Everything is Everything Book 2 (16 page)

After her first prenatal appointment, Vanessa broke down into tears. But they were happy tears. She was assured that her baby was healthy, had a strong heartbeat and the blood work had all come back at excellent levels. She was nearly twelve weeks pregnant! She’d gotten pregnant on her birthday.

Next week was December eleventh and Vanessa still held out hope that Scotty would be allowed to walk out of the courtroom with her. And then their lives could go forward together. She’d tell him about their baby and how healthy it was even with that poison floating in her system and all the emotional rollercoasters that they’d been on.

Scotty would be able to make it to his winter session of college and she would spend endless hours practicing her singing morning, noon and night so that as soon as their baby was born she would be in tip top condition to be that star that Scotty was so convinced she would be.

But it did not work out that way.

The judge recounted the injuries that led to Donald’s death—detailed the relentless blows that had been rained down on the decedent. The judge talked about the known drug house, the history of drug offenses by both parties. He stated that although he felt the defendant was a danger to society he would take consideration of his age.

He then found Scotty guilty of aggravated manslaughter with a sentence of fifteen to twenty-five years in prison with the possibility of parole after ten years.

Although everyone assured Vanessa that the judge had been lenient, Vanessa’s mind calculated Scotty’s sentence as a series of minutes and seconds that she would not be able to spend with him.

Mr. Rosenthal told her that he would be eligible for parole by the time he was thirty and that was still very young, but Vanessa had nearly screamed when they placed the handcuffs on him and led him out the courtroom. She wanted to run up to the judge and tell him that she was going to have a baby and that they had a plan for the rest of their lives. That they were good people and that he deserved another chance.

But Beady’s hand was holding her—maybe sensing that she might do something close to it.

It was a good sentence, everyone in suits and ties said—but that wasn’t true because he wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t been somewhere she didn’t belong.

Vanessa clutched her belly and searched the faces of the people that she had come to love; Beady, Phonso, Miss Gloria, G, and she wanted to ask them if it was real.

Scotty did not turn back to look at her—but she knew that he wouldn’t. He had already prepared for this moment despite the fact that he was dressed in a dark blue suit, blue shirt and a blue tie. Oddly, he had worn white athletic socks with his dress shoes. He’d gotten his hair cut and she had never seen it so short. He was beautiful. She had wondered if he had done it for the trial or for prison.

She tossed and turned in bed that night. She had kept her promise and had not cried—at least not in front of the family. They had been strong—but they could afford to be because they didn’t have an unborn baby growing inside of them and they had been through this before—or at least something similar. They had lost but they hadn’t LOST.

The next few days of Scotty’s life happened in a series of flashes that he navigated through with no signs of emotion. He had self-surrendered so that he wouldn’t have to spend time in lock-up at the courthouse and could be transferred directly to the Justice Center for processing--alone without waiting for a busload of offenders to join him.

Scotty wasn’t new to the Ohio Correctional System and faired well because of that.

For instance he knew to keep his socks during processing. The orange jumpsuit and flip flops that inmates were issued did little to keep the prisoners warm—especially in the middle of December. Scotty supposed that it had something to do with reminding them that they weren’t home. Or maybe someone had made the decision that it wasn’t worth the money to keep a bunch of criminals warm. He didn’t ask questions and also didn’t answer them. Guards wanted to know what the ‘big white boy’ was in for. If a guard was curious enough then for all that Scotty cared, he could get off his fat ass and look into his file.

Scotty also found his first hustle. If there were extra sandwiches he always took one even if he didn’t eat it because then he could trade it to someone who got arrested right after mealtime for a couple cigarettes.

For two weeks he cooled his heels in the Justice Center. Scotty hated jail. There were levels to lock-up. First was the booking process at the courthouse. It was worse than even jail and luckily he had avoided it. Basically you got tossed in a large cell with wooden benches and twenty guys that were all waiting to bail-out. Some were drunk or detoxing. There was no place to sleep and no privacy. It was always too cold or too hot and there was never enough food.

He was thankful that his attorney had self-surrendered him straight to the Hamilton County Justice Center which was the last stop before being transferred to prison.

Nothing about jail happened fast. And while being processed into the system there were no visitors or mail allowed. He couldn’t make or receive phone calls and was allowed to speak to only his attorney—who was already starting the process for the appeal.

