Saving Sunflower (The Sun Series), page 33
26
TIME OUTSIDE MOVED at warp speed while time in jail moved at a snail’s pace—it moved even slower for Dominic because he didn’t have the people closest to him.
Although Mo was in a different pod on another floor, he and Dominic had found a way to communicate. They passed kites through the trustees that moved around the different areas of the jail daily. They typically charged a fee in the form of soups, drugs, or money, but for Dominic, they did it for free.
Mo’s kites were nothing more than a few sentences, but they gave him something to look forward to. Mo’s grandma kept money on his books and loaded his phone account so he could retrieve and regurgitate information from the outside to Dominic, who had become a recluse. It was Mo who’d told him they’d put Nate in solitary confinement for fighting with his cellie over stolen commissary.
Dominic steered clear of the other inmates on his floor with ease. Many of them knew him from the streets, so there was no hazing or initiations. They left him alone to do his time because there was no respect for him to earn—he already had it.
He sat at the metal desk in his and Polo’s cell. He guessed it was around eight in the evening because they were already locked down for the night. Polo sat in his bunk quietly reading a book. It was the same book he had been reading for the past week—something about the laws of power. Sometimes out of boredom Dominic would ask him to read a few of the pages out loud, at other times he would jot down lyrics to imaginary beats.
Tonight, he added the last verse to a song he’d been working on the entire day. The verses formed with ease. He had no intentions on keeping any of what he wrote while in jail. It was just another stupid way to pass the time.
“Tomorrow is my wife’s birthday,” Polo said, turning a page in his book.
Dominic stopped writing and looked over at him.
“For real? She gone come visit you?” he asked.
He turned around on the stool, ready to hear Polo’s answer. His relationship with his wife had become a topic of interest to Dominic over the past month. He chalked it up to boredom.
“Nah.” Polo creased the top corner of the page he read.
Dominic waited for him to elaborate, because that’s what Polo always did, but he only stared ahead.
“You gone send somebody to get her a gift or something?”
“She say she leaving me.” Polo closed the book and tossed it beside him.
The news hit Dominic like it were his own parents splitting up. He had no clue what Polo’s wife looked like, but he imagined her picture would be next to “strong black woman” if it were in the dictionary. She worked the same secretary job since she was twenty-five, raised five of their kids, and had gone back to school to get her bachelor’s degree. Polo said she wanted to open her own staffing agency.
“Damn Po.” Dominic shook his head. “I’m sorry man.”
“Me too,” he sighed.
“Did she say why?”
“No.”
“That’s fucked up. She could’ve at least gave you a reason.” Dominic leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, giving Polo all of his attention.
“Nah. She ain’t have to give me no reason youngin’. That’s her right.” He shrugged. “I fucked up so much it almost seem fair.”
“But you said she the one. You just gone let her leave you like that?”
“I’m an old man D,” he chuckled. “She is and will always be the one, but I got to get right. I done took up so many of her best years, because I can’t put the bottle down and stay my ass out of here.”
“So what now?”
“Pray my lawyer can get my ass into a rehab program.” He moved to sit up on his bed. “I told you I plan to smarten up this go ‘round. I see you doing the same thing too.”
“I guess, man. I’m just tryna get out of here.” He sat back up.
“If you ain’t making no changes, then gettin’ out ain’t gone matter. You just gone end up right back in here.”
He didn’t respond.
“Some of them boys told me you rap. Why you never talk about it?”
“It ain’t that important.”
“Shit, it is if you got other niggas bragging on what you do and not hating.”
Dominic laughed.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s something I like. Before I got locked up again, I was tryna be more serious about it, but I need money and it don’t bring in near enough for it to be my main focus right now.” He ran a hand down his face at the thought of all the money he was throwing at Quentin to get him out of the shit he was in.
It seemed like each time he put a solid foot forward to be more serious about music, something happened. It was always something that resulted from his wrongdoings, but it all came with the lifestyle he lived. Money came and went often. Sometimes he hustled for days at a time to make sure everyone was straight. Before the incident, it was something he had done again.
He’d started selling large amounts of weed to make up for the money he’d lost. That type of work kept him in the streets and seemed less risky than robbing and slinging stolen guns. People always wanted him to be available, because he was the plug. A missed phone call or text meant a missed opportunity to make money.
His unavailability was something Claudette wasn’t used to. She saw it as flighty while he viewed it as vital. He tried to be available to her as often as he could, but just like she hadn’t been used to being close to someone with a lifestyle like his, he hadn’t been used to accommodating and entertaining a girl like he did with her. It was why he popped up at odd times or went days without hearing her voice.
“Well, you must’ve been makin’ a little something if all these cats running around bragging on your shit.”
Polo’s curiosity was genuine.
“I made a little something, not nothing to live off though.”
