Word of Honor, Book 2 (18 page)

He disappeared into the night, Terence’s phone tucked away in his pocket and a heavy weight on his shoulders at the realization of possible consequences from his actions. The worry reeled through him like an old tape with no end, but he put that shit on mute from time to time.

Nevertheless, he pushed forward. He drove a couple miles away, pulled over to the side of the road, and decided to handle his business right then and there. When he turned the phone on, the screen saver popped up—a cartoon drawing of a naked, busty, blue alien woman smoking a hookah broke the darkness in his quiet vehicle. The sounds of “Hood Go Crazy” by Tech N9ne played in the background as he scanned the thing, getting his bearings. He touched the photos icon, only to be prompted for a damn passcode.

Shit!

He didn’t have time for such a thing, but then a thought hit him, and he smiled. It had been a while, but he prided himself on the notion that he could recall how to get past the password screen on an Android, set up a new one, and go on with his life. He looked down at the phone, logged into Google, and put other pertinent information in the search field. Once he got to the ADM interface, he selected the type of phone he’d snatched, put in a temporary passcode for it, and waited with baited breath…

“Alright now!” He beamed when it worked like a snake charm. “I better not get too excited. He may have already deleted that shit.”

There appeared to be a million pictures and videos on the phone, many of which depicted green, spinning marijuana illustrations and jokes, intricate tattoo artwork, liquor and money stacks, and of course, a barrage of naked women from online social sites. After a few minutes of wading through the sophomoric mayhem, he selected a video thumbnail that seemed to show the store he’d been at earlier in the day with Go-Go and Corey. On a sigh, he pushed ‘play’…

Several minutes later, he was sick to his damn stomach… Was it the liquor? Nah, he’d only drank two beers…

He drove home, feeling mixed up and torn in half. The devil on his shoulder chuckled and screamed warnings at the same time while the angel urged him to do the right thing.

Yeah, Go-Go had been right about what had transpired; only, it proved far worse to actually view it in person. Aaron stood there with a hot coffee in one hand and a box of Krispy Kreme donuts and a few other odds and ends in the other. Soon, everything end up splattered all over the goddamn ground…

The confrontation was rapid fire, brutal and ugly… Clearly, Aaron was not only mad at the man who’d tried to take him down; he was mad at the entire damn world as he swung back and kicked, punched and grabbed the mass of bloodied flesh beneath him.

A few parked cars appeared in the shot, with people inside of them, but no one got out to assist. No one came to Clarence’s aid; they just kept on screaming, laughing and filming. Perhaps society wasn’t so cruel? Maybe there was a logical explanation for the lack of assistance. For instance, he’d noticed something rather alarming about Aaron, and perhaps the crowd soon noticed it too after the mayhem began. Aaron’s dark suit jacket swung open revealing a 45 jammed in a holster on the side of his hip… but… he didn’t use it. Didn’t that count for anything? Most of the guys in the hood wouldn’t have even fought Clarence. One to the head… dead and dead…

After that hour in his car, the images he saw continued to haunt him for days, weeks, and more.

And now here he was at work, one and a half months later, still sitting on the evidence like a reluctant chicken on a cracked egg, knowing damn well what happened to snitches. So much was on the line; he could open his mouth and end up having his head opened up with a bullet, too…

…But, it wasn’t right. The news story specifically said the store cameras weren’t working that day, Aaron’s side of the story was nonexistent and though many saw what transpired, they didn’t dare step forward and if approached by law enforcement, they lied. On a different note, what he was doing here at work also required him to do the right thing. The old man that called about his missing house shoes was in need. They may have just been some cheap ass, poorly constructed slippers to the average man, but to that elderly gentleman on a fixed income, they meant so much more. The shoes were for his comfort—a chance to relax in his old age, to walk around in peace, feel softness and a sense of delight.

Yet, Aaron too couldn’t walk around; he could only go wherever someone told his ass to go. He couldn’t ever get comfortable in Holman, for getting too comfortable would cost you your life.

Life, how brutal it can be.

It was so cruel that Aaron’s ass was now in deep trouble. It wasn’t just the old man’s call that sent him into an emotional tailspin, the news that morning gave an update on the story. Clarence had died just a few short hours earlier. This meant one thing and one thing only: Aaron may become a permanent prisoner. Didn’t his daughter deserve better, even if he did not? Aaron had been a son of a bitch to so many people, yet, the one time he didn’t commit a crime as described, he received a sentence that treated him as if he had. What type of quality of life could he possibly have in Holman? Not much of one at all…

Marcus excused himself from his desk, requesting to take one of his five-minute breaks. With his cell phone in hand, and Terence’s phone in his pocket, he made his way outside. Taking a deep breath, he nervously dialed a number.

“Yeah, I got some information ’bout a case. I’d like to talk to a police officer at the Brewton county police station, please…”

H
IS NAILS HAD
grown way too long. One was jagged and now slicing into his scalp as he used the thing to cure an itch. The soreness of his limbs was slowly dissipating, but still remained. Every time he looked in the mirror, his fucking stomach dropped in witnessing a reminder of the betrayal, of a life left behind. To make matters worse, he’d broken down and told Mia what had transpired. Though he couldn’t see her and demanded she not come to the prison, her response via letter made everything clear—she’d hit the damn roof then broke through that son of a bitch, angry he hadn’t shared a word until it was all said and done. It took six pages later and a phone call from Dr. Owens’ office to calm the lady, to let her know everything was alright.

