S1Ep9: Chickens Home to Roost

Obsidian “Black” Taylor

“It’s a good deal, Mr. Taylor.”

Good deal, my ass.

They tryna give my black ass ten years.

The shit they got me for, all them counts of different kinds of fraud, I should be in jail for the rest of my life. The fact they’re offering ten years makes me feel like their case isn’t as strong as I thought.

My lawyer was surprised the number was so low.

That makes me wanna take it to trial.

But if I lose, and since I’m a Black man that has to account for how much money I have, so I probably will lose, I really will spend the rest of my life in club fed.

My lawyer’s fidgeting at my kitchen table, fiddling with his tie and shit. He’s a junior partner at Park&Wyatt, one of the best I heard.

I have the bread to afford Roe himself. Well, not me personally, but L does. I told him not to.

I could get Rowan Wyatt for free if I wanted. And he’d fasho get me off.

A favor I’ve held onto for years. And even though I’m staring at life, I don’t feel like this is big enough to cash in a favor from a muthafucka like Rowan Wyatt.

“I’m not spending my thirties in prison. If you get them down to under five, I’ll think about it.”

He sighs, but nods. I recognize the dog in him, which is why I picked him. This shit a challenge for him, and if anyone can do it, he can.

But I’m not even tryna spend five years away. I’m tryna get a slap on the wrist. A year, at most.

Them white boys get away with white collar crime all the time.

“I’ll call with an update,” he says, before I walk him outside. He’s suited up, hair slicked back. A real Chad type of white boy, but he don’t run off to his car. He was fidgety because he know I don’t wanna go to jail. Not ‘cause Black people scare him.

Still, he ain’t a shark. He not Roe.

L pulls up as soon as my lawyer pulls off, and I hop in his whip.

My ankle monitor confines me to the city, not just my crib. It’s just I don’t be wanting to go nowhere foreal.

Leaving the house makes me more liable to run into She-She, and then I’ll have to add witness tampering and murder to my list of charges.

“What the lawyer say?” L asks as we begin to fight the afternoon traffic.

“He wanted me to take the ten. I said come back when he have five.”

“And you gon’ do five?”

“I’m not trying to,” I sigh, looking out of the window.

“I’on know why you don’t trade up to Roe. It ain’t nothing–”

“That money is for Miri and Butta. We ain’t wasting it on this shit, bro. I mean it. Five years not bad, and it’s the feds. Way better than prison-prison.”

“Yo ass ain’t built for that shit,” he chuckles, trying to break the heaviness in the car.

L and I been locked in since me and Onyx first moved next door to him. We ain’t ever been apart, and silly us, we thought getting into shit like this and not gangbanging or jackin’ niggas would keep us out of jail, too.

Neither of us counted on a bitch snitching on me. And only me.

“He get it down to five, maybe I can do two with good behavior. Be out before we know it. Something to think about.”

L grunts, ending the conversation. We pull into the parking lot behind Matthew Henson Park and get out.

Practice is still going, but it’s a fun distraction watching my young bulls ball out.

As soon as we round the benches, some hoodrat is yelling, and I kiss my teeth.

“You embarrassing as fuck,” I scowl as L and I climb the bleachers and slide next to Sachi.

She rolls her neck and eyes in tandem and scoots down the row. I scoot down, too, until our legs are touching, and throw an arm around her.

“Move, nigga. Shouldn’t you be at home? Yo shit finna beep any second.” She screws her face up at me as she begins to try to get from up under me, but I’m not going anywhere.

“Stop, that tickles,” I taunt her, chuckling when I see smoke come out of her ears.

She gives up fidgeting when Miri and Franco come and wave at us before going back to practice.

Sachi screams extra loud for no reason, even when I tighten my arm around her neck. L laughs at us, like he always does, and when practice is over, she socks me in my stomach before standing.

“Can you keep Franco this week? I gotta cover for one of my girls.” 

“Yeah, if you hook me up with a new winter coat.”

Sachi cuts her eyes to me, and my lips quirk.

“I was askin’ L.”

“Yeah, but you know L be working, so Franco gon’ be at my crib until his bald headed mama get off. I wear an extra-large, and I like money green.”

Sachi purses her lips until they’re in a thin line. “Oooo, I can’t stand yo black ass. COME ON, FRANCO!” She stomps off the bleachers and toward the parking lot.

Franco shakes his head at his mama before dapping up Miri and scurrying off so he doesn't get left. The rest of the kids are all drinking water and talking to their coach.

“I know you hit before,” L mutters.

I screw my face up. “Sachi ghetto ass can’t come near me with a ten-foot pole. And I’m fasho not fuckin’ with local bitches after She-She.”

“Yeah, aight nigga. Onyx gon’ kick yo ass if she see how y’all carry on.”

I wave him off as we stand. “She know that girl annoying as fuck. And as ghetto as she is, she uptight than a muthafucka. It’s my civic duty to get that stick out her ass.”

“I bet you tryna replace it with something else, too.”

My phone vibrates before I can reply.

Unknown: Babe, please. Can we talk?

I block that number and delete that thread like the others I’ve gotten.

I ain’t worried about no bitch right now. If I ever get out of this jam, I’m getting me a white girl.