“In a daring daytime jailbreak, Jay Crawford, a convicted rapist, escaped from Danbury Federal Correctional Facility yesterday. Crawford, who is considered to be armed and dangerous, has ties to the Queens area, where he is suspected to be hiding. Officials are asking anyone who might have seen this man, or who has information on his whereabouts, to contact authorities immediately. Police say he is armed and dangerous, and they are advising that if you see him, do not approach him.”
“Armed and dangerous my ass,” I spat, throwing a steak bone at the TV, then picking up the remote to turn off the news. I couldn’t watch that bullshit one fucking minute more. It was hard enough being on the run without those assholes plastering my face across the TV like I was some rabid dog who needed to be put down.
I got up and stormed into the bathroom.
“Ugghhh!” I walked over to the sink, slamming my hands down on the basin as I stared at myself in the mirror. I had dreamed about my freedom for so long that I’d conjured up this idea that it was going to be easy. I’d neglected to consider the reality that being a fugitive was much harder than being an average free citizen. With my picture all over TV, my chances of remaining free were now slim to none. I hadn’t planned for them to be on my ass this fast. Now I understood what a mistake that had been.
I stared at myself for a moment, feeling stupid and hopeless, until an idea popped into my head. I needed to change my appearance from the picture they’d shown on the news. In that photo, I looked a little like Rick Ross. I wore my facial hair identical to how he wore his. The only difference was that I wasn’t bald, but that could easily be fixed.
I sifted through the medicine cabinet and the drawers in the bathroom until I found a pack of Bic razors. Turning on the water, I lathered my face with a bar of soap and got to shaving. In a matter of twenty minutes, my head and my face were as smooth as an ice rink.
“Who the fuck are you?” I laughed as I looked at myself, turning my head left to right to check out my profile. My own children wouldn’t have recognized me. So those million folks who’d just watched the news surely wouldn’t be able to recognize me either. I burst out laughing again. I almost felt sorry for every Rick Ross–looking man who was going to get stopped by the police thanks to the media. Their efforts were now all in vain. As a matter of fact, I was so sure no one would recognize me that I felt confident enough to test it.
I took a shower, enjoying the feeling of the warm water pouring over my head and down my body. I truly wished that I could stand there forever. Finally, a shower where I didn’t have to watch my ass, literally. Once I finished cleansing all the grime that had built up over the last day, I put on the sweat suit. I wasn’t about to wear no other dude’s underwear, even if we had been the same size, so I went commando, washing mine out and leaving it on the sink to dry.
I walked a mile to the small Main Street in town, carrying the jar of coins in a knapsack I found in a bedroom closet. I felt bad stealing the money, but I was desperate. I found the grocery store, which, to my relief, had a Coinstar machine. After dumping all the change into the machine, I was surprised to end up with $155.60. It was more than enough to buy myself something that I hadn’t had in a very long time and had been dreaming about. It was time for a beer. I slipped out of the grocery store and went to find a bar.
It didn’t take me long to spot one on the corner. In fact, there seemed to be bars up and down the street in this tiny town. I guess all the summer residents liked to get their drink on or something. I picked a bar that looked relatively dark inside. Sure, I had changed my appearance, but this would be the perfect way to test my new look. The dim lighting would make me feel a little more secure as I took this chance of being around people for the first time since my picture had been posted.
I walked into the bar and took a moment to check out the atmosphere. It wasn’t too crowded, and the few patrons sitting at the bar didn’t look like the type of people who’d be trying to make small talk with me. One guy was sitting with his head hung so low that his face was practically in his glass of beer. Whatever he was depressed about, I doubted he would even notice my presence, so I approached the bar near him to order a drink.
“What can I get you?” the bartender, a white woman in her mid-forties, asked as I sat down on a barstool.
“Beer, please,” I said, feeling my heart pounding against my ribs.
“What kind?” she asked, motioning to the vast array of beers on tap. Nothing about her demeanor made me think she recognized me, so I relaxed slightly.
Of course, I wasn’t about to tell her that after ten years behind bars, I didn’t care what kind it was as long as it was alcoholic, so I just shrugged. “You know what? Why don’t you pick one for me?”
She laughed. “Okay, one bartender’s choice, coming up.”
As I waited for the beer, I listened to the song playing from an old CD player above the bar, smiling when I realized that it was one of 50 Cent’s earlier hits. That song was on the radio almost constantly during the year before I was sent to prison. I wondered if the bar had bothered to update its CD collection in the ten years since then.
“Here you go.” The bartender slid the beer in front of me. “One Blue Moon.”
“Thanks.” I wrapped my hands around that cold one and savored the moment. I didn’t want to rush this long-awaited experience. I looked down and stared at the tiny bubbles bursting in the foam for a minute.
“Everything okay?” the bartender asked.
I nodded and quickly raised the glass to my lips. No need for her to think I was a freak. That would only cement me in her memory if anyone ever came in here asking about a fugitive. I got a whiff of orange, which seemed strange but good, and then, after just a taste on my tongue, I knew the whole thing about savoring was out the window. I guzzled that beer down like a frat boy and didn’t come up for air until the last drop slid down my throat.
“Ahhhh.” I set the glass down on the bar, pounding my fist on my chest to release the air bubble that was stuck. Had I been home with my feet kicked up, I probably would have let out a loud burp, but I was not trying to attract any unnecessary attention at the moment. “Wow, that was nice. I could have sworn I tasted a little bit of orange.”
