CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

2000- In Which I Accidentally Drop Dime On Cabrón

Rikers was a frustrating combination of violence and boredom.  Everything about that place was designed for discomfort.  The only things to look forward to were visits from the mobile library and shopping day.  And even my shopping days were stressful- I was constantly waiting for Biz and Lucci to let me down and “forget” to put money on my books.  They’d been pretty reliable so far, though.

I turned 23 in jail and the girls in my pod pooled their commissary and threw me a little party.  It was sweet, but I had bigger things weighing on my mind.  Like, why had Cabrón completely disappeared on me?  And why was there no word of Mundo at all?  It felt like I’d spent the last 2 years fucking around with ghosts. 

I really needed to hold it together. All I had was myself.  And, I hoped, Biz and Luciano.

I was the one who’d kept Biz’s and Lucci’s names far, far away from that EBT shit, even though it was all their doing- I was just collateral damage.  Also, I’d hooked them up with my cute little crib.  There woulda been no way either of them coulda landed something like that on their own.  Biz and Lucci were the ones who were responsible for making sure my commissary account was stacked.  All things considered, the least they could do was put money on my books and make sure my rent was paid.

 One day, I noticed that my weekly allowance hadn’t posted.  And I was running out of time.  If the money didn’t come through before end of day, I’d be fucked for the following day’s commissary visit.  Shopping was the only bright spot of my week here in Rikers, and I expected both of them to understand the urgency and happily tell me they’d take care of it.  But instead of asking how much I needed, all they fed me were weak-ass lies.  So weak.

 

First was Biz- his excuse was that he didn’t have any money. “I swear, Eula,” he stuttered, “I ain’t got it.  I’m so strapped for cash right now, I can’t even give my girl money for my kid’s birthday party this weekend.”  I knew this was a lie because Biz never had less than $500 in his pocket at all times.

 

Next excuse was that he had a doctor’s appointment because he’d dislocated his shoulder playing basketball last week.  Ths excuse was definitely a lie- that fat, lazy fuck hadn’t exercised since 9th grade gym class!

 

I hung up with him and called Luciano. His lame excuse was that he didn’t have his car to go to Western Union for me.

 

“Dude… the fuck?   There’s a check cashing place on every corner in Bed Stuy.  Put some fucking sneakers on your feet and go put money on my books!”

 

But all I got was more excuses. I hung up with him and called Biz back. It went straight to voicemail.  Tried Lucci again- voicemail.

 

I did this dance of death a few more times until I’d had enough. I was so angry.  Blinding white light burning behind my eyeballs angry.

 

And in a complete, rageful blackout, l called Cabrón.  He was farrr down my phone tree but it was his stupid guns that had me here in the first place. 

 

I got ‘Brón’s voicemail, too.  Of course.  I hung up

 

I was furious.  Heat prickling my forehead.  Blood pounding in my ears. 

 

I dialed Cabrón’s number again and left a nuclear-level heated message on his voicemail. A voicemail that was recorded and could be used as evidence in a court of law. And on that voicemail, I said the dumbest thing ever.  EVER. 

 

“Hey, Pierre- remember me?  Remember when I told you I didn’t want those fuckin’ guns in my house?  You made me keep those guns for you, even after I told you no!  My lawyer told me if it was just the EBT shit I’d be out by now!  I’M IN HERE BECAUSE OF YOUR GUNS!”

 

Yep, I said that. I said it over the phone on a call I made from Rikers Island.

 

It never even crossed my mind that I did something wrong.  Like, at all.  It was a complete black-out moment.   The only thing I remember clearly was using his birth name.  I had to get that one out.  I needed him to recognize that I knew who he really was.

 

A couple of weeks later, the public defender who’d represented me in my so-called case paid me a visit, asking me if I wanted to try to shave some time off my sentence.

 

“How?” I asked, legitimately confused.  I’d already told them I wasn’t gonna give anyone up for either the EBT shit or the guns.  I’d never once even teased a hint of a name to anyone in law enforcement.

 

“Because,” the lawyer replied, “they have you on a recorded line admitting that you knew the guns were there.  And that you allowed the guns to be kept in your house.” 

 

“What?” I yelped.   “No, I did not!” 

 

Wait a second...

 

 It all came flooding back to me.

 

Fucking Cabrón.  I bet he never even bothered listening to that message.  I knew he  just hit delete the second he saw it was from me.  No question.

 

I told the lawyer I was pleading the fifth and refused to give up any names. 

 

He just looked at me and shook his head, like he was thinking I was the dumbest felon he’d ever had the misfortune of having to represent.

 

And that, folks, is how I wound up inadvertently snitching on Cabrón.

HQ BK

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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

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CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE