Luxe (22 page)

 

18

Fuck,
it was the only thought that came to his mind as Noah was snatched out of his sleep. He had been caught slipping, and after months of sleeping with one eye open he had briefly allowed himself to become lax. A potato sack was placed over his head and he bucked in protest as he was roughly pulled to his feet. The haze that the sandman had placed over Noah put him at a disadvantage, rendering him useless as he tried to fight off his assailants. Before he could even get the chance to holler or get one of the COs' attention, Noah felt a crack to the back of his skull that sent him right back to la-la land. Right before he passed out he thought,
Damn, I'ma die in here.

*   *   *

The dim lights of the prison flickered as Noah came to. He grimaced, touching the back of his throbbing head. As he pulled his hand away he noticed blood on his fingers and he staggered to his feet. The empty cells around him let him know that he was in the abandoned cell block. The state couldn't afford to keep the entire institution up and running, so this portion went unused, undocumented, and unrecorded. It was completely isolated from the rest of the blocks, so he knew that if someone had brought him here to die no one would hear his screams. Every other single nook and cranny of the prison was taped but this space; it was almost as if it didn't exist at all.

The sound of hard-bottomed shoes echoing against concrete alerted Noah, and he stood defensively as he waited. If he was going to die he would go out fighting, and he prepared himself for it mentally as his heart pounded in his chest. In that moment, when he was cornered and at his weakest, he knew that there was no fear in him. He had always believed that a man was defined by the way he behaved in the face of danger, and if he hadn't known before, he knew now. There was no bitch in him. He was all g as he prepared himself for the worst.

“You can relax, Noah.”

The voice came from behind him as the warden appeared in front of Noah and he had to swivel on his feet to see how it was possible.

Behind him stood a man dressed in a gray Gucci suit. His expression was serious as he stood with one hand tucked away in his slacks. Noah looked back to the warden. “What's this about?”

“This conversation never happened. You understand?” the warden asked, looking Noah square in the eye.

He nodded, still uncertain about what exactly was going on. The warden looked at the man behind him. “You have twenty minutes,” he said. He then walked off, his shoes echoing again down the corridor until he was no longer in sight.

Noah turned to face the man, finally focusing on him. Adrenaline pumped through Noah as he identified his features. They shared the same eyes, the same nose.…

Is this—?

Before Noah could process the thought the man spoke.

“Hello, Noah. I heard you've been asking for me,” he said.

Noah had always wondered about his father. As a young boy Noah had watched his friends form bonds with their own that he knew nothing about. He had learned it all on his own. How to hoop … how to fight … how to drive. The things that fathers showed their sons Noah had missed out on. There was only so much that his mother could do for him. At the end of the day, he had been a little black boy, and no matter how much she tried to provide, she couldn't teach him how to grow up to become a great black man. This man's absence had contributed to Noah's current predicament whether intentional or not.

“Khadafi,” Noah whispered. “They said you were dead.”

“The streets say a lot of things. Sometimes the illusion of death is the only way you can truly live, son,” Khadafi replied.

Noah stiffened and replied, “We ain't got to play them roles. Only one person has called me son my whole life. I'm cool with that.”

Khadafi nodded. He was composed as he stood, both hands in his pockets now. Shoulders squared. His salt-and-pepper goatee revealing his wisdom. “I respect that, but just so you know, I didn't know about you. If I had, things would have played out much differently, believe that.”

Noah nodded, but he didn't need condolences. There were no words that could make up for what had occurred. It was too little too late.

“When I heard there was a young boy here asking questions about me, I did my research and discovered that you were my son. It seems your mother told you about me at least. For that I am grateful,” Khadafi said. “I assume there is a reason why you wanted to see me?”

“I'm all I got in here. I don't got much time, but it's enough. I don't want the walls to start feeling like they're closing in on me. I need to get my legs under me. Establish a consistent flow of paper coming to my books. It's a lot of luxuries that's missing in here. Stuff that niggas will pay to get their hands on,” Noah said, not wanting to speak too candidly.

