My Hustler’s Keeper by Larissa Read Free Book Online

several times.
    “Please stop,” I cry as she beats me hungrily with her heavy fist.
    “Somebody help me,” I beg as I feel her rip into my face, breaking my body with every connection.
    “This is for the cop you tried to kill,” she whispers, as she continues to beat me harder with every connection.
    Never in my life have I pictured myself being beat to death. But I’m feeling it. And the experience is real. Closing my eyes and crying, slowly I begin to imagine it is Joe instead of Chop Face. At least with Joe I will know the hands that will be sending me to meet Jesus Christ. The experience lasts for what seems like a lifetime but really it was only a half a minute.
    “That’s enough banging for the night Chop Face.”
    Turning my broken head over slowly I come face to face with the same officer that had thrown me into this shit hole.
    “Next time you pull the trigger on an officer, think about the actions you’ll have to face once you get behind bars,” he tells me, as he slams the bars closed behind him and Chop Face.
    “What has Joe gotten me into?”
    The next day after being discovered by the warden and set up as an example to the rest of the inmates for what happens when you shoot a cop, I am taken to ICU were I am given over a hundred stitches. The only good thing I get while lying up in that shitty hospital is meeting Stephanie.
    Stephanie Harris is my cellmate. Not only did she have a meeting with Chop Face one week before my arrival, but she also becomes my best friend.
    “Hey, I’m Stephanie,” she introduces herself, just as the night shift is leaving from checking in on us.
    “I’m Mary.”
    “So what you’re in here for?” she asks.
    “Murder, and you?” I ask; trying to sound all tough knowing my pretty ass wouldn’t bust a grape in a food fight.
    “I was accused of beating my five-year-old niece. I didn’t do it; it was my sister’s boyfriend. But instead of her sending him to prison, she turned the tables and lied and say I did it,” she explains her story to me in tears.
    “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “Don’t be. I’m only in here for the next five years. Then I’ll have to stay away from my sister and niece.”
    “That’s a shame,” I tell her, shaking my head.
    “Yeah, I said the same thing. But I’ll do whatever my lawyer says in order to get the fuck out of here.”
    Over the next couple of months Stephanie and I get real close, so close we even sometimes try to sleep on the same bed. But we only try it when the guards are done with their rounds. Over time she becomes my prison lover. I find myself being as I often heard, gay for the stay. Only in prison would I consider myself liking girls. Out of prison I am strictly dick.
    “Will you marry me Mary?” she asks me, the night of our six-month anniversary.
    “I’m in a relationship.”
    “That’s not a relationship. What we have is considered a relationship.”
    “Why Stephanie? Why do you want me?”
    “Cause if something bad happens and it leads to one of us going to prison, I’ll take the blame without thinking twice. Even if you did the crime I’ll do your time. I love you Mary,” she expresses to me, lowing her body onto the floor and resting on one knee.
    “Stephanie, I can’t marry you.”
    “Yes you can Mary.”
    “What about Joe?”
    “Baby, let me worry about him. Just say yes.”
    “Yes, I’ll marry you,” I tell her, in excitement without feeling any regret about our decision.
    But after being there my first five years hell comes. I have received my first letter from Joe.
    Hey Mary,
    I would ask how you doing, but I’m afraid of the response you’ll write back. My predictions were right. We had a girl. Keisha named her Harmony. Says she’ll be a melody you’ll never forget when she gets older. We also moved from New York to Chicago. They call it the Windy City and I see why. It’s colder than a mother fudge cake when you step outside. I bought some lot on the South Side where