Taboo 2:. Yoshe

his head briefly, Anwar noticed the long slice on the side of his face.

      “Yo, what happened to your face, man? Who cut you like that?”

      Scooter’s hand went for the keloid scar on his face. “Yo, this dude snuck me when I was upstate,” Scooter lied. “In the Green,” he added, referring to the Greenhaven Correctional Facility.

      Anwar shook his head and inspected the scar. “Damn! Somebody got your ass real good, too.”

      As Scooter continued to run his mouth, Anwar tuned him out and watched his surroundings. He saw a few females walking in and out of the receiving room, which was where inmates were held, but one in particular caught his eye. She came in there to drop off a worker to the intake officers who were working with the new admissions. Anwar watched as she sashayed across the intake in her fitted uniform pants.

      Scooter fell back against the wall as if he had seen a ghost. “Did that bitch walk out yet?”

      “What bitch? And why are you actin’ all paranoid and shit?”

      “I’m talkin’ about the female officer who just walked in here and dropped an inmate off.”

      Anwar looked around. He didn’t see her anymore so he figured she had walked out already. The pen that they were sitting in was toward the back, and she would not have been able to see them unless she walked over there.

      “She’s gone. You had a problem with her, son?” Anwar asked.

      “I ain’t really had no problem with the bitch. That chick is one of Phillips’s homegirls. I don’t need them broads to know that I’m in here again if I can help it. I hope they don’t put me in Five North!”

      Anwar shrugged. “Who gives a fuck about where you go, son? This is jail. Plus, it’s no way that you can hide from two broads that work here.”

      Scooter wiped the sweat from his bald head with the back of his hand, while Anwar gave him a strange look.

      “Why was you avoidin’ that chick anyway?” Anwar asked.

      Scooter sighed and leaned his head against the wall. He closed his eyes.

      “Her name is Miss Howell,” Scooter said. “Don’t you remember her? She works in Five North.”

      “Miss Howell? That’s who that was?” Anwar asked, looking towards the door.

      “Why? Do you know her?” Scooter asked.

      Anwar folded his arms. “Yeah, yeah, I remember that broad from Five North,” Anwar lied. He knew of her, all right. He had just never seen her in person. “She’s cool, I guess,” he said. “I don’t really know that much about her.”

      Scooter smirked. “Yeah, that’s the bitch that was fuckin’ with that dude, Rah. You know, Rasheed? Rasheed with the locks in his hair? He’s from the Stuy?”

      “Nah, I can’t say that I know that cat,” Anwar replied, telling another lie.

      Of course I know Rasheed. That’s my brother from another mother, he thought. Curious to know what Scooter had to say about Rasheed, Anwar played along with the man. “I probably know him by face, though. Why? What happened?” he asked.

      Scooter leaned in closer to Anwar. He wanted to make sure that no one heard what he had to say.

      “Well, that CO bitch, Miss Howell, is Rasheed’s baby’s mother!”

      “Is that right?” Anwar replied, although he knew that already.

      “That’s right! He was fuckin’ with Miss Howell around the same time I was dealin’ with my broad, Miss Phillips. He was in love with that chick, too.”

      “I could see that happenin’. She seems like she’s an official chick.”

      Scooter sucked his teeth. “Please! Nobody can’t tell Miss Howell that she ain’t the flyest shit poppin’! Bumass bitch! These broads ain’t shit, B! That’s why I treat ’em the way I do!”

      Anwar didn’t know that the man before him was living a “downlow” homosexual lifestyle. Scooter had sex with women sometimes, but he actually preferred men.

      Anwar looked around at the officers at the desk. After being subjected to Scooter and his excessive talking, being alone in that “Why Me?” pen wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

      “Well, I’m the one shot that bitch-ass nigga!” Scooter blurted out of nowhere.

      After he said that, Anwar officially marked him as a clown. One of the things that a person shouldn’t do while he’s in jail is snitch on anyone, especially himself. Anwar thought that Scooter might have known better, but it was obvious that he didn’t.

      “What bitch-ass nigga? Who are you talkin’ about?” Anwar asked with an annoyed look on his face. He just wanted Scooter to keep quiet at this point.

      “I’m talkin’ about Rasheed. When I was locked with him, like, three years ago, he got me set up. Just before he was about to go home, he got these two Blood dudes, Pretty and Valentine, to try to cut me. I don’t know why, because me and Rah ain’t never had no problem with each other; at least, I thought we didn’t. So one day, I’m in my hood, mindin’ my business, and who do I see? I see Rasheed! I went and pulled a gun out of my stash and capped one in his ass!” Anwar realized that Scooter probably had gotten that cut when he was on Riker’s Island after all. He could see Rasheed being responsible for that.

      “So, is that the reason you’re in here now? Because you shot bitch-ass Rasheed?”

      “Nah, this is for some other shit,” Scooter replied.

      Anwar shook his head and smirked. He then got up and walked toward the front of the pen. An intake officer walked by. Anwar gestured for him to walk toward where he was standing.

      “When y’all told me that I had to go in that pen by myself earlier, I didn’t want to. But look, man, this motherfucker behind me hasn’t stopped talkin’ since he got in here. Personally, I don’t want no dealings with that dude. Could you just put me in that pen over there, my man? Please. Damn!”

      The officer glanced at Scooter, who was running his mouth with someone else in the pen.

      “Wow!” exclaimed the officer. “That’s that snitch, Abrams. I don’t blame you, man. Nobody wants to deal with that dude anyway.”

      The CO looked at an empty pen and took that assortment of keys off his belt. He opened the gate for Anwar to walk out.

      “Yo, B!” Scooter called out. “Yo, where you goin’?”

      Anwar sighed loudly. “See what I mean, man?” The CO who took him out of the pen laughed.

      After a few hours passed, Anwar lay down on the hard bench in the pen. He blocked the loud walkietalkies and the other noises that were associated with jail. Scooter had him stressed out. What was only supposed to be a routine traffic stop had turned into an arrest, then turned into him being sentenced to ninety days on Rikers. Now that Scooter had decided to confide in him about the shooting of Rasheed, Anwar had no other choice but to finish him off. After what Rasheed had done for him back in the day, he owed his friend that much.

      Chapter 6

      Rasheed

      Two days later, in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Rasheed parked his black Range Rover on Halsey Street. He sighed as he thought about the good memories that were near and dear to him. Feeling a little nostalgic, Rasheed gathered up enough strength to walk to the back of his truck and remove his luggage. Listening to the rustling of the tree leaves, he took in the spring air while listening to sounds of the city. The city was so different from the south, and he knew that, after this time, he wasn’t going to trade it for anything. With the exception of his brother, Karim, who he loved more than life itself, his family was in Brooklyn, and this was where he was going to stay.

      As