Christmas in the Hood (22 page)

“And you don’t gotta pay nothing?” he asked. It sounded too good to be true.

“Naw, joe,” Mel-Mel said. “You just go up to the chapel and sign up, and it’s all good. You put your kids’ names, ages, and where they live, what you want to say on the card, then they take care of the rest.”

“That sounds real good, moe. I’ll have to go sign up for that. I need that, for real.” The wheels in Fats’s head were now spinning. With the Angel Tree program and the move, his kids would get all they wanted and more.

The next morning Fats woke up with two things on his mind: setting up the move with Country and signing up for the Angel Tree program. Both things involved doing something for his kids. That’s just what type of time Fats was on. He would try the Angel
Tree program first. Fats saw Mikey P and decided to ask him about Angel Tree, just in case Mel-Mel was playing some kind of joke on him.
That’d be just like that old-ass bamma
, Fats thought.

“Hey, Mr. P.”

“Hey, Fats. How you doing? I see you’re up early and all. Another day, another dollar, right?”

Fats wished that was the case, but it wasn’t, still he had pressing matters to discern. “Mr. P, can I ask you something?” Fats asked.

Mikey P gathered himself and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Well sure, Fats, go ahead.”

“You heard of the Angel Tree program?” Fats asked. “Yeah, yeah,” Mikey P said. “Isn’t that the thing where they buy gifts for your kids at Christmas?”

“Yeah, that’s it, Mr. P,” Fats replied. “What do you think about it?”

“Well, I never used it,” Mikey P said. “But I know some guys that did. Said their kids were real pleased with the gifts.”

That’s all Fats wanted to hear. “Thanks, Mr. P,” he responded, and headed to the chapel to sign up.

“Ay, Fats, hold up. If you like, I can get you in the arts-and-crafts class. They’re doing something special.”

“That be great, Mr. P. What are they gonna do, make those little demonstrations?” Fats asked.

Mikey P looked perplexed. “Those what? I don’t understand.”

“Those demonstrations, you know, the cards.”

“Yeah, that’s what they’re gonna make, Fats. That’s it,” Mikey P said. “Awright. Count me in. Bet.” Fats said, and hit rocks with
Mr. P. When security called for movement, Fats bounced to the chapel. On his way there he was on the lookout for his big homie Country.

After Fats signed up for the Angel Tree program he went up to rec, but Country wasn’t there. Finally he ran into Country at lunch. They were serving fried chicken, so the chow hall was packed. Fats noticed some wreaths and holiday decorations— ribbons, cardboard cutouts of Christmas trees, and different colors of wrapping paper hanging on the walls at various points around the chow hall. He guessed the gumps had been at work. He’d seen them all up in the warden’s face talking ’bout their plans the day before.

“Let me holla at you after we eat, moe,” Fats said to Country, who in turn looked at his little homie, like, what the fuck?

“Awright, slim, sit down,” Country said. All the homies were chowing down, and Country, in his element, was holding court as usual, telling his little homies what they needed and didn’t need to do. Then somebody brought up Rock’s situation.

“They said slim got caught with three of them demonstrations,” one of his homies said.

“Word,” Big Murk spoke up. “That’s some fucked-up shit. Slim gonna be hemmed up for a minute. I hope they don’t give him an outside case.”

Country looked up.

“That shit probably won’t happen, but Rock gonna be in the hole a minute, and he’ll probably get a disciplinary transfer. Plus, them crackers will hit him for his visits, phone, and commissary hard,” Country said. Fats listened intently, taking it all in.

“But for real, homies, we need to find out who the fuck
snitched on our man, no bullshit,” Country said, looking around sternly at all the homies at the table. “We can’t let bammas be snitching on D.C. niggas and not get punished. It makes us look soft, and we ain’t soft, right, slim?” Country asked, looking directly at Fats.

“Fuck no, we ain’t soft, moe. We from D.C. The chocolate city. Murder capital of the world. We go hard,” Fats said, and Country clapped him on the back.

“That’s right, and when we find the snitch, we got a little Christmas present for him. A shank in his motherfucking eye. Merry Christmas, bitch.” Country pantomimed stabbing somebody with his fork.

All the homies laughed.

“Check that demonstration out, moe.” The little homie who brought it all up in the first place laughed.

