Forever My Lady Read online

  Her mother, his grandmother, “came to this country to raise responsible members of society,” she’d say, “not freeloaders.”

  Dio didn’t see such a big deal with accepting food stamps or welfare. He figured the government screwed most people anyway, and besides, what’s the harm in getting a little help when you needed it?

  He hated seeing his mother come home exhausted, only to find an empty refrigerator and his little brother, Daniel, crying because he was hungry. No wonder she’d rather be in a drunken stupor. That’s what led Dio to do what he liked to call “alternative means of income.” What was the big deal about selling a little dope, if it was going to keep his mom from one more job? Besides, he was only “providing for the community,” Dio would often joke.

  And now here he was washing dish after nasty, funky dish for a bunch of inmates. Just the thought of cleaning up after other people pissed Dio off.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Give me that,” Louise demanded as she snatched a dish from Dio and showed him the “proper” way to wash it. “I don’t have time for this. You’re going to have to figure this out. Soak them thoroughly first, then soap them up, all right? Jeez.”

  And she was off to put out some other fire in the kitchen.

  Whatever, bitch, Dio thought.

  He wanted to just forget the whole thing, but he knew the junior officers keeping watch over him wouldn’t be having any of that. Besides, Dio also had the feeling someone like Louise could pretty much hold her own when it came to the trainees. She was the queen bee, the head honcho when it came to the kitchen, and no one questioned her.

  Part of Dio kind of liked that. He had always liked strong women, hated seeing weak women who couldn’t stand up for themselves. His mother was like that. Sure, she was strong when it came to him and his brother, but whenever some man came into her life, which was often, she’d turn into complete mush. There was always some loser she’d bring into the house, claiming, “He could be your daddy one day.” He’d only end up picking on Dio or, worse yet, his little brother. Then Dio would have to kick his ass.

  Dio sighed and wiped the steam from his sweaty brow. He noticed Simon staring at him in the distance, his mouth wide open like he was trying to catch flies or something. The minute he noticed Dio noticing him, he went back to sweeping the floors. Simon was always assigned to sweep the floors and take out the trash. The broom looked bigger than Simon was, like an ant carrying a hunk of bread.

  “Whatchew want, foo’?” Dio asked.

  Simon just kept working.

  “Yeah, you just keep sweepin’ there. Keep sweepin’,” Dio said.

  Dio watched him out of the corner of his eye. He felt sorry for him actually. He was a total loser. The sad thing was, Dio felt that, next to him, he was probably the loneliest kid on the planet.

  I shouldn’t have been that rude to him, Dio thought.

  But he hated people staring. Besides, he didn’t want someone like that trying to be friends with him. If he was ever going to get respect from the other trainees, he was going to need someone who could match up to him, and Simon, well . . . just wasn’t it.

  He could hear Jennifer’s voice now: “That’s mean!” God, he missed her. Dio knew that she hadn’t just told him to “fuck off.” She did say they still had a connection. That had to mean there was hope to win her back. She just wanted him to “get help,” to “straighten his life out.” That had to mean that she did want them to be back together, didn’t it?

  Dio knew that he hadn’t been the best boyfriend in the world. She had begged him over and over again to get out of the gang. She didn’t seem to understand—once a gangsta, always a gangsta. He was branded for life. But deep inside, Dio knew she was right. Living the life he was leading was not the way to go. It really wasn’t the way he wanted to go. He wanted so much more. He wanted the things he saw on TV, living the life that people on there had. He wanted to see the world and take Jennifer to exotic places. He wanted them to raise a family.

  He’d dropped out of school when he was in the seventh grade, and though his mother screamed at him and berated him every day for doing it, what was he supposed to do? Why be somewhere where the teachers obviously didn’t want him? They treated him like a second-class citizen, worse than that, actually. They’d make racist remarks and then wonder why he’d get pissed off. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to catch up in the overcrowded class, but he was embarrassed to ask questions because the teachers always had a way of making him feel stupid for asking them. And really they’d do worse that that. They’d make the whole class know just how stupid his question was.