But that was a lie. Though he hated every damn moment of it, if he ever wanted to see the light of day again he had to keep his nose clean and there was no possible way he could in general population. So here he was… back where he’d started. Segregation. To add to the bullshit, solidify the horror, Clarence’s death in ICU had him dubbed as hit man number one, even by fuckers who hated the bastard. Clarence had few friends, but when it came to Aaron’s ass killing a black man, it no longer mattered. Funny what hype could do…

Racism was a drug and he was tired of getting high off the shit. Since he stopped using, he could see things so much clearer, even through burst-blood-vessel eyes. He sat there waiting for his lawyer, who’d said he needed to see him right away. He wouldn’t disclose what for, but with the way things were going, he was certain it would be some more shit he didn’t want to hear.

A few minutes later, the redhead guard that didn’t take any shit came and retrieved him.

“Come on, Mister Pike. Your lawyer wants to see you.”

Aaron nodded and rose from his seat. The man gripped his arm harshly, twisting it, as if he’d called him a son of a bitch. Sneering but maintaining a calm tone, he told the man he was being a bit rough, only to be ignored. He paused, causing the guard to look at him with confusion.

“Look, you must be new here. Since the first time you saw me, you’ve been overly aggressive. What’s wrong with you? You got beef with me?” Aaron’s brows dipped. The guy smirked, his pale, porcelain skin almost glowing under the muted light.

“I can’t
stand
you, that’s why. You are scum…the kind I wish I could make disappear.” The guard gave him a creepy smile, the type that delivered the message that, if he had him alone, some shit would go down—some real nasty, horrendous shit.

“How can you not stand me when you don’t even know me?”

“Why not? What?” The man shrugged his shoulders and smiled sarcastically. “You do that shit all the time to other people… judge ’em when you don’t even know ’em.” The guard jerked him forward, forcing him up the hall.

“What are you talking about?” Aaron’s body grew a bit warmer as he looked around the place. It was only he and the guard, and should the man decide to try and beat him to a pulp or accuse him of doing some crap he hadn’t, things could get real ugly.

“You judge people ’cause you don’t like ’em, ’cause they’re black or whatever. You’re gettin’ what you deserve. I hope you
never
get out of here. You deserve a life sentence, goddamn loser.”

“And why do you take my time in here personally? What the hell does it have to do with you?”

“Because my wife is black and my kids are biracial, Mr. Pike. So, yeah, I take motherfuckers like
you
personally! Shut the fuck up, don’t try anything and keep walkin’…” He elbowed him in the center of his back, sending a dull pain up and down his spine.

Aaron did as he asked, but not without a smirk on his face. Strange how things worked and how life went… The ginger didn’t know his new life, how he’d changed his mind, but none of that even really mattered anymore, now did it? Aaron understood that the previous damage he’d done was non-erasable. At this point it would be kind of like apologizing for splitting an atom.
What is done is done…

Besides, wasn’t no need to spill his guts to the man, to ask for forgiveness as if the ginger was his personal Lord and Savior… or tell his life story. No, he just kept on walking, kept on smiling. Their heavy footsteps moved in unison, causing thundering echoes in the desolate, dark gray hallways. Dismal…

Life was funny, or at least, sometimes one had to find the humor and irony in a fucked up situation. In that way, he completely agreed with the man.

Life. Irony. Karma was his best friend’s name, and she was a contractor for God and the Devil. The three sat at a table and mapped out plans, signed documents, and hammered out agreements.

What goes around comes around, or so they say. But one thing Aaron was sure of: the Devil always came to get his pay, and there was no way out of the debt unless you had a damn good attorney.

He felt blessed that he did… Mia called him Jesus…

I
N THE COURTHOUSE
while receiving his sentence so long ago, Aaron recalled standing there and ranting and raving, splitting the air with a shrill voice of vengeance and waving his damn fists around. As he looked back on that time, it seemed almost like he was having an out of body experience. And this was no different.

“So.” His lawyer noisily worked the gum around in his mouth, making the chewed up mass do saliva covered laps. “With this new evidence, you have a retrial. Your original sentence was almost fully served but with the new charges after Clarence’s death, you were of course looking at a lot longer. You got an angel lookin’ after you, Aaron.”

Speechless and taken aback, he rubbed his chin, contemplating the information. He felt a sense of deep gratitude, but now he had more questions, and the frustration of the real possibility of never getting the answers tore him up inside.

“So, you don’t know who submitted the tape, right?”

“No.” The lawyer shook his head. “He was anonymous. Since the store’s cameras weren’t working and it was everyone’s word against your own, we didn’t have much. The only thing helping you was that Clarence has committed similar crimes, but due to your background, it was a hard fight, nevertheless.”

Aaron nodded in understanding as he ran his hands roughly one over the other.

“Aaron, you look tired…” the man said solemnly.

“I
am
tired.”

“Well, you’ll be gettin’ some decent rest soon because I got your court date moved to next week after this evidence was presented. I tried to get you out of here tomorrow, on bail, but my hope is that you will be immediately released after your re-trial. It won’t be long and drawn out, either. This is specifically based on the new evidence.”