Durty South Grind (2 page)

“Ya'll got any idea who dem dudes was?” she purred. Her little girl voice broke the trance of her curvaceous frame.

“Huh, what did you say?” Sparkle shook his mind clear.

“Ya'll got any idea who dem dudes was?” she repeated with a look of concern.

A frown creased his brow. “Naw, baby girl, but we're gonna find out; that's for sure.”

Her eyes brightened with relief and she smiled seductively up at him, slithered off the bed and floated over to press her sweet softness against his body. His heart skipped a beat when she leaned her red curly head on his chest. Her whole body trembled as she caressed him with her sultry eyes and pushed her pelvis seductively against his swelling hardness. She sighed. “You ain't gonna be away too long, are you?” Her warm breath rolled along his neck and her long lashes tickled his skin. “Because I ain't finished with you yet.”

He caressed her arms, gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and held her away at arm's length. “Just got to make sure whoever that was is gone,” he said in a reassuring tone.

As he turned away, he heard Rainbow yell from the kitchen, “Yo, Ace, come check dis here out.”

He smiled down at her lust-filled eyes and reluctantly turned away to leave. As he made his way toward the kitchen, he shouted, “Yeah, partner, whatcha got?”

Rainbow was squatting at the door, staring intently at an object just inside the sill in a shiny puddle of what appeared to be blood.
It was real hard to be sure in the darkness. To get a better look, he squatted down beside his boy. “Looks like a bracelet, huh?”

Rainbow nodded quickly. “Yeah, uh-huh, 'pears to be. Check dis out.” He pointed outside the door. Sparkle could see a trail of blood speckling over the sill and along the dirt path beside the house, disappearing at the edge of the grass.

Rainbow took a gold pen out of his robe, lifted the bracelet out of the blood and held it up to the moonlight. Under closer inspection they could see the initials “JJ” engraved in gold letters on the inside of the silver-plated woven jewelry. Rainbow's face was full of curiosity. He arched his eyebrows at Sparkle.

Sparkle hunched his own shoulders. “Got any idea who da fuck dis belongs to?”

“Shit, dog, your guess is as good as mine,” Rainbow spat.

Sparkle shook his head. “Dog, we got to get on this here right away. There ain't no telling who is behind this.”

Rainbow's expression left little doubt of his intentions, especially when he cocked his gun and started caressing the barrel. His eyes narrowed as he took a deep breath, stood up and clutched Sparkle's elbow to pull him outside. “Hey, chill a sec, dog.” He nodded toward the house. “We haven't known dese hoes dat long.”

“Hey, whatcha saying, man?” Sparkle looked back toward the house.

“Come on, playa, one of dem hoes in dere might just be down wid dis here shit.” Rainbow paused with his ear cocked to the door, his eyes squinting with a coldness that would chill the blood of most regular niggas; especially those that didn't know him. He licked his lips before continuing, “Man, I done told ya a hundred thousand times, don't be trusting none of these bitches.” He poked Sparkle in the chest to emphasize he was serious.

Sparkle nodded in understanding and reached into his pocket to pull out a crumbled pack of Kool cigarettes. He cuffed the
lighter between his palms as he lit one. He needed to calm his nerves, still not absolutely sure those niggas were gone. Pondering what he'd just heard, he leaned against the door, sucking in a deep drag and exhaling slowly. “Okay, dog, I see whatcha saying. Uh, who da fuck you got in there anyways? Shiiit, how long ya'll been here?”

Rainbow cocked his head to the side the way he always did when he was puzzled about something. He was tossing around the whos and whys of what had gone down. Even after Sparkle had asked the question again, he still kept that blank look on his face for about thirty seconds. “Huh, oooh, yeah, uh, I got one of the twins in there.” He continued to look into space.

“Shit, man, which twin?” Sparkle asked in a more serious tone.

“Hell, Bro, I don't know dem bitches apart. Anyways, what difference does it make which one it is?” He started frowning in irritation with the bullshit talk; it didn't have anything to do with what was going on.

“Yeah, bow, you right, man; it don't make no difference which one.”

He punched Sparkle playfully in the side and spit menacingly. “Check it, dog, fuck des hoes. We gotta get on the trail of who dis ‘JJ' nigga is, for real yo.”

