Free Trap House by Sa'id Salaam Page B

the store as everyone looked on.
    “I am so dead,” Tiffany cried in anguish as the full reality came to her. “My mama’s gonna die, but she’s gonna kill me first.”
    Kim, on the other hand, was unfazed. “Girl, you fine,” she said, trying to console her young friend. “Ain’t nothing but a Class C felony. You gonna get to sign your own bond and be home by supper,” Kim advised as the grim reality of her own situation became clear. Kim had violated her probation months earlier and had an arrest warrant waiting on her. That crack pipe in her shoe ensured that she wouldn’t be getting a bond. The best she could hope for was a lengthy stay in rehab. Of course, there was an eighteen-month wait just to get into the program. “That’s what I get for trying some new shit,” Kim whined. “Shoulda stuck to sucking dicks.”
    * * *
     
    The police cruiser pulled out of the crowded mall parking lot and onto Candler Road. It merged onto 20 East, then 285 toward Memorial Drive.
    As soon as the massive jail came into view, both women began crying, albeit for different reasons. Tiffany had seen the structure almost every day of her life, but never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she’d be taken there in handcuffs.
    Once inside, the women were photographed, fingerprinted, and given a cursory medical exam as part of the intake process.
    They were given the opportunity to use a phone after they were booked in. Kim declined, having long ago burned all of her bridges, leaving no one to call.
    Tiffany, however, jumped at the chance when her turn came. She quickly dialed most of the numbers to her house before changing her mind. “I know!” she said, dialing most of Carlos’s number before hanging up again. “Think, girl…” Then she smiled as it came to her. She dialed the numbers she’d only recently committed to memory. Tiffany was delighted when her new friend picked up on the second ring.
    “Dekalb County Jail? What’d you do now, Mike?” Wanda exclaimed, assuming it was her boyfriend, who was no stranger to trouble himself.
    “It’s me, Tiffany. I need some help,” Tiffany pleaded in her baby girl voice. She then gave Wanda a brief synopsis of her situation.
    Wanda admonished her about the stupidity of her plan and, using a crackhead to pull it off. “Girl, I’m on the way,” she said when she heard a deputy tell Tiffany her time was up.
    Both women, along with a few other recent arrestees, were taken across the street to see a judge. Like Kim told her, Tiffany was allowed to sign her own bond, but Kim herself was stuck. Tiffany was given a court date and a warning of the dire consequences if she missed it. Back a the jail, she was out-processed and released.
    * * *
     
    “Thank you so much,” Tiffany cried, hugging Wanda tightly in the jail waiting room.
    “No problem, lil mama,” Wanda replied, pressing her body against Tiffany’s.
    Once they got in Wanda’s new Lexus, she handed Tiffany a tightly rolled Swisher Sweet blunt. “I know you need this, girl.”
    Tiffany stopped short of lighting it, remembering she had to go face her parents.
    “Go on and keep it,” Wanda offered after Tiffany explained her dilemma. “Shit, you need to bring yo’ lil fine ass down to the club and get some of this money. You get cash every day and won’t have to worry ‘bout how you gon’ get high,” Wanda said as she drove. “Sure beats pulling capers with a junkie.”
    Tiffany was too dark for Wanda to see her blushing at the “fine” compliment. She thought of herself as marginally cute at best, but never fine. To Tiffany, Wanda was fine, like a brown-skinned version of Beyoncé . “Girl, I may just hafta do dat,” Tiffany replied in sista girl mode. She knew she could never and would never take her clothes off in front of strange men, not even for money.
    “May as well. Lawd know you ain’t got no job no more,” Wanda said, pulling next to Tiffany’s car in the mall lot.
    “Thanks