Jail's Bait: Parole's Victim (Book 4)

Chapter 4

“Hey- hey MISTAH,” a very familiar voice was cutting through a dark fog, bringing Danny back to consciousness. “Hey, WAKE UP!!!”

Trey….

His eyes snapping open, Danny realized he had fainted and was lying on the ground beside the bench. Looking up, he stared once more into the face of the man who had haunted his nightmares for the past ten years- and then recoiled slightly from the horrid stink that seemed to issue from the rags that covered the lanky frame.

The guy kneeling before him noticed the reaction and frowned. “W-well, you try sleepin on the streets an not havin a decent shower in I don’t even remember when, an tell me how YOU smell then,” he added, stubbornly. “I was only tryin ta make sure you aint get hurt when ya fell.”

Danny, mollified by the rebuff from the obviously homeless man, nodded (while simultaneously keeping the retch at the bottom of his throat down there). “I’m sorry,” he said outright, allowing the man to help him back to a sitting position on the bench. “I’m fine.” Danny smiled hesitantly, feeling himself for any bruises, hoping that the homeless guy wouldn’t notice his discrete search for the wallet he kept in the side pocket of his suit jacket.

“It’s still there, ya wallet, I mean,” the homeless man said, shaking his head, still in defense mode. “I don’t steal.”

“I never said you DID steal anything,” Danny replied with some heat, surprised all over again that the man could read his moods so well. “I-I was just-”

“Why did ya fall out, anyway,” the man cut through Danny’s explanation before he could finish. “And who’s Trey?”

“WHAT?!?” Danny said, startled. “Where did you hear that name from?”

“Well, ya said it befo ya passed out, and den again while I was tryin ta wake ya,” the man said, a bewildered look on his face. “I was shakin ya and then ya said ‘Trey’, like you thought I was the guy- it’s someone’s name, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “When I first saw you- well, you reminded me of someone.”

“This Trey?” The man asked.

Danny sighed. “Yeah, Trey. I got shocked because you could almost be his twin- you see, Trey died about ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said with compassion. “It aint never easy when someone dies.”

“He was on my mind, since next week marks the tenth anniversary since… it happened,” Danny went on.

“H-how’d he …die?” The filthy-dressed man asked, almost hesitantly.

Danny looked away, towards the waters of the Bay which rippled in the afternoon sunlight in the Artic wind’s wake. “Shot.” His tone indicated that he didn’t want to say anymore on the subject.

The homeless guy seemed to catch on to that. “Again, I’m sorry,” he said. “I got caught out there too; see, my name is Raymond but everyone calls me Ray- get it?” He sounded almost jovial. “Trey, Ray- I almost thought ya had called MY name.”

“That’s why you stuck around, huh,” Danny said as he still studied the water, curious. “You wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery..?”

“Well, that- and also you’re the only one out here right now that look like they can afford to spare sum change,” he admitted unashamedly.

Danny felt a surge of pity for this homeless man. “Well, let me see if I have any-” he started, beginning to search his pockets.

“Hold on,” the man Ray said, putting up a very calloused, grime-filled hand, each finger sticking up out of the worn fingerless glove caked with years of dirt. “We could take care of that in a minute- I mean, ya just got up off the ground, get ya head together first.” He gave a grim smile then. “I know something ‘bout gettin up off the hard earth and then needin your bearings.”

Danny, looking again at the man who looked so much (underneath all the dirt and stink) as his old love, wondered to himself what this guy would look like all cleaned up- how much more would he look like Trey..? He made up his mind then. “Tell you what,” he said, giving Ray what he hoped was a casual smile. “How’s about you get more than just some spare change..?”

“How so,” Ray asked.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Danny said, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. “You come home with me, and I’ll get you a bath and a change of clothes, a decent meal and-”

“Hold it right there, pardna,” Ray interrupted with some pride, Danny inwardly shivering from the same nickname that Trey used to call him. “I can’t take no special treatments. Askin for spare change is one thing, tryin to get someone to take me home wit em is a whole diffrent animal…”

“No, it’s to thank you for helping me off the ground,” Danny replied honestly.

