Bolo and The Homies on Lockdown

21:15

Corrections Officer Johnson announced that it was time to lock it in for the night; Rikers Island was locking down for the night. Even though niggas had had all day to get what they needed for the lock-in, detainees started running to and fro, helter skelter, rushing to get their last fix or their last meal for the night to take to their individual cells. The dopefiends were rushing to get a bag or two of dope on credit until the next day. The weed heads were not as frantic in their search for sticks of marijuana but the urge to smoke cigarettes was ever present, and cigarettes made more money than anything in detention, jails or prisons.

Niggas were also in the prowl for pussy books (pornographic magazines like Hustler and Black Tail), to which they could jerk off to at night, especially if a female c.o. was working and was doing nightly rounds. But if the female officer didn't like you and/or you had a little dick, it was probable that she would put you on blast for everyone to know about your challenges in the reproductive area.

Upon entering the housing unit, Bolo easily walked through a crowd of nosey ass niggas who gave way before the brawn of this new detainee. There were a couple of other big niggas but none quite like him. Most niggas Bolo knew did not work out for their health - they worked out to impress niggas and bitches or just to look good, which was fine, but such superficial reasons with good results often led one to believe there was substance where nothing but fluff and feathers reigned. If niggas worked out for their health, they wouldn't smoke cigarettes or bud (often while working out) and they wouldn't shock their bodies with exorbitant amounts of alcohol.

Bolo worked out to have core strength - it just so happened that his physique responded so favorably to either weights or focused calisthenics. Many of his exercises were modeled after Marine and Navy Seal training and his hands were definitely to be considered weapons. He really should not have done what he did in Dorm 13 but oh well! In prison, it was usually better to be proactive than reactive, lest you found yourself healing from a sudden stabbing. Officer Johnson followed him up to his cell, not too usual a move but not wholly unusual, either. She liked Bolo already and she could tell that she would continue having a housing unit with fewer fights or other such incidents of violence. She had to show everyone that she was riding with Bolo and that he would be one of her (newest) champions.

And what a champion he was. They had explained what he had done in Dorm 13, so she knew he could take care of business when it boiled down to it. She called one of her little niggas upstairs, a young, fly little light skinned nigga.

"Hey Ms. J. What's up?" asked the little nigga at the door to Bolo's cell.

"Hey, Baby J. Um, we got somebody that could clean up this cell?" Baby J was observing Bolo locating, though not exposing, the places in which the homies had hidden their weapons in this hitherto empty cell. He understood that Bolo was a vet and adjusted his perception of the new "fresh meat" nigga to "Danger, Will Robinson."

"Ain't no thing, Ms. J, I'll do it. No need to call nobody."

"Okay, let's go downstairs and I'll get you some supplies out the bubble." Baby J turned to go back downstairs. Officer Johnson turned back to Bolo. "Mr. Johnson, they gotta clean this cell - would you mind stepping out a few minutes?"

"Anything for you, Ms. Johnson," Bolo responded sultrily.

"Boy, you are so fresh, and I'm old enough to be y-"

"Uuurrrk!" Bolo exclaimed, imitating a car breaking sharply. "That means so little nowadays." They both walked out of the cell with him still holding his property bag over his back. They leaned against the three-barred railing for a shirt minute.

"So you gon' put me on House Gang payroll, right?"

Officer Johnson laughed, not unkindly. "You broke?" she asked, also not unkindly.

It was Bolo's turn to laugh. "You funny 'n a muhfucka. Who broke? Psh!"

"Anyway, I'm going to see your account when I take you on a Special Commissary run on Monday."

"That's cool. So you gon' take me, huh?"

"Yes, sir, I'll be here. I'm the OIC for 10 Block."

"Where else you wanna go?"

"To yo house," she replied cheekily, laughing in a low tone. "Just remember that I'm old -" Bolo held up a hand.

"That's just fine, woman, I could savor the flavor." He licked his lips and looked her up and down suggestively. His back was to the OIC downstairs so there was little danger of any officer seeing anything he did to Officer Johnson. She was brown-skinned and he saw when she blushed, turning away with a smile and unconsciously brushing away her curls.

This nigga here BOLD! Officer Johnson thought. But he looked good and smelled good and was at least a bit educated... Yeah, he was going on the House Gang immediately. "What you in for, young un?" Bolo's face tightened up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't h-"

"Nah, it's okay. Really. Murder 2 and Man 1." Officer Johnson sobered right on up, grief and remorse filling her heart for not just this handsome young Black King, but all the other youths she had seen pass through these vicious doors. Rikers Island was the largest detention center in the United States, once given the assignation "The City's Island of The Damned," by the New York Times in the 1970's, according to Municipal Archives.

"Don't worry, baby," Officer Johnson consoled Bolo. "You gon' beat that case, I promise you. I'ma put you in my prayers all night long." Bolo gave her a small smile and a nod as response to her encouragement. "Besides, you gotta take me on a cruise to Aruba."

