He Don't Play Fair

by Clifford "Spud" Johnson

Genres: African American Urban; Crime Fiction

Synopsis

When his conviction for conspiracy to distribute cocaine is overturned, Papio is released from a Federal Correctional Institution in El Reno after serving just 3 years of his 30-year sentence. Having some unfinished business in Oklahoma City, Papio stops there to collect on some debts before heading out West. On the way, he won't settle for anything less than the best hotels, luxury vehicles, designer clothing, and of course, gorgeous women. Follow Papio across the States as he lives the good life, avoiding contact with his infuriated Cuban connection by all means. His journey takes some unexpected twists and turns, which make this tale extra special! Don't get caught up, because He Don't Play Fair.

Release date: January 29, 2013

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Papio had a frown on his face as he listened to his girlfriend continue to talk to him in a disrespectful manner. This bitch has got to be out her ever-loving mind if she thinks I’m going to let her get away with this shit, he said to himself as he continued to listen to her rant and rave. He chose to remain quiet and let her continue to dig herself a deeper hole. Keep on, you silly bitch; you think I’m washed up but your ass will have a rude awakening real soon, he thought as his frowned turned into a smile.

It had been years since he had been convicted for conspiracy to distribute forty-five kilos of cocaine. The Feds threw the book at him for going to trial. He actually thought he would win his case, especially after his $100,000 attorney caught several of the government’s confidential informants in different lies. But it just wasn’t meant to be. The Feds don’t be playing: when they come scoop you, believe it, they got your ass.

After receiving a thirty-year sentence from the judge, Papio smiled. He was smiling on the outside but he really wanted to scream. He refused to give the US attorney the privilege to see him fall weak like that. Instead, his mind was busy turning, trying to come up with a way to get himself out of this gigantic mess he’d gotten himself into. He turned his head and gave a slight nod to the fat Cuban who was sitting and watching the proceedings inside of the courtroom. I didn’t snitch, you fat bitch; go tell your boss that, you fucking flunky. You think I’m done, but best believe Papio will be back stronger than ever. He turned and faced the judge when he asked him if he had anything to say for himself. Papio stared at the judge with so much contempt in eyes that the judge actually felt intimidated by his hateful glare. Papio smiled as two US marshals came and led him out of the courtroom and downstairs to the holding tank. A fucking million-plus-dollar nigga and I got washed up because a bunch of soft-ass Oklahoma City niggas fell weak on those punk-ass Cubans. Damn, I know I should have never fucked with that bitch-ass nigga Charlie. I knew his ass was weak any-fucking-way. Fuck it, that’s a wrap, time to execute your exit plan, Papio, he said to himself as he stepped inside of the holding tank and sat down in the freezing cell.

The telephone beeped, snapping Papio back to reality. He cleared his throat and stopped his girlfriend’s tirade and said, “Check it, we only got one minute left, Mani. Calm down and don’t panic. I’ll have some more ends brought to you, so stop fucking tripping.”

“Stop tripping? Nigga, if you would have left me with the ends like you said you was I wouldn’t be having none of these issues! You got that fat joke-ass nigga Hugh telling me he’s going to bring me some ends but every time I call that bitch he comes up with one lie after another. I’m telling you, Papio, I can’t keep going through this shit.”

“I told you Hugh’s been busy taking care of shit for me. My appeal is coming up and he’s got to make sure that everything is good with that.”

“For real, Papio, do you know what the chances are that you’re going to get a time reduction? Be realistic, nigga; you done for a minute.”

The telephone hung up before he could respond to her. He started laughing as he hung up the phone and went to his cell. His celly, a Jamaican man who had been down since the late nineties, was sitting on his bunk reading the latest King magazine. He looked up and smiled at Papio as he entered their cell. “Wah you do, mon?”

“Just chilling, Kingo. What up with you?”

“Me good, mon. Just checking out these American women; you know me love them big battys they have.” They started laughing as Papio took a seat at the small desk inside of the cell.

Kingo noticed that Papio’s mood seemed sour. “Something on your mind, mon? Wah is it? Talk to Kingo.”

They had been living in the same cell for the two and a half years Papio had been at the Federal Correction Institution of El Reno, and over the years Kingo gave Papio some very solid advice. It was rare to trust fellow inmates but Papio had grown to trust Kingo. Kingo looked at Papio as a young man with plenty of potential to make something of his life after he was released, so he chose to school him as much as he could. Their bond was solid so Papio knew that he could talk to him about anything.

Papio sighed and said, “Man, that dumb bitch Mani tripping about money again. I make sure she continues to live in my pad, pushes a fly whip, and keeps her stank-ass in the top-of-the-line clothes as if I was still out there doing me. Now she thinks she can talk to a nigga like I’m some type of chump or some shit. She’s going to get it as soon as I touch; my word that bitch will never get away with talking to me like she just did.”