Sparkle took the bracelet off of the pen and twisted it around to examine it more closely. “Man, the only ‘JJ' I know is that nigga that used to mess with my sister, Debra. Do you think he got the nerve to try something like this? Because I don't.”

“Dude, I think everybody got the nerve except you and me,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Then we gotta get on this. Where ya wanna start?”

Rainbow wrapped his arm around his boy's shoulder as they headed back into the house. “Tell ya what, let's get dressed and take a ride to Decatur. Somebody damn sho gotta know something.”

I
t was another humid day in the summer of 2006 in the rural woods of southern Georgia. The sun was finally starting to break through the daily density of fog at the Valdosta State Prison. The sounds of the stirring of the inmate population inside the life-choking, razor-wired fences found Sparkle awakening to the final day of his bit and hopefully the beginning of a new life in the outside world.

The irritating clanging of chimes over the PA system was really starting to irritate him. He rolled over and squeezed the hard plastic-covered pillow as tightly as he could over his head to block out the persistent noise. He tried squeezing his eyes tight but that didn't work, either. Finally, he realized that more sleep was out of the question and sat up in the bed. It had been well over a year since he'd given up eating early in the morning. He had begun feeling nauseated and occasionally had thrown up after devouring that godforbidden slop. Getting to the chow hall certainly wasn't a priority for him.

A sharp rapping on the door was followed by the voice of his chain gang running mate, Skeet, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Yo, Sparkle, get yo ass up, man!” This did away with whatever rest was left.

Sparkle fell back on the bed, turned over on his stomach and pulled the wool cover over his head, shouting in a grumbling tone, “What?”

Skeet rapped harder. “Hey, man, come on; get yo ass up, nigga. We got some thangs to kick around afore you raise up outta here.”

Sparkle, still in a sleepy haze, thought,
Aw man, I'm getting outta this dungeon today. Man, let me get up outta this here rack.
He had a big smile spread across his face. He peeked over his forearm and focused on the door's frosty sheet of Plexiglas where Skeet was still yelling, “Come on, man, get up and splash some water on that ugly-ass mug and get the funk outta your mouth.” He was cheesing hard through the pane. Sparkle could only see his teeth and big bulbous nose. Even though he was looking directly at him, he continued rapping and yelling, “Come on, bitch, get yo ass up. It's time for you to roll outta this dungeon.”

“Ugh,” Sparkle grunted and frowned from the nasty film of morning mouth coating his tongue. Smacking his lips, he sighed and yanked the cover off his head and glanced menacingly at the door.

He sat up and rubbed the crusty sleep out of the corner of his eyes with the palms of his hands. Breaking out into a big smile, he began rubbing his knees and reached under the plastic mattress for his crumbled pack of Kools. After taking his time lighting up, he took an extra long toke and started waving Skeet away from the door. “Yeah, yeah, I'm up, man. Why dontcha go get that fat butt boy of yours up.” He stretched and yawned. “I'll be with ya'll in a few.”

Skeet rapped his gnarled knuckles on the pane one last time. “About time, nigga; I'll be out at the basketball court. And don't have me out there all morning waiting on your jive ass, either.” He gave him a staunch salute before disappearing.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sparkle pressed his fist to his mouth and stifled a yawn. He stood to stretch his five-foot-ten, coffee-brown frame, twisted the kinks out of his neck and staggered to the wash basin to handle his hygiene.

With Skeet's footsteps fading, his thoughts flowed to the image of a sweet, young filly hunching up under him, giving up husky sighs and pussy aroma from his hard grinding fuck. He smiled at his dull image in the metal mirror and splashed cold water on his face. He brushed his teeth, picked out his mini fro and started putting on his prison whites for the last time.

Several minutes later, he checked the creases in his pants as he exited his room. He strolled down the catwalk toward the winding stairs. As he reached the steps he heard an all-too-familiar voice grumbling in a country drawl.

He immediately felt that old tingling of hatred run up and down his spine. He knew it wouldn't do any good to ignore it, so he slowly angled his head sideways to acknowledge the voice.

Old “Chew Tobacco” Jones was grinning at him, displaying a row of brown, crooked teeth. The big burly country hick, his distinctively foul body odor disturbing the air, placed a swollen hand on the railing. He tapped his ever-present nightstick along the wall as he approached in a rolling gait.