His smile widened. "That's a promise, Ms. J. That way you could be putting me in you 'all night long.'"

"All night long, all night, all night, all night long, all night, all night..." Officer Johnson sang a snippet of the famous Lionel Ritchie song "All Night Long." Bolo's eyebrows almost flew off his face. She laughed and walked away. Her ass was so far and round that her belt did that scrunchy thing behind and in the middle. Mos Def had said it best: ass so fat that you could see it from the front. She kept looking back at him and blushing as she went downstairs and took Baby J out to the bubble so she could give him some cleaning supplies. Everyone in the housing unit understood that there was a new sheriff in town; but would he be a tyrant, or benevolent? Baby J returned with a mop and bucket, wheeling it to the back of the housing unit, at the bottom of the stairs that went up to the second floor. Inside the mop bucket strainer was a smaller container in which was a spray bottle in which was the omnipresent and mysterious pink cleaning liquid, and several small and square packets of a grainy blue floor cleaner powder. The latter dissolved in water so it was easy and no fuss to use.

Baby J called another nigga, middle-aged and going to fat, to take the mop and bucket upstairs and begin mopping Bolo's cell, 35. There was a small utility closet to the front that the seedy older nigga rolled the mop bucket into and half-filled it with water from a tap. He dumped the square blue packets into the water and wheeled the mop back down the small upper tier walkway to Bolo's cell and thoroughly mopped the cell, spraying the pink product everywhere, wiping down surfaces and leaving it smelling a lot fresher than before. When he finished, he took the mop and bucket back downstairs to what Bolo knew to be Baby J's cell from silently observing from up top. There were a few niggas, certainly Bloods, trying to smoke in Baby J's cell on the low. They must have just finished because three niggas, plus Baby J himself, came out of the cell. The older nigga who had just mopped Bolo's floor also mopped Baby J's cell's floor. He repeated this process several times, mopping the floors of all the homies that had been in Baby J's cell. Bolo began hating the homies in the housing unit but he reminded himself that he just got there, he didn't know what the situation was so he shouldn't be quick to judge the homies. Bolo watched everything and everyone downstairs standing not too far from his cell. He was interested to see how they would get the weapons out of his cell. The homies, he saw, were trying to build up the courage to approach him, because of course, when one becomes familiar one no longer fears the unfamiliar.

Unless, occasionally, one gave them something to fear.

It was suddenly 15:15 and time to lock in for the facility wide Count. Shit, the entire Rikers Island Count. Bolo's gate and the gate of only a handful of others buzzed open at the end of the Count period (during this afternoon Count period, officers changed shifts - new officers would be on shift for the evening, and if the A officer from the morning shift stayed on, she or he would become the "B" officer in the OIC for the evening shift).. Officer Johnson was so gangster that, even though she was doing a double and had to be the one mostly "on the floor," meaning helping detainees in the block, she stayed in the OIC as the A officer. She came out when she wanted to come out and a lieutenant, captain or deputy superintendent with less time in than her, had to follow her instructions, de facto, while proffering their own ideas of resolving whatever the conflict, de jure.

Bolo prepared his bed with the set-up he had been given at Intake and lay on his hard ass and thin ass cot with his eyes open the entire Count, thinking about nothing in particular. When his door buzzed open, he gratefully arose and went out and downstairs. Baby J and the three homies he had been with earlier, as well as a big, type slow ass nigga named Zeus, were out and about also. Baby J called Bolo to his cell and he stepped inside.

The other homies sort of hanged around the front of the cell, not blocking but not completely liberating the entrance either.

"What's good, five?" Baby J gave him a hand dap and tried to turn it into throwing up the Bloods hand sign but Bolo held their hands in place.

"I'm retired," Bolo said. An air of confusion materialized around him and the other Bloods listening to the conversation. Their looks said it all: why would you do that? I'm bangin' for life! Well, some did make it all the way in life, but the majority would eventually "drop their flags" and leave gangbanging alone. They just didn't know it yet. The only thing about retiring, tho: enemies made while gangbanging remained enemies for life. Niggas would never hear that "I'm retired" shit if they somehow had the drop on you or not. But for these niggas, it would take another decade or so to sink in that very few people gangbang "for life"!

"I-ight, that's cool, fool." Baby J just backhandedly dismissed Bolo's retirement proclamation. "Check it, though - we used to use your cell as the stash-"

"Change the cell or hold your own weapons," Bolo interrupted.