In jail there were people waiting to be transferred to prison, some waiting for trial because they hadn’t made bail—and there were some serving years for their offenses.

Scotty walked into jail alone, carrying his bedroll and with the eyes of the entire cellblock on him. He heard catcalls, which he ignored as he was lead to his cell.

He heard someone refer to him as long tall and that they intended to find out just how long…

Scotty’s face was impassive even while he sweated. He had already decided that he’d fight back if he had to. There was really no question in that. His life had always been about the fight. It just meant that he didn’t think there was much of a chance that he would make parole in ten years. It was a long time away and there was a lot that he’d have to do in order to survive.

Scotty shared a cell with a black man that spent a great deal of time trying to ‘educate’ him on how to make it in jail.

Scotty knew how this hustle worked. The man would offer him protection, which he could pay in commissary or favors. Favors weren’t necessarily sexual, it could be holding drugs, delivering messages etc.

Scotty only gave the man brief responses—none of which explained that he probably knew more about jail then his cellie. It wasn’t until five guys entered the cell did his cellmate make a hasty retreat—proving that he had no clue about how to ‘protect’ anyone.

Scotty was on the upper bunk thinking about Vanessa, missing her and wondering what she was doing. It was the worst thing about being in intake. He wasn’t a permanent resident of jail and therefore he still hadn’t been able to make phone calls or send and receive letters. He was happy to see that he’d been given a form where he could indicate who he wanted on his visitation list.

Despite wishing that Vanessa would make a life for herself without him, he now would give his right testicle for just one word from her. Unfortunately only family members could appear on the visitors list and that meant Phonso who luckily was soon to be eighteen.

He didn’t care what he had told Vanessa. He wanted to see her beautiful sweet face. He wanted to hear her voice and to assure her that he was okay. She had to be worried-

“Yo Tremont!”

Scotty looked at the doorway where five black men were crowded. His cellmate didn’t say a thing. He walked right out of the cell. Scotty’s breathing slowed as he considered the best way to hurt them with the least amount of pain to himself.

The speaker was covered in prison tats. His red jumpsuit was pulled down so that only his lower half was covered and his torso and arms were exposed. He was impressively muscled. His hair was braided neatly and Scotty saw that he had a scar that ran down from his temple to his mouth. It had been poorly repaired so that it bulged into an ugly keloid.

Scotty sat up in bed, leaping down to the floor.

“You Tino’s brother?” A different man asked. He was smaller but his muscles were just as wired. These men put professional body builders to shame and Scotty’s mind sought a strategy to bring as many of them down as possible.

Another guy laughed. “Cat got your tongue, nigger?”

Scotty frowned recognizing the voice. “Jay Dog?”

The man pushed past the others and he and Scotty slapped hands and hugged. Scotty was actually happy to see his brother Tino’s best friend. Had it not been for the free hamburgers and coneys that Jay Dog regularly supplied them then Scotty and his brothers and sisters would have gone hungry far more often. Scotty told him this.

Jay Dog was doing seven months on a drug possession charge and was due to be released in a few weeks. The other men were also friends or acquaintances of Tino and they happily took Scotty down to the floor where they treated him to cigarettes and a soda pop and introduced him to other guys that had lived in their hood.

Scotty was happy for the conversation—not just because he was bugging out but because simply by laughing and joking with him and rehashing old stories they had claimed Scotty into their group which than made him untouchable to others that had planned to recruit him for their own purposes.

Unfortunately nothing is free—not even among friends. In exchange for the cigarettes and soda and the bags of Cheetos that had been thrust into his hands, Scotty was asked to do a favor.

Jay Dog wouldn’t meet his eyes as Tres approached him several days later. Scotty’s lips formed a grim line and before hearing the terms he spoke.

“You need me to do you a favor. Fine. After I do this favor you and I are even, is that right?”

Tres gave him a toothy smile. “You ain’t got no commissary, Lil’ Brother.” Lil’ brother was his new nickname in the jail block. “We’ll help you out if you help us out.”

The food in jail sucked but that didn’t mean anything to him. He’d had worse. But he refused to owe anyone for long. He’d pay his debt and be done with it.

He slapped hands with Tres.

There was a knock on Vanessa’s bedroom door. She rolled over in bed and called over her shoulder.

“Come in.”