In a skunky wisp of air, he said, “Damn, boy, you trying to ignore me or sumthang?” He stepped a few feet closer before continuing with a nasty sneer. “You best to keep yaself oudda trouble now.”

Sparkle pinched his nose and spoke, holding his breath between clenched teeth. “What's up, Stank Breath Chew Tobacco?”

The CO's face turned beet red as he frowned and growled, “Whaddafuck you say, nigga boy?”

Sparkle pinned him with cold-killer eyes and blasted his funky ass. “Cracker-ass, redneck bitch, who gave your dumb hillbilly ass permission to speak to me?” He paused and rubbed his nose again, letting it sink in. “Get the fuck outta my face.” He turned away to stifle the laugh that was boiling up from his gut. A look of total shock spread across Jones's face.

A red-faced, neck-throbbing Jones grabbed his throat as if he
were about to choke on his wad. His neck got puffy red as he opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He shifted his head back and forth, checking to see if anybody was watching this boy belittling him. Then he gritted, showing all of his tobacco-stained brownish teeth. He pulled back his nightstick to strike before Sparkle leaned in closer to him and hissed, “Yeah, stanky muthafucka, do it and let's go see the magistrate.”

The hillbilly opened his mouth again to speak but Sparkle cut him off. “Yeah, bastard, I said it. I'm a free man today and if you hit me with that damn thing, your ass is gonna do some time. Yep, some muthafuckin' time in here with these killa niggas that you been fucking over all these years.”

With the stick frozen in midair, he squinted his hate-filled eyes, heaved and lowered the stick. “You black bastard, you better hope that your sorry ass don't ever come back this here way again. Your ass will be mine.”

“Bitch-ass cracker, your funky ass better pray that I never see your ugly mug on the other side of these fences.” Sparkle's deadly look sent a shiver down the CO's spine. He backed away with trembling lips.

Sparkle cocked his head to the side and scratched his chin, and then took a deep breath to keep from laughing. Turning abruptly away he started walking down the stairs. He could feel the fire snorting out of Jones's nose, along with the hate darting from his eyes, burning a hole in his back.

He didn't give a fuck how Jones felt with all the fucked-up shit he used to do. Brushing the confrontation out of his mind, Sparkle continued out the door. Immediately, he spotted his boy Skeet and his kid Lil' Jack in an animated conversation. They were seated on a bench beside the basketball court. As he strolled toward them, they broke out in wide smiles.

Skeet nodded toward the sidewalk and the pair walked up ahead of him. Sparkle got dap and backslaps from dudes congratulating him for surviving his bit and wishing him well on his return to the bricks. He eventually passed all of the well-wishers and walked between Skeet and Lil' Jack, placing an arm around each of their shoulders.

Lil' Jack smiled up at him and said in a squeaky voice, “Damn, big bro, you finally gonna get the chance to be a hood star again, huh?”

Sparkle blinked several times as he returned the smile. He'd always been amazed at how much Jack smiled like a girl. Hell, he was shaped like one, too. He used to joke with him all the time about him being a mistake of nature. For a moment Sparkle thought of what a helluva pimp Jack would make on the ho stroll on Auburn Avenue. He'd personally pumped enough game into his head to pull it off, too. A lot of dudes around the joint didn't realize how coldhearted the little fella was.

Because of his friendship with Skeet, they had become really close. Even though Jack was a near replica of the sexy diva Toni Braxton, he'd always treated him human without any of the homosexual bullshit involved. Sparkle figured he really appreciated it; he never acted feminine when they were alone. Often Skeet had him boy-sitting whenever he was at work in the gym or out hustling drugs and parlaying tickets.

He rubbed Jack's curly head. “Little bro, I'm going out there to do the straight-and-narrow thing.” He winked.

“That's good man; that's good.” Jack nodded.

When they got halfway down the long curved sidewalk, Jack spotted one of his sissy friends. He patted Sparkle daintily on the shoulder. “Hey, I know that ya'll two probably got some things ya'll wanna kick around before you leave. I'm going to holla at
Miss Queenie over yonder, so take care of yourself, handsome.” He twisted his little hips in the direction of his partner.