The truth was, all the money he got in the mail from streaming went straight to Claudette after he’d give Tony his cut. He broke it down and sent it on a weekly basis, attempting to make it stretch for her. It was because of him she couldn’t go to work anymore, so he wanted to compensate her for his fuck-up and keep some of the money safe. If he gave it to Diane he knew she would squander it away on bullshit for the church, cigarettes, and bailing her friends out of their own financial hardships. At least with Claudette she could put it toward school or that laptop she needed.
The deal he made with her when they first met was bullshit. He tried to make sure she got every dime he made from music, including the backend he got from Vaughn the night he performed at Playhouse. The only illegal money he had ever given her was what she’d found stashed in the envelope in his closet, and she had given him that money right back to throw at his lawyer fees. He’d started saving that money for her after the first night they came across each other because he was smitten with the innocent way she hustled. He thought it was cute, just like everything else about her.
“Well, what’s the problem that’s keeping you from making more? You need a manager or something? Somebody to book your shows, get you out there?”
Polo’s questions came a mile a minute. He had scooted forward to the edge of his bed, ready to hear his answer. Dominic assumed he was interested because it was something to talk about other than his failed marriage.
“Nah, I’m good on that,” he responded, thinking of the way Claudette hustled to take care of all of those things for him. “My girl take care of all of that for me.”
The words had slipped from his mouth so casually that he almost didn’t realize he’d said it until he noticed the gotcha look on Polo’s face.
“So, she is your girl?” Polo asked, lighting up like an overgrown child.
Dominic chewed on his bottom lip. It was too late for him to take it back. He had never called any girl his. They claimed him instead.
He shrugged, not wanting to delve deeper into his attachment to her.
“Is that your plan when you get of here? To make more music?” Polo moved on, noticing him become more guarded.
“To tell you the truth, my only plan when I get out of here is to make sure my family straight. If I can do it by rapping, then that’s what I’m gonna do. If I got to get my hands dirty again, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
He had no time to entertain silly dreams about getting a legitimate job when he got out. It’s why he needed to keep Claudette at a distance. He knew she wasn’t the type of girl down for whatever, no matter how much she loved him.
“D, you can’t think like that,” Polo said. “You thinking small right now.”
“What you mean?”
“You can get out of this shit. You got talent man. If you put all of that energy that you pour into hustling into your music, imagine where you could be a year from now?” Polo raised his hands, attempting to get Dominic as enthralled as he was.
Dominic appreciated his effort, but it was unrealistic. He could only imagine what would happen if he was cooped up in Tony’s basement recording for days on end with no money coming in. It was already killing him that he left Diane to get Josiah through the last few weeks of high school. He’d just paid all of the bills and was preparing to re-up before he’d gotten arrested again.
The thought of her being stressed over money made his head want to explode. There were the bills and then there was Josiah. He had so many expenses in the coming months that he had promised to pay for—his cap and gown, a graduation party that likely wouldn’t be happening, his dorm room essentials, spending money for when he moved on campus and out of Diane’s house.
“You got to think big. Leave that small time hustling for the little boys. The music is the big hustle. If you can finesse the streets, I know you can have that music industry on lock.”
Dominic rubbed the back of his neck, tired of all the preaching everyone did to him. It was his life, and he would live it the way he wanted. Music wasn’t going anywhere. It came so easy to him he’d rather use it as an easy extra source of income rather than his sole one.
“How I’m supposed to pay my bills if I’m hustling music all day?” he asked.
It was a serious question that he wanted an answer to. He knew niggas that slung mixtapes all day. They were always broke, sleeping on air mattresses, with nothing to show for all the hustling they did to get their music heard. That wasn’t him.
“Get you a legit job. It don’t make you less of a man if you get a trade.”
He had heard that a thousand times too. People were quick to tell him to go be a plumber, a mechanic, or an electrician but the problem was, all the men he knew did none of those things. They all ran the streets just like he did.
“You honestly think you’ll live another year with the path you’re on?” Polo asked.
He decided that if he didn’t, it would be fine. He’d had his time with the people that mattered, made music that resonated with people, and had taken care of enough people that maybe God would spare his ass at the pearly gates.
The sharp sound of folded paper sliding underneath their cell door interrupted his and Polo’s heart to heart and his morbid thoughts. He turned to see the triangular shape of one of Mo’s kites land just a few inches from his foot. He reached forward and grabbed the paper, unfolding it. It came at the right time because his head couldn’t take anymore of Polo’s prying questions.
Mo’s handwriting was small and sloppy. His words were so jumbled together that Dominic had to squint to decipher the message.
Roc say he need to talk to you about Claudette. He say she came up there asking for her old job back. Something about she need money. He say call him ASAP.
Dominic read and reread the letter, making sure what he saw was really there. No matter how much he tried to let go, she still found a way back into his life.
“Everything good man?” Polo asked.
Dominic hadn’t realized that his fingers were gripping the sides of the paper so hard that they crumpled.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he responded, balling up the piece of paper. “You think I can use your pin when the doors pop?”