  It was much more fun hanging with his homies during school hours anyway. At least they accepted him for what he was. At least he didn’t have to explain himself or why he was out of class. They knew why. They’d all had the same experiences. White people hated them and they hated white people in return.

  Dio wiped the sweat off his brow again as he finished the last dish. He sighed with relief.

  “Did I say you could take a break?” Louise asked, piling up an even bigger load of dishes in front of him.

  Inmates brought in carton after carton of more dishes for him to wash. It was going to be a long day.

  Dio could think of nothing better than getting to his bed and lying down after all that work. Not only was he exhausted from working in the kitchen all day, but he still had to do all the ridiculous calisthenics Jackson made them do. But a surge of energy ran through Dio at the sight of Grossaint. He was taking off his shirt when Dio noticed for the first time the swastika on his tricep.

  They spotted each other at the same time and it was as if the seas parted. Dio made his way over to him. They just glared at each other, nose to nose for a moment, both anticipating a move, but knowing they couldn’t make one. Grossaint had the strangest wavering eyes that never stood still. It was the first time Dio discovered Grossaint might be a little off . . .

  Dio’s hands were itching to break Grossaint’s nose.

  “Who you think you are, ése?”

  Grossaint cracked a smile, gesturing to his cronies, who surrounded Dio and seemed to come out of thin air.

  “Whatcha think you’re going to do, huh? Stupid wetback.”

  The hair raised on the back of Dio’s neck, always did when his temper flared. His nose flared. His eyes squinted.

  “Whatchew want me to do, puto?”

  “Puto? Is that some kind of stupid Mexican word or something? Like taco or burrito?”

  His cronies laughed.

  Dio stepped up even closer to him and spoke so only Grossaint could hear him. “I will get you,” he threatened. “Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but it’s coming. It’s coming.”

  Dio swore he saw a flinch of fear in Grossaint’s eyes for a second, and that’s all he needed to see. He knew Grossaint was nothing without his peckerwood friends, nothing at all, but unfortunately there were hardly any Chicanos in the squad, and Grossaint had a big enough crew to easily take him.

  “You don’t want to mess with me, spic.”

  The white boys closed their gap and moved in on Dio.

  Then, like a hot knife through butter, a voice came, “Leave him alone!”

  Everyone looked around to find the source of the sound. Grossaint snickered when he saw who it was. It was Simon. He looked like a little boy who knew he had a whipping coming.

  “Don’t bother him.”

  Dio was shocked. This scrawny little thing was coming to his defense? What did he think he was going to do? Slap them to death?

  “Shut up, stupid nigger,” Grossaint answered. His boys laughed.

  Something burned in Simon’s eyes, a rage. A rage that was inside, but too afraid to come out.

  “You shut up,” he answered back and shrank back like he was a turtle crawling into his shell.

  Grossaint seemed to be a lot more entertained by him than by Dio at the moment.

  “Dumb coons just don’t know when to keep their mouth
shut.”

  He took a step toward Simon, but Dio stepped in his path. Grossaint was about to say something when someone yelled, “Officer on deck!”

  Everyone scurried to their bunks and stood at the foot of them, standing erect as Jackson marched inside. He sensed something was off and immediately went to what had to be source of the trouble.

  “What’s going on in here? Radigez?”

  “Sir, nothing, sir,” Dio answered back.

  Jackson looked him in the eyes as if he were trying to see right through him. He paced down the aisle to ask another trainee, “That true?”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” he answered.

  Swift as a sword he turned to Simon. “That true?”

  Simon swallowed hard. He never was any good at lying. “Uh—”

  “Sir, you got a phone call,” a junior officer called out.

  Saved by the bell.

  He exited, looking at everyone suspiciously. They all sighed with relief when he left.