Fats hollered at Country when they left the chow hall. “I’m trying to get down, big homie,” Fats said.

Country double-checked his man to be sure that he was talking about what Country thought he was. “What you mean, slim?”

“I’m trying to make a move in the visit.”

Country stepped back and looked at Fats. “You serious, slim? Because I can make it happen, just say the word.”

“I’m saying it, moe. How much can we get off them demonstrations?”

“Shit, little homie, you gotta bring more than one. You bring in three balloons, and we split it fifty-fifty. I set it up and get it delivered to your peeps. We can get about a grand for each joint.”

That’s three grand!
Fats thought.
Well, half of three grand. That’s a good come up for one weekend.

“Awright, bet,” Fats agreed, and hit rocks with Country. “Set it up.”

“Who’s coming to see you and when?” Country asked.

“My baby-mama Kim. I gotta find out when, but before Christmas.”

“Awright, bet. I’ll get it moving. Holla back, Fats.”

“Yeah, moe.”

“Don’t even think about fucking this up.”

Fats walked away thinking he needed to call Kim.

Chapter Seven

A
fter Fats called Kim and gave her the 411 on the move, he went with Mikey P up to recreation to sign up for the card-making class. Mikey P’s buddy, the Italian who was running the class, told Fats to show up the following Monday. Kim had to get with Country’s girl Shanice. He hoped she would do her thing.

At the same time Fats was signing up to make Christmas cards for his kids, Kim was planning to meet with Shanice to get the balloons and the drugs for the move. She had called Shanice right after Fats gave her the word, and now she was waiting for her to drop by with what Kim needed to get the business right. Kim looked out the window and saw Shanice drive up in a blue Caddy.

“What’s up, Shanice?” Kim said as she opened the door.

“What’s up, girl. How you doing?” As they both went inside the house, Shanice took off her jacket and settled down on the couch.

“Look, girl, are you sure you’re up for this?” Shanice asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Kim said, but as the moment of truth arrived, she was having second thoughts.

“You can’t
think
so, girl,” Shanice said. “You either gotta be all in or all out. You can’t leave niggas hanging. If you gonna do it, then you gonna do it. If not, then I’m wasting my time coming up here.”

Kim felt kind of offended at Shanice’s words. “Naw, Shanice,” Kim said. “I’m gonna do it.”

“That’s good, girl. You can make some good money doing this….” Shanice smiled. Then she handed Kim a plastic bag with three balloons stuffed with heroin. “All you have to do is hide them good and when you go in the visiting room before Fats comes out, go into the bathroom and put two balloons into your mouth. When he comes in and you hug and kiss him, transfer the balloons into his mouth. Have some soda ready in case he needs to drink it to help him swallow the balloons. Then at the end of the visit, you can do the same thing to get the third one off. This is heroin, girl. This ain’t no joke,” Shanice warned. Kim looked at the balloons in her hand and imagined doing as Shanice suggested.
Sounds easy
, she thought. But still she was having some serious second thoughts, and the indecision was killing her, but she put on a brave front to Shanice.

“What are you thinking, girl?” Shanice asked.

Kim looked up from the balloons. “It’s safe, isn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, this heroin being in Fats’s stomach. It won’t leak out, will it?”

Shanice giggled a little. “Naw way, girl,” she said, “that shit is triple-wrapped in a nonbiodegradable balloon, honey. It isn’t dissolving for shit. Ain’t nothing gonna leak out in your man’s belly, so don’t worry about it.”

Kim was relieved to hear that, but she still felt some trepidation. Still, she would do what she had signed on to do, or at least she hoped she could keep her resolve. Fats was depending on her.

*  *  *

That weekend, Fats got a surprise visit from Laquesha and the kids. Fats didn’t like surprise visits, he had a basketball game; but it was all good when he got out there.

“Hey! You all surprised me. What’s the special occasion?” Fats asked as he gave hugs and kisses all around.

“Grandma let us use her car, daddy, so we decided to come out,” Yvette said, and Maurice nodded his head.

“Yeah, Daddy, Grandma said we might as well come visit you.” Fats looked at Laquesha for confirmation.

