Butterfly Bitch! Read online

  “That is so true.” She laughed, and when she did, the phone beeped to mark that the fifteen minutes allowed for each call had come to an end.

  “The phone's about to hang up, but rest assured knowing I'm on my way home and we're going to be together like I always promised you.”

  “I love you, Mace.”

  “I love you more.”

  “I'm going to write you and e-mail you tonight. I got some things on my mind that need to be put on paper.” She sounded morose.

  “I'm going to write you too. I'm romancing you though. I have to get your mind and body ready for when I get out.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “What are we going to do when you get out?”

  “We're gonna make this hunger disappear.”

  “I can't wai—” The phone cut off in the middle of their conversation.

  After Atwater hung up the phone, he went to his friend Jeffrey Bey's cell, who was cleaning when Atwater walked up to him.

  “Islam Moor,” Atwater greeted.

  “Islam. What's going good with you?”

  “Same ole same ole. It never ceases to amaze me how shortsighted some people can be. I just hung up with Shonda, and she hit me with: I've raised the kids all by myself.”

  “She knows that ain’t right,” Jeffrey Bey added.

  “I know,” Atwater replied.

  “Moor, you're a hustler. You’re one of the few that can still send gees home and take care of ya kids and family. You're a percent of a percent in federal prison that can do that. Most of us have been washed up by the Feds.”

  “Real talk, Atwater said and he told Jeffery Bey about the conversation he had with Shonda and about how much she hated his best friend Tyler.”

  “What's that about?” Jeffrey Bey asked as they walked into his cell. He had placed the trashcan under the sink, and they sat in opposite chairs once inside. The room smelled like prayer oil, and there were pictures everywhere of when Jeffrey Bey was on the streets. Now he, like many, was serving a 30-year sentence.

  “When she went to college, she got all brand new and who knows. She knows that Tyler should have got this beef, but I took the rap for him. And she's been tripping ever since.” Tyler had been the cause of Atwater getting busted. Atwater was selling drugs too, but he told Tyler to move the drugs from the house that they were staying in because he felt like the spot was hot. Tyler told him he had for whatever reasons, but when the Feds kicked in the door and searched the house, they found the drugs. Atwater was charged with the dope which he wouldn’t have had, had Tyler done as he was told. But one lives and learns.

  Jeffrey Bey sighed, knowing how hard it was for anybody to keep it real and be a stand up man while the government hung time over their head.

  “Atwater Bey, there ain’t too many brother's out there like you no more. To stand up when you could have easily never came to jail, but you didn't do that—you kept it real, which speaks volumes for you. When you go back out there, you're not only going to be a leader of your family, but you're going to be a leader of the community. You have to catch brothers up to your pedigree.”

  “Real talk. I wish I felt as confident as you sound. I don't know what the world is like anymore. I've been down practically my whole adult life.”

  “Trust, you are more than able.”

  They were momentarily interrupted when they heard the CO yelling mail call. They walked out of the cell to see if they had received some snail-mail.

  The CO called off a list of names, and individuals received their mail and returned to what they were doing.

  Atwater heard his name called, and he called down for Craze-zo to get it.

  Craze-zo was twenty years old and far away from home. He didn't have many homeboys from Los Angeles, but he had gotten real close to Atwater. After Craze-zo had gathered the mail, he walked over to Atwater.

  “Islam, cuz. I see you have the pony-express crack-a-lacking.”

  Atwater laughed. “For sure. The love you get from without, demonstrates the love you have within.”

  “I would get on some die-hard Cali time and express that I don't love them hoes, but I feel like it wouldn't fit in this demonstration we're having.”

  “It's not that.” Atwater laughed. “You're elevating ya game. And what's up with ya fade? I'm used to seeing you look dapper than that.”

  Craze-zo was high yella with freckles and curly hair. Overly conscientious about his pretty boy looks, he felt he had to balance his look out by being an over-the-top gangster.

  “I'm waiting on you,” Craze-zo said as a matter of fact.

