If You Don't Know Me by Mary B. Morrison

Author:Mary B. Morrison [Morrison, Mary B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, African American, Contemporary Women, General
ISBN: 9780758273055
Google: ekzPAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0758273053
Publisher: Dafina
Published: 2014-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

Granville

Last time I was locked up I walked out of the courtroom a free man. I never thought I’d be back in the slammer. Thirty days was a long time to have kept my big mouth shut. Processing out, I was happy to be on the other side.

Loretta got back at me for making her do thirty days but I did not want this to be no game of you’re it. I would call and apologize to her, but I wasn’t sorry for trying to see my son. I should’ve broken up with Loretta instead of breaking her heart. It was too late to do the right thing. I wasn’t going to call, text, e-mail, or go near her or else I’d end up back here again. Loretta’s life was fucked up. No need in both of us feeling the same. My mama didn’t raise no fool.

When dude rolled up on me talking about, “Come with me,” I just knew some stinky shit was going down and my DNA was attached to it like maggots. Turned out he wanted my recipe for chili. Had heard from some of the inmates in Unit Six (where I was housed the last time) that I made the best. I was flattered.

I was no real chef. I learned how to stir up a few things hoping to impress Madison with my Ginsu skills but my aunt Wilma took Mama’s kitchen knives after the funeral. Since cutting up a chicken wasn’t going to happen at my apartment, it was back to eating fast foods.

After I’d gotten out the last time I couldn’t remember what I’d put in any of those dishes. I’d made up something so I wouldn’t piss off the guard. Give a man a gun, he was dangerous. Give him a license to use it, he could easily become an asshole.

Halfway through my sentence, got word through my brother that No Chainz, the guy who was my cellmate the first go round, wanted to visit me. That was cool he hadn’t forgotten about me but I told Beaux, “Naw, man. Tell him if he wants to hang, I’ll see him on the other side of these brick walls.”

That Nyle “G-double-A” Carter attorney that I’d paid for legal advice during my trial hadn’t reached out since he’d gotten out. That nigga was too quiet. Now that I was back on the street, he was the one I was going to find.

I paused the madness between the folds on the back of my neck that were rubbing together. Stood still for a sec. Listened to what Mama called my inner voice. Yep. I’d heard right. Everyone was out to get me in some kind of way. Loretta. Madison. Chicago. Nyle. Mama used to say, “The only thing people owe you is respect and you don’t deserve that when you ain’t been decent to folk.”

Listening again, had I been decent? I couldn’t tell. I hoped so.

I strolled away from the Federal Detention Center for the last time—for real—then stood on the corner and stretched my hands toward the sky.

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