"I need a smoke," Zane thought. There are not many things to do in prison except for three things: reading, working out, and smoking. As such, he developed this bad habit over the past five years. Since his release a year ago, he has been slowly reducing the amount he smoked, but he cannot completely quit yet. A quick look around, and he saw someone with a cigarette less than five feet away.
"Can I get a hit?" Smokers are either the most generous and social individuals or the rudest — there is no in-between. Sadly, Zane was unlucky, and the man ignored him; he had to ask the second person before finding a generous individual.
Zane chatted for a few minutes with a middle-aged man, mainly about the upcoming 2016 elections, which were just four months away. While the conversation was surface-level, it was the perfect distraction he needed. With a clear mind, he headed home to shower and change. Midway through his journey, his phone rang. His brow furrowed after seeing the name on the screen; his first instinct was to ignore it, but after sighing to himself, he eventually answered.
"Pa? Do you need something?"
"Do I need something to call you?" Jamaal responded.
"You know that's not what I meant."
"Anyway, how was your interview?"
"Not good. I didn't even spend ten minutes before they sent me out."
"That's why I keep telling you to hide your criminal record."
"Even if I did, how am I going to pass the background check? How am I going to explain why I'm missing five years in my resume?"
"These background checks are not as thorough as you think," Jamaal argued. "As for your resume? Tell them you were working internationally. Doesn't your mother have connections back home in Ghana? They can fabricate an experience for you."
"And add fraud to my criminal resume?"
"That's your problem since you were a child; you're inflexible, always limiting your actions within the constraints of the rules. In this man-eat-man world, following the rules never gets you anywhere."
"I don't want to argue with you. So, let's move on. Why did you call me?"
"A'ight, a'ight, a'ight," Jamaal said swiftly. "I called you because I have a friend down in Florida who can give you a $30,000 loan with low interest. He doesn't care about your record and just needs something as collateral."
Zane stopped dead in his tracks. "W-What?"
"Doesn't that girl, Alisha, have a house? She only needs to co-sign the loan and put it as collateral, and you can have the money."
"Are you really asking me to get in contact with a loan shark, right now?"
"Don't you need the money? You can't find a job, and the bank will not give you a loan anytime soon. Unless you want to start living on welfare, what choice do you have?"
Zane took a deep breath to control the raging emotion brewing in his mind. He was about to say something to end this conversation when he suddenly thought of something: "Hold on, why are you suddenly so interested in making me money?"
"Listen to me and don't get mad, but Imma need you to return that $15,000 I loaned you five years ago."
"Why?"
"That's not important."
"It's about William, isn't it?" Zane sneered. "What other failed business has he gotten himself into this time?"
"It doesn't matter. All that matters is he has a good idea of this thing, and I need the money to support him," Jamaal explained.
"Let me get this straight: you want to screw my life for your other family— a family which once destroyed mine —, and you think that's okay?"
"Here we go again," Jamaal scoffed, and Zane could even imagine his eyes rolling from the other side. "How many times do I have to apologize? I only cheated once."
"First of all, we all know it wasn't once. Secondly, you never truly apologize — you were just sorry you got caught. And thirdly, that's not the issue here. The point is, you always put his life above mine. "
"You're being unfair."
"Am I? His games were prioritized over any of my activities. You missed my high school graduation. You skipped all my reward ceremonies. Ma had to threaten you to attend my college graduation, you missed my master's celebration, and when you found out I had gotten into a Ph.D program at MIT, you compared it to William receiving some nonsense award at a State University."
"Okay, maybe I wasn't the best father, but I did the best I could. And I still think you're being unfair. William just needed a lot more help than you did."
"I've heard these excuses too many times, and I'm tired of it," Zane said while caressing his temple. "I'm hanging up. As for your money? I'll repay it when I can." He did not wait for a response and ended the call. He even followed it up by blocking his father's number.
The urge to puff a smoke returned, but he stopped himself since he had promised to only smoke two sticks a day. Instead, he started chewing the last piece of gum he had. Home was the last place he wanted to be; being left alone with his thoughts was not ideal in his current emotional state, so Zane headed toward Juan Auto Shop. The owner, Juan, is also an ex-con, so he gave Zane a part-time job. Unfortunately, the shop is not doing well, so he is rarely on the schedule.
"Why are you here?" Juan, a middle-aged man in greasy clothes and smoking a cheap cigar, asked.