Polo reached over to grab his book while shrugging.
“You know I don’t care D. I just want you to give our conversation some thought.” He opened the book and laid back down while Dominic tossed the paper on the desk.
He tried to breathe through the wild thoughts that ran across his head. They all centered on Claudette. He just knew she had moved out of her dorm and was back at home with her grandpa, but once again she had thrown him another curveball. Now, he’d be up counting the hours and minutes until they could come out of their cells.
“No.” Dominic said the word before Roc could finish his sentence.
There was no need in wasting Polo’s money entertaining bullshit. Bags the size of quarters sat beneath his eyes and his stomach growled as he watched the other inmates eat their breakfast.
“You sure about this D? I know Claudette and she not gone be happy about this.”
In any other circumstance he’d let her have her way, but this was nonnegotiable. She was supposed to be gone anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to be entertaining anything to do with her unless it was in his head.
“And you think I don’t know her?” He spoke low into the phone, keeping his eyes out toward the pod.
Nobody looked his way; they were too busy eating their watered down eggs and soggy cereal. The smell of the eggs permeated throughout the open space, making his stomach toil with disgust.
“Chill big dawg. I know that’s your girl, but you got me delivering news on some third-party shit and I don’t like that.” Roc’s voice rose an octave. “Why don’t you tell her yourself?”
“Because I can’t.” He heard the static on the phone line.
“So, she was telling the truth then?” Roc finally replied.
“What you talking about?”
“She say you ain’t want nothing to do with her.”
It felt like his chest had caved. She’d said he wanted nothing to do with her? With her, of all people? It was ironic considering he was obsessed with her ass.
“Oh, and she said that y’all wasn’t friends no more either.”
He knew Roc had thrown that last part in to get back at him for the stale attitude he’d had throughout their entire phone call. It worked, because the blood drained from his body.
“Fuck you,” Dominic said through gritted teeth.
“Baby girl still got you by the balls I see.” Roc’s laugh echoed throughout the line.
Everyone he was close to knew she’d always had, even though he tried to downplay how much influence she had on him. It wasn’t surprising to him that Roc didn’t believe her when she said he’d cut off contact with her. None of them thought he had it in him to let her go.
“Whatever man.” He turned and rested his back against the cold wall.
“So what you want me to tell her?” Roc’s voice grew serious again.
“Tell her no.”
He knew Roc was trying to stay neutral. He hated getting involved in other people’s affairs and liked to mind his business as much as possible.
“I’ll tell her you said no,” he replied. “Shit, she already mad at you. Shouldn’t make much of a difference that it’s coming from you.”
He bit into his bottom lip, wondering if Roc had slipped up and hinted at why she couldn’t go back there. Marco was still a free man after their fight at PJ’s, because he was the idiot that ran up on him in a club. The police’s only concern was apprehending him that night after security at the club notified them of the incident. Marco got away scot-free while he sat in jail.
“You tell her why she couldn’t come back to work?” Dominic asked.
“Nah, that’s for you to handle. Just like this no shit is for you to handle.” Roc’s voice grew hard. “Handle yours.”
He ended the call before Dominic could.
27
THE HAIRS ON Claudette’s arms stood as the frigid air prickled her skin. She figured it had to be a universal law that said all doctor’s offices had to be excruciatingly cold. Her sock covered feet dangled from the examination table. She had washed them so many times that the pink was more of a faded Pepto-Bismol color. The twenty dollars she stuck inside of the right one scratched at her ankle, and she sighed and adjusted it for the third time. As soon as she laid back, Dr. Martin rapped on the door before pushing it open.
“Okay dear, sorry to keep you waiting.” She closed the door behind her and smiled at Claudette.
Dr. Martin was the general practitioner at the on-campus clinic. She was a regal older woman with grey hair that made her look chic. Her frame was petite, but the white coat she wore fit without overpowering her frame.
“I’ve got all of your test results here.” Her southern drawl made Claudette feel somewhat at ease with being there alone. “Now, you told me your last period was sometime at the end of April, but I suspect that was just implantation bleeding. I’d say you’re about seven weeks along.”
Her hands grew sweaty as Dr. Martin droned on about her test results being normal despite her less than stellar diet and her stress levels being through the roof. She was STD-free with normal blood sugar levels, but she had lost weight. The only information that stuck out to her was the fact that she had confirmed her pregnancy.
“How’s the morning sickness?” Dr. Martin sat down her test results and approached the exam table.
“I don’t know why they call it morning sickness, because I have it all day. The only thing I can keep down is honeydew.” She ran a hand across her flat stomach and tried to focus on everything besides the baby inside of her.
It was impossible to do, though.
Dr. Martin laughed.
“Hopefully, you’re like most women and it goes away around the fourteenth week,” she replied. “In the meantime, stay hydrated and try to eat small snacks throughout the day. You may have to do some exploring to see what you can and can’t keep down.”
