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“Bye.” I had no idea what I’d just agreed to.
“That was yourfirsttime?” I couldn’t trust my ears.
Across the linen topped table from me, Jas nodded, expression as sober as I’d ever seen it. “My first and only time on a plane.”
I leaned into the table, grabbing my delicious wine. “I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you.”
“What you mean?”
“Were you nervous? Anxious? Wanted to shit your pants?” When Jas snorted silently, his head bounced back. “I know you had to be scared.”
“Scared?” He hummed, head seesawing from side to side. “I don’t think fear is the description I would’ve copped to back then. Now—at over thirty years old—I can say I was afraid of the unknown. But back then, we were taught not to fear anything. I was hyperaware of everything, except being in the air for the first time.”
“Your first time flying was to prison,” I considered it out loud.
“Crazy. Right?”
I nodded. “It is. I’m still finding it hard to believe you’ve done all that time. I’m not sure if I can even believe you’d break a law.”
Jas laughed, eyes narrowing. “I’ve broken more laws than shoes you got in ya closet.”
“Were you scared when you arrived? Where were you incarcerated again?”
“My first spot in theFEDs was in Colorado. I shouldn’t have been that far from family and friends, but they claimed there was no vacancy in the area. But God was still good to me because I landed in a low security facility. My conviction was non-violent, so I qualified. They could’ve put me where I had to lay ‘em hands and wild out every day. The cool thing was there was a team of doctors doing research in a few prisons across the region. I’ve got my inclinations as to how they targeted me but can’t confirm them.”
“Why did they target you?”
“Because of my history with violence.”
“But you said you were convicted of a non-violent crime.”
“Nah. But I had a record. Like I said, I think I was targeted.”
“Shit,” I whispered before taking a sip of my wine.
“Yup.”
“What did they do?” It was Jas’ turn to take a sip of his water, and I didn’t know if it was a stalling maneuver. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I wish there were no questions for you to ask. I wish we could be cool based on what I’ve given you inBrown Barista. But I know that ain’t, so…” He cocked his head in a shrug. “They manipulated my environment from the time I landed. They put me into cells and pods with defined populations. The first one was crazy violent. I was sure some of them niggas wasn’t even supposed to be in that prison. According to the COs, they were just holding them there until a bed opened in medium or high-security facilities. So, the first month or so, I was fighting.”
“Fighting?” I dipped my chin, needing clarity.
“Bustin’ niggas asses, trying to survive.”
My eyes grew wide, “You were fighting?”
This man pledged allowing me to get to know him, and so soon into this dinner—at what felt like a museum—he’d been keeping his word. Perhaps it was the distance we drove to get here or the delicious food or the superb wine. Either cause, I was not prepared.
Jas leaned into the table, brows pinched. “Witherspoon, violence is so ingrained into my DNA that it’s a parent to me. A toxic one, but an attending, teaching, and protective one.”
It was there. The raging storm in his eyes. The inner voice of mine.DANGER!A subsistence just as authentic as the virile scent of his cologne and body oils wafting into my nostrils and mouth.
And still, I uttered with seized lungs, “I can’t see it.” Snapping out of a trance, I corrected myself. “I mean, it’s clear you’re a bit edgy and…I’d even put my money on you in a street fight, but violent?” I shook my head.
“Good.” Jas pulled in a strong, audible breath from his nostrils then adjusted himself in his chair. In the dim, private dining room, he brought his elbows over the table and rested his chin over tented fingers. “This team followed me for years, even though I was only in Colorado for about a year and a half. After observing us in manipulated settings, they labeled and diagnosed us. Again, God was working on my behalf before I even knew Him. They realized I was prone to violence but with circumstance.
“There were four categories. Some in our group were violent only when in self-defense, meaning harm had to be brought to them. Some participated in violence when they wanted to dominate in a group setting. You know the saying. When you get thrown in the cell, make sure you mark your territory…divide and conquer?”