  “You know where I'm at. Meet me at the barbershop this evening after count.”

  “You heard they got a new punk on the compound they say looks like Rihanna?” Craze-zo asked.

  “No,” Atwater said, not really feeling like discussing the fact that he had seen Butterfly in the SHU while he was cutting hair.

  “Cuz, on Crip, I can almost guarantee on all my dead homies that that punk is gonna have these niggas fucked up like that Puerto Rican punk J-Lo did. Remember how that fag who looked like Jennifer Lopez had those fools? Atwater just shook his head affirmatively to Craze-zo’s question. “But on Crip, if I see one of those fags out of pocket, cuz, I’m trippin’ on sight.” Craze-zo said as he showed Atwater the handle of his eight-inch steel homemade knife that he always carried with him.

  Chapter Seven

  That's When He Found Out Where True Power Lies

  It was funny and grotesque at the same time how Nathan had the name Britney Spears when he looked more like Adam Lambert. When Britney Spears came into the cell, the CO slammed the door behind him.

  “Hey, my name is Nathan Howard, but everybody calls me Britney.”

  They shook hands, and for the first time, Butterfly understood why everybody called him Bad Breath Britney. One whiff of his breath was enough to make Butterfly nauseous, but soon the feeling had passed as Butterfly sat down on his bed, which was the bottom bunk.

  Once Britney had taken off his uniform and put on his sweat suit, he rearranged the medicine cabinet to make room for Butterfly's things.

  “My name is Mariposa—I mean Butterfly.” Butterfly remembered what Buffy told her.

  “Mariposa is the same as Butterfly in Spanish.”

  “You know?”

  “Of course. I'm from San Fran, a very diverse place and the capital of gays or whatever you want to call it: Adam and Steve or Sodom and Gomorrah. I know everything you should and shouldn't do with guys in here. If you want to learn, we can play trivia, or I can give you the encyclopedic description.” Britney spoke a mile a minute and Butterfly couldn't help but laugh.

  “This cabinet over here is yours. I'll move all those cosmetics on my side. I hope you don't snore or fart in your sleep, because I do. I don't have any grippers left, and if the both of us are farting at night, this room will smell worse than Dante's Inferno come morning. And we're ladies, so windows always stay cracked come winter, spring, or fall.”

  Butterfly kept laughing. Buffy never prepared her for Britney being so funny.

  “Do you ever breathe when you talk?”

  “Nostrils baby. Inhale . . . breathe . . . suck . . . breathe . . . suck . . . inhale.” Britney rocked his head as if performing oral sex on somebody.

  “Top range, stand up count!” the CO screamed as two COs counted the inmates.

  “Stand up or they'll shake our cell down and take all our stuff.” Britney and Butterfly had to stand up quickly before they passed.

  After the COs passed, they relaxed and Britney took the time to run everything down to Butterfly.

  “I work at Unicor. My job includes boosting the factory manager's confidence. I literally sit behind a desk and tell Mrs. Bowers how beautiful she is and that her husband's a jerk for banging the pretty little secretary in Unit 3B. And the first chance you get, you need to find a job.”

  “I know. Somebody named Fraze told me already.”

  “Fraze is all right
. But I can help you get a job at Unicor as a production clerk. Mrs. Bowers will hire anybody I suggest. That is, if that's what you want.”

  “I don't know where I want to work, or if I want to work at all.”

  “Believe me, you don't want to work in the kitchen. They'll have you serving 1,200 inmates, sometimes twice a day. Talk about draconian measures . . . this is a real Gulag Archipelago.”

  “What?”

  Britney waved her off. “Don't worry about it. At Catholic school you get a good education on literature and priests.” Britney winked.

  “Nuh-hum, Buffy said you were crazy, but I couldn't have imagined that you were this crazy.”

  “You met Buffy the Vampire?”

  Butterfly looked confused. “I thought his name was Buffy da Body?”

  “Not with all the guys he's shredded around here with those horse teeth.”

  Butterfly laughed. “You're crazy!”

