Working the System

Home : Stories by Catw00man : Because You’re Mine : Working the System

Summary: Only the best can run the game.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R
SERIES/SETTING: Because You’re Mine
CHARACTERS: Hawk, Cowboy, Ray-Ray, Red, Hawk POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #118 & 121 (#11/18 for me 2nd run and #96 for me) - Mortal Coil & Dreamworld
COMPLETED: November 21, 2008
WORDS: 2,150
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Time for a look into the day to day politics of prison life.
AUTHOR'S NOTE2: Thanks to Zippit for the awesome beta!
AUTHOR'S NOTE3: From time to time we’ll be using some “prison slang” that might not be familiar. We will have definitions at the bottom but if you don’t want to wait until the end they will be hot linked in the fic. Also if we don’t define something you want an answer to, just give us an email and we’d be more than happy to discuss it.
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Main Recreation Yard: Los Angeles Corrections Facility

He carries himself all wrong.  From the chow hall to the big yard to the way he looks at me when we’re both on the iron pile. It’s all wrong.  He’s not acting the way he should, not after everything that’s supposed to have gone down.  He shouldn’t be lookin’ me in the eye.  He shouldn’t be wanderin’ off on his own.  He’s still acting like he’s on the outside and I’m gonna have to do somethin’ about it.  Soon.

Keep an eye on him as he shuffles over to the track with Ray-Ray.  Least I ain’t havin’ to tell him to take someone with him no more.  Track’s a prime spot to get stuck or jumped if you ain’t careful and I know he’s not.  Ray-Ray ain’t too big but he’s proven himself more than once.  It’s probably the Indian blood in him though I still don’t know from what tribe.  I just know he held his own when he was jumped twice.  That’s why when he came looking to run with us I didn’t turn him away.  And that’s why he don’t have to be someone’s bitch.

See them take off on the track and watch them until they’re out of sight.  Shake my head because Red tries to take off ahead of Ray-Ray and I know it’s that damn stubborn streak of his.  Fuckin’ idiot.  Why can’t he see he’s makin’ things worse on himself.  Reach into my pocket for a cig and match book and light it as I continue to watch the track.  I don’t normally smoke after a workout, but today I have a lot of other things to contend with, the prison yard Picasso only being one.

Catch movement out of the corner of my eye and see Cowboy coming my way through the maze of rusty weight machines.  Lean back against the chain link and acknowledge him with a nod.  From the look of his eyes he’s got somethin’ for me.  Good.  I’m needing to pull a few favors to make everything work.  Here’s hopin’ he’s got something good. 

He glances towards the track as he reaches me and I see his words coming before he even opens his mouth.  “You need to do somethin’ about your Picasso.”  He turns to look at me and I’m surprised not to see the usual mocking smirk on his face.  “He’s makin’ you look bad, Hawk.  He’s makin’ us all look bad.” 

He’s right. 

Red moves ‘round here like he’s got no ties to no one and it ain’t a game.  The fact that Cowboy’s stopped crackin’ jokes about him’s proof enough.  “You better do somethin’ about him soon Hawk…or we will.”

Reach out and snatch him, fisting my hand in his jumpsuit, and haul him close.  Lower my voice as I meet his eyes cause the last thing we need now is to bring down a heat wave.  “You’ll do nothing I don’t tell you to.  Understood?  Nothing.”  Give him a hard shake before releasing him and he glares back as he straightens his jumpsuit.  “I’ve got it all taken care of.”  Lock eyes with him as I continue, “You’ll all see soon enough.”

He glares at me another long moment and the same tension that’s always under the surface fills the space between us.  We might as well be the only two in the yard.  I’m no fool.  I know damn well Cowboy’d take my place in an instant.  But so far he’s never tried to take me down straight up though he’s made it clear he’s more than willing.  Still…I’d rather him be doin’ his plotting in front of my face.  Least I’ll know what I’m dealing with.

