The Lipstick Clique (12 page)

__________

The next evening, Vicky and Milan were sitting in their prison cell at the small reading desk about to play two hand spades. Vicky had been shuffling the cards when the noise seared through the intercom again. “
Drimp
, attorney visit! Milan
Drimp
, you have an attorney visit.”

Milan frowned and walked to the voice output. She cuffed her lips and bent down so that they could hear her. “Tell them to fuck off!” She said with amusement. Then she walked away and went back to the table to sit down and finish her game of Spades. But Vicky wasn’t having it; she hurriedly dashed to the intercom and pressed the button again.

“Here she comes you guys.” Vicky spoke as she crouched down so that her voice could be heard. She had put in entirely too much work for Milan to just completely ignore the situation that she’d used her resources to set up.

Milan scowled at Vicky. Then she spoke with venomous acid. “Bitch, you don’t tell me what the fuck to do! I do as I please bitch. I didn’t work for the Department of Motor Vehicles, so I’m sure that you don’t quite know how this shit feels to be facing this much time. That’s why you keep taking it lightly.”

Vicky was hurt, but she would accept it. She only wanted Milan to be successful at whatever it was that she did. She was a rare breed, one who was more loyal than the most loyal of men. She felt that she was in a predicament that she didn’t belong in. In order to help her cellmate, she had pulled every string in her repertoire, and she just prayed that everything went through.

Milan got up and put her clothes and boots on, then waited at the door with a disgusted frown on her face. When the correctional officer came and unlocked the door, she looked back at Vicky one final time and rolled her eyes. Vicky accepted it and spoke a silent prayer for her. She knew that she would most likely never see her again in life. But no matter what, it could never be said that she didn’t try to help.

__________

When Milan got to the attorney visitation room, she was even more confused because she didn’t see her attorney there. In the room was the racist prosecutor who had been trying to persuade her to sign her life away for 27 years. Right beside her was a federal agent sitting there with a smile on his face. Milan immediately felt as if she was being set up.

“What the fuck is this about?” She asked right away.

The prosecutor closed the folder that was sitting on the desk and pinned her with one of her coldest stares. “Let’s just cut straight to the case. You told your cellmate a lot of information. A lot of information we desperately need. So basically… you help us, we help you.”

Milan immediately kicked her chair over without speaking and walked back to the door. She threw a smirk on her face and just waited. As soon as the correctional officer came, she was going to let him know that she would rather be raped than to be in that room cooperating with the authorities.
And the nerve of that Vicky bitch!
I’ma
kill that ho!
She thought as she waited.

Strangely though, the prosecutor and special agent had brought lunches and juices, and didn’t look at all like they were in a hurry to go anywhere, anytime soon. They burst open a bag of chips and two sandwiches as they watched her stand at the door. After a moment of watching their arrogant asses eat, she took her fists and knocked on the door as best as she could. No one came.

“Well… Milan, we hate to inform you, but you’re BOP custody as of right now. You belong to the Bureau of Prisons, and we certainly override this little state prison pre-trial facility that you’re staying in right now. Since we made such a long trip, you
will
talk to us. And you will speak to us in the most respectful of tones.”

Milan rolled her eyes and stood at the door. In her mind, there was nothing possible left for them to tell her, except goodbye. Snitching was not in her resume at
all
.

The little agent kept on pushing. “Basically, it will go like this. Your cellmate will be getting the credit for the bust, and in the press release, we will name you as the originating source and informer.”

“What fuckin bust?!” Milan asked curiously. “What muthafuckin’ got damn bust!? I don’t have a muthafuckin’ thing to do with no got damned bust you stupid fucks!” She spat with hatred and disgust lacing her tone.

The prosecutor pointed at the chair in front of her and told her to sit down. Milan pointed at her behind and told her to kiss it. The agent burst out laughing.

“Playing a little hardball I see. But there’s nothing wrong with you playing hardball, in fact, it amuses me. The bust we’re talking about is for Treasure Brown and the Lipstick Clique. Obviously, you have plenty of information about this particular subject, but you seem to only want to share that info with your cellmate.”

Milan’s mind raced as the agent continued to ramble on and on about her being a cooperating party in arresting her former home girl, Treasure. A couple of things didn’t make sense though. She sat there in deep thought trying to figure out if Treasure had restarted The Lipstick Clique with new people, or if her own sister, Skye, had joined Treasure and turned her back on her.

That was the only thing that hurt her. The fact that her twin sister had not taken an hour out of her life to even have an anonymous letter or postcard sent to the prison was almost too painful to bear. All she wanted to do was make sure that she was ok out there. It was hard doing time while wondering and worrying about someone else. Doing time was extremely demanding, and as long as she couldn’t hear from her sister, she knew that her time was going to be an ongoing disaster.

The disaster turned into a nightmare.

“Plus, I want to find out if your friend Treasure is the person who murdered your sister. I’m sure that even if we did let you out of prison to work for us, you probably
still
wouldn’t be able to find out
that
type of information. But… it’s worth a try, and I’m also sure that you would at least get a lot further than us in this matter.”