Phonso poked his head in. “Hey.”

Vanessa sat up in bed, puling the covers up around her. She was dressed in sweats. They were comfy enough to sleep in and then she could get up and pretend that she was dressed for the day. Plus they accommodated her tummy, which swelled slightly. At five months pregnant she didn’t show much but it was enough.

Phonso waved a letter in his hand. “I got something from the Justice Center.”

Vanessa perked. “From Scotty?”

“No. But it says that I can put myself on the visitation list.”

Vanessa’s brow gathered. “You?”

Phonso refused to look into her eyes. He didn’t like what he saw when he did.

“Yeah. It says only relatives of lineal descent or marriage.”

She clutched her hair with her fist and made a growling noise. “And what about Baby Mama’s? Does it says that a mother has to be satisfied with not hearing from her child’s father until they feel like it?!” She climbed out of bed and took the letter from Phonso reading it quickly.

She had told the family about the pregnancy right after the trial. Phonso had been stunned. He couldn’t fathom how Scotty would take the news after being sentenced to prison. But Vanessa had insisted that no one tell him. It was her job to do it … as soon as they allowed communication. Now it was February and no one seemed to care that she hadn’t seen or heard from the man she loved since December.

Her eyes quickly scanned the letter and she looked up at Phonso happily. “It says here that we can start sending him letters!” She whooped loudly and Miss Gloria came into the room wondering what was going on. Before long Tyrone and Ginger were there as well.

Elijah and Erica had already been placed in a facility where they could remain together until being placed in a home—hopefully together. Miss Gloria had cried non-stop for days. But they had already been allowed visitation—which mean CPS acted much faster than the Ohio Justice department.

Vanessa was laughing when she raised her voice over the den of noise.

“No one is allowed to tell Scotty about the baby before I do. Is that understood?”

Everyone agreed and Vanessa shooed them from her room so that she could sit down and write the letter that she’d been silently writing inside of her head for the last two months.

She placed a hand over her belly and inhaled bravely.

Hi Scotty. I miss you and I know you miss me. I want you to know that I’m alright. Everyone is going to send you their own individual letters but I wanted to tell you that Miss Gloria will be moving into her new place at the beginning of the month.

It’s really nice even though it’s smaller than the house. Erica and EJ have been gone for only two weeks. They were placed in temporary housing at something called the Hope House. They are together and I’ve already seen them twice. They look good and tell me that it’s like being at school seven days a week but they do get to see each other every day.

Phonso has been living a good life these days. I guess you two have talked about that. I’m happy you did that for him. He’s working at the pizza place you used to work at doing your old job! He seems happy.

I’ve been holding it together. This is harder than I ever thought it would be. I don’t know how I would have done it without the family and without the little gift that you and I created.

Scotty, I wanted to tell you this face to face. I wanted to tell you before I told anyone else. But circumstances are what they are and I have to tell you on paper that we are going to have a baby.

It happened that day on my birthday. As I write this letter I am five months pregnant. I’m going to have Phonso take a picture and I’ll include it with this letter.

Babe, I know you are shocked but I hope you are happy. I know that you didn’t want it to be this way. But I want you to know that I’m happy. I’m happy that I carry a piece of you inside of me.

I can be everything I need to be and still be a mother to our baby. I can still be there for you. And I won’t put myself on the back burner. I love you Scotty. My soulmate. My best friend. My family. -Vanessa

She felt better after writing the letter, even though she was anxious about Scotty’s response as well as how it would effect his jail time. But she placed the letter aside and looked at her half-packed boxes.

Scotty wouldn’t be proud of her if he knew that she had been lying in bed for most of the last eight weeks. She hadn’t even begun looking for a place to live for her and her baby.

There was no room with Miss Gloria and she wasn’t going back to grandma’s. She had to stop letting her life lead her and had to be in control of leading it.

She pulled her long hair back into a ponytail and then began to fill her suitcases with her things. Scotty’s were still boxed and she vowed to carry them with her wherever she went. There was a little over seven grand in her bank account—Scotty had given her the last of his money after covering all the remaining bills.

The money would be enough to take care of her until after the birth and Medicare was going to take care of the hospital bill. She wouldn’t keep giving in to her grief. Scotty was watching her now and she needed to make him proud.

