Jail's Bait: Time Served (Book 5)

Chapter II

BZZZZZZZZZ-CRACK!!

Silence.

“Awww, damn,” came a muffled groan from underneath the covers.

Pulling white bed sheets off his face, Robert Hill, a.k.a. Rah-Rah, peeked with one eye down towards the floor where his alarm clock radio lay broken to bits.  It had startled him out of sleep, and in reflex his arm lashed out and swept the small electronic device off the bedstand.  Once he got a good look at the wreckage, he groaned again.  “That’s the third one this year…” 

He lay stretched out in his hospital bed for another ten minutes, then sighed, pulled himself upright, picked up the broken pieces of clock radio, and began his morning rituals- prayer, shower, brushing teeth, and straightening up his room before the on-call nurse came by with breakfast. 

This routine has been going on for the last three years, almost from the moment Rah-Rah, in dramatic fashion, returned himself during a thunderstorm to the custody of the Oak Grove Sanitarium for the Criminally Insane; this after falling off a cliff halfway up Mt. Rainier, surviving a plunge into the deadly Carthage Bluffs and being presented the choice of either drowning within the flooding of the Bluffs, or being swept out to the middle of Elliott Bay to openly drown.  Yet Rah-Rah had managed to swim against the currents, back up the drop that led to the drains he and Malik had been swept through, and found a maintenance access tunnel, complete with maintenance ladder.  He climbed up almost a quarter mile and burst through a manhole cover to somewhere along I-5, then walked until he found a place to sleep underneath a few standing trees, until he got some of his strength back- strength enough to make it back to the institution, even though his last two miles were in a horrendous thunderstorm… Rah-Rah thought he’d never be dry again. 

For a long time afterwards Rah-Rah speculated why he stayed so strong throughout that whole ordeal, and seriously considered himself crazy for dragging his wet, bruised and banged-up ass back to protective custody- which was one reason why he hadn’t tried to break out since then.  Only a truly crazy individual would want to be in a place like this, of their own free will.  Then he thought about it some more… and the day came when he realized that he returned himself to the sanitarium voluntarily because of something Joop and he spoke of when they were trapped at the bottom of the Carthages, yet unaware of the rising tides that night: 

‘I know dat no matter what, you was a good father to Marquis.  He missed you a whole lot those first years.’ 

‘An you helped keep him safe while I was… away… you, Mar an your whole family.’ 

‘Your family, Rah-Rah; You're a Hill-man too.’ 

It was Joop, Joop who reminded him of two important things; that he had a son that needed him, and a family that wouldn’t turn their back on him as long as he abided by the state’s rules, of course. He admitted to himself, of course, that it was Joop’s opinion- well, Malik’s opinion- that really made him start to turn over a new leaf. Because of his legal and mental issues, he was unable to legally claim his share of the Hill fortune; his shares reverted to his son, Marquis. At first he scowled to himself that his son walked away with a fortune that belonged to him, yet as time wore on he realized that if anyone deserved compensation for lack of a good father figure, it was Marquis.  At any rate, Marquis had started coming to see him once everyone else found out that he survived the fall and had turned himself in.  he still remembers that day, three years ago, when Malik, Lamar and Marquis pushed their way into his room… 

  

He was only three weeks back from the night he broke out of Oak Grove.  Sophie had been fired; she had confessed to helping him escape the night of the grad party.  No one had come around to see him, and he thought it was just as well that they left him alone- all of them.  Then, one night as he sat still and stared out of the window at the mountains beyond, suddenly they were there- Malk, Lamar, and Marquis- having shoved the door open in an obvious anxious fit.  The three stopped short, stunned that Rah-Rah was there, actually there… he stared back at them all, caught off-guard, not sure how to react. 

Then Lamar came right up to Rah-Rah, whose heart had begun to beat faster once he saw the object of his years-long obsession- and yet Rah-Rah wasn’t completely surprised that once Lamar reached him he hauled off and slugged him across the face.  He actually flew a couple feet before landing on the floor.   Rolling over he looked up at Lamar, who was holding the fist used to strike gingerly, his eyes filled with rage… and just a shade of pity.  Rah-Rah said nothing; he deserved it.  He even let Lamar believe that he had hit him hard enough to possibly break the jawbone by pretending to wince as he touched the area currently on fire. 

Lamar simply turned and strode from the room.  Not a word was spoken yet by anyone. 