Baby J's eyebrows furrowed. "Homie, I don't think you understand-"

"I understand just fine, nigga. We speaking English, ain't we? Get y'all shit da fuck outta my cell." Bolo walked out through the gathered homies to make some calls from numbers he knew off his head. As he got closer to the small area where the phones hung on the wall and under the elevated part of the bubble that looked into 10 Block, Officer Johnson appeared in the glass window and smiled at him. He looked up at her and smiled back, then held up his hand, his thumb to his ear and pinky finger extended near his mouth, letting her know he was making a call. "I'm about to call Mrs. Johnson." She began nodding her head, then froze.

Bolo spinned around but no danger lurked behind him. The homies and some two Latin Kings were moving around, cleaning up and setting chairs designated for certain gangs and people in the right places. When Bolo turned back to Mrs. Johnson, she had on the ill stone face. "Yo what's wrong, Ms. J.? What I do?" She turned her back on him and walked away.

Zeus was at the gate with a muscular White guy who was his helper and one of the Spanish niggas. They were all wearing thin plastic food serving gloves and disposable food serving hats. The other Spanish nigga was now in the bathroom with his COVID mask - apparently, his task was cleaning the bathroom area and that was that. There was a small kitchen area, a proper kitchenette, connecting 10 Block and 8 Block towards the front and to the side (wherein the officers of the bubble could look down into and see what was happening). It was to the right of 10 Block's entrance, just to side of the three phones on the wall, and to the left of 8 Block's entrance, past their phones as well. Both kitchenette entrances were to the respective sides of their phone areas.

As far as the three phones were concerned, niggas just had to be conscious of the needs of others and not use the phones excessively. The front door of 10 Block clicked open loudly (as usual) and Zeus, along with both of his helpers, stepped out to roll the delivered food carts into the house. The B Officer in the OIC usually oversaw the counting of the food trays by the food server staff. As Bolo was dialing the number, Officer Johnson came into the housing unit, ostensibly to supervise the food handling but she stood near Bolo with her arms crossed attitudinously. He hanged up the call and held up the phone questioningly.

"Mrs. Johnson?" Officer Johnson asked. And everything became clear to Bolo. He put his head down, sighing.

"Is that what you come storming in here for? Okay, hold on a second." He dialed the number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ma, how you doing?" Officer Johnson's eyes started widening in comprehension when she heard Bolo's tone. She held her hands together, silently pleading with him to forget about the whole situation.

"My son. I'm fine, thank you. Are you still in that wretched hellhole?"

"Yes, Ma. I'm still locked up, but at the very least I've made some few friends who somewhat care about me."

"Well, that's good, baby."

"As a matter of fact, one of those friends is right here. Would you please say hi, Mom?"

"Okay, baby."

Bolo handed the phone to Officer Johnson who was shaking her hands close to her body. She had to take the phone, though. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Johnson. This is Officer Johnson at the detention facility with your son."

"Oh, you're a 'Johnson' also? Let's better be careful that you ain't family, baby," Bolo's mother joked. "That would certainly be awkward at the family reunion." They both laughed. "But on a serious note, you make sure you take care of my baby now, ya hear?"

"I most certainly will, ma'am. You have a nice day, Mrs. Johnson."

"A better one to you, Officer Johnson." Officer Johnson handed Bolo back the phone with a chagrined look. Bolo, in return, smirked wryly.

"Come to the bubble when you finished," said Officer Johnson. Bolo nodded and then Officer Johnson turned to ask Zeus if everything was okay on her way out of the housing unit.

"She seems like such a good girl, Caleb," Bolo's mother said to him when he got back on the line.

"Ma, you say that about literally every girl I introduce you to."

"Well, but my son picks some really good girls, right?" Memories came to him of girls he had just met and introduced to his mom who, five minutes or so later, these same "good girls" would be gobbling his balls in his room.

"Uh... Hmm... Sure, Ma, whatever you say." He spoke to her for a few more minutes before they hanged up. Zeus and his helpers were in the kitchenette with the servers from 8 Block preparing to serve the detainees of their respective housing units. Suddenly, Cormega came through the kitchenette area to 10 Block. Everybody moved out of his way and he even waved to Officer Johnson in the bubble. She waved back and pointed to her watch, then held up ten fingers. He had ten minutes to do his thing and bounce. Cormega gave her the thumbs up.

"What's good, homie?" Cormega asked, dapping Bolo.

"Ain't shit, big homie. Just finished kicking it with Mom dukes."

"On the CHOW! On the CHOW! On the CHOW!" Zeus called out in the block, in a thunderous voice. Officer Johnson clicked open the doors to everyone in the housing unit. This was where you saw damn near every detainee, except for the few ones who did not need to eat this kind of food. Niggas came out and lined up to the right at the bottom. Many had their cups to get some of the sweet and cold ass Kool Aid in the container just to the side of the kitchenette area, set on a trolley. Each detainee would be given a tray, take juice or not, and keep it moving until they finished eating and then the trays would be collected. Some days, everyone knew what the menu was, like today, Friday. Everyone knew it was either Friday fish at night (two thin pieces of GMO fish), or, if fish had been served in the afternoon, cheese and bologna sandwiches with a bag of scanty chips and an apple or orange.

