AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Every code of ethics was broken in the intake room. Nevertheless, I wasn’t opposed to the process with the knowledge of its outcome.
“Alright. Put these back on and stand out there for me.”
Still complying without resistance, I followed every instruction thrown my way, until finally, I was shoved in a cell with twelve other niggas. They parted like the Red Sea, making room for me to travel freely. Berkeley was home. It didn’t matter which of its crevices I fell into, my last name rang bells. Loyalty, hustle, and heart had put our name on the map and kept that motherfucker there.
I combed through the faces of each one of them in search of one in particular, hoping my opportunity had come much earlier than anticipated. To my dismay, Nelson wasn’t among any of the men sharing a sweaty ass cell with me.
I pushed my back up against the right corner at the very back of the unit and began to mentally prepare for whatever was to come. The uncertainty made me anxious, but details surrounding the circumstances supplied me with the patience of a teacher in a toddler’s room at the daycare center.
Whether it took four months or four years to finish the mission, I wouldn’t drop a sweat. I had never stepped foot inside a jail. If I had any other options, I would die with that still having been the case. However, Nelson had a blown tire and a bullet in his shoulder. He didn’t get very far before he was apprehended and taken into custody after attempting vehicular homicide.
After patching him up, they sent his ass straight to jail. The likelihood of him being released was slim. He was out on bond for the last incident and his record was far from clean. They weren’t letting his ignorant ass go and I wasn’t paying a fucking soul to handle my shit for me. I had to get my hands dirty. This shit was very personal.
He’d crossed the line two too many times. There wouldn’t be another opportunity for him to do so. It was now my life’s mission to make sure of it.
“Domino!” an officer called as he neared the cell.
“Counsel.”
I’d been in police custody for three hours. I was almost certain my brothers had gotten a whiff of my pending charges before my body was off the ground of the gas station. Hearing that a lawyer was requesting my presence was not surprising, neither was it relieving.
Bodies scattered, leading me toward the exit path. When I made it to the bars, cuffs were waiting for me. I stuck my hands through and observed the officer confine my hands.
“Step back.”
Seconds later, the cell’s door opened slightly. I maneuvered, turning my body sideways in order to squeeze through the small opening. Freed from the corner of the common cell, I felt no better. Shit, I felt nothing. I was numbing a bit more with every passing minute.
The hallway we proceeded down after a few corners stretched for an eternity. Cold, concrete floors that were a medium shade of gray carved the path for us. Everything I’d ever imagined prison resembled; in actuality, it was worse.
Luckily, this place wasn’t my final destination. It was only temporary. Where I was headed next was still in question, but I knew that county was only a holding facility. Within seventy-two hours, if you weren’t bailed out, you were headed elsewhere.
“In here,” the officer instructed, pointing inside of the room we were approaching.
I stepped inside to find a man I’d only seen a time or two but never interacted with personally. Money was exchanged for services years and years ago while Mercer was fighting his legal battle. Communication wasn’t my goal in the meetups. I was simply paying the retainer to keep his ass in court for my brother.
“Uncuff him,” he demanded immediately.
I lifted my wrists and waited for his orders to be followed. The correctional officer jingled the large metal circle of keys until he found the one he was searching for. My wrists were freed shortly after he inserted the key.
“Privacy,” was his next request.
Obliging, the officer stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
The small council room that was furnished with only a table and two chairs was the most basic shit I’d ever seen. It was cold and bare, resembling the interrogation rooms in crime documentaries.
“Hi. Mr. Domino, I am Reginald Valdez, your lawyer. I will be representing you from this moment on.”
“Tell my brothers I’m good.”
The average-height, pot-belly attorney reddened as his head tilted in confusion. There was crust in his eyes, pairing with the wrinkles of his suit to confirm he was tucked away in bed when he’d gotten the call. As his mouth began to move, I counted the sleep lines on his face. There were six of them that hadn’t dissolved yet.
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t need representation.”
“Do you understand you’re facing federal charges, Mr. Domino?”
“I’m well aware of that.”
