A story about Romeo Valencio: Tits for Tat

[romeov]

Sean Constantine slides his body against the wall of the stone grey building. It was hot outside, and his uniform stuck to his body. He wiped his brow of sweat before continuing a conversation with his friend Mitchell Wallace. “So, Mitch, what happened then?”

Mitchell relished in the suspense his story made. Him and Sean became fast buddies in the cell block and frankly, Sean helped provide enough protection for Mitch from some of the less than friendlier natives of the prison. Mitch looks to his sides before he eyes Sean and continues his tale, “Alright, so Bob is sitting at his table when Otis Lane comes around. You know Otis?”

“Shit, Mitch, what man don’t know of that nigger?”

“S’what I’m saying. So, Bob is eating his chicken when Otis grabs his apple. Do you know what that stupid fuck does next? WHAM! Cracks his plate over Lane’s head.”

“He’s gotta be pissed.”

“Ain’t the half of it. Dooze, he gets up from his table.”

Sean looks quizzically at Mitch for a second, trying to understand what is going on. “Why’s Dooze sticking his neck out between those two niggers?”

“Sean, you know Dooze can’t stand Otis. That nazi bastard was trying to get his while he could. So, he jumps up, throws an apple straight at Otis’ head. Bob doesn’t know what he’s doing before Otis’ boys charge him and pin him on the ground. Now Bob’s in the IR, broken nose, two ribs, and his bed, It’s next to Otis’”

“Otis’ in the IR?”

“Dooze is the nurse.”

Sean whistles at that revelation as he says, “He’s gotta be doing to head nurse to swing a gig like that. I wouldn’t want to touch those AIDS fags, but to get so close to Otis like that. What the hell is anyone in that place thinking.”

Mitch chuckles before he continues, “They’re thinking Dooze’ll get rid of Otis and maybe put an end to his group of nasties. You know Otis’ boys can’t stay out of solitare. They’re always going buck wild on something. Guards stepped in before Dooze could get within breathin’ distance of Otis.

As the graying bus pulls into the drive, the prisoners outside spot it as they gather around the fence. Observantly, Sean points out, “Fresh Meat.”

[romeov]

The bus pulls up and stops before the entranc egates, openign its doors to let its new convicts out. A sheriff's deputy with a shot gun walks first, checking the scenery to make sure everything i okay befor eletting the group out.

One by one the men file out, each clad in their orange jump suits, hands handcuffed in chains in front of them, all silently walking.

The inmates call out to the ones they recognize from outsisde, and berate ones thwey haven't seen before. Several call out to an especially diminuative man, yelling out, "Hey Bob! Bob!"

The man looks cautiously back and forth, behind him, and quizzically looks towards the wailing cons. Sheepishly, he mentions, "My names not Bob..."

Derisively, a man yells through the fencing, "Gonna make you my bitch Bob! Bend over backwards! Haw haw!"

Sean and Mitch watch the procession, as Sean asks Mitch to continue the story, "So, if Otis went through all a that, why's he in the IR?"

Mitch replies, "Some guy got it in his head to try and off Otis. Figured it'd make him top dog. Spoon to the eye."

Sean cringes at the thought of someone standing up to Otis Lane and says, "Hope that fucker's safe away in solitare. Wouldn't want to be him."

Mitch howls in pleasure as he retorts to his friend, "He can't hide forever. The Big Rig comes out today. And you know how tight The Rig and Lane are. Soon as the cracker that tried to off Lane gets out, he'll be hanging from the hoops court before he sees the next day."

In dismay, Sean says, "The Rig is coming out? Motherfucker, he's the worst of Lane's crew. Ain't nothing good about that bastard getting out. We're gonna be spending half our time in lockdown once he gets through with that cracker and the Dooze, too.


Clarence Johnson stands at attention at the entrance into his cell block. After getting his brief orientation into the prison, he's escorted to his new home for his next 10-30. The african man stands tal and proud at attention, his hair cut into a short, sprouting afro. His lips naturally settle in a cringe and a sneer, as he barely listens to the words of his guard escort. He knows the asituation better than anyone, he's been in an out of prison for the previous 20. Now in his late 30s, Clarence is an old dog to most of the population. He might have been an OG back in his days, inside and out of prison, bt for most he's earned his stripes, as the wrinkles on his face hide his real age, though you'd be hardpressed to see any individual carrying a healthy appearance if he's been the product of a maximum setting.

Sean, meanwhile, settles into hi bed, his face staring directly into the ceiling. With The Big Rig coming out of Solitare, Sean knows he's in trouble. He's enountered the man before a couple of times, even held back a few instances at punchign the kids lights out. The Rig diminates on the gym's basketball courts, and if he doesn't want you on it, he'll force you off his playing field. But, Sean also knows, The Rig heard him talking about OPtis, how he encouraged the Dooze to take a stab at the leader of the gang-bangers. That's why The Rig needed to go into solitare, so that dooze had the chane to off Otis before his main man could save him. Now the whole plan got fucked up.

