Chapter 9 Bentley #3
“Hell yeah. That nigga a fuckin’ ghost. He hit Zone Four and cleared everything.
He had them niggas thinking he was reinstated and took every penny along with a couple of bricks.
Enzo definitely set you up. We trying to find somebody other than his mama and sister that can give us something.
Them two bitches ain’t no good and he ain’t doing for them either.
They bills behind like hell.” Kong offered every detail he could and confirmed my suspicion.
“Find that nigga before I do Kong. I’m gon’ make a headline out that bitch if I get a hold to him. I can promise you that,” I responded confidently.
Shaking his head, he rambled on ‘bout the rest of the organization.
Catalina was staying off American soil until I was released but she was still feeding my inventory so Kong could handle my clients.
They fought like siblings but when it came to me and my business, they were always on the same page.
“Let me ask you this. Why you think that nigga Enzo flippin’ all of a sudden? What the hell you do to him for him to go against the grain?” he inquired.
“Muthafucka, yo’ guess is as good as mine.
When he approached me ‘bout working for me, I looked at him crazy cause he older than me for one. Nigga go get a damn job. Second, he was adamant on following my lead. He ain’t listen to nobody but me at first. Nigga you know it.
You saw how fast he ranked up and held it down.
This new shit he on is blowing me. Even before I was knocked, I peeped the change.
I’m on the same vibes you on. I mean, unless he in his fees over me putting a hot one in him,” I expressed.
We both took a minute to think that shit over and simultaneously said, “Nah.”
“I was gon’ ask you ‘bout the cameras. I can’t access them with just the password. I need yo’ handprint. How the hell I’m ‘spose to get that footage when you here?” he inquired.
“Next time you come, call Sierra before you step in and hand it off in the lot, let her bring it in, and I’ll handle it in her office.
Once you get the footage, don’t hit Windale.
I want that nigga Enzo found and offed. I ain’t gon’ be here long.
Don’t make me get out and do it myself,” I threatened.
“Aight, damn.”
For the rest of the visit, we bullshitted around talking ‘bout absolutely nothing. When it was time for him to get up out of here, we dapped up and parted ways with nothing but love. He was the realest nigga on the team. I had to give it to him. The respect grew while I was confined in these damn walls. My brotha ain’t switched or folded.
He was holding me down without hesitation and complaints. Straight solid.
I was cuffed and walked back to my cell.
To my surprise, Old Skool was back and stretched across his bunk.
One thing I respected the most ‘bout him was the way he carried himself in here.
Niggas knew he was an OG in the game and came to him for advice left and right.
He earned that shit over the past twenty years.
Seeing me back, he chuckled and sat up on his bunk. Old Skool had some height on his ass too. I was still taller, but he wasn’t but a few inches under. He was lean as hell too and stayed in the gym. Wasn’t shit old ‘bout the punches he threw when it was time to get down on the yard.
“You ready?” he questioned wearing that mischievous grin.
“I already told you I ain’t doing that shit Old Skool. Let it go.”
Hopping down, he grabbed his bible and rosary. He wasn’t trying to hear nothing I was talking ‘bout. He stepped in the doorway and waved over the guard. “You know how to pray, right?”
“Yeah, nigga I know how to pray. I ain’t going Old Skool.” It took a minute for the guard to show face but when she did, she came with two sets of cuffs. “What I just say?”
“Youngblood you need a friend. Come on. Stick them arms out so we can go, nie.” He was adamant of me joining him.
He was one of the only folk in here that could tell me what to do.
My boy gained that from knowing my pops, to be honest. If he wasn’t as close, I would’ve stood on that no.
Sighing deeply, I followed suit. That dumbass grin grew stretching from ear to ear.
He got what he wanted and that was all that mattered.
We were ushered to the library moments later.
A place a nigga ain’t seen the inside of for real since I’d been here.
Sierra had this bitch decked the fuck out.
She had a big ass flat screen on the back wall showing the game on mute, two rows of iMacs, and a private sitting area that was glassed in. My guess was it was soundproof.
The cuffs were removed, and we were given free range to walk around.
I followed Old Skool to a small sitting area where a few other inmates were seated with their bibles in tow.
I knew more scriptures than many thought so if whatever this program was involved OG, I could follow. Daisy didn’t play that.
An elder black woman strutted from the back looking like she belonged on somebody’s usher board.
She took a seat in front of us wearing that churchy smile, and I instantly got irritated.
Not because a nigga soul was bothered but because I ain’t see the joy in none of this shit.
If I wasn’t happy, I damned sure ain’t want to be around nobody that was. I was that damn selfish.
“Hi fellas. I see a couple of new faces, so I’ll introduce myself. I’m Sister Andy, the counselor here at FCI Miami and director over Chat with Angels. How we doing today?” she asked.
Everyone answered with their individual responses. She locked eyes with me and smiled. She was waiting for me to respond directly. I looked around and the rest of the inmates had eyes on me as well. I wasn’t used to the spotlight, so I lowkey got nervous.
“Tell errybody who you is youngblood,” Old Skool commented.
I sent death glares his way. He was gon’ be the first nigga I smacked when we got up out of here. He knew how I felt ‘bout that shit.
“Are you shy?” Sister Andy chimed.
“Nah, I just ain’t in a talking mood. Skip me,” I replied.
“Oh, I wish I could. What’s your name young man?” she questioned again not letting up.
She wasn’t gon’ let me stay quiet and observe the way I wanted. She was gon’ pressure me and make me speak regardless. Daisy was the same kind of way. In this very moment, I was reminded of her.
“I’m Bentley… Atkins.”
“It’s nice to have you Bentley. Before I set you loose, do you know what Chat with Angels is about?”
Shaking my head, I looked at Old Skool, and said, “Nah, I wasn’t briefed on it. I was just told I needed a friend, so I’m here.”
“Well, I’m sure you know how to work Messenger, right?
” I nodded, and she continued with, “Think of the chats as a regular conversation over messenger. What happens is, you create a profile exposing just your username that is completely random, and an angel seeks you out. Everybody is anonymous so you won’t know her and vice versa.
Nothing too personal or sexual content is allowed.
It will be flagged and removed from the conversation.
You get three strikes regarding that before you’re booted.
The angels are here for conversation and comfort. Are you interested Mr. Atkins?”
“He’s interested,” Old Skool spoke up before I could.
“Mr. Atkins?”
Filled with annoyance, I answered, “Yeah.”
“Great. Join us for a word of prayer and then I’ll set you up with an angel!” she voiced with glee.
My glare never left Old Skool. I had something for his ass. He knew this was some pen pal bullshit and he ain’t say a fuckin’ word. Need a goddamn friend my ass.