He gives me a pointed look but I have no intention of explaining myself further.  He’ll know soon enough.  Glance briefly at the track once more.  They all will.  Turn back to Cowboy, level my gaze on him and ask, “So, whatcha got for me?”

He’d followed my glance to the track with his eyes and it takes him a moment to refocus but when he does he’s all business.  “Nature Boy wants a jack book and more shit for his piddlin’.  He’s offerin’ two decks of squares and info on a couple of the new transfers.”

“He still making those leather belts of his?”  Nature Boy is one of those who’s seriously old school.  I’m still not sure how long he’s been here but I’m guessing not as long as he’s had that hippie beard he won’t cut.   Long as I’ve known him he’s been making those handmade belts.  I’ve even sold some for him.  He does alright and I know he could get his supplies from someone else, but he knows I’ll take care of him when he’s got somethin’ for me.  Must be good if he’s only offerin’ 2 packs of cigs for his supplies.  But he’s never let me down.  Apparently I remind him of the “good old days” and I know he won’t be jerking me around.  “Yeah, tell him I’ll take care of it.  Should take about a week.”

Make a mental note of what hands I need to grease to fill that “order” and look to Cowboy for the next on his list.  “Fly’s fiend’n again.  He wants you to hook him up.”

Shake my head and scan the yard for the worthless sack of shit.  He’s one I don’t wanna deal with.  But sometimes it’s best to be on the good side of crazy and with him…crazy is always one step away.  “You know what I said ‘bout dealing with him.  Told him to find a new dealer.”

“I know Hawk, but Sonny’s turned him out too an’ we all know how he gets when he’s hard up.”

Boy do we ever.  He’d slit his own mother’s throat for a score.  I don’t usually like dealin’, but if he’ll make it worth my while.  “Alright, tell him two papers for half a yard.  No, make it a Benjamin.”

“You know damn well he ain’t comin’ up with that.”  Whip my head around and glare at Cowboy for arguing with me.  He doesn’t know how hard some of this stuff is to come by and I’m not getting fucked over for that idiot’s contraband.

“Ask me if I care.  That’s the deal.  He can take it or find another source.”  Cowboy nods and the discussion’s closed.  Like my decision or not he’ll abide by it.  I know he’d sooner get more into the dealin’ smack but that’s a hard line to walk.  Pigs will only look the other way so long.  “That it?”

“For today,” he replies and looks toward the track when Ray-Ray and Red finally step off and head back into the Big Yard.  Red’s already heading for his corner where he used to draw in the dirt and Ray-Ray’s headin’ for me.  I don’t need Cowboy in on this.

“Good.  Go let Nature Boy know I’ll be waitin’ to hear from him.”  He holds my gaze for a moment at my obvious dismissal but he doesn’t argue.  His eyes though, they’re a completely different story.  He wants to know what I’m planning.  Hell, he probably wants a taste, but that ain’t happening.  Red is mine.

“Remember what I said, Hawk.  I ain’t lookin’ bad for no damn Picasso.” 

“You worry ‘bout what you need to worry ‘bout and I’ll take care of what’s mine.”  He stares at me a little longer, silently challenging me again.  But he’ll back off…for now. 

Ray-Ray finally joins us and Cowboy gives him a brief glance before heading off towards the iron pile.  He’ll do what I told him to but not after making a show of doing what he wants first.  There’s some in here that would get all bent out of shape over it but I don’t care.  Long as he does what I say I don’t care what order he does it.

“Good run?” I ask Ray-Ray and turn my head to watch Red settle in against the chain link across the yard.  He’s got the pad I left him and he’s absorbed in whatever it is he does.  Shake my head because he’s still runnin’ around in that dream world of his and it needs to stop.  It’s going to stop. 