Milan felt her heartbeat slow down to a snail’s pace. Her mind felt like she was lost in the matrix. Her breathing pattern was abnormal, and her skin leaked sweat at a frightening pace. Within 40 seconds, she was almost looking as if someone had poured a half filled championship water cooler over her head. Her hands started to slowly shake and her teeth rattled slightly. She tried to suppress her uncontrollable reactions, but she found herself unable to.

She tried to speak, but choked on a tear. After the first tear clogged up her voice, the floodgates opened. She was trying to speak, but was only able to mumble incoherently. She wiped her tear, but as soon as her hand left her face, there was another tear in its place. She was on the verge of a mental breakdown and didn’t want to show her emotions to the thirsty federal agent and the
sheisty
prosecutor.

She turned away from them and covered her face with her hands. She was crying so hard that the tears were rolling through her hands and down her arm. Her sorrow dripped to the ground off of her elbows. Her sister was her everything, her world. She knew that on any given day, her sister would ride with her until the wheels fell off. Her and her sister had come into the world together, and had always joked with each other that one day they would die together.

Milan had been trying to correct her negative thoughts and energies since coming to prison. Since she was living in a sober world, she had begun to see things a little differently. But as soon as the federal agent dropped the bombshell that her sister had been murdered by Treasure, it felt like she was back on cocaine and PCP. She felt as though she was back in the midst of a 24 hour binge. She was back in the driver’s seat and cruising down Destruction Boulevard. She was angry beyond comprehension.

The agent came over and placed his hand on Milan’s shoulder. “We’re offering you 25 years if you will help us get Treasure Brown. 20 years if you help us also get The Lipstick Clique; 15 years if you add on the Dirt Mob, and your freedom if you also help us get the Bankroll Squad.”

Milan’s breathing was staggered. She knew that there was no way possible for her to bust all of those people and continue to live. Hell, she doubted that she would be able to bust any of them. It just didn’t make reasonable sense to her. They just wanted someone desperate enough to just do any-damn-thing. She wiped those tears and shook her head frantically.

“Hell fuck no! How the hell can I –. Man… you got me fucked up real bad! You know I can’t bust all those got damn folks. You trying to get me murdered after the first set-up!”

The prosecutor smirked at the agent because she knew then that they had her on their rope. The fact that she had mentioned that she couldn’t do it, to them, only meant that she was thinking about it. And as long as the seed of deception had been planted; the tree of deceit would always grow. They had actually anticipated and predicted this exact exchange of conversation. This was her cue to come in and soothe things so that they would seem manageable to the potential snitch.

“Milan, I think we both have different expectations of what we need and are asking from you. You think we’re asking you to set everyone up; while it sounds like our dream come true, we are aware that this is not a realistic expectation. What we are asking you to do is to put everyone in a certain position where we can come in and follow through with the eventual arrests. One of the biggest hurdles is just locating these elusive criminals. I’m aware that you are quite as elusive yourself, which is why we came to you. You are keen, and are able to put yourself in their mindsets, if not above them all.”

Milan sat there contemplating the offer that she knew she would have no choice but to accept. Life had dealt its cards and left her with a hand that she wished she didn’t have to play. She really wanted to slam her fist on the table and ask for a re-deal, but she knew that a re-deal in life would mean death. She thought about it briefly, but knew that it was not an option. The only reason it was not an option was because she still had a little girl out there who thought of her as “mommy.”

That little girl was out there walking around aimlessly and without anyone to care for her. She thought about the strong influence that she had on her when she was in her presence. Knowing how easy it was to mold her, she was frightened that the wrong person would teach her the wrong things. She knew that she should have done a better job herself, and that was one of the only things that she regretted about their time together.

Milan knew that she had been under the influence of various drugs and hadn’t been thinking clearly enough to be a positive role model. If she had been thinking clearly, she’d have taken the young girl to a group home and just been her best friend. There was no need to pretend that she was the little girl’s “mommy” when she was not. She hated that, but what was done was done. The only thing that she could do now is attempt to make everything right.

She knew that if she was to be on the government’s side, then she would have to do so out of selflessness instead of selfishness. She would have to do it so that she could help keep a young black girl from ending up on the same path that she was on. She would have to do it to avenge her sister’s death instead of advancing her own life. She would have no other option. Do the rest of her time in a federal prison, or do what she had to do in order to do what she wanted to do. The choice was simple; the questions were few.

“
Uhm
… how will I be able to help you get these people in the desired situations if I’m sitting in a cell playing with myself?” Milan asked with a serious look on her face.

The agent looked at the prosecutor for approval. In order for her to be allowed out of prison to work for the FBI, the prosecutor needed to be down with the situation in order to make the process go smoother. But the agent had the prosecutor in his pocket. She smiled at him and nodded her head.

“We’ll let you out. You’ll be on a monitor that you will not be able to remove. And we will be on your ass around the damn clock. Your every movement will be tracked. We won’t hassle you, but we expect results! Get yourself back into the street mode over the next few days; we won’t bother you for a week at least.”

Milan started getting excited at the thought of being allowed back on the streets. As far as she was concerned, the streets were hers and hers only. If she felt like she wanted to snitch, then that’s just what she would do! Her arrogance rushed back into her soul like a levee had broken. Her taste for PCP was on the tip of her tongue, her hunger for cocaine seemed to be lining her every inhalation.