Читать книгу Ghetto Girls 3 - Anthony Whyte - Страница 10

FIVE

That evening in the recreation area of the correctional facility, Lil’ Long was one of the many onlookers watching a game of chess between Ernesto and one of his muscled Russian comrades. They were all from Eastern Europe and all had flying dragons tattooed on their huge chests. Sensing that they were waiting to cheer for the big Russian, Lil’ Long chuckled when Nesto fell to a simple but well executed move by the Russian champ.

“Ah, it’s this Russian blood I tell you Nesto. I cannot be defeated,” the Russian laughed and hugged Ernesto. “That’s about two cartons of Marlboro, my boy.”

“I got next,” Lil’ Long shouted. The Russian looked up, smiled and with a wave of his muscular arm welcomed Lil’ Long to sit as the next challenger at the table. Ernesto got up and slapped Lil’ Long a dap.

“Lil’ Long this man is good. Good luck, the loser pays for a bottle of Vodka and two cartons. It’s some expensive shit.” Ernesto whispered to Lil’ Long who was now in the process of taking the vacated seat.

“You understand the rules of the game? Think before you give your answer. I want you to know that I’m playing to win,” the Russian said.

“I ain’t played in a minute, but me an’ my man…” Lil’ Long’s voice trailed off.

“But you can play, can’t you?” The Russian asked eagerly. “Ha, ha, surely you remember something about the game? I don’t wanna keep beating novices.”

“I got your novice right here,” Lil’ Long stared at the pieces and smiled.

“In a short while, we drink some real Vodka,” he bragged to a small crowd made large by their muscles. “I will have this win in a couple of quick moves. Friends watch carefully and learn. This is a brave man.”

“I wish my man Vulcha was here to witness this,” Lil’ Long said glancing at the confused faces around him. “You da champ make your move.” Lil’ Long said.

Lil’ Long stared in the Russian’s eyes and quickly realized his strategy was to use a pawn to make way for his queen. Then put the opposition’s king in check. Trapped, the king would be forced into checkmate by the opposing bishop or rook. Lil’ Long moved a pawn to block the Russian’s attempt at ending the chess match early.

“Oh I see, you have understanding of game,” the Russian smiled as he moved his bishop into attack mode.

Lil’ Long countered with a knight neutralizing the Russians move and putting him on the defensive. As the match wore on, themes of strategy became blurred and for the most part the direction of the game seemed obscured. Lil’ Long thrived in the confusion.

The boastful Russian realized that the young street thug had a sophisticated defense strategy, which lulled him in a false sense of security. Before he was conceitedly finished with his explanation of Sputnik, Lil’ Long had gained the upper hand.

The defending champion dodged and hid his pieces in a vain attempt at retreat. His execution was less than flawless. He had failed to connect Lil’ Long’s tactic from the opening to the middle of the match. The street warrior threw chaotic planned attacks. He sent a message that made his opponent pay for his aggressive beginning by sacrificing pawns to disguise his attacks on the ultimate prize.

They traded and counter-traded unimportant pieces and neither backed down. Black faces were now prominent in the crowd that gathered. Everyone fell silent and held their collective breaths when they heard Lil’ Long confidently make a decisive call.

“Check,” he barked. It came like a jolt of electricity and made the Russian sit up straight. His proud mind attempted to fathom the depth of his trouble. He scanned the chessboard analyzing his next move. He had none. The street thug had outplayed him. Since coming to this correctional facility ten years ago, he had never lost a chess match.

“That makes it checkmate, my sputnik,” Lil’ Long laughed. Everyone in the recreation area breathed with a collective sigh.

The Russian did not look up.

“What’s your name? Beginners luck? I want a rematch,” he demanded and looked at Lil’ Long. “I’ll double any wager.”

“I’ll grant you that rematch but what if you lose. We ain’t gonna be playin’ all muthafuckin’ night, is we?”

“Everywhere I go, the people around know me as Igor. I’m a very fair man and a man of my word,” the Russian said reaching his hand to shake Lil’ Long’s. “Go ahead, it’s your move.”

The buzz of the audience ceased when Lil’ Long made his move. The Russian studied the board while sweating with intensity. He realized that Lil’ Long was on the offense from the jump. He countered.

There were additional inmates taking bets. As the betting pool widened the Russian was odds-on favorite to win. Most figured Lil’ Long would be unable to beat the Russian a second time. All eyes stayed glued to the movement of the chess pieces on the board.