“You did,” the bartender said with a smile as she placed another beer in front of me.
I held up my hand, shaking my head. “Oh, no, I’m good with one right now.”
“This one is on—” She stopped speaking suddenly.
“The house? It’s on the house?” I finished her sentence with a cocky smirk.
Jay, you still got it, bruh, I thought. I might have been locked up for a while, but I always did have a way with the ladies. This one wasn’t really my type—I preferred my women a little darker—but shit, I’d fuck her for sure, just to end my ten-year dry spell.
She picked up on my vibe, but it turned out she wasn’t hitting on me after all. “No, sorry, honey. It’s from the, uh, lady over there.” She nodded toward the other end of the bar.
I glanced left down the bar to see a heavily made-up blonde with a huge pair of tits, waving at me. I couldn’t really make out her face, especially since the bar was so dim, but her titties alone had me intrigued. I lifted my drink in her direction, and she did the same.
“Don’t do it, bro.”
I turned around and saw an average-looking black woman of average height, standing there with her hands on her hips. No acrylic nails, just plain, normal-length nails. As a matter of fact, everything about her was pretty plain. She wasn’t a beauty queen, but she wasn’t a dog either. Life hadn’t been too hard on her. Seemed like an ordinary girl who lived an ordinary life.
She was rocking back and forth from one leg to the other. “She gets you motherfuckers every time,” she said.
“Gets us? What are you talking about?”
“Can’t you motherfuckers tell a man from a woman? I swear if you weren’t black I would’ve just sat back and watched, laughing my ass off.”
“Man from a woman?” I glanced over at the blonde, who had now stood up. She had to be at least six foot three in those heels. The Amazon started to walk over to me, and when she lifted her arm to wave at me again, I noticed just how huge her damn hands were.
I looked back at the woman who’d given me the warning, and she folded her arms over her chest, eyebrows raised, as if to say, I told you so.
“Oh, hell no!” I said to the bartender, pushing the beer right back at her. When the dude who had been slumped in his beer before lifted his head and looked in my direction, I realized I’d been a little louder than I should have. I dialed back the volume a little and said, “I can pay for my own beer.”
“Elle is harmless. Ain’t that right, Elle?” the black woman said as the giant approached us. She was definitely getting a kick out of watching me squirm in front of this dude in a dress.
“That depends,” Elle replied with eyebrows raised suggestively. When I gathered the courage to make eye contact, he winked at me and blew me a kiss.
I shook my head and started to say, “Sorry, dude, but—”
Elle raised a hand to stop me. “No need to explain. If you need me, I’ll be right over here.” With that, Elle switched back over to the seat he’d been occupying before, not seeming the least bit bothered by my rejection.
I sighed and turned my attention back to the bartender. “I think I’m going to need something stronger than a beer.” Shit, times sure had changed since the last time I was in a bar.
“Hey, Lynn,” my new friend said, raising two fingers as she took the seat next to me. “Get me and the gentleman here a shot of tequila and put it on my tab.”
“Oh, no, no,” I said, raising my hand in protest. She was getting a little too friendly, and I didn’t think I was in a position to be getting to know anyone, seeing as how I was a federal fugitive and all. Of course, she didn’t know that, so she assumed I was turning her down for another reason.
“You too good to drink with the only sister in the bar, huh?”
“No, I actually prefer my women dark and lovely. It’s just that—” I stopped myself, realizing I had no legitimate excuse to give her. I didn’t want to risk pissing her off, so I finally said, “Never mind. I’d love to drink with you.”
“Good.” She extended her hand. “By the way, I’m Tina.”
“I’m J—Johnny,” I said, almost making the mistake of giving her my real name.
“So what brings you around these parts this time of year, Johnny?”
I hadn’t planned on coming out to converse with anyone, so I wasn’t too quick on my feet, but I managed to say the first thing that came to mind. “Uh, construction. I’m working on a house,” I said as the bartender slid two shots in front of us.
“So, are you going to drink that or just babysit it all night?” Tina said when I took a little too much time to pick up the shot glass.
I looked over at her. She was smiling and laughing at her own joke. She had a cute laugh, and slight dimples in her round face. She had a few extra pounds on her, probably the result of a kid or two, but she wasn’t fat. Most brothers I know would have called her thick, which I liked just fine.
“I haven’t had a shot in a long time. I drink this with a pretty lady like you around and I might not know how to act.”
Tina stopped laughing and leaned in a little closer. “Honey, a couple more shots and all you need be worried about is where you’re going to take me to fuck.”
I was stunned—and my dick jumped to attention. I mean, I was horny as shit, but I hadn’t expected her to be so forward. What if all women are this fast now? I wondered. That was a change a newly freed brother could get used to.
“You’re bold, Tina. I like that. And I like the way you think.” I picked up my shot of tequila and she did the same, both of us throwing them back at the same time.
Ten minutes and a couple shots later, I was driving Tina’s car to the house while she gave me one hell of a blow job. My fear of being discovered as a fugitive was only a distant thought somewhere in the back of my drunken mind at this point. By the time we got to the house, I’d already gotten my first nut of the night, which was good, because with that out of the way, I planned to take my time doing every last thing I’d been dreaming about for the past ten years.