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I relaxed, a little.
“My name is Theodore Brown, but all da folks calls me Tappy,” he extended his hand.
“Samuel Valentine,” I responded as we shook hands.
“I’m just trying to get by so if you don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. I am finna show ya how to make up dis bed cause if da’ Warden come in here for ‘spection and yer’ bed ain’t right, then we both is in trouble. Ya, feel me?”
I nodded.
“A’ight, so look…”
Tappy took me through a short demonstration of how the bed should be made.
“Take dis’ sheet and spread it out over da’ whole pad. It should hang over some on the bottom corners, so you can do the diagonal fold on the corners. Warden don’t want to see no wrinkles or nothing loose…”
I followed his instructions and made my bunk look exactly like his. I didn’t think anyone cared what beds looked like in prison but apparently, it’s a big deal. I put my things away in the space Tappy designated for me. Then I followed him to the dining hall while he explained the rules to me.
“Look straight ahead. Don’t talk ’less they talk to you. Watch these young cats ’cause dey is always tryin’ to find someone to use to prove they is the big men in da prison. You seem like you got ya head on straight, so stay low and out of trouble. You can either do hard time or smooth time. When I first came couldn’t nobody tell me nothing. I stayed in trouble. Now, look at me. I’m an old man and ain’t got nothing to show for it. Don’t be like me.”
Tappy was a huge help. He made sure I understood how things went and who to stay away from.
I was keeping to myself during the day, and at night, I was telling Tappy about all of the new technology like wireless home telephones and cell phones. He said he had been in jail since he was my age. He was sixty-five years old. He was convicted of armed robbery and sentenced to eight to forty years. Eight to forty doesn’t even make sense, but that was the sentence. He had served forty-six years, and he’s never been up for parole.
I was at Pineville for a couple of weeks before I had my first commissary day. Commissary day was the day the inmates were allowed to go to the “store” and purchase snacks and comfort items to make life a little more bearable. During our last phone conversation, my mother told me she’d put some money on my books, so I was looking forward to seeing what I would be able to purchase. Tappy warned me that commissary day was usually the day the jackers came out. Those dudes who don’t have money, so they will rob you for what you get.
“Keep your eyes on the swivel, ya feel me? Don’t trust nobody in here cause we all is criminals,” Tappy explained as I stepped out the cell headed to the Commissary.
I had enough money in my account to get everything I wanted and needed. The commissary workers loaded all my goods into a white pillow case, and I carried it back to my cell. When I arrived back on my floor, two inmates were blocking the entrance to my cell. I’d seen them on the yard, but we hadn’t had any interactions. Tappy told me they were trouble, so I stayed away from them. I knew why they were in front of my cell, but I tried to get by them anyway.
“Excuse me,” I said attempting to walk between them.
They didn’t budge.
“I see you went to the commissary today,” the taller of the two dudes spoke up.
I gripped my pillowcase tighter and cocked my head to the side.
“Dis nigga can’t talk or something?” The shorter one asked.
“I’on know if he can talk, but he heard what the fuck we just said,” the taller one answered.
This was it. I knew it was. This was my first test. These niggas were coming to take my shit, and I wasn’t going to let them. They were having a conversation, but I wasn’t paying attention because I was deciding who I was going to hit first. I settled on taking the shorter of the two out first because he seems like he was faster than the taller one.
“Nigga you ain’t hear us ask you a question?”
After making my decision about who was going down first, I answered his question.
“Naw, cause I don’t know neither one of y’all and I ain’t no expert at nothing in this bitch to be answering no questions.”
“Well how about this, give us your shit now,” the taller one pointed to my pillowcase, “and all the rest of the shit you will get from the commissary, or we gone take it and kick your ass in the process.”
I chuckled, moved my bag to my left hand and made sure I had a tight grip. No one was taking my shit. Over my dead body.
I calculated correctly, the shorter one jumped first. I caught him with a right jab to the jaw, he went down. The taller one swung, missed and ended up right next to his friend on the floor.
“Hey,” Tappy rushed,” get in here ‘fore the guards come, hurry up!”
I quickly stepped over the two sleeping inmates and moved into my cell.