  Dio lay in bed and glanced at Groissant, who slid his finger across his throat at him. Dio flipped him the finger and caught a look at Simon, who seemed lost in his own world. He wanted to say thanks to him. It wasn’t like he actually would have been able to do anything, but he admired Simon’s courage. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. There was a spark in Simon that Dio liked, a loyalty and courage that his best homies back home had.

  They only had so many hours to sleep before they’d have to get up and start the whole day again, but Dio decided maybe he’d try to write Jennifer a letter. It was clear that he’d probably never get a chance to call her again, not after the last stunt he pulled. But there was some paper in his box with all the rest of his stuff, and a pencil. He just wanted to connect to her in some way and maybe that was it. What was the worst that could happen? He just hoped she’d get the letter. If her mom had anything to do with it, she never would.

  Dear Jennifer,

  Baby I am so sorry about what happened. You know that. Don’t you? You know I’d never wish anything like this to happen to you. Everyday I wake up in the middle of the night and mi corazon me duele, ’cause I know everything that’s happened to you ain’t right is my fault.

  I know you’re enojada con migo. I know you have every right to be mad but please don’t let what other people say make you not want to be with me. They don’t know me like you know me. You know what kind of person I am inside. What happens to you and me is our business. It got has nothing to do with them. Te amo, you know that. You know I don’t want nothing to happen to you.

  If I could do it all over again I would but I can’t. Please forgive me, please you can’t leave me like this. Te necesito. Eres mi vida. All I think about day and night is you. You don’t know what it’s like. They got me stretched out.

  For almost a month nobody told me if you were dead or alive and I was depressed and I was tearing up inside cause nobody would let me use the phone or nothing. No one would tell me if you was alive or dead or anything. You just have to gotta believe me.

  When I heard your voice on that phone you had have no idea what that did to me. To hear that you were alive still. Baby I’ve been dying inside every night thinking about you.

  They don’t let you do nothing here in camp Jennifer. Ni puedes zurrar without asking permission. They don’t let you talk, they don’t let you sit down, they don’t let you eat, es como la pinta. Nah, it’s worse than prison. And all they do is talk masa in your face all day. They don’t care about you. They treat you like you’re a piece of mierda.

  Baby you gotta know you’re my everything y si te vallas. There’ll be nothing for me to live for. You can’t just throw away all that we’ve been through together. We’ve been through so much and We’ve got a future together I know it.

  Don’t give up on me. You’re the only one I got left beside my hermanito. And my moms is filling Daniel’s head up with a bunch of masa about me too. Nobody cares about me like you care about me. Just the thought of losing you completely destroys me.

  You taught me so much and I’m going to change I promise. I’m trying my best when I get out things are going to be so much better. Te lo prometo. You’ll see. Just give me another chance, I’ll prove it to you. Please baby, I need you.

  Write me back as soon as you can. There’s no one to chop it up with here at all. You should hear the shit these babosos call me. I gotta keep trucha when I’m around these putos. I know they’re just waiting for their chance to catch me slippin’. I’m trying to be good cause I want to get out of here as fast as I can so I can be with you again. But sometimes I feel like takin’ a filero to these peckerwoods throats, but I’m being good for you baby, I’m going to change for you.

  Estoy aquí para ti. No matter what, siempre. Remember?

  Love,

  Playboy

  The whole next day Jackson had them digging ditches. Why? Because Jackson said it built indefatigability.

  “Do you know what indefatigability is, Trainee Radigez?” he asked.

  “Sir, no, sir,” Dio answered.

  Jackson sighed and shook his head. “Take a wild guess.”

  “Sir, muscles, sir?” Dio answered.

  “No, no, and no!” Jackson responded. “Indefatigability is being seemingly incapable of being fatigued. You build stamina; you don’t get so tired so easily.”

  Well whoop-dee-do, who cares? Dio thought.

  It seemed Jackson loved to make them work like horses. He said it was to build indefatigability, but Dio figured it was probably just to piss them off. And he had thought the dishes and scrubbing the floor all day with a toothbrush was bad. Digging ditches had to be the hardest work he had ever done.

