Chapter 6 Bentley #2
I wrecked my brain for a whole fuckin’ year trying to figure out who the hell had a hard on for me.
This was really my own fuckin’ fault. I had a bad habit on leaving the doors on my car unlocked.
I never left shit in that muthafucka to be taken, and it didn’t move without a key, so I wasn’t thinking nothing of it.
I never thought that shit would come back to bite me in the ass.
It wasn’t too many people cruising round the city in a Bentley, let alone have their shit customized like mine.
I had three in total but that copper tent on black was a nigga favorite.
She was my first and meant a lot to me. Folks in the city knew it was me and knew better than to stand close to the whip, so opening the door and planting two bricks had me perplexed as fuck.
But once again, that shit was on me. I was comfortable when I should’ve never been no matter what kind of mindset I had.
“Thank you, Ryia,” I sang making her job more a lil’ more difficult.
The metal doors closed, and another conversation was thrown my way. “What’s with the long face youngblood?” my celly asked.
Grady was an old head that was sat down for thirty years.
Much like me, he was in the game too. His fuck up was selling to an undercover.
According to him, the chick he was fuckin’ on sent the nigga his way.
Whole time, that was her husband, and he was inching to take him down.
Grady swore the cop threatened to kill her if she didn’t give him up.
Bitches played too many games for me, which was why I never let them do more than swallow a nigga kids.
“Another week and my fuck ass lawyer ain’t got shit for me,” I answered.
“I keep telling you them lawyers ain’t good enough.
You putting all yo’ trust in them instead of being knowledgeable ‘bout yo’ case.
Go to the library and read up on it. I wish I would’ve done it years ago.
I found things out ‘bout my case that could’ve had my sentenced lightened, but I didn’t find out until I took the time to learn.
Thirty years should’ve been ten or less.
Don’t make the same mistake youngblood,” he advised me.
Nodding, I took a seat on my bunk and kicked my feet up. “How the hell you end up with thirty years just off selling to an undercover? What other charges did they stack on you?” I inquired.
“She was a biracial woman with a white husband. You should know sexual assault was thrown at me as well. I caught five years off that alone. I had an ounce of weed on me, so they hit me with the max sentence. My partner wanted to take the fall, but he had a baby on the way. I wanted him to see his mini me. He never got to, but it was what I wanted for him.”
“Yo’ partner must’ve been a real one,” I voiced thinking ‘bout Kong. My day one had my back all the way and I knew whole heartedly he would’ve jumped to take the charges.
“Man, Bentayga was one of the realest. His brother-in-law took his life before he could meet his son. A few weeks after his death, I got knocked. I miss my brotha and that’s the truth youngblood.”
“You know what’s funny Old Skool? Bentayga’s my pops.”
Some shuffling was going around up top and next thing I know, he hopped down off his bunk.
He squatted on the side of my bunk and just stared at a nigga.
He cocked his head to the side and squinted a few times.
I could tell he was just trying to take in my features better.
When a smirk appeared, I knew he saw Bentayga in me.
“Damn. Seems like that nigga Bent got the upper hand after all. How’s your mom? Sis was his ride or die. When you saw him, you saw her,” he asked.
Finally sitting up, my feet touched the floor. There were many stories floating around the city ‘bout my parents but this nigga was the only one that could give me something real. Old Skool knew them personally and he was the closest thing I could get to knowing them as well.
“She passed away giving birth to me. I lost both my parents before I could take my first breath. It’s cool though. Bentayga’s legacy is alive and weight ain’t shifted in the slightest,” I assured him.
He dropped his head and gave a slight nod. “Condolences youngblood. Damn, Rhema was just as real as yo’ pops. Whatever she wanted he provided. He really did love the fuck out of her. That’s something you ain’t got to question. Believe that.”
We dapped up showing love. I never doubted their love, but it was good to know that it was solid.
Black love was rare these days. Whenever I saw pictures of them, I saw that plus more.
I yearned for what they shared for myself.
I never stated it but all I wanted was a woman to love and build with.
That went for both businesses and family.
“’Preciate that Old Skool. I needed that.” My parents weren’t here but I always felt like they were watching over me.
“Grady, you taking library time today?” an officer was at our door questioning Old Skool.
“Yeah. Give me a minute.” Standing to his feet, he looked down at me and said, “You should join the Chats with Angels program youngblood. It’ll take your mind off the bullshit and get you conversation with somebody other than me. It also goes toward your time.”
“I’m cool on that. I ain’t gon’ be here too much longer. You enjoy that though,” I declined.
“I ain’t gon’ force you but think on it. You ain’t got shit going on this muthafucka anyway. Give it a shot.”
“I said I’m cool Old Skool. Do you.”
Shaking his head, he allowed the officer to walk him out.
I wasn’t spending another year in this bitch and I damn sure didn’t see myself in here longer than a month or two.
Windale was smarter than he looked. He knew with Kong ready to be set loose he was on a limited clock.
I’m not doing time for shit that I never touched.
Either he brought me results, or I proved my own fuckin’ innocence.