Every Thursday afternoon was turkey Tetrazzini, every Monday afternoon it was some form of soy chili. If a holiday came, some small "special" treat would be served for the lunch meal but, without a doubt, the evening meal that day would be cheese and bologna sandwiches for dinner.

This was why Commissary was so important. Bolo would thug it out these few days until Monday. Baby J ran up to Cormega and saluted the big homie, just happy to be in such royal company.

"Ayo, Baby J. Lemme holla at you, fool. This nigga right here is the big homie's nephew, Bolo, I'm sure you've found out by now. He used to bang, but he retired. Before you even turned Blood, up top?

"Down low, big homie," came the expected response from Baby J.

"So he is to be treated with the utmost respect. I don't wanna hear nothin' about nothin'! Let a nigga try him anyway. Y'all gon find out. But a nigga touch him is like a nigga touch me!" Baby J nodded seriously, understanding that the new nigga had upper echelon connections and had to be treated not like, "Danger, Will Robinson," but more along the lines of: Houston, we have a problem! "But true story, I won't even have to do nothin'. Like I said, let a nigga try him. He'll find out."

"It ain't gon' be no problem, big homie."

"Yeah. It shouldn't be." The other Bloods in the house came and saluted Cormega and, in a group, the latter repeated the message he had just told Baby J. There was no problem, they said, and went back to their meals or other occupations. "Yo, Bolo, I'ma send you a bowl of food and a soda in a bit. I'll holla back tomorrow."

"Good looking, Mega Man. I appreciate it."

"Deuces, homie."

"Deuces." Cormega gave him dap and went back to his Block, trading waves to Officer Johnson. Bolo tapped on the glass of the OIC and was buzzed out of the housing unit. When he came into the bubble, Officer Johnson was sitting down. "I'm sorry about that, Johnson," she told him.

"It's okay, Ms. Johnson," Bolo replied.

"I put you on House Gang as OIC cleaner. So, when I'm around, just do some small cleaning, once a day... If you okay with that?"

"I got no problem with that," said Bolo. She stood up to walk past him on her way out of the bubble. He rubbed his dick on her fat ass as she passed and she slowed down, enjoying the feel of his big dick on her backside. She introduced Bolo to the other two 8 Block officers, the OIC on that side of the bubble being Officer Hendricks, an easygoing tall brown-skinned nigga. The entire time he was being introduced to the 8 Block OIC, Bolo was standing behind Officer Johnson, squeezing her ass. After the salutations, he left the OIC with her, who first buzzed Officer McKinney out of 10 Block (Officer McKinney was the real A officer but, with Johnson around, she played the secondary B role). McKinney had gone to do rounds while everyone was eating, closing all the doors except those of House Gang she had on a list she consulted every so often as she walked. Bolo and Officer Johnson just stood together at the entrance to the housing unit, talking about a whole lot of nothing, feeling each other out, getting to know one another and starting to become accustomed to each other's presence.

There were two t.v.'s in every housing unit, and in 10 Block, each was attached to either side of the bottom of the second tier walkway. The Bloods and the majority of Black detainees had control of the t.v. on the le. The Almighty Latin King and Queen Nation (ALKQN), along with a few Dominican Power (DP) and the majority of the Spanish niggas, had control of the t.v. on the right. There was a monthly t.v. schedule for each t.v., agreed upon by the administration and the detainees on the sides of the walls upstairs and downstairs. It was just another way of keeping detainees occupied, even though there was a Law Library run, a General Library run, a Recreation run, Clinic run, Visits, Chapel run, Mosque run, etc., etc. And the homies and other gangs would meet up at several of these runs in their numbers.

Just then, Officer Johnson was called back to the OIC. Bolo went and sat behind the crowd of Bloods and Bloods supporters (called "bulletproof" because they banged -put in work- for the Bloods and could not be touched by other Bloods, allegedly). He sat at a table where some neutral niggas were sitting. There were round, midsized wooden tables painted different solid colors. The Bloods had a few red tables and a few green ones. The yellow and blue tables were used by the ALKQN and other DP members. People who were neutral sat around at the back. Chairs abounded so people always had a place to sit, or something to knock a nigga upside the head with if shit popped off in the block.

Officer McKinney knocked on the glass for Bolo and pointed to the front door. She buzzed him out and a nigga presumably from 8 Block was waiting at the OIC with a pillowcase full of different foods, hygiene products and snacks with which to get him by ti Monday. Bolo thanked the nigga, took the pillowcase and went and dumped out the contents onto his cot. He took a quick glance at the items and then went back downstairs to return the pillowcase. A large bowl of food and a large Sprite were waiting for him when he returned to the OIC. That first day flew by, and finally it was time to lock down the facility for the night.