Free Nasty Girls by Erick S. Gray Page B

asked.
    â€œThe murder charge, I’ll try and get it dropped to a justified homicide. But the problem is that they didn’t find the gun on the victim. And there’s a witness that the D.A. has who is willing to testify against Roscoe. I don’t know how credible the witness is, but I’m on top of it. If your boyfriend cops a plea, the D.A. may give him ten years. But if he’s willing to fight and take it to trial, it gets risky. He might end up doing twenty years.”
    Shy began to cry, and Jade consoled her in her arms, saying, “Shy, don’t worry—we’ll get through this.”
    â€œHe’s going to need all the help he can in this case,” the lawyer said. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his card, which was off-white with raised lettering. “Here’s my card. If you have any questions at all about the case, or his condition, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
    I took his card and peered at it.
    â€œSorry, but I’m in a rush,” he said, and then turned and walked away.
    Jade and I tried to ease Shy’s stressful situation. We went to get something to eat at a nearby McDonald’s, but Shy said she wasn’t hungry. I knew she had Roscoe on her mind.
    Shy was about to go through some bullshit. I know, because I’ve been there with two ex-boyfriends. The frequent trips to Rikers to go see your man and bring him a bunch of shit that he probably don’t need, and the collect calls that total up and exceed your regular phone bill. When your man is home and he got all the free time to call a sista, he don’t call. But the minute his ass gets incarcerated, he calling a sista everyday, talking about he need this and he need that. And most of the time he calls, it ain’t about shit. He just want to hear your voice.
    Shit, if Shy’s dedicated and really loves Roscoe, she’s gonna do time too if he’s convicted and gets sentenced. And that shit ain’t easy—going months, sometimes years without any dick—that shit gotta be love.

~ CHAPTER 6 ~
jade
    I feel for Shy, damn, I do. She was a mess when I left her. The only thing I could tell her was to be strong, for herself and her man.
    I mean, why the fuck did Roscoe do what he had to do? Why don’t niggas listen? He was home, with his girl, but the minute some shit breaks out, they gotta go prove themselves in front of their boys and test who got the bigger dick, and end up getting killed or locked up. I was mad, I’ll admit. But I was also thankful that I wasn’t in the same predicament. Because it coulda been me too, and James’s ass coulda been behind bars, and stressing me the fuck out. He came home.
    I was lying on my bed, and James was in the shower. I was still curious about that night. James wasn’t really saying shit about it. He left just like Roscoe did that night, and I knew that they both were furious about something. I just didn’t know what. He asked about Roscoe and his predicament. I don’t know why he didn’t come down to the arraignment with us, but I guess he had his reason. Shit, thinking about Shy’s situation made me forget about my own with James.
    I was sprawled out on my bed in some panties and a large T-shirt, staring at the TV. I wanted to call up Shy, but thought against it—give her some alone time, and let her be.
    I heard the shower stop running. I glanced at the bathroom. I sighed, because I wished I could be there more for her. But I was clueless about the judicial system just like the rest of my clique.
    James walked into the bedroom with a blue towel wrapped around his waist, and his muscles gleaming from the water still on his skin. Damn, he looked so fucking sexy when wet.
    James looked at me and smiled. “What you lookin’ at?” he joked.
    â€œNuthin’,” I sheepishly replied.
    He walked up to the bed, still peering lustfully at me. “I know what you