“You sure you want to do that? You're only in for five. With good behavior you'll be out in three. Keeping your nose clean would be—”

“According to the legend, hustling is in my bloodline,” Noah interrupted. “Can't give me advice you didn't follow yourself, old man.”

Khadafi chuckled and nodded as he replied, “Okay. Consider it done. Bookie will discuss my percentage and prices with you.”

Noah nodded and was about to reply when the warden stepped back in with two guards at his side. The brief meeting between father and son was over. They had never gotten a chance to know each other as family, but now they were in bed in business. Khadafi didn't even dabble in small drug deals, but this was a debt that he owed to his son. He couldn't refuse. He extended his hand to his son and Noah accepted it as Khadafi pulled him in for an embrace.

“Naomi Porter,” Khadafi whispered in his ear. “Add her to your visiting list.”

Noah nodded and made his way over to the guards. Khadafi's voice called out once more. “Warden? Are these the guards that escorted him here?”

“Yes,” the warden replied as he frowned, unsure of the purpose of the line of questioning.

“The way they roughed him up didn't go unnoticed. Fire them,” Khadafi demanded.

Noah smirked but couldn't hide his shock as the warden nodded obediently.
Damn,
Noah thought, surprised at the amount of pull Khadafi had. As Noah was escorted back to his cell his mind raced. Heroin was a big deal behind the wall, but it was so hard to get inside that it was rare that inmates ever got their fix. Prison was a hard walk of life, and every man had his own way of dealing with it. A nice high would be more valuable than gold inside and give Noah a way to finance himself for the next five years. If he was caught, five years could become a lifetime, but it was worth the risk. He didn't know how long Bleu could or would fill his commissary, and he refused to put the burden on his mother. He had to do what was necessary. Noah had to survive.

*   *   *

Bleu blazed through the pages of her history book as if she were reading for pleasure. She hadn't realized just how much she had been skipping class until it was time for her to make up all the work. She was supposed to be catching up to the other students. She had started late and the university had taken a chance on her, but she had been so caught up in other things that she had forgotten why she was there in the first place. The Adderall gave her a leg up. The amount of focus she felt was incredible, but she still couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. She was buried in reading assignments and late papers. She had been stuck in her dorm room for three days and hadn't slept once. Still her progress was slow, and her heart concerned.

If I don't get this work done they're going to kick me out,
she thought.
The fuck?

Tears flooded her eyes and she planted her hands on her face. She felt like screaming. The stress that she felt was driving her crazy. She was a prisoner to these damn books. History. Philosophy. Math. Chemistry. Weeks of it! It was all too much.

“Agh!” she finally let out as she swept her notebook off her bed.

Startled, China jumped as she removed her earbuds and looked at Bleu in concern. “Umm, okay? You mad or nah?” she asked sarcastically. Her normal wit wasn't amusing to Bleu. In fact, she was so on edge that it irritated her. Bleu cut her eyes at China. If looks could kill …

Catching the shade, China added some chill to her approach as she said, “It can't be that bad. Do you need help? You're taking the Addie, right?”

Bleu nodded her head and replied, “Yes, I'm popping them like candy, but it's only so much they can do. Yes, I focus, yes, they help me stay up, but it doesn't make me move any faster. And even though I've been up for days, my body is dragging. I get why people take them, but I need some shit to turn me into Superwoman.” She shook her head. “How the hell do you and Aysha keep up? Between hustling and school, I'm lost.”

“We pay the geeks to finish our work,” China replied, “but we do still go to class, Bleu. You just stopped going altogether.”

“I got caught up,” Bleu whispered in despair.

“Well, I hate to tell you this, I know the timing is off, but we need to make another run,” China said. “The connect wants to meet us. Bree said we're moving a lot of product across the border and dude is curious, I guess.”

