Page 7 of In Too Deep

“Hoe you gay, every time I come in this mothafucka you be actin’ a lil’ too frisky, always trying to grab my dick and shit, like I can hide sum.

If you don’t know what a big dick feel like, blame yo daddy for not blessin’ yo ass, and if he got a lil’ dick then have a talk wit yo granddaddy, and if he got a shrimp then you came from a long line of lil’ dick ass niggas.

” I mugged the guard before grabbing my phone so I could slide it into mypocket with my keys.

The police officer was butch, but that didn’t matter to me. Every time I visited my little brother Reese, he did the same shit, touching the same spot, groping all on my dick, like he wasn’t used to a big one. Nigga can’t be shit but gay to be doing all that, when it didn’t take all that.

Still mugging him, I shook my head, before jarring my attention away from him and scanning my eyes around the visitation room to find my brother.

When they landed on him, he was walking away from one of the vending machines, opening a bag of Fritos.

Glancing my way, the corners of his mouth turned into a wide smile.

I staggered towards him, joining him at an empty table, and extended my arms for a hug.

“What’s up mane?” he greeted me, looking like a miniature version of me.

“Nothin’ much, nigga you getting swoll, the fuck they feeding you in here? Let me see how many dick hairs you got now,” I joked, just fucking with him. We shared a laugh as he glanced behind me, making me jolt my head in that direction.

“What was goin’ on with that?”

I sucked my teeth and looked away. “That gay ass police officer be grippin’ on my dick and shit like I got something to hide. I’ma call the police department and file a complaint on that gay ass nigga.”

Reese, laughed again before throwing his head back, gaping his mouth open to dump chips inside.

“Enough of that shit, how you been holdin’ up?”

Shaking his head, he shrugged, momentarily chewing before parting his mouth to respond. “I ain’t got no choice but to keep my head up in here. These niggas trying to make this shit feel like jail.”

“Ain’t that the point of an alternative school?”

Reese attended a Shelby County alternative school, Prepline Academy.

His behavioral issues resulted in expulsion from the public school system.

The principal at Hamilton High School had given him too many chances, and no one saw any advancements in his conduct.

The last straw was indeed the last straw.

Our parents figured that having a meeting at the state board of education, they could go above their heads, but at the point, due to his prior issues, Reese was ruled a threat.

He was violent, like the normality of school shootings and making public threats to harm other children, but bringing drugs on school grounds was a zero tolerance, so they labeled him as a threat.

The first time he took an edible, the last time, he took a perc.

He bowed out with a farewell and an ass whooping from our pops.

So he wouldn’t be sitting at the house doing nothing, our mother mentioned homeschooling him, but he opted for another suitor—an alternative school, where they treated school like a prison.

To our father, it would keep him disciplined and he’d learn his lesson.

However, the only downside was that they slept in rooms staged as jail cells without the gimmicks—it gave boys and girls who acted like him something to appreciate on the outside.

Reese was in the 10 th grade now, with two more years to go.

I guess an upside would be they had their summers to themselves, and they’d get a chance to walk across the stage.

I hated it for him though because I felt like I was the one to blame for his unruly demise.

Throughout his life, he sat in the back seat, imposing as a protector, when I should’ve been the one protecting him.

Our parents didn’t raise thugs, but the environment we grew up in was too tempting not to become lured into that crowd.

Unlike Reese, I played my cards right and my moves in the street were premeditated.

Alternative school saved him, because our parents couldn’t.

“Mane, these folks in here watching me shit, shower, and piss. I ain’t feelin’ that,” he objected.

“I can’t say that I can relate, but you got consequences.”

“Roxx visited me yesterday, talking to me like I was his son.”

“Shit,” I snickered at the thought. “As much as we wiped yo ass, we got that right.”

Silence made its presence between us, making shit awkward. Usually, when he grew quiet, he was thinking.

“How is mama holding up? Tell her she got three kids, not just y’all two niggas.”

“You know how she act mane,” I leaned back in the chair and folded my arms over my chest. “She loves you just as much, but seeing you in here, shit just hit different for her. She’ll come around to it. You got to give her time.”

He balled up the full bag of chips, spreading a few crumbs across the clean table.

“I know,” he sighed. “I just want to see her is all. Being home for the summer just ain’t enough and when I’m at the house, it’s like she be avoiding a nigga.