Kingo shook his long gray dreadlocks from his face and said, “American women got that bad, mon, but it’s no one’s fault but you ‘Shotta,’ ‘Top Rankin,’ ‘Rude Boys.’ You spoil them without keeping them in their proper place. If you would have made sure she knew her place she would never disrespect you now. But you was so busy being top rankin’ that you let her have her way.” He shook his head slowly and continued, “Right now, mon, you have to stay focused on your appeal and hope for da best. Don’t let her interfere with your mind, mon. It will do nothing but drive you crazy with madness.”

“What about you? You been down, what, twenty years now? How the hell do you and your wife remain on good terms?”

Kingo smiled and stared at the picture of his very beautiful, very white wife and said, “Me girl know her place; she know that if she ever disrespects Kingo she will not live long enough to see her next earth day.”

“Fear? That’s how you keep her in check then?”

Kingo shook his head and said, “No fear, mon, respect. She respects me for being a mon, a real mon. She has watched me do wicked things to people who have tried to disrespect Kingo and she knows that I will kill or die before I am ever disrespected by anyone.”

“I know you were out there having some serious paper and your finances are still good even after all of this time you’ve done, but do you really think she’s not out there fucking?”

Kingo started laughing and his Jamaican accent was even more pronounced when he said, “So wah! She need to go to the rompin’ shop just like everyone else, mon. Me no mad at her for dat. Shit, me wish I could get me hood sucked and make love long time in the rompin’ shop. I cannot ask her not to take care of her needs, mon. Respect Kingo and make sure that me needs are taken care of and me good. I have four more years to go and I’m back; then she will be treated as royalty because she has done everything Kingo has asked her to do. She takes good care of me sons and she loves me in a way that you American men can only dream about.” He started laughing again as he stared at his celly.

“I know one thing: I’m about to be out this bitch any fucking day and that dumb bitch Mani don’t even realize she’s out of there. I can’t wait to hurt that slick-mouthed broad.”

“Wah you know? Wah make you t’ink you gon’ be out of here any day?” Kingo answered with a smile. Kingo frowned and said, “The twenty years I’ve been in federal prison, the only way I’ve seen anyone get out of a thirty-year bid, mon, is snitching. Don’t tell me I’ve made a friend who’s weak like that, Papio?”

“Come on with that shit, Kingo. If I was going to snitch we would have never met. I would have done that shit from the be-gin. That ain’t in me. Let’s just say that I got some moves being made in my favor that’s going to have them gates opened for me real soon like. So don’t worry, old man, by the time these next four years float by I’m going to be out there, back on millionaire status, and you will be looked out for as soon as you get at me.”

Kingo touched his heart with a closed fist and said, “’Nuff love, Papio. Me hope all of your dreams come true, me really do. But I don’t want you around here looking all sad because of your blood-clot American woman done talked down to you, mon. We have to keep our heads held high through all this time.”

“I got you, old dread. Don’t worry about ya boy, I’m good,” Papio said as he climbed onto the top bunk and closed his eyes. Handle your business, Hugh; handle your fucking business, he said to himself and smiled as he opened his DuPont Registry car magazine. He turned to a page with a brand new black Aston Martin coupe on it and his smiled brightened. “You’re going to be mines, baby,” he whispered.

The next morning Papio and Kingo were on the rec yard, working out. It was amazing for Kingo to be in his mid-fifties and have the wind and stamina of a twenty-year-old. His long dreads were tied in a long ponytail as he stepped up to the pull-up bar and began to do his set of twenty-five pull-ups. He finished his set easily and dropped off of the bar and watched as Papio stepped up to do his set. Papio, at twenty-seven, wasn’t a slouch himself. Since coming to prison he made sure that he kept his body in tiptop shape. Thanks to Kingo’s intense workout plan, his six-foot frame was slim, yet muscular. Abs were right, chest was tight, arms and legs were big and firm; his smooth features made him one handsome young man. His intense light brown eyes with his bronzed skin complexion showed his Puerto Rican side; what stood out most was his long hair. He loved his hair. He kept it pulled in a tight ponytail tapered on the sides. Some consider Papio the pretty boy type, but in Papio’s case looks were truly deceiving. He could be as deadly as any cold-blooded killer. Just as he was finishing his set he heard his name being called over the prison’s PA system. “Preston Ortiz! Preston Ortiz, report R&D now!”

Papio smiled at Kingo and said, “Well, looks like I get out of this one, old dread.”

Kingo shook his head and said, “No, you haven’t, mon. When you get back we will finish, you lazy blood clot.”