Both players tested each other’s defenses. Lil’ Long knew a big moment had arrived as he held the king in position and made the call. His opponent realized too late that Lil’ Long had set this attack as far back as his first move.

“Check,” Lil’ Long said with fierceness.

“Check,” the big Russian countered after vigorously moving pieces around. Igor knew his king was in trouble and needed to buy time. He attempted a routine blocking move, but the Lil’ Long was undaunted in his efforts and relentlessly attacked until there was hush along the sidelines.

“Checkmate, muthafucka!”

A loud roar erupted from the crowd. The brothers gathered threw high fives all the way around as Lil’ Long snickered in his victory. This brought smiles to the faces of even the meanest correction officers. Igor stared in astonishment at the board.

“I’m a man of my word, Lil’ Long. I ‘ll pay tribute with some of the finest vodka in the world,” the Russian said.

He directed Lil’ Long away from the table and the other inmates who had gathered. “Come with me. Let’s go. We will play again, soon.”

“No doubt you’ll have another rematch.” Lil’ Long said as he walked along side the Russian.

“Tell me where did you learn to play so well?”

“What, it’s been about like six years ago when I was first locked down. This CO showed me how to move the pieces around, you know? Long story short, I just kept playin’, developin’ my own muthafuckin’ strategies. Ya feel me?”

“Ha, ha, and here you are, new champion.” Igor handed Lil’ Long a large glass. “So the CO’s do have some use, huh?”

There was an echo of laughter and it was then that Lil’ Long realized all the others who were in tow. The entire Russian posse consisted of three body builders plus Ernesto was sticking close.

“I hope your country have tha good shit…” Lil’ Long offered but the Russian held his hand to stop him.

“I assure you it’s absolutely the best,” the Russian said and they all moved on. His cell was well kept. It even had carpet and a Phillips LCD monitor to watch cable television.

“Y’all muthafuckas sick wit it in here, dogs,” Lil’ Long announced surveying the space.

The Russian whispered and with a snap of his fingers, cigars and vodka appeared. They raised their glasses, drank and toasted a couple rounds. Lil’ Long glad-handed with the Russians.

He understood this type of protection and knew it came with a huge price tag attached.

“Something tells me you want to leave here. You don’t like it here at our facility?” Igor asked.

“In here is all good for y’all but I got things, I got some BI I gotta handle back on da street. You feel me?” Lil’ Long said.

“This ah, BI is it enough to make you want to cooperate with the law?” Igor asked.

Lil’ Long stared at the muscular Russian who was wearing a smile. Then lunged at him, but a large boot tripped him. He fell to the rug. Before Lil’ Long could recover, three other muscular bodies dove on top of him. They smothered him. One pulled out a shank.

“Nyet, not yet, comrade. Let’s work with this man. He has spunk and despite the odds, he would rather die than give up. Am I correct with the assessment, Mr. Long?”

When Lil’ Long was dragged to his feet, he stood face to face with the Russian. Lil’ Long bit his lips.

“So what’s your beef bout, man? I don’t care what ‘cha know, ma-m-m-man!” Lil’ Long said.

Nesto kept a close eye on him. He whispered something to the Russian.

“Listen and you’re gonna have to learn to do exactly what you’re told to do. Or else…” Igor started.

“Or else what man?” Lil’ Long challenged. The Russian lit a cigar and puffed before he answered.

“Or else nothing goes on. You’re going to come to understand that nothing goes on without my say so. Not a family visit, a walk to the yard, use of the recreation room. Nothing goes down unless I okay it. You will pay tribute for the privilege of leaving here.”

“What da fuck are you going on about, man?” Lil’ Long asked. “Who da fuck you think you are?” He wondered aloud.

“My name is Igor Daks and everyone reports to me. I have connections on the inside and the outside wherever you go.” Igor paused puffing on his cigar. He exhaled in Lil’ Long’s face, looked the street thug up and down before continuing.

“I want you to handle your so-called BI, Mr. Long but I’ve got a proposal for you. You’ll see it’s quite a simple one with lots and lots of returns for both of us.”

Igor smiled and puffed on his cigar then exhaled. Lil’ Long looked around the well-furnished prison cell, exhaled then sat down on a sofa. He smoked, sipped and listened while trying to contain his rage.