Rah-Rah turned to the two who remained; his cousin Malik, and his son Marquis.  Malik came over to him and held out a hand.  Rah-Rah hesitated, wondering is Malik wasn’t up to finishing what Lamar had started… and then reached for the hand, letting Malik  help him to his feet.  Once standing upright again, Malik looked him over, brushed some dust off his hospital robes, and nodded his head in quiet approval.  Then he turned and followed Lamar out the door… which left Marquis alone with his father for the first time since he was eight years old.  Rah-Rah honestly didn’t know what to say, but before he could utter a sound, Marquis had gone up to him and flung his arms around his dad, hugging him tightly. 

A tension lessened inside Rah-Rah’s chest as he clasped his son’s back.  And then without a sound, Marquis broke away and half-ran out of the room.  The whole scene had taken less than 2 minutes. 

He stood there silently for another minute, stunned beyond belief; and then a wave of emotion broke across him then; tears broke free as with a howl of pain he slumped to the ground, nails raking the floor as he sobbed bitterly… 

  

That was three years ago.  And since then Lamar hadn’t been back again, which was to be expected.  He owed Lamar more than he could repay.  Yet Malik and Marquis (whenever the latter was back from school) had been back, off and on, over the past three years… to visit, to make small talk, and such.  It wasn’t much, but it meant the world to Rah-Rah, because it was… something.  In the half talks with his son, Rah-Rah realized that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree in a lot of ways…

There was a slight click.  Rah-Rah turned to see the door open and the on-call nurse entering the room with a breakfast tray.  “Good morning,” she said in a brusque manner, not really paying attention to him as she headed towards the end table nearest the bed.  Placing the tray on the table, she spun on her heel and walked back towards the door.  “I'll be back for it in a half-hour,” she added before she pulled the door shut. 

He heard the click again, but knew that was just the latch catching; there had been no real need for the nurses to lock him in, since he’d proven to all that he was mostly there voluntarily, having given himself up.  And, he admitted to himself, this was his way of atoning for his sins without having to be locked up in prison.  He went over to the bed and sat down before his breakfast- scrambled eggs, toast, two strips of bacon, two sausage links, a bowl of grits, a cup of black coffee and a container of milk.  He ate his meal in silence, thinking ruefully of the fact that his life had been reduced to meals, therapy and silence, whether he was catatonic or not.  He finished his meal two minutes later and was cleaning up the tray when the phone rang, startling him.  He had been awarded phone privileges since turning himself back in, but so far not too many people had actually used the number he gave out.  Curiously he picked up the receiver.  “Hello...?” 

“Hello, Robert: this is your Uncle Joe.” 

Rah-Rah took the phone from his ear, staring at the receiver incredulously. He hadn’t heard one sound from him since the night of the grad party.  He put the phone back to his ear.  “How can I help you, Uncle Joe...?” 

“No, son; it is I who can help you,” Gov. Joe Hill replied.  “I believe the time has come for us to discuss your future.” 

A dark, bitter taste started to fill the pit of his stomach.  “The doctors feel that I'm finally fit to stand trial for all those crimes I committed,” he managed to say; “isn’t that so...?” 

“Ummm… well, no,” Joe said.  “Crimes...?  What are you talking about?  Surely you haven’t done anything ELSE-” 

“Okay, now you’re not making sense, Uncle Joe,” Rah-Rah said then, completely confused.  “I'm in here because they think I'm not mentally fit to stand trial.  Is that or is that not the case?” 

“Well, now I'm confused, Robert,” Joe said then.  “Didn’t Danny tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” 

“About seven years ago Danny went to court and had all the charges dismissed except for the patricide; he got that dropped to Man-1 before trial, and then in absentia you pleaded not guilty by reason of temporary insanity.  The judge ruled in favor.” 

Fresh shock filled Rah-Rah to the brim.  “What the- what does all this mean...?” 

“It means that while you were catatonic the doctors testified that it was permanent; and the judge ruled that time served at Oakgrove would constitute for you just as time was served in a regular correctional facility.  It’s what the judge added into the sentencing that helps you currently.  Being a wiseguy, the judge added that if you should ever regain consciousness you could just start a new life and wind up getting away with it all; and he was right,” said Joe.  

The truth of it all finally started to sink in; Rah-Rah gripped the phone so hard the plastic cracked.  “Are you telling me that I was freed from all charges seven years ago?” 