Papio slapped him on his sweaty back and laughed as he grabbed his workout bag and headed toward the receiving and discharge room. He had a smile on his face because he knew that he was about to receive the news he had been anxiously waiting for. You did that shit, Hugh. I knew you would hold me down, you soft-ass nigga, he said to himself as he picked up his pace.

When he made it to R&D, a white correctional officer frowned and told him to have a seat in the holding cell while they finished getting things ready for him. Ready for me? What the fuck is this? he thought as he sat down on a hard bench and tried his best to remain calm. Don’t panic. You know the business. You can’t miss on this. As long as Hugh handled up you good, no way can this shit backfire on me, no fucking way, he said to himself.

Twenty minutes later the same white CO came to the holding cell and said, “Come with me, Ortiz.” The CO led him into a case manager’s office and left him alone with a pretty sister who Papio had seen only in passing around the prison. He knew that Ms. Wickerson wasn’t no joke; he heard how she would curse a nigga out for trying to pop too slick with her. He was going to make sure he kept everything real smooth with her.

Ms. Wickerson looked up from her PC and said, “Have a seat, Mr. Ortiz.” After Papio was seated she smiled at him and said, “Today is truly your lucky day, young man.”

“Lucky day? How can any day be lucky for me and I got all of this time, Ms. Wickerson?” he asked, playing the part as his heart was beating out of control. It worked! Hugh did that shit! he thought as he waited for her to continue.

She passed him some papers to read and said, “I think you’ll change your mind after you’ve read that,” as she sat back and smiled.

Her smile was so damn beautiful that he was momentarily mesmerized. He shook his head, stopped staring at this beautiful case manager, and started reading the papers she passed him. A huge smile slowly spread across his face as he read that he had been exonerated of all the crimes he had been convicted for. The felony scar would be removed from his name and he was to be released immediately. He took a deep breath and made the sign of the cross across his heart and smiled. He looked up at Ms. Wickerson and calmly asked, “Is this real, ma’am?”

She nodded and said, “Yes, yes, it is, Mr. Ortiz. You’re about to become a free man. The staff secretary is in the process of taking care of the necessary paperwork as we speak. You will be released in the morning at nine A.M.”

“No probation or anything?”

“That’s right, nothing. You will be a free man in every sense of the word. I hope you take this blessing for what it’s worth, Mr. Ortiz, and take advantage of this in a positive way. It’s not every day that a convicted felon gets an opportunity like this. You’ve been given a second chance; don’t become another statistic and come back to prison. Do the right thing and enjoy your freedom.”

Papio smiled at her and said, “Believe me, ma’am, I will.”

She smiled at the handsome man in front of her and wondered what his sex game was like. Mmmm, he’s been down for three years so I know he has a lot of pent-up frustrations he’s ready to release. Stop it, Brandy, you know better, she scolded herself. “So, what are you going to do when you go home? Are you going back to Oklahoma City? Or are you going to California? That’s where you’re from originally right?”

“Yeah, that’s where I’m from but I have to go back to Oklahoma City to take care of some business; then I’ll be off to the West. I got to sell my home and get some other finances in order first. Tell me, since I paid my fine when I was sentenced, will I be reimbursed since my conviction has been overturned?”

“That was exactly what I was about to explain. All you have to do is give me an address and you will receive a check within ninety days.”

“Ninety days? Damn, that’s a long time. I mean I need those crumbs for real.”

Crumbs? She stared at the financial report she had in front of her and thought, Did this man just call $150,000 crumbs? “Well, I’m sorry but that’s the normal procedure when something like this takes place. And since this is a very rare circumstance the proper procedure has to be taken. You will receive a check from the Treasury Department on or before ninety days. Sorry.”

He shrugged and said, “No biggie; that was going to be my shopping money anyway.”

Shopping money? This young man can’t be serious, she thought as she stared at him. When she saw the look on his face she knew that he was, in fact, dead serious. Wow. Impressive. “Well, since you have the luxury to spend that kind of money shopping you shouldn’t have a problem maintaining your freedom then. You’re obviously financially secure. So, again, I ask, what are your plans?”

He gave the sexy case manager a very flirtatious grin and said, “Whatever I want, Ms. Wickerson, whatever I want. If you want specifics why don’t you give me a way to get in contact with you so you can see for yourself,” he stated boldly.

“Be careful, young man, you’re not free yet,” she said sternly.

“True. But I will be in the morning,” he countered with a smile.

I am dead wrong, but technically he is a free man and he is no longer a felon. I wouldn’t be breaking any rules if I had contact with him. With that thought she said, “While we’re waiting for your paperwork, humor me and tell me exactly how you’d show me.”

What the fuck? This bad-ass bitch is straight choosing? Well I’ll be damned! You got action at Ms. Wickerson! Wait until I tell Kingo this shit! he thought. He kept his poker face on as he said, “First, I would fly you out West and take you on a shopping spree to show you that as far as the material things go there’s nothing you couldn’t have be being with me. After that we’d eat at the finest restaurants and drink the best wines. Whatever you would want to do would be done.”

