Free Luxe by Ashley Antoinette Page B

slaves. These five years would take a toll on him. He knew that he would not emerge the same. He would mature faster than any nigga on the outside because inside the wall it was survival of the fittest. There was politics to it all. He had already been approached by the Ocks, but he wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to affiliate himself with the Muslim religion just to establish protection. He respected what they stood for, but Islam wasn’t his belief, so he declined, leaving him naked and labeling him a marked man. The prison was divided. Everyone had a group. The skinheads, the Hispanics, the white-collar cats, the Muslims, not to mention the COs. They each had their own circle with different rules. Rules inside of rules. Noah had to worry about it all and he had to constantly watch his back because he belonged to no one. He was a loner and he was just looking to do his bid without friction. There were niggas who came in and out of jail as if it were a revolving door. Five years was considered an easy stretch for some, but for Noah it felt like his entire life had ended before it truly had begun. If he had put in his time in the streets, sampled a taste of the good life, enjoyed the fruits of his hustle, he would have been able to take his time with ease. He would rather live enormous for a short time than struggle forever, but he had gotten pinched before any of his spoils came in. That was the part he couldn’t wrap his mind around.
    The medium-security prison gave the inmates just enough rope to hang themselves, but Noah wanted no problems. If all went as planned, he could be out with good behavior in thirty-six months. He was just trying to keep his head down and fly under the radar, but in a jungle where the men around him were facing life sentences, jealousy led to beefs unknown.
    As he waited in line with a tray in his hand he frowned at the slop that was being placed on his plate. “Aye, my man, I don’t eat meat,” he said as he placed the tray on top of the counter and slid it back to the dude behind the serving line.
    He chuckled, responded, “Good luck with that, G,” and slid the tray back to Noah, who reluctantly took it. There would be no special requests made where he was. He was facing hard time. If he wanted to eat, he would eat what was served. Disgusted, Noah took his tray and scanned the room. He sat at the end of a table, avoiding interacting with anyone else, but his presence alone was enough to get him into trouble.
    â€œYo, did I tell you you could sit there?”
    Noah looked down at the other end of the table where a group of men were congregating. Noah didn’t respond as he looked down at his plate.
    â€œThis nigga don’t hear me?” One of the men stood and Noah immediately assessed the situation. The dude was taller, appeared a few years older, but he had a bit of weight on him, which would slow him down. Noah gripped the sides of his tray as the loudmouth inmate approached. “You deaf, nigga?”
    Noah stood without warning and slammed the tray into the side of the other inmate’s head. Stunned, the man had no time to react before Noah’s fist went to work and the commotion of the fight riled up the other prisoners. Noah was skilled with his hands and he knew when to take a win. He hit the dude with an uppercut that put him on his back before the guards subdued Noah, carrying him away from the fight before it got out of hand.
    It wasn’t until he was on his way out that loudmouth stood to his feet.
    â€œYou don’t know who you fucking with, pussy! Just signed your death certificate!” he yelled angrily as he spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor.
    Noah nodded his head and mean-mugged the dude until he could no longer see him. He wasn’t one to talk big; he’d rather show and prove. As the guards dragged him away he didn’t put up a fight, because he knew that he would see the dude again. Now was