  “You don't have to lie. I know he was back there talking about me. Let me guess: Bad Breath Britney. But he doesn't know that Ray Ray doesn't think my breath stinks, and you bet not say anything.”

  “I won't.” Butterfly laughed.

  “Come on, let's go to chow. They're opening the doors.”

  “Besides, that's hardly my business, and a closed mouth never tells.”

  “Hopefully not.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sosa

  Hey fool, get up,” Michoacan said to Sosa, who was on the bottom bunk fast asleep. “Tis time to eat.”

  “I can’t eat right now. I’m in love with the pinche Morena deliciosa,” Sosa said as he sat up. It was better now to tell his partner, who was a part of the “Paisas,” which was a Spanish word loosely translated to mean “countrymen,” how he felt about Butterfly.

  Paisas were probably the biggest prison organization or cartel in federal prison. Their shot callers were called Reps or Representatives, and because they controlled all the illegal immigrants from Mexico, they generally always had numbers on their side. In federal prison, their numbers toppled more than 50% of the overall number of those incarcerated. And to be somebody as connected as Sosa was back at home with money carried great weight.

  Michoacan, who was 5-feet 5-inches tall, dark-skinned with long hair was somebody Sosa knew he could depend on if he ever needed to make a hit in jail. Michoacan just laughed about Sosa being in love with Butterfly. “Un culo al ano no hace dano.”

  They both laughed at their familiar saying. It was a saying they used to say getting a piece of ass a year couldn’t hurt.

  “Yeah, but the pinche ruka is a Morena. But I want to fuck her so bad I couldn’t sleep for two nights. Fuck the pinche myates. I’m going to get some of that sweet ass if I have to cause a riot.” Sosa was in a tunnel vision and nothing to the contrary could pull him from it.

  “No vale la pena,” Michoacan said, who loved Sosa because he was the boss, and he put plenty of money on his inmate account.

  “Fuck it—I don’t care. I got to have morena deliciosa.”

  Chapter Nine

  She Just Couldn’t Keep Her Eyes Off Him

  Butterfly was scared to death as she followed close behind Britney as they walked to the kitchen once their unit was called for chow. It took them a minute to get to the serving line, and once they got there, they regretted they had come.

  The line server plopped a scoop of runny mashed potatoes on their tray and a beef fritter that hardly looked edible and was hard and crusty.

  “Eat up, baby girl,” the server said to Butterfly, hoping he could get her alone one day.

  “Shut up, Terrence,” Britney said.

  “Why you putting my government all on front street like that? It's T-Wire.”

  “Whatever!” Britney said.

  They sat down at the table where guys from DC sat, and a couple of guys came over to meet Butterfly. They were all cool. Buffy had explained to Butterfly that DC guys were open-minded to having gay home boys.

  Butterfly couldn't eat the food because it looked disgusting and tasted bland. But Britney ate it as if nothing was wrong.

  “What?” Britney asked as Butterfly looked at him.

  “I can't eat this.”

  “It takes some getting used to. But if you want to skip it, I have some food in my locker. Wait—you just got here. You can go to commissary tonight, even though it's not your shopping day. You can get first time shopper. You have money on your account?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let's go see if you can shop tonight,” Britney said. Unbeknownst to him, Butterfly had a locker that was already semi-full.

  They went directly to the commissary, and when they got there it was crowded. Britney went to the head of the line, and he could hear all the sneers and shit-talking going on as they passed.

  Britney asked the CO at commissary if Butterfly could shop and he said yes. So they filled out a commissary list of all the things she wanted and handed it in. They had to wait a long time before Butterfly's number came over the display, and then they filled two laundry bags full of food. It was then that Butterfly knew she wasn’t going to have anywhere to store all the stuff.

  “What kind of ice cream you want?” the CO asked Butterfly. She wasn't that big on ice cream, so she asked Britney if he wanted one.

  “Cherry Garcia,” Britney responded. Butterfly went ahead and ordered two.

