Not even Black’s voice screaming, “Run! Run, B!” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he was being detained by five police and was rumbling with them. He was throwing blow after blow, trying to keep them away from Bianca, but it took two police to pry her hands from around Zebra’s neck.
When she snapped out of her trance, police were using their stun guns and Mace to try to calm Black down so they could get him in handcuffs. Meanwhile, they already had the silver bracelets on her.
CHAPTER 20
“Bianca Alexis Williams,” the old, crusty-looking Confederate judge said in a tone that sounded like he had a mouth full of chewing tobacco. “The Commonwealth of Virginia sentences you to twenty years in a state penitentiary. The Department of Corrections will take custody of you. May God have mercy on your soul.”
Bianca imagined her future sentencing. These were the only words that kept playing over and over in her head as she sat inside the paddy wagon, so disappointed in herself, waiting to be transported to jail.
Damn! She knew better! She had so much at risk. Why would she let this stupid, hating-ass stripper girl get to her like that?
“Bee, you over there?”
“Yeah, I’m over here,” she said through the walls of the paddy wagon. She was relieved that they were in the wagon together.
“You okay?”
“Hell, naw,” she said.
“I know, man. Look, I got some cash in my pockets. I’ma get us out.”
She had a lump in her throat. She was so angry with herself for acting on such impulse. She didn’t even want to say it aloud and give her words life, but the truth of the matter was that she was going to have to go up the road. There wasn’t going to be any bail, not today or any day. Her stupid, emotional ass was going to be shipped back to Virginia to face trial.
“I hear you. I appreciate you. What’s your name?” she asked Black.
“Mark Black.”
“No talking,” a deep-voiced police officer said. “Be quiet.” Then the door came open and the guard looked in. “Come on, ma’am.”
“Where am I going?”
“Booking.” He took her out of the wagon and into the police station. As soon as she walked into the compact police station, she heard a loud voice, “Ayo, Bee? Bee? Bee?”
She ignored it because she knew good and well nobody knew her there, but as much as she tried to block it out, the voice kept calling out, “Bee! Ayo! Bee—is that you?”
She turned, thinking, Fuck! Ain’t this a bitch? The fucking world is small after all.
“Dana, got-damn!” Bianca said with a smile, though she was cringing inside at the fact that she had run into someone she knew. This wasn’t good at all. She was surely going to be outed now.
“Girrrl, I thought that was you. I would know that walk from anywhere, even in handcuffs,” she said, getting closer and closer to Bianca.
Dana’s grandmother lived around the street from Grandmother Williams. Dana would come down to Virginia from New York City every single summer when they were little girls. The two would play together and have the best time. Dana would always promise to keep in touch when she’d go back to New York City, but she never did. Bianca had not seen Dana since she was thirteen years old, and a lot had happened since then.
The officer had her in the hall. “Stand right here until I get us an office.”
“No problem.” Bianca felt much obliged so that she could talk to Dana.
When Dana approached, Bianca leaned in and said what she wanted to say, but didn’t want to say in earshot of anybody else. “Um, girl, no disrespect at all, but I thought you were dead.”
Dana’s smirk was wiped away real quick. “Girrrrl . . . ” She paused. “You know I burned my daddy’s house down, and when they thought I was dead, I ran with it. I had so much bullshit in the streets, and, girl, I needed a clean slate. So I fled to South Florida and mixed in.”
“How long you been here?” Bianca asked, meaning Florida.
“Seven years.”
“Seven years, huh?” she thought out loud. She was interested, thinking if Dana could survive these mean South Florida streets for seven years, so could she.
“Yeah, and I got a got a bench warrant on some traffic bullshit.”
“Come on now,” the officer said to Bianca and took her into the small office.
The police officer placed Bianca in a chair, still in handcuffs, and then came back with her purse and placed it on the desk.
“Please, sir, can you take these off?” she said in a nice, calm voice, hoping the policeman would feel her pain.
“Wait a minute,” he said then left the room. He didn’t return for another twenty minutes. “Look, let me do this and then I will take them off, okay?”
“Al1 right, I guess.”
He asked her a series of questions, starting with, “What’s your name?”
“Bella Alexis Williams.” She spoke up without pausing. She knew her sister’s record was squeaky clean.
He stared at her to search her face to see if she was lying. “You don’t have an ID in your bag, so how can you prove to me that you are who you say you are?”
“I don’t know. I guess trust me, Officer Kane.” She read his nametag, and immediately he reminded her of the old school rapper Big Daddy Kane. Ella had always loved him when Bianca was a little girl. The officer was tall, built, with sleepy eyes, just like the hip-hop star.
“Trust you?” He let out a slight chuckle. “How do I know you are not a mass murderer?”
She smiled as she batted her eyelashes. “With a name like Kane, how do I know you are not a big cocaine dealer?”
He burst into laughter to cover up the fact that he was speechless and that she had a