“Seein as I’m the one who made ya pass out in the first place,” Ray began, “I owed it to ya to get ya up from the ground.”

“But still, you could have just… I don’t know, walked off and left me to get mugged or something,” Danny protested, “but you didn’t. You did a decent thing, staying with me until I ‘got my head together’. Let me do something decent for you.”

Ray looked at him sideways, skepticism etched all over his face. Then he relented. “Well, ok, since ya put it that way, I’ll go,” he said. “Not too many folks want to pay it forward, a decent thing with a decent thing; the least I could do is not keep ya from paying what ya feel ya owe.”

“Well, thank you sir,” Danny said, his insides doing a flip-flop. “Follow me.” And with that he turned around and walked towards the park exit.

“Well,” Ray started, holding back. Danny looked back at him still standing by the bench, his eyes questioning.

Ray sighed. “Are ya sure ya don’t want me to… wait here or something? Ya really want to walk the streets with me?”

Another wave of pity washed over Danny, who realized then that this guy had way too many tough breaks in his life. To cover up the pity he smiled widely. “Man, I’d be proud to walk the streets with a hero.”

Ray stared at him, surprise on his face- and then, returned the smile with a humbling one of his own. “A hero- me..?”

“Come on,” Danny said then, walking towards the gates once more, Ray right by his side. “I think I might still have some clothes at home that will fit you.”

***************************************************************

While waiting at the stoplight Claire Clark sat, fuming as she looked around at her car, a 1985 Chevrolet Corvette- graying and rusted. It was personally insulting that everyone else in the family had a luxury car of their own to drive while she had to settle for a 30-year old secondhand sedan. They all treated her like she killed their puppy or something, and Claire just didn’t understand what could be so bad about her that none of the men in the family would have anything to do with her, much less give her any money- not even her godchild seemed to like her too much.

When Marquis was first born, Claire and Danny (who were still married at the time) stood in as godparents at his christening (at their son Lamar’s request since they had been the only married couple that Lamar's friend Rah-Rah personally knew of), so when Claire found out about Rah-Rah being locked up she immediately came back to ‘help her godson’, which meant getting back into her son’s and ex-husband’s lives. This wasn’t an easy choice for her, since it meant facing her guilt over leaving Lamar behind when she left Danny and their marriage behind. It was not that she didn’t love her son; it was simply that her mission required the sacrifice of leaving him behind instead of dragging him from one demonstration to another. Making sure Lamar had stability while she was out trying to change the world ‘by-any-means-necessary’ made all the difference. She had even convinced herself that striking out against the white man made the future better for her son. It was all for him, even if Danny refused to understand her.

This is how she got herself to sleep for the first couple months after she left Lamar behind.

At first she tried to call once in a while to check on Lamar, but as Africa’s Issue became more covert and went further underground in their endless causes, it became harder to keep contact- too many chances that the calls may have been traced by the government.

In reality, the government never really saw Africa’s Issue as any threat, but the group’s leader, Inamae Shazzad, fired the fears of his followers to heights of paranoia so that inevitably they began to see conspiracy theories of government attacks on them everywhere. As the years rolled by, however, the only cause Africa’s Issue seemed to further was Inamae’s personal goals, like robbing gas stations for food and beer, living in desert communes and fucking every woman in his ‘movement’ with his 13-inch African dick again and again. Inamae Shazzad trained his flock of 85% women to believe in his own system of ‘government’; and after a time it became a great reward among the most faithful women to be chosen as his ‘month-mate’- a gift which was bestowed on Umfana X on more than one occasion. The fact that Inamae Shazad was incredibly tall, dark and sexy with a baritone voice and an African-sized dick was unimportant.

Those few men who did follow Inamae’s message helped provide muscle for the female thieves as they hit grocery stores, shopping malls, and newsstands, always with the promise that they would advance to real targets once they practiced enough on the small stuff. Inamae seemed to have enough influence over his flock to keep them satisfied with his small-time promises of untold riches. Once a month they would go on a thieving spree, using a different group of women. Each robbery was scrutinized by the men and the most adept female during that night’s heist would be rewarded as Inamae’s newest month-mate. His male staff got to fuck the runners-up.

