last name out.

I hated when people messed up my last name. They always did. You'd think I'd have gotten used to it by now. I interrupted him before he could butcher it any further. “You say the first part like déjà in the phrase déjà vu, and just add ‘ardin' to the end of that. Yes, I'm Evaline Desjardin; just call me Eva.” I smiled weakly, my stomach still sending sparks of pain through my body if I inhaled too deeply.

“Well okay, Eva. I'm from the main office downstairs. Your probation has been approved and you are free to go, under certain restrictions of course. We need to get your clothes and belongings from processing so you can be on your way. I'll act like what I just saw never happened.”

I stood there momentarily dazed, certain the Latinas had murdered me. My body was probably lying dead on the floor and I was floating above it. This had to be God's humorous way of ushering me up to heaven. Dumbfounded, I just stood there shaking from head to toe in disbelief, scared my legs would give out on me if I moved. I felt like laughing, crying, and hugging this angel who'd just saved my life in more ways than one.

“How did it get approved? Who put me in, I didn't do anything or—”

He cut me off before I could continue, giving me a look that pretty much said to shut the hell up and go. “I don't do the fine details, ma'am. I just fetch and deliver.” He nodded toward the door and I smiled my first genuine all-teeth-and-gums smile since being in prison.

The question still loomed out there. There was no way Brother Hall could have responded to my message that quickly or, maybe, he could have. God's works aren't made for our understanding; He only requires our cooperation.