“Well, yes,” Joe stated.  “Once you officially came out of the catatonia, according to the judge’s dictates, you have been a free man.”  Joe paused.  “Even you must have realized how lenient everyone at Oak Grove has been with you since you checked yourself back in three years ago; the unlocked doors, the nonchalant way the staff treats you… your doctors called me yesterday and basically told me that they have need of the bed and the room; they’ve given you a clean bill of mental health; you’re free to go. 

“Wait a minute,” Rah-Rah challenged; “what do you mean, ‘I checked myself in’...?  I turned myself in three years ago…” 

Well, at the time you ‘escaped’, the authorities took a good look at your case, and realized that they really had no real reason to hold you anymore.  So when you came back to ‘turn yourself in’, you were actually checking in voluntarily, for the first time.  Surely Danny explained this to you, when you signed those forms to commit yourself...?” 

He recalled signing forms when A.D.A. Dan Clark stopped by, but he didn’t really want to talk at the time to Danny or anyone, he just wanted to get the deal over and done with and resume his self-atonement for his crimes, which is why he signed everything Officer Dan told him to sign; no question, no review. 

And all this time those had been self-commitment papers...? 

A slow build-up of horror rose inside of Rah-Rah; he began to shake- not with happiness, but with anger.  “YOU’RE WRONG,” he cried out- and then he slammed the phone onto the cradle, rage building inside Rah-Rah to the point of implosion. 

He knew he belonged in prison for the things that he did to his family, for raping one of his closest friends, for putting his mother into a coma, for killing a cop- and yet the doctors said that he was more crazy than lethal, so they brought him here.  Rah-Rah knew that his whole reason for wanting to stay here had to do with the fact he knew he should have done time, if for nothing else, for murdering his own father.  Remorse, guilt and self-recrimination bound him here freely, to atone in some way for his crimes, spending year after year in therapy and in cold silence.  If they take that away from him, how could he ever learn to one day forgive himself for what he’d done...?  And why would Danny go out of his way to make him think that he was still being held by the system...? 

Unless… unless having him mentally incapacitated kept Rah-Rah from being able to take his rightful share of the Hill fortune back from his son Marquis… yes, mental deficiency would be just the reason Marquis's godfather, Danny Clark, would use to keep Rah-Rah from his inheritance… or maybe it was the ‘super-couple’, Malik and Lamar, who might have stepped in to suggest such a plan to the hapless Officer, just to stick it to him just that much more- 

“Hey, is everything okay in there,” a voice sounded out. 

Rah-Rah looked up… and standing in the door window was his next-door inmate, Marcus.  “I'm fine,” Rah-Rah said then, his rage dissolving; “come on in, Marcus.” 

Marcus James opened the door and came smiling into the room, closing himself in with Rah-Rah.  He stood about 6’ feet even, with a slim build; low Caesar haircut, medium brown, smooth skin and dark eyes, and three years younger than Rah-Rah.  Marcus James was also one of the biggest NBA stars in current franchise history.  In high school he was a McDonald's All-American and won a basketball scholarship with Forest Wake University. After his sophomore year he applied for and was selected 4th overall in the 2005 NBA Draft, and had been playing with the New Orleans Swarm, Marcus was named a NBA Rookie of the Year Award in 2006, a multiple All-Star, listed in both All-NBA and All-Defensive teams and led the Swarm to the second round of the 2008, 2009 and 2012 NBA Playoffs. He has also won an Olympic Gold Medal with the 2008 and 2012 United States national basketball team.  Yet there was a dark side to the NBA super-star:  at the height of his career he began getting into trouble with the law, and then there was the highly publicized fight four years ago with NFL star Running-Back for the N.O. Spirit, Richie Bench, right at mid-court during a game with the Miami Caliente which landed him in Sinai-Cedars Hospital for several days.  Afterwards he was transferred to Seattle and institutionalized in Oak Grove directly, having been diagnosed with severe obsessive-compulsive disorder, resulting in violent impulses when the OCD got out of control; this meant that his career, his NBA ranking, was all over. 

Yet that was when he was first brought in, a little over four years ago; and with proper treatment and constant supervised medication, Marcus had come a long way from being violently orderly.  He had been at the institution at least a year before the fateful night that Rah-Rah had broken out and turned himself back in two days later.  Rah-Rah had taken up to walking about the whole facility, and in one of those walks he came across Marcus watching an NFL matchup:  the N.O. Spirit playing the Dallas Rustlers.  Being that most of the insane inmates were white, it was surprisingly refreshing for both black men to become aware of the other’s existence at Oak Grove; so they struck up a friendship, that despite all the other distractions in Rah-Rah’s life, he’d prized these past three years. 