Bleu's interest was immediately piqued. Another flip was just what she needed. Bleu blew through her cash almost as quickly as she made it. She only had $2,500 left from their last run. If UCLA did in fact kick her to the curb she needed some money to survive. She couldn't, under any circumstances, go back home with her tail tucked between her legs. “When?” she asked.

“Friday,” China said.

“All this shit is due Friday,” Bleu complained.

“So finish it beforehand. All I know is that you can't miss this run. It's important, and if you don't go, it makes us look hot,” China replied.

Bleu shook her head. Like water running through her fingers she felt like her dream was slipping out of her hands. She just didn't have enough time to play catch up. There was no way she could get everything done by Friday. She was jittery and completely fatigued, but her mind was highly alert. Still, it didn't make the work get done any faster.

“Look, Bleu, I have something stronger than Adderall. It will help you finish by Friday, but the shit is no joke. You have to be careful,” China warned. Her eyes were suddenly deathly serious and she spoke at a whisper, as if there were someone else in the room.

“What is it?” Bleu asked, desperate for an easy fix.

China arose from her bed and hurried over to her desk, where she snapped open her Gucci clutch. She pulled out a small Baggie. She tossed it to Bleu.

“What the fuck is this?” Bleu asked as she held it up. “Glass?” She had never seen it before. The tiny clear crystals sparkled slightly as she poured a few out into her hand.

“It's just a little meth,” China said dismissively.

“Meth?” Bleu said as she frowned. She didn't know shit about meth. All she knew was that it was a “white people” drug and anyone she had ever seen on it had fucked-up teeth.

“Don't judge, bitch,” China replied with a knowing smirk. “Do one line and all of that work you stressing over will be done before Friday. A few students here swear by it. I have a good little side hustle going on with it, so I know it works. You think you haven't slept now? This shit will have you speeding through life at eighty mph. You might crash at the end, but it will get you through the weekend.”

Bleu's entire body shook. She didn't even smoke weed, so the thought of using meth scared her. She knew the power of addiction. As a little girl she had witnessed her mother teetering between sober and strung out. There had been no in-between. Addiction ran through her veins, and Bleu feared it like the plague. She didn't want to start something that she couldn't stop. She shook her head, declining. “I'm good.”

“Oookayyy,” China said as she shrugged her shoulders. She took the Baggie from Bleu and placed it in her desk drawer. “Well, I'm going to give you some privacy and let you get back to it. I'm going out with Aysha. We'll check in on you later, a'ight?” She bent down and picked up the notebook that Bleu had tossed to the floor and then extended it to her roommate. “You've got this.”

Bleu nodded as she accepted the notebook. “Thanks.” She watched China make her departure, wishing that she could tag along.

When she was alone the walls seemed to close in on her. School was sucking the life out of her. She hadn't spoken to Iman in days. Every time he rang her line she buttoned him. He was a distraction … a welcome one, but still a distraction all the same. “I have to get out of here,” she said to herself as she suddenly began stuffing her books into her backpack. A change of scenery was needed. The air in her small dorm was starting to suffocate her, and if she didn't get out of there, she would drive herself insane. Considering that she hadn't left her dorm in a week, she decided that the fresh air from an evening stroll would do her some good. She left her Benz parked and took the long walk across campus.

The library was unusually deserted for a weekday and Bleu was grateful for the peace. It was just something about being in a room full of books that put her heart at ease. In another lifetime she must have been a librarian, because her love for words and the faded pages of novels ran so deep. She was a smart girl. She had always been. She didn't know why she craved to be one of the stupid ones so badly, but smart girls never had any fun. They weren't the girls who got the guys … especially not a guy like Iman. They weren't the center of attention. They were just … boring. The thrill of being a red-bottomed, champagne-popping, club-hopping diva appealed to her. What she didn't realize was that smart girls grew into smart women, and smart women ruled the world. So while she was chasing material things and craving shallow praise, she was cheating herself.