So did Inamae Shazzad rule his impromptu Thieves’ Guild with a silver tongue and an iron dick. While most 50-year old women with college degrees might have seen through this sleaze and realized that Inamae was a simple nickel and dime con-man who only wanted a harem to serve him, Umfana’s belief in their leader’s words and promises kept her under his thrall. The fact that Inamae Shazad was incredibly tall, dark and sexy with a baritone voice and an African-sized dick was, again, unimportant.

Claire-Umfana lived this way for years until one night during a gas-station robbery she caught the news of Rah-Rah’s unfortunate incarceration. This of course did not faze her much until she learned of the bizarre circumstances behind it, and that her ex-husband AND her son was involved. This still did not move her to react until she learned that Marquis, her godson, was an heir to the most powerful fortune owned by a single African-American family in America. THIS alone prompted her to remember her responsibilities to her godson and also to reunite with her son. After asking Inamae for permission to leave, guaranteeing to return with substantial funding for the movement, she was allowed to return to Seattle- but not before Inamae wore her pussy out for several hours, just to remind her that her turn as ‘month-mate’ would be forfeit if she failed to return. With the memory of his giant African dick wrapping about her like a glove she set out to rekindle her ties with her family, knowing that she were she successful enough she would be able to return to Inamae and Africa’s Issue with serious money, money that they would be able to finance a REAL offensive against ‘the Man’. This might also please Inamae enough that he would make her his Month-Mate for maybe two months, back to back..!

But things weren’t so smooth when Claire-Umfana came home. She did expect Danny to be cold and apathetic towards her, seeing as she did leave him flat- yet she felt that with a little patience on her part she would strengthen her ties with her estranged family. Things quickly went south when she found out about Lamar’s relationship with his best friend Malik, who they all used to call Joop. She lashed out at Danny for allowing this abomination to continue, and she got into a shouting match with Malik, in which Lamar put his foot down and threatened to break all ties with her once and for all if she insulted his lover one more time. Sensing that she was losing ground on her ultimate plan to get money out of Lamar, she apologized- but the damage was done. None of the others would have anything to do with her now except Lamar, and Marquis to an extent- but she had successfully alienated herself to everyone else, which meant she wasn’t getting a free ride from any of them. After a time it seemed only Marquis's mother had enough sympathy to at least hire Claire to watch Marquis every so often while he was still small, and so from the generosity of Marquette, Claire managed to save up to buy the old clinker she was getting around Seattle in (Marquette was forbidden by Lamar to buy anything significant for his mother from the inheritance money, so she obeyed out of fear that she would be replaced as administrator of Marquis's trust). The salary was decent enough to afford Claire her own small kitchenette in a quiet neighborhood and also keep her bills paid, but it left not much for anything extra. Even more insulting was the fact that everyone else in the family had been idolized all through the tabloids for one thing or another, courtesy of the very fortune she had no access to. And of course, to stir salt into the wound, no one in her apartment complex believed she was related to the Hill Family at all; much less she actually being mother of the famous Karl Khronic. The neighborhood on the whole wrote her off as an Afro-Centric eccentric, laughing at her efforts to bring her militant awareness to them. As for the Hill Family, she was invited to events like Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner, and she was also included on godparent matters that involved Marquis himself, but that was mostly it. To have to be sent home to her drab space and not even be allowed to sleep over for the night at any of the Family homes..! She could understand never being invited to Hill Hall, the Hill ancestral family mansion where Joe and Cookie lived. Cookie had never forgiven her for getting with Danny way-back-when, and Joe hated her for the things she said about Malik. She totally understood why Danny wouldn’t give her a place to stay in his luxury mini-manor house over in the Bolo Grounds, the richest part of Seattle- there was too much bad blood there. But to never be asked to live at or sleep over at HT, where her own son lived..! She couldn’t even have a nice sleepover at Marquis's condo, because she was only there to mind the boy until Marquette got home from work and then she had to leave. These little slights and ‘arms-length’ dealings with the Hill family were beginning to work her last nerves, especially since she still saw no real way into their good graces, at least enough to start getting her hands on some REAL money- money to funnel into Africa’s Issue. Depression was starting to settle in; she had to DO something and soon, or lose her place in Inamae’s bed for life..! She’d been away for so long…