“I see you broke the clock radio again,” Marcus observed. “Third time this year, eh?” 

“Not funny,” Rah-Rah replied with a half-grin. 

“I heard another commotion,” the former NBA All-Star mentioned as he made his way across the room to sit in the spare chair set for visitors.  “Who were you yelling at on the phone?  Unless I’m minding your business,” he added hesitantly.  

Rah-Rah hesitated himself then.  “You know what,” he said, turning to stare at Marcus, “if there’s anyone at all that I don’t have a problem talking secrets with, its you.” 

Marcus smiled in surprise.  “Well, that goes both ways then,” he said, showing his brilliant white teeth, that Rah-Rah couldn’t help but linger watching his full, pretty lips; Marcus, it appeared, did not notice this.  “So, what was the shouting about,” he asked, looking down at the tiled floor. 

“Family stuff,” Rah-Rah started to reply- then stopped again, realizing what was going on.  Marcus’s eyes were fixed on the floor, and he was mumbling something under his breath.  “Hey-hey Marcus; are you counting the floor tiles again...?”  Rah-Rah asked mildly. 

Marcus jerked his eyes upward to guiltily fix onto Rah-Rah’s eyes.  “How did you-” 

“You have severe OCD.  You were doing that thing again that you do,” Rah-Rah answered.  “How many did you get up to?” 

“24; but there are much more in here than that,” Marcus said absently, staring around at the floor. 

The man looked so vulnerable at that moment that Rah-Rah’s first impulse was to pull him onto the bed and lay down with him, his arms around Marcus’s, protecting him against himself, against the world… the same way he used to want to ‘protect’ Lamar… but yet, not like Lamar; he wanted to make Marcus feel better because, well, he liked the guy.  Maybe more than just a little… 

Marcus looked over at Rah-Rah, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears.  “You think I'm going back into crazy-land, don’t you...?” 

Rah-Rah smiled gently.  “No, its just… I read up on your condition.  I wanted to know more about it, in case I… could help.” 

“Really...?” 

“And besides, I know one or two things about obsession, myself.  Its sort of why I'm in here…” 

Marcus hesitated; then he got up from the chair and came over to sit on the bed near Rah-Rah.  “Can I… can I ask you for something...?” 

“I don’t mind; whatever you need, my dude,” Rah-Rah murmured, reaching out to clasp Marcus's shoulder. 

It seemed like it was the longest time before Marcus said anything… and then, “It’s only that, I'm so lonely here… and if I could… would you hold me for a minute...?” he finally managed as a whisper. 

It was just the thing he had wanted to do with Marcus, lay down and hold him close, keep him safe… Rah-Rah’s heart quickened to racing levels; his sleeping dick suddenly hardened to brick strength so fast he got dizzy from the fast restructure of blood in his body. 

“Are you okay,” Marcus asked in concern, seeing Rah-Rah’s face pale slightly. 

“No, I'm fine,” Rah-Rah managed to say as he tried to shuffle his body to hide his raging hard-on.  Its not that kind of party, not that kind of party, he kept trying to tell himself.  “You wanna- ahem- you wanna lay here and…”  He gesticulated towards the bed. 

“Ohhh,” Marcus said then, flustered; “Ummm, okay then,” he added; clearly he was as uncomfortable as Rah-Rah felt. 

Slowly they settled themselves in; Rah-Rah laid back and sort of on his side, leaving his arms wide open.  Marcus crawled in between them and, facing him, settled into the crook of Rah-Rah’s shoulder on the bed and curled into him as Rah-Rah put his other arm around Marcus's shoulders, enclosing him.  Both men were tense, but then Marcus snuggled into Rah-Rah and gave a great sigh of relief.  Rah-Rah forgot his tension and pulled Marcus close, feeling the power of protection settle over him; he knew at that moment Marcus felt protected, safe, watched over… 

Rah-Rah, of course, forgot something else.  Pulling Marcus closer to him made his brick-hard dick press like a hot poker deep against Marcus’s stomach, laying there and throbbing madly.  After five minutes of them laying this way, Rah-Rah began to notice that his dick was so hard and ready it was leaking pre-cum against his hospital pants, and throbbing steadily away against Marcus's middle.  Then he remembered that the last time he was with a guy like this, it was Lamar, who he’d drugged and then…  He tried to reposition himself. 