“It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. We just decided to drive up yesterday afternoon. My mom went on a church retreat and said we could use her car, so we did.” Fats smiled into his baby-mama’s face, then his eyes shifted to his kids. He loved them so much. As they settled down and the kids went to watch TV in the playroom, Fats decided to tell Laquesha about the Angel Tree program.

“You know they got this program here, La,” Fats said. “It’s
called the Angel Tree program, and I signed up for it. They gonna contact you to go to the local church to pick up presents for the kids from me.”

Laquesha looked mad for a minute. “We don’t need their charity, boo. I can handle it.”

“Naw, La, it’s not like that,” Fats said. “These big corporations donate the gifts for tax write-offs, so it’s all good, and all the dudes in here use the program. One dude told me his kids got gifts from the program even when he was home. They give good gifts, too. You just gotta tell them what the kids want when they call, and they’ll get it for them.”

Laquesha sat quizzically for a minute. “Well, it’s better than what you had planned before,” she said, and smiled up into Fats’s face. Her smile made Fats feel guilty because he still had the move planned. Just not with Laquesha.

“I want you to get the present for lil’ Demitrius, too, because Kim will forget to do it, okay?” Fats asked.

“Okay, boo, I got you,” Laquesha said, knowing Fats was right. She didn’t care for Kim—
that conniving bitch
, she thought—but she would make sure Fats got a present for his son, bitch or no bitch.

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot,” Fats said. “I’m in this Christmas card–making class, too. I’m gonna make cards for all of you.”

Laquesha sat there admiring her man. He was such a good father. And even though the little demonstration he was trying to make didn’t work out, Fats was rebounding and coming up with other alternatives so that his kids got something for Christmas. Laquesha was proud of him. “See what you can accomplish when
you put your mind to it, boo?” Laquesha said. “You need to leave all that street shit behind.”

Fats felt even more guilty with that remark, and Laquesha noticed the subtle change in his eyes.

“What’s the matter, boo?” she asked.

“It ain’t but a thing,” Fats answered with a smile.

But Laquesha felt like maybe Fats was scamming her; she got a serious look on her face and looked Fats right in his scheming eye. “You better not even think of trying to do that shit with Kim, Fats!” She cut straight to the chase.

He felt like she could see through him. But he knew he had to continue to deny it; if not she would go all out trying to convince Kim not to do it. “I’m not doing nothing, La,” Fats tried to reassure her. “You can bet on that.”

Laquesha looked him up and down and tried to find the truth in his face, but Fats was playing it cool, and Laquesha was placated for the moment, but she still had her doubts deep inside.

This nigga better not play me
, she thought. Fats quickly changed the subject. “This Italian guy on my unit was telling me about a videotape program, where you can make a videotape with a Christmas message for the kids,” Fats said. “Kinda like a videotaped Christmas card. I’m gonna look into that, what do you think?”

“That sounds good, boo.” Laquesha said as the kids came running up and screaming their daddy’s name.
I’m glad they got all these programs in here for prisoners to make stuff for their kids for Christmas
, Laquesha thought. Because she knew money was tight, and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to buy the kids anything
for Christmas. She knew her mom was planning a meal, but that might be about it. If this Angel Tree program that Fats was talking about came through, and he made cards and the videotape, it might not be a bad Christmas at all. She was interrupted in her thoughts with the kids jumping up and down and pointing.

“Presents, presents!”

Laquesha looked over and saw two feminine-looking prisoners arranging gift-wrapped boxes under the Christmas tree in the corner.
That’s nice
, Laquesha thought. She would have to try to at least get a Christmas tree for the house. She would talk to her mom when they got home.

“C’mon, let’s go take a picture sitting in front of the Christmas tree,” Fats said, motioning for the picture guy sitting in the corner. The gumps admired Fats and his family discreetly as they decorated the tree.

“Aw, isn’t that sweet—a regular family guy,” one gump said to the other. Fats kind of looked back at them, and they moved out of the way so he and his kids could take a picture.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Yvette squealed. “Are all those presents for me?” Fats smiled down at his little girl and picked her up. “You know it, baby girl. They’re all for you.”

“What about me, Daddy?” Maurice said, not to be left out. Fats hugged his son close. “You got something coming, too, Maurice, don’t worry.” As the picture man commenced to snapping photos of the family, Fats’s kids and Laquesha beamed, just happy to be in the presence of their man.