Her pre-paid cell-phone rang. She answered the call- and her pussy got instantly moist with obsession. “Heyyahh, Umfana-baby,” Inamae Shazzad’s baritone voice drawled across the phone lines and into her soul with a shiver. “You awl rite up theyre, aint nobawdy tayppin dat phoine pussy you sayvin fo me rite?”

“It is as always yours and yours alone, Great Leader,” Claire gushed as she swerved to avoid a passing car, the driver angrily yelling something about paying attention to the road as they rode by. Claire dismissed it as road rage- how could anyone expect her to watch the road while she was talking to her Leader?

“Dats wazzuuup bayyby,” Inamae replied, the approval in his voice making the seat underneath Claire beginning to feel sopping wet. “And da playn, how yalz doin to get up wit all thayt munny?”

“It hasn’t gone so well.” Claire found admitting failure was like stabbing herself in the chest. “It’s that …FRIEND of Lamar’s, the one who gave him all that money,” Claire said then with vehemence. He won’t let me get any closer to my own son than I-”

“Well then bayyby,” Inamae said then, “yalz just gon haveta get da intaloper outta da wayy…”

“But how, Great Leader,” Claire asked, tears of frustration filling up her eyes as she swerved again to avoid another car. “How do I get that... PERSON away from my son?”

Inamae seemed to think this over. “Tell yalz whut,” he said then. “I’ll come up an see you tomorrow, that way I cayyn see for myself hows all this iz wrapped up. Den maybe we’ll do a lil- UNWRAPPIN.”

Claire pulled over to the side of the road with a screech, slamming on the brakes. “You-YOU would come to see ME, Great One..?” She could hardly dare to breathe.

“Of couyrse,” Inamae said with aplomb. “I’ll be theyre in the moyrnin.” And he hung up.

A buzz began deep inside her stomach as she grew dizzy with excitement. To be graced with the presence of the Great Leader, to help her find a way to get rid of Malik out of Lamar’s life once and for all… and to ride that monster African-sized dick once more..! All she did just then was lightly grasp the area between her thighs just once, stroking the hairy, swollen nether-lips just underneath the satin panties- and her hot, growling pussy exploded in a seizure of ecstasy which gushed lust-juice all over the car seat as she thrashed and moaned, crying out “AHH-AHH-AHHHHH-INAME-AHH-AHH-AAHHHH-OH GREAT LEADER,” over and over… nails digging into the car leather seats, her head whipped from side to side as spasms rocked through her body so strong she couldn’t catch her breath.

After about three minutes she unclenched and leaned back-arched, back into the drivers’ seat, her poking titties leaking dark stains through her blouse, drained yet exultant. The Great Leader, Inamae Shazzad himself, was coming to Seattle to help her with the plan to get as much dough out of her son as possible to fund the Africa’s Issue Movement. This would also mean she would have him all to herself for a while, away from the other petty, desperate whores in the Movement that were lined up to become his latest Month-Mate… Suddenly happier than she thought she could ever be, she sat up straight and reached for her cell-phone, which had flown out of her hand while having that orgasm of death. A sudden chill across her legs reminded her to wipe up the large puddle of spume that had collected underneath her and dripped to the floor, giving off a slightly fishy odor. She had no choice since she had no tissue on her but to keep driving and hope it would dry up before she got out.

Still sweating and half-panting, Claire shifted gears, reversed the car, drove the car over the dividing meridian and soon was speeding back in the other direction. Flipping open her cell she began to dial Danny’s number and leave a voice-message. She couldn’t come over and look at expensive gifts for her godson’s graduation after all- there was enough time for that, she would go by Danny’s in the morning. Right now she had to get home to her apartment and clean up, clean the car too- for the Great Leader was coming, and that was all that mattered to her now.