“He couldn’t lose me.”  Watch Red a bit longer, seeing how easily he gets carried up in his sketch.  There’s still a hint of almost…innocence about him.  Oh, he’s part of this world now, he knows what can happen, but it still doesn’t really touch him.  That’s the problem.  That’s why I’m being questioned.  I hate it but…I’m gonna have to knock the shine off.

“You talk to the Two-Five?”  Keep my voice down as I mention the gang who makes it their business to “keep the yard in line.”  They have a thing against physical displays that don’t involve fightin’ and I can’t say I mind too much.   It keeps the queens in check.  But to do what I’m planning I’ll need to grease some wheels first.

“What Two-Five?  You know there’s no such thing.”  My lip curls in a smirk as I turn to look at Ray-Ray who’s got the same wry look on his face.  We all know the group exists, they just like to pretend they don’t so they don’t get singled out and pulled from GenPop.  Arch an eyebrow at Ray-Ray and he continues in a lower voice.  “They’ll look the other way, but it’s gonna cost ya.”

I expected that.  Thing is I don’t hafta get their permission, but I know damn well it’s gonna be better if I do.  You give respect, you get respect.  “So what are they askin’?”

“Two cases of squares, good stuff not the cheap, some of Pretty Tony’s chocolate and a month of kitchen duty.”

Nod slowly and cast my gaze back across the yard again.  He better be worth my time.  Anyone else would pound his fish ass in the stair well or back in the laundry room so hard shit like this wouldn’t be necessary.  It’s what I aughta do.  But I’m not gonna.  When I take his ass he’s gonna be wantin’ to give it to me.  He’s gonna be my willin’ bitch, not some dead eyed, useless sack of shit that’ll let anyone pound his ass.  It ain’t how it’s normally done but I don’t give a shit.  It’s how I’m doin’ things.  That’s why I went to Ray-Ray with this because I knew he’d be discreet.  “Tell them two weeks and they’re on.  Then see what it’ll take to get Curly in there.”

“You sure about this, Hawk?”

Look across the yard again at my redheaded Picasso and watch his pencil fly across the small pad.  My eyes linger over those smooth hands that ain’t got no business being in here.  Run my gaze upward to see the intense look on his face, the determined fire burning in his eyes and I don’t want to see it go out…not completely.  He’ll be much more useful to me that way.  He’ll survive.  He ain’t like me and the rest.  He don’t belong here and if I can make him mine I can make sure he survives his time here, as well as make my time more enjoyable.  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Hear Ray-Ray walk away but I pay him no mind.  I still got planning to do.  I have to figure out exactly how I’m gonna put him in line without snapping him.  He needs to learn his place.  And I need to figure out why I give a shit.

PRISON SLANG:

CHOW HALL: Any meal is referred to as chow, meal time is referred to as chow time and the cafeteria is referred to as the chow hall.

BIG YARD: Main Recreation yard.

IRON PILE: Weight, weightlifting equipment

HEAT WAVE: Being under constant suspicion, thereby bringing attention to those around you.

JACK BOOK: Magazines, or books depicting naked women, i.e. Playboy, Penthouse, etc.

PIDDLIN’: A leisure activity performed by eligible inmates in which they produce a craft item, i.e. leather goods, art etc. for selling to the general public.

OLD SCHOOL: Reference to the way prisons used to be, particularly more respect given to fellow prisoners, less informing, less horseplay. “he’s an old school convict,” meaning stand up or raised right.

FIEND (‘N): A person that is addicted to drugs is called a fiend, when that person is begging or in dire need of the drugs including cigarettes the person is said to be fiend’n.

PAPER: A small quantity of drugs packaged for selling

HALF A YARD: Fifty dollars

BENJAMIN: Usually hundred dollar bills, hence the reference to Benjamin Franklin on the U.S. 100 dollar bill.

PIGS/SNOUTS/SCREWS/COPS/BULLSHACKS/HOGS: The guards, called “Correctional Officers” by themselves and inmates.

GEN POP: General Population.  The mainline.  Prisoners who can mix with other prisoners.

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com