  Slim stood in the door waiting to be called for his commissary. He was dressed fly and his clothes were ironed to a crisp and his braids were twisted. He stood tall, and he always stayed clean and fresh with new shoes and new clothes that were purchased from the commissary. That's what he was known for, flossing, even though all the sweat suits & uniforms were the same.

  “Punk, ya betta stop looking at me for I give you a black eye,” Slim said to Britney.

  But Britney walked over to him, set the commissary bag on the ground, and got in his face.

  “You haven't heard what happened to Run when he tried to give me a black eye?”

  Slim didn't say anything; he turned his lips to the side of his face as if he wasn't hearing it.

  “FYI, I dislocated his jaw and broke his arm. Just let me know when you're ready to give me a black eye, because I love the spousal abuse. Break up to make up.”

  Everybody laughed, but Butterfly was scared out her mind with everybody gathering around to see if they were about to fight. She could only think what if Britney hit him in the mouth, or if Slim hit Britney in the mouth. Butterfly looked to see if there was anywhere she could hide. There wasn’t. But it was a stroke of luck they didn’t fight, because if they did, she wouldn’t know what to do. Butterfly sighed as she grabbed the receipt, signed it, and they exited the same door that Big Franco was entering.

  Franco waited till Butterfly and Britney went through and he looked at Butterfly's fine ass on the down low and was mad at himself that he had. I ain’t no fag, he thought.

  When they walked out, Butterfly saw the barbershop on the side of Commissary, and she wanted to say thanks to Black before heading to the unit. She didn’t know how all these political factions in jail would play out, but she was sure she didn’t want to be on his bad side.

  “Is that the barbershop Black works at?”

  “Yeah, and he should be in there,” Britney answered.

  They went into the barbershop. It was about eight to nine people in there, and for the most part, everybody was getting their hair cut. But in one of the chairs, somebody was braiding another person's hair. Butterfly didn't pay attention to anybody after she saw Atwater through the mirror where he had his back to her. And after a second, she remembered she had come to say thanks to Black.

  “What's up, home girl? What you been up to?” Black asked.

  He looked different from how she had remembered him from the other day when they both were in the holding tank. His matted afro was now laid down in braids, and he wore a gold chain, but he still looked as big as ever.

  “I'm okay. I just
wanted to say thanks for looking out and to see how you were doing?” Butterfly spoke to Black, but her eyes were glued on Atwater, who tried to act as if he didn't notice her.

  “Don't worry about that, you can thank me later. I want you to meet the homies over there. That's E and Berry.”

  Butterfly turned to see the two young brothers behind her, who looked like stone cold killers. Besides E having braids, and Berry having a short haircut, they appeared to be twins. They nodded. “Whenever you have a problem, holler at one of us.”

  Black turned and faced Britney. “Damn, what's up, Britney? You act like you can't talk.”

  “I can talk, Black. I just didn't want to say nothing because you have his hairline pushed behind his back. That's why I can't let anybody cut my hair.”

  “Bad Breath Britney always got something slick to say,” Berry said as they laughed.

  “Ain’t nobody going to cut your hair anyways, white boy. I don't even know how to cut white people's hair,” Black said as they laughed.

  “Those clippers cut my hair like they cut everybody else's, so stop it.”

  “You a sexy-momma, but all that shit you talking is gonna get your ass kicked,” E said playfully as they laughed.

  While they were clowning with Britney, Butterfly kept her eyes on Atwater. He was an item worth mentioning, brown-skinned with a Caesar haircut and smooth, creamy skin. It all looked rich and satisfying, and he had the look like he always smelled good. He was average height and in perfect shape.

  After a moment of the initial shock of seeing Butterfly and how he/she looked exactly like a girl, Atwater stole another glance at her and couldn't help but feel his blood rise. But he had to keep his eyes on Craze-zo's haircut.

  “Britney can back her shit up though,” Berry said.

  “I'd whip Britney's ass,” E said as they laughed.

  “Hey, homie, I'm with you. But I seen Britney in action. Believe you me—you don't want to have to live with the reputation of getting beat up by home girl,” Black said as they laughed.