'How'd you pull that off?'
'You don't have to pay if you know the way,' the little man said.
I did three years on that bit. Not a day went by that the Prof didn't teach me something. When it was near my time to leave, he schooled me about how to act in front of the Parole Board. When the Board set a release date for me, he gave me the hard stuff. Straight.
'You're short now, schoolboy. You know what that means? Thirty days to wait, and you walk out the gate. They'll come at you now. Punks you backed down before, they'll get bold, knowing you don't want to fuck up the go-home. You got two plays: hide or slide.'
'Break it down.'
'First guy fucks with you, you can go to the Man. Take a PC for the rest of your bit.'
'No.'
'Yeah, that only works for the citizens. The guys who're never coming back here. That ain't you. So we got to slide. I got people here - leave it to me.'
'Which means?'
'Which means young blood is hot blood. You got to be cold if you want to grow old. Someone moves on you, tell them 'later' with your eyes, but don't do nothing right away, okay?'
'Okay, Prof.'
By the end of the week, it happened. A big fat jocker named Moore who'd moved on me early in my bit. I showed him a shank and he backed off. Went looking for easier game - there was a lot of it around. I was sitting at my table during chow when I felt him looking down at me.
'You lost four crates on the Series, Burke. When you planning on paying?'
'You're dreaming, pal. I never bet with you.'
'I say you did. You got till Monday. Then I want my four crates or I take it out in trade.'
I pushed my chair back, knowing everyone was watching. The Prof made a growling noise in his throat. I looked up at Moore.
'I'll see you before Monday,' I promised him, my voice under control.
He walked away, slapping five with one of his buddies. Late that afternoon, we were on the yard. A pair of bikers broke from their group and came our way. Monster bodybuilders both, their arms were so choked with muscle they had to cock their elbows to walk. I reached for my sock. A bluff - I wasn't carrying so close to parole, but I wanted to give the Prof time to run. He chuckled. 'Take a hike, Mike,' he said.
I wouldn't disrespect him by arguing. When I glanced back over my shoulder, he was deep in conversation with the gorillas.
Sunday morning, the cafeteria was buzzing when I came in. A black guy I knew slightly from boxing walked by my table. 'Right on, man,' he whispered. I lit a cigarette to mask my face.
Bongo pulled up a chair across from me, an old buddy from reform school. His trick was using his head as a battering ram in a fight. He'd done it too many times.
'Burke, you hear what happened in the weight room last night?'
I shook my head no.
'You know Moore? That big fat faggot? He decides he's going to bench-press four hundred and fifty pounds, can you dig it?'
'That's a lot of weight.'
Bongo giggled his crazy laugh. 'Too much fucking weight, man. His spotters musta been bigger punks than he was - they dropped the weight right on his chest.'
'What?'
'Yeah, man. Square business. The hacks found him on the bench. Crushed his chest like it was cardboard.'
When the Prof finally walked out the gate, I was there.
51
I lit another smoke, keeping the Prof alive in my mind. Belle stirred in her sleep. I patted her, saying, 'Ssssh, little girl,' but it was no good.
'I can't sleep, honey. What time is it?'
'About five.'
She pulled her body away from me, shifting her hips so they were against the headboard, her face still on my chest.
'Help me go to sleep,' she whispered, rubbing her face on my stomach.
'Belle . . .'
She squirmed lower, gently licking my cock, taking me in her mouth, making soft sounds to herself. I felt myself stir, but it was like someone else.
'Pull my pants down,' she said, taking her mouth off me.
I got them past her butt, but that was as far as they could go. A black ribbon across her thighs. I went semihard in her mouth.
'I don't . . .'
'Don't do anything, honey. Please. I'm lonely for you - you're far away. Let me just hold you till I fall asleep.'
She put her mouth back on me. In a minute, she was asleep again.
52
I patted her rump, drifting in and out. At least it was a hell of a lot more than time on my hands. Time. Back to prison, where time is the enemy and you kill it any way you can. It was the Prof who got me into reading books. The first time he laid it on me, I laughed at him.
'They don't write down everything in those books,' I said.
'Just because you locked in a dump, you don't have to be no chump, bro'. Pay attention. Hear the word. What you going to do when you hit the bricks, get a job?'
'Who'd hire me?'
'You gonna hook up with a mob - kiss some old asshole's pinky ring?'
'No way.'
'That's the true clue. You ain't Italian anyway, right?'
'I don't know.'
The Prof's face flashed sad for just a second. 'You really don't?'
'No.I did the State Shuffle. Orphanage to foster homes to the gladiator schools. To here.'
'And you always knew you were coming.'
'I always knew,'
'Okay, bro', then know this. You can't score if you don't learn more, got it? One way or another, you got to steal to be real. And I know what's in your schoolboy head: pick up the gun and have some fun. Right?'
I smiled at the little man, thinking about guns. And banks.
He grabbed my arm, hard. I was always surprised at the Prof's powerful grip.
'You got to go on the hustle, schoolboy. There ain't no fame in the gun game - play it tame, the money's the same.'
'I'm no hustler. I don't have the rap.'
'Man, I'm not talking about no Murphy Man shit. Or pimping off some little girl either. The magic word is 'scam,' my man. Use this time. Study the freaks in here. Watch them close. Learn. How. Things. Work. That's the key to the money tree.'
I started reading books just to show the Prof respect. It was his advice - it had to stand for something. I read it all. Everything I could get my hands on. When the prison library ran low, I joined the Book-of-the-Month Club. I