“Is that right?” she asked, amused.

“You think I’m playing?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Give me a number and watch my get down then.”

“I’m thirty-eight years old, young man, and I don’t have time for games.”

Before he could respond the staff secretary came inside of the office and gave Ms. Wickerson Papio’s release papers. Ms. Wickerson in turn gave them to Papio and told him where to sign. After he finished signing for his freedom he stood and smiled. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, you can. You’ll be called to R&D in the morning around seven A.M.”

“Seven A.M.? I thought you said I was getting out at nine.”

“You are, but there is some more paperwork that has to be done and a warrants check has to be made. By the time all of that has been taken care of it should be close to nine o’clock.”

“That’s what’s up. Well, I guess this is good-bye then, Ms. Wickerson.”

“I guess it is. Good luck, Mr. Ortiz,” she said as she stuck her hand out.

He shook her hand gently and said, “Don’t cheat yourself, treat yourself, mami.” He turned and walked out of her office with his swagger in full swing. Papio was about to be back in the game and the world was in a whole bunch of trouble.

Kingo was sitting on his bunk when Papio came into the cell with a smile on his face. “Wah you got that big goofy smile on your face for, mon?” Papio gave him his release papers as well as the papers that showed that he had been exonerated of all his crimes. He continued to smile as he watched Kingo read. When Kingo finished he sighed and said, “Damn, mon, I never seen no shit like this before. Wah you do, Papio? Wah you do, mon?”

Papio sat down next to his celly and said, “Check it, this clown-ass nigga I got out in OKC is like super loyal to me; I mean there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me. I had him make some moves for me when I first got knocked because I had a feeling that I was about to get fucked. No way in hell was I going to let them punk Cubans get away with crossing me out.”

“Wah you do, Papio?” Kingo asked again with a frown on his face.

“I gave Hugh all of the information needed to get me out if it came to it. He gave the investigator for the US assistant attorney information on about twenty-five hundred kilos of cocaine and about five thousand pounds of weed. Purple, that good shit.”

“Ahh, mon, not the ganja!” Kingo said with a smile on his face.

“Calm down and listen, you damn bud head. Anyway, I told him to make sure that he made a deal that would get me back on the streets with no felony scar or anything. It took way longer than I expected but everything came through like I knew it would. They went for that shit.”

“Did they knock the Cubans?” Kingo stared real hard at Papio as he waited for him to answer.

“Nope. Hugh didn’t know anything about anybody to tell shit. All he knew was the location of the drugs. Oh, and there was like $4.5 million in cash there, too.”

Kingo slapped his forehead and said, “You do know they are going to kill you, right, mon? Those Cubans will know that it was you who gave up that information as soon as they hear that you’re back on the streets.”

“Pretty much. But fuck them. I got plans and as long as I make the moves necessary I’ll give them all of their money back, with interest. Shit, they left me for dead, they should let me make it. But since I know that ain’t going to happen I have to get out and make moves and make them like fast.”

“Wah you gon’ do, mon? That’s serious money you speaking on.”

“I know. That dope boy shit is over, so I got some more shit on my mind to score those kind of ends. Whatever it takes, Kingo I got to do. I got a little under a million out there, so I’m going to go back West and make some moves and play it by ear from there.”

“Dope game can get you bread like that quick but there’s plenty of others ways, mon.”

Just like he figured, Kingo was going to lace him and help him get the kind of money he needed to keep those Cubans at bay. Even though he had the money already his mind was on bigger shit; no way was he going to pay them all of that fucking money back. Fuck that shit. As far as he was concerned that shit was nothing compared to the thirty fucking years he would have had to do. He knew once he explained everything to Kingo the old dread would help him.

“Explain your get down to me, mon. What are you willing to do to get money? I mean serious money, mon.”

Papio stared at his celly directly in his eyes and said, “I’m a dope boy by right, but I’m also a magician because I got more tricks of the trade than any other nigga in the game. I trust no nigga and damn sure don’t trust no bitch. I’m an assassin for this money because I damn sure will kill for it quick about my business. Whatever needs to be done I will do to get money. I’ll rob, steal, and kill, Kingo, true story.”

“I can put you in a position of power but you have to be able to handle this power, Papio. You have to be able to hold on to it by the most heinous means necessary.”

“I don’t want power, Kingo. I want money. Period.”

Kingo shook his head and said, “Power is money, mon.”

“Fuck the power; all that shit will do is get a nigga caught back up. I roll solo and that’s that.”

Kingo nodded. “Understood. You will still need assistance from time to time.”

“True.”
. . .