During spring break she ain’t say shit to me, but kept me fed. ”

“That’s more than enough. I’m sure half of these niggas in here don’t have a home to go to. You need to be grateful for what you have because when you lose it, the only thing you have is memories to dwell on. When you came in here, all she did was cry. You’re her baby boy— our baby boy.”

Wiping his hand across his head, his dreads dangling down his face.

Reese was the same complexion as me, and he was lanky as hell too.

Aside from Roxe who had the skin complexion of a new penny, we were all tall as hell.

Reese was already the same height as me, making people mistake him for a grown ass man.

“When you get out of here, for the summer you can come work for me at Telo. You’re old enough,” I grinned.

“Telo Wireless,” he cackled. “Fuck I look like sellin’ cellular phones?”

“And you expect Dad to let you stay under his roof and not do shit. Nigga, I’m doing you a favor by looking out for you.”

“You know I’m just talkin’ shit,” he simmered down. “I’ve seen the commercials to know that business is boomin’.”

“You goddamn right it is,” I boasted. “I just opened a store in Germantown, and business is doing great in Nashville. Pretty soon, in the next few months, I’ll be expanding my endeavors in Atlanta.”

“That’s wassup, I fuck with.” Reaching his hand out, I followed suit and slapped hands with him. “Roxe still on his software developer shit?”

“From what I heard, he’s still pitching ideas to them white folks. You know how that shit go, they hate adding extra sugar to Kool-Aid.” I uttered metaphorically, mentioning that Roxe’s ideas were too good for them to settle with the idea of a black man coming up with something great.

“Since the beginning of time, black folks have been the prototype,” he concurred.

“Exactly.”

“I can’t wait to find out what I’m good at. I don’t know shit. I make good grades in here, but I want to be like y’all. Y’all niggas are rich and wealthy out here, making mama and daddy proud. I need to know what that feel like.”

“And you will,” I assured him, speaking positively to avoid clouding his dreams. “You still be drawing and shit?”

“Every day, I got to send you some of my work, but aye,” he adjusted himself in the chair, his tone became lower as he leaned forward. “You heard from Liana?”

“Liana,” my brow rose. “The church girl with the big ass booty?”

“Mane, chill out, but yeah. She got a nigga? I can’t find her on social media, I think she may have blocked me or sum shit.”

“I ain’t know that y’all were fucking off.”

“We were before I came here, but we wasn’t supposed to. For her sake, I been being lowkey, but I love the fuck outta that girl. I been sending her letters and shit, but she ain’t been responding.”

“Hmm,” I held out my hands, mimicking a scale. “A thug ass nigga going after a church going girl, I’m sure her parents told her to cut yo ass off.”

He leaned back and scrunched his face, seeming angry by my honesty. “Don’t say no shit like that. Fuck would she turn on me for?”

“Because you can’t do shit for her, but sell her false dreams. Don’t feel bad about it though nigga. Use that pussy as a way to get your shit together, then approach her the right way, and if she still doesn’t budge then move the fuck on.”

“There ain’t no movin’ the fuck on. Fuck is you talkin’ ‘bout nigga?”

“So what you gon’ force your way into the girl’s life?”

He nodded. “If that’s what it take. I’m like a two dollar bill. I’m hard to come by.” He smirked, popping his imaginary collar.

I stood up, laughing at his goofy ass. “If you say so. Have you at least sniffed the pussy yet, while you on the verge of crashin’ out?”

“That don’t matter. From what I heard, we in the same boat. You can’t fuck because yo bitch pussy smells like goat shit.”

My face scrunched up in confusion. “How the fuck you hear that?”

“Roxe.”

“Y’all niggas gossip like two bitches.”

“It gives me something to laugh at when I’m feeling low.”

“Yeah, whatever. Show me some love so I can roll out. Unlike yo broke ass I make money in my sleep, bitch.”

“Speaking of, you think you can throw me a lil’ cash?”

“What the fuck you gone do with some cash, if you can’t do shit with it?”

“It’s this lil’ fine ass guard, she be fucking with me, buying me fast food and shit when I ask her.”

I dug in my pocket, fishing around my keys for some money. “And what you be in here doing for it?”

“Nigga, nothin!”

“Hmm Hmm, you ain’t get that hair on yo chin for nothin’. Let me find out you in here eatin’ on tangy ass pussy.” I passed him the money, giving him whatever I had on me.

“Yeah, between the both of us, if anybody knows anything ‘bout some tangy ass pussy, it’s you.”

I laughed. “Nigga fuck you!”