But, he momentarily jarred out of his haze as the door opens up and the guard introduces him to his new cell-mate, Clarence. Introductions were brief as the guard told Sean of his new roommate, whih was responded to with a lss than ehtusiastic turning of his body towards the blank cell walls. Neither a commendation of his new living arrangement, nor a complaint. The gurad exits out with a brief derisive jab at both as he says, "Enjoy your honeymoon" leaving the two alone.

Clarence begins conversation as he begins laying out his little posessions and says, "I have the bottom bunk."

Dismisively, Sean replies, "Ain't nobody on it."

Clarence responds, "I wasn't asking."

Slightly irate, Sean says, "Then you better be ready fight for that spot grandpa. You don't start no shit, there won't be any."

Clarence quickly acts and rasing his hands up, responds calml, "Now, I wasn't making a threat. I've been around enough to know that if you don't mark your territory, somebody's going to make your life a living hell for the time you spend with each other. And before you start your shit with me, little man, You better know who you're dealing with."

That warning shoot sback Sean's fea rinto his mind, knowing the Rig is oming out, and he quickly turns away to try and sleep, droppign his onversation with the elder man.

Chains rattle in the distance, and heavy footsteps hit the ground as someone approaches the cell. Sean can feel the coolness of a shadow begint o creep over his body, and he dares not turn his head for fear of what may be behind him. He closes his eyes tighter hoping the noise passes him by. As it approaches its loudest point yet, it stops. Sean knows what it may be.

He waits almost an eternity, and in the background, he hears the guard say, "Alright convict, move along."

The noise picks up again, this time disappearing in the opposite direction, the sound sof the chains clanking slowly easing, diminishing, and then ending, returing the cell to silence, except for the commotion of Clarence arranging his belongings. Curiously, the old man asks, "Any idea who that young man is?"

Sean replies, a bit shakily, "That's Romeo Valencio, the RV, The Big Rig"

[romeov]

Clarence whistles in amazement at the size of the young man before him. He must be near 7 feet tall, about 300 pounds. He tells Sean, “He’s big.” In response Sean turns over to avoid the old man, and begins to speak, “He’s trouble.” Clarence casts a brief eye to him, and replies, “Looks more like he’s troubled.”

Otis Lane sits in his bed, eye covered in a patchwork of bandages, blood coagulated and dried on the underside. A blackish red spot covers the underside of the wrappings. Adam “Dooze” Dustin pushes food down the line, handing out trays of food to all the people in the IR, and specially hands Otis his meal, with a smile and a tip of his workers hat.

It’s time to allow the convicts some breathing room. The gym is buzzing with activity, from weights being lifted to balls bouncing on the courts. The pounding of iron and the jeers of being the meekest of them all are heard throughout the complex. On the courts, its 5 on 5 as a group of Latinos take on some gang-bangers and their star center Romeo Valencio. The boy’s dreaded hair flows through the air as he whisks, jams, and stomps his away across the court. On one play, he leaps from the paint, and slams home a ball, right on top of some vatos’ head. The kid doesn’t give up as he grabs the ball, and flails his elbows around s if he missed the jams, and knocks the guy in the face. The unfortunate latino flies out of bounds, his nose bloodied as his head makes contact with the wall, and the game briefly stops.

Jorge Rodriguez has had enough. He stops the game and starts walking in between Valencio and his fallen teammate, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! That’s a foul mother fucker! I’m tired of playing this bullshit.”

The Big Rig palms the ball, and holds it out Jorge. “Well motherfucker, you want it? Take the bitch!”

Jorge gives up at least 100 pounds and maybe 2 feet to the monster, but stands firm, his homies backing him up, and the Rig just holds back his own, saying, “I don’t need my boys to back me up on this shit. You call the foul, you better back it up, or else it’ll be worse the second time, ese.”

Clarence wanders his way into the complex, and watches as the carnage is soon to unfold. There stands one young man, big but naïve, stupid, and quick to temper, standing against 4 guys with an axe to grind against the banger’s dominance of the prison. He watches as the youth takes charge as best as h can, calling out not just Jorge but the group. In hi mind he thinks, “That’s one stupid kid, or he knows how to handle a situation.”

Jorge Rodriguez stares down his opponent. He knows that him and his boys can take the RV down themselves, but the other 4 will be trouble. He looks to his amigo on the floor, sprawled and bleeding from his face, before he turns around, and knowing its best as a group to back down than to let one person show their weakness, signals Romeo has won it for the time being. He moves to pick up his compadre, and lifting the kids arms over his shoulders quips, “Otis won’t keep ya’ll in check forever negro. You better figure out who’s running the show ‘fore all a ya’ll realize the shit you put yourselves in.”

Otis quietly munches on his food, wondering what’s to come of him in the next days. Dooze has waited on him for the meantime, but how long will the veneer of the Aryan lord last before he reveals his true colors. Otis knows he has to get a hold of his boys, before something happens to him, but he can’t lave the IR yet, and he ain’t getting no visitors, so says the Warden anyway.