All he had to do was allow someone to come into his cell to pick up a package. Of course he had to keep the package safe until then. And he didn’t know what was in it—but that didn’t matter to him. Once the person came to make the pick-up his debt would be paid—or at least Scotty tried to pretend that it would be that simple.

Two days after being informed of his debt Tres passed Scotty an aluminum foil wrapped package, which fit snuggly in his palm. Scotty carried it in his armpit until he could figure out where to hide it.

They hadn’t gotten a shakedown since he’d been there and no one ever patted him down. But people came in and out of cells and he would be damned if he left it somewhere only to have someone steal it. Theft was common in the cellblock, although Scotty had nothing to steal so normally he had nothing to worry about. His cellie had commissary as well as a television and radio but Scotty was careful not to pay attention to the items unless his cellie took it upon himself to charge rent. He’d seen it happen with other newbies.

Right before lockdown a huge white man came walking into the cell. Scotty’s cellmate seemed to know that the visitor was there for Scotty and again he left, right in the middle of telling another one of his bogus stories about pimping and drug dealing—as if any story about pimping and drug dealing could impress Scotty.

“You got something for me?” The huge man asked.

He looked at Scotty with a scowl on his face. He was older by twenty years and bigger than the younger man. He wasn’t as much muscular as he was fat and tall. But he looked dangerous with his shaved head and dead grey eyes. His tats proclaimed his gang affiliation with the Neo-Nazis with one huge swastika that stood front and center on his chest.

Scotty jumped down from his bunk. He’d already discreetly removed the packet from his armpit and he made to transfer it with a shake of the hand. Only the Neo-Nazi refused the shake.

Scotty raised his brow in question.

“Nah. I don’t shake with niggers. Put it on the table.”

A dark expression fell across Scotty’s face.

“Don’t get mad, bitch.” The man growled. “Everybody sees how you hang out with them. So you’re just as much a nigger as they are.”

That word. Again. Scotty bawled his hand into a fist. “Go back and tell whoever you were supposed to give this too why you’re empty handed. And don’t come back until you can show some respect.”

The other man’s eyes came to life. “What? It’s a done deal-“

Scotty’s eyes flitted to the corridor where whites, blacks and Hispanics were watching the interaction. There was no backing out now even though he questioned his own sanity. He’d been called a nigger or worse all his life. The word held little effect on him. But this fucking skinhead was not going to walk up on him and disrespect him and treat him like a punk.

“Get the fuck out of my cell.” He said evenly.

The fat Neo-Nazi was surprised. The kid should know what was what by now. He should know that the Skinheads ran the cellblock. Had he not practically announced that he was such a nigger lover, the kid would have already been approached by them and recruited.

And now he wanted to stand up for the blacks against his own race? The Skinhead was outraged. He swung on Scotty in a move that could have been a sucker punch if he had been fifty pounds lighter and ten years younger.

Scotty blocked it easily and then smashed his fist into the man’s face. He felt his knuckles crack a moment before pain shot up his arm. But although the big man’s head rocked back, in the next moment he acted as if he didn’t feel a thing. He backhanded Scotty with a fierce blow and Scotty saw stars before his eyes as pain exploded on the entire left side of his face.

Scotty fell against the desk, knocking over his cellie’s television set where it toppled to the floor with an explosion of shattered glass. The Neo-Nazi came at Scotty again. Scotty knew that he couldn’t afford to break his other hand. He pushed off the desk and surprised the older man by tackling him around his middle and forcing him out of the cell. The two men landed on the concrete tier and Scotty quickly got to his feet, keeping the man in his sights.

The skinhead roared with anger as he hefted himself to his feet. His huge fist went flying as the inmates formed a hooting and hollering circle around them.

The blow landed solidly into Scotty’s side. It felt like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer but Scotty still had enough presence of mind to know that he did not intend to be the one caught holding what was enclosed in the foil wrapped package ...

He grabbed the big man’s top with his fist and then Scotty gritted his teeth and slammed his head against the skull of his opponent.

He saw a river of red flow down his face but Scotty was unsure whether or not it was his blood or the big man’s because his opponent’s skull had opened up like a cantaloupe.

The man’s eyes rolled to the top of his head and he was out cold a second later. Scotty quickly tucked the aluminum foil wrapped package into the waistband of his attacker and a moment later Scotty was taken to the floor by two Correctional Officers.