  Jackson pushed and pushed them, going on and on, saying things like, “How you like that, huh? You like digging them ditches? You like it? Move!” He’d taunt them and somehow it was supposed to encourage them to move faster? It only pissed them off more.

  “You wanna spend the rest of your life digging ditches, just keep doing what you’re doing in your life and the shovel will be waiting for you.”

  Yeah, that’s what Dio wanted to do for the rest of his life, sure. With any luck he was going to get the hell out of camp and get a legitimate job doing something that would make Jennifer proud to be with him. He thought about going to work for a car design shop. He even thought about going to night school or something and getting his diploma—whatever it took to win her back.

  Dio wiped his brow in the hot sun. It was winter in the desert, but during the day it was just as hot as any time of the year. They had to be at least forty miles outside of Las Vegas and there was absolutely nothing around but the camp and the prison down the road. Dio daydreamed about escaping. It’d be so easy if it was night and somehow he got out and . . . but he put it out of his mind. If they ever caught anyone trying to escape, they’d be sent straight to prison for real, not three days in the hole. They’d be put in there for the full sentence.

  Dio had been in and out of juvie since he was a kid, but that was preschool compared with what went down in the real prisons. Spooky would tell him stories of the brutality, the rapes, and the corruption that went on, not just with the prisoners, but also with the guards supervising the whole thing. That’s how Spooky lost one of his eyes. He wasn’t about to let some puto rape him.

  Dio looked over his shoulder to see Simon struggling beside him. He took another whiff of his asthma inhaler and kept going.

  “Hey,” Dio called, careful that nobody but Simon could hear him.

  “We’re not supposed to be talking,” Simon answered.

  Dio smacked his lips. “That foo’s not going to do nothing to me he ain’t done already.”

  Simon’s eyes lit up a bit.

  “I ’preciate you sticking up for me last night. It was coo’,” Dio said. “It was stupid, but it was coo’.”

  A smile spread across Simon’s face. “Thanks!”

  “Sssh,” Dio cautioned. “Keep it on the down-low.”

/>   “On the down-low?” Simon asked. He sounded like a fucking white boy. He had no clue what Dio was saying.

  “Yeah, you know. Keep the volume down, foo’, you black and you don’t know what that means?”

  Simon looked like a shamed boy.

  “I’m not all the way black,” he answered.

  “What are you?”

  “My dad’s black, my mom’s Hispanic.”

  “For real? That almost makes us brothers.”

  “It does?” Simon asked with a smile.

  “Sure, and us brownskins gotta stick together, right? That’s why you gotta help me get back at Grossaint some-how.”

  Dio tried to give him daps, his fist ready to connect with Simon’s, but Simon didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

  “Don’t leave me hangin’, nigga,” Dio said, grabbing Simon’s scrawny little fist and showing him what to do.

  Simon smiled sheepishly.

  Dio shook his head. “Whatchew in here for anyway? You’re too skinny to be in a gang, too prude to hotwire a car.”

  Simon withdrew. Whatever it was he’d done, he was too ashamed to even talk about it.

  “Come on, foo’, you can tell me. I got in here for possession of a firearm. Wrong place, wrong time. Lucky for the putos we were about to hit that we got caught, ’cause they’d be dead by now.”

  “You were going to shoot them?”

  “’Course. They tried to kill me in a drive-by. Got my girl instead.”

  Dio tried to get the thought out of his head. He’d been plagued by nightmares the last couple of nights. He kept seeing those two punks who had shot Jennifer, Acne and Dirty Blond, laughing at him over and over again. “Don’t fuck with me, spic,” they kept saying.

  “Is she dead?”

  “Nah. Thank God for that. She laid up in the hospital, but she’ll get better. And when I get out, me and my jaina going to hook up like nobody’s business.”

  “Jaina?”