Clarence steps onto the court, possibly taking his life into his hands as he stride up to the big man and his 4 friends, and tipping his head in respect says, “You’re the Big Rig right?”

Romeo bounces the ball on the ground, rhythmically, as he eys the old man and replies slowly, “What’s it to you, old man? You’re the one with Sean aintcha?”

The old man backs up slightly, wondering if there’s bad blood between his cell mate and the kid, before he replies, “We’re only sharing space. I don’t know the guy.”

Romeo steps and takes a shot at the rim, the ball clanging off the metal and flying towards a corner. “Good, cause’ me and your roomie, we have something to discuss.”

Clarence approaches the ball lying on the court, and bounces it awkwardly as he continues to talk to Romeo, “That’s no problem with me. I don’t want to be between it is all.”

Romeo snorts, “Then you better fin a new cell.”

Clarence lets loose a three point shot and finds nothing but net, “You know that’s impossible, boy.”

Romeo steps up, “Fucker, I’m a man!”

Clarence grabs the ball and throws it as his chest, “Bullshit! You’re a kid acting like a big dawg! And you go and do stupid shit! How long you in?”

Romeo incredulously responds, catching the ball, “I’m in for 2 more years. Parole in 1. Are you fucking calling me a nigger, fucker? I’ll show you why I’m here.” And he throws the ball back to Clarence.

Catching the ball and doing a brief jump shot for nothing but net again, Clarence responds, “Son, you need help. I know what you must be going through. Think you’ll never go anywhere, be anything, just live in the system forever. Fuck that. I seen too many young men go down like that.”

Romeo sneers and aggressively displays himself o Clarence, “Why are you so hopped up on me grandpa?”

The old man, silent for a moment, eyes Romeo, and the four others, and slinks back, content with his minor display, before replying, “Its all of you I care about.”

Sean lays in his cell bed lone for the moment. The old man disappeared which was a fucking godsend for him. Mickey Allison sneaks his way into the cell, well tries to. Mickey is sort of the sniveling type of man. No confidence in himself, needs protecting, and he found it in Dooze’s crew. He approaches Sean slyly, watching his back, before he’s recognized.

Sean speaks “Mickey, why are you acting so scared? It’s just us.”

Mickey checks momentarly, and then replies, “I heard the Rig knows what you set up with Doze, about Otis. I’m just making sure I know he’s coming before he cleans your clock.

Sean gives an exasperated sigh as he replies, “Mickey, I don’t give a fuck. Why the hell are you here?”

Mickey squints, checks his left, and right, and then whispers into Sean’s ears, “Its set.”

Otis Lane moans in pain through the night. The nurses check on him, and notice the bizarre bleeding from his nose. Inmates are less than willing to give him the best treatment possible, and some of the paid nurses are more than willing to let the troublemaker die. Yet, some still try to save him as he convulses and spits blood into his bed.

Sean blinks and replies, “You mean it. What’d Dooze do?”

Otis Lane lets out a howl of pain, doubling over as his stomachs cramps.

Mickey happily whispers, “Glass in his food…”

Romeo Valencio and the rest of the crew, all 10 of them, gather in a corner. Otis Lane died three days ago, and now the gang bangers need someone to run their crew, or else all that the big man started ill go up in smoke. No one knows what to do though. None of them were used to leading anything but petty robberies. None had the smarts of Lane, nor the savvy. But one thing they all figured they needed, was fear. And, if anything, the Big Rig would make sure they were still players. It was decided, Romeo was going to be the new leader.

Sean checks his mail a few days later. Otis Lane has been dead for 5 days now. Romeo Valencio was the leader of the ‘bangers and Sean and Dooze started muscling in on the bangers’ tits circuit. Sean knew hi stuff. He knew he was smarter than the rest, just not as strong. With Dooze on his side, Sean would run this joint in short time. Otis Lane was the only one that could stop him. He figured, with Valencio running the bangers Otis never told the kid a damn thin to let him get in on his operations. The bangers were sunk and would be forced to buy their tits from him and the Dooze now. And they won’t get any of it.

Clarence Johnson sits on his bed. 1 week after the death of Otis Lane he still sleeps with his eye open. He doesn’t know what is cell-mate, Sean is up to, but he knows that Romeo has an axe to grind with the man. He could gather that Otis ran the bangers and heard Romeo was the leader now. Everyone is bracing for the next eruption of violence, almost sure to be sparked from the bangers because of their known mercurial leader. Clarence shudders and hardly sleeps.

Jorge Rodriguez? His buddy was okay, broken nose, but no one fessed up to Valencio’s handy work. He vatos don’t need a war right now. They heard of Lane, and with the RV running things, they’ll be damned if they try and get on his list. He heard the rumors, of how Dooze killed Otis, and that the Nazis are running things in the prison. If there’s one thing the vatos couldn’t stand it was the damn white power taking control. He bites his tongue, and steels himself for what may be the worst thing he’s ever done, make a deal with the bangers.