"I'm here to work on the car," Zane replied. Juan waved at him to get to it.
"Where is Julio?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Forget I asked," Zane said before walking to the back to change. On the corner of a shop was a covered car. Zane removed the wrapping, revealing a gold 1969 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme with black stripes on the front. His love for engineering originated in three things: the comic book character Iron Man, the 1995 movie Hackers, and a 1964 Chevrolet Corvette owned by his father, which they worked on together.
Zane smiled. He bought this thing a year ago at an impound lot for less than 300 bucks. Then he negotiated an agreement with Juan that he could use the shop's tools and spare parts to fix it, and in return, Zane had to pay him two grand. For the next few hours, his only focus was on the car.
"Kid, I'm about to close," Juan suddenly yelled.
"Already?" He looked through the window, and it was indeed dark.
"Yeah, and I left some pizzas on the counter for you."
"Thanks," Zane said before taking one last glance at this beauty. By next month, this thing should be completely repaired. This car holds great significance for Zane, as its former state was a poignant reminder of his situation, and it's the only notable achievement he has had in over five years. Unfortunately, he does not have the $2000 required to claim it officially.
After changing and taking the four slices of bacon pizza, Zane said goodbye to Juan before heading home. The pizza wasn't the best, but it was satisfying. However, Zane couldn't fully enjoy the pizza as his phone rang.
"Ma."
"How are you holding up?"
"Holding up? Oh, Alisha told you about the interview. She's such a snitch."
"I wouldn't have to hear about it from her if you didn't have the habit of keeping bad news from me," Mama Sarfowaa said.
"What's the point of telling bad news? Just wait until I have good news, and we will celebrate."
"I'm glad to hear you haven't lost hope. And remember what the elders said. You are going through a spiritual tribulation, which shouldn't last more than another year. Once it's passed, a bright future awaits you."
'What's the point of telling me this? If they wanted to do something useful, they should have just solved my tribulation and stopped all the suffering. That's why I don't like all that spirituality nonsense,' Zane thought. Of course, he wouldn't dare say such words out loud, or he would never hear the end of it. He may even receive a beating from his mother. According to her, he was never too old to receive a beating.
"I understand," he acknowledged.
"Anyway—"
"Hold on a moment." Zane frowned as he noticed someone was following him. Thinking he was being paranoid, he chose a more secluded path home, but the person still followed. "Ma, Imma call you later." Zane has always been insecure about his safety, so he deliberately bought a pocket-knife keychain. While on high alert, he calmly and secretly pulled out the blade while heading into an isolated street corner. As soon as his follower turned into that corner, Zane yanked him into the wall and placed the blade on his neck: "Who are you? And why are you following me?"
"Whoa, man, I think you —"
The man hadn't finished his sentence when someone headlocked Zane. There was a second pursuer. He wiggled his body, trying to fight back, but the attacker swiftly disarmed him. The first follower — the one he had taken hostage — immediately punched him in the guts, sending a searing pain that almost made him vomit. Thankfully, the other person released him from the headlock, which allowed him the opportunity to catch his breath by wheezing on the ground.
"Who…are…you?" Zane asked, looking at them from the floor.
"Haven't you already guessed?" the man said before removing his shirt's collar to show a tattoo of a ferocious lion with flaming eyes.
"The Lion Pride," Zane said with gritted teeth.
"You thought we wouldn't find you?"
"I had an agreement with Boss Mike. I would do three things for him after I'm released, and once I'm done, I would be free. I've done my job, and I have nothing to do with yo,u people." If not for the lack of money, he would have long removed that damn tattoo.
The three sneered at these words as they looked at Zane as if he had said the stupidest thing in the world. Once a Lion Pride, always a Lion Pride. The only way to exit is death. One of them took out a flip phone and threw it at him. "Once this phone rings, you'd better answer it. "Otherwise, we won't just be paying 'you' a visit."
"You!" Zane stared at them with gritted teeth.
"You're lucky that Boss Mike said not to rough you up too much," one of them said before giving Zane a parting kick. He sat on the floor, holding the phone with a tight grip, wishing with every fiber in his body he could throw it away. However, he did not dare. He knew what the Lion Pride Gang was capable of. If he dares to resist, his sister or mother will suddenly die in a gang violence accident, and the culprit might not even spend that much time in prison. Zane put the phone in his pocket with the utmost resignation before slowly limping home.