“You don’t have to move,” Marcus said then, whispering in his ear; it was like he was reading his thoughts.  Marcus then placed his arms on Rah-Rah’s masculine chest, letting his thumbs caress the dark, rock-hard pecs.  Rah-Rah looked towards Marcus's upturned face then, noting how incredibly handsome he was up close… 

“I'm where I wanna be, Robbie,” Marcus said then as he leaned up to brush his lips against Rah-Rah’s. 

The touch was so electric that Rah-Rah moaned, opening his mouth to slide his tongue past Marcus’s lips, to caress his tongue in hot passion as they surrendered to the kiss.  Rah-Rah marveled at how warm, how soft Marcus's lips were as he flexed his muscles, pulling the NBA star underneath him- and still the hot, wet kiss lasted and lasted, melding them into a passionate blend of masculine flesh… 

Marcus broke the kiss off then, staring little-boy like into Rah-Rah’s eyes.  “Is this just for now or… I mean, I don’t wanna lose a friend, ‘cause of… sex.” 

Rah-Rah stared at the sexy man laying underneath him.  “I don’t wanna lose neither,” he said then with a smile; “the sex… or the friend.” 

“That’s what I'm talking about,” Marcus replied then with a bright smile that melted Rah-Rah’s heart- he knew that was all he needed to hear.  Rah-Rah leaned over and started to nibble at Marcus's neck as the man began a low moan. 

“Shhh,” Rah-Rah murmured between kisses.  Trailing his tongue down the smooth skin of his chest, Rah-Rah found Marcus's left, perking nipple- and bit down firmly. 

Marcus jumped violently with passion.  “Ahhh, that’s my spot,” he moaned, as Rah-Rah twisted and pulled the suddenly stiff nipple between his teeth.  Marcus thrashed and squirmed underneath Rah-Rah, his dick rising to full mast.  While still munching on his chest, Rah-Rah took a free hand and yanked down Marcus's pajama pants, throwing them to the floor as he slid his fist between his legs, underneath his hot, soft ballsack, and gripped his puckering hole with his index finger. 

Marcus's waistline arched like a cat then, as the man sobbed, “Yes, yeah my dude, ahhhh, I want it…” 

Rah-Rah had scrambled out of his own pajamas by then, hard-brick 10.5 inch dick hard and ready, leaking pre-nutt juice.  He got between Marcus's legs, all while still nibbling on his left nutt to the point of nervous breakdown for the NBA star, positioned his flared mushroom dickhead at Marcus's small booty, and then he bit down on the nipple hard at the same time as he slammed his beer-can thick heavy dick into Marcus's hole, pinning him home. 

“AARRRRRCCCCHHHH,” Marcus cried out- and Rah-Rah clamped a fist over his mouth to keep anyone from hearing his scream- and began to slide his dick into that hot, clenching, tight wet backdoor.  They both struggled at first, Rah-Rah hadn’t had sex in so long and Marcus not yet used to such a large dick inside of him; then Marcus's hold suddenly opened up and like a warm glove slid around Rah-Rah’s full dick down to the base. 

Rah-Rah almost nutted then as that asshole began to clench and squirm on his dick like a live mouth; sucking him in, squeezing on it, making it stiffen with lust.  A rush came over Rah-Rah and, grabbing Marcus by the throat, began pounding his ass with reckless thought, smashing his balls again and again into the man’s buttcheeks; he swore to make the ass sing for him, hurt for him as he slammed that thick dick back and forth into Marcus, all the while staring into his pleading eyes with each ruthless thrust, his hand clenched around the man’s neck… 

Marcus spasmed and choked then, “I’ma nutttt, my nigggaaaaa,” and then his waist bucked as his hard, long dick rose and started spitting off all on its own- ropes of pearly white nutt splashed all over Rah-Rah’s chest, over his cheeks, chest and arms as Marcus bucked off- which pushed Rah-Rah over the edge. 

“Aaarrrrhhhhhggghhhh,” Rah-Rah howled as he flooded Marcus's spasming ass with all that backed-up nutt- 

skeet-skeet-skeet….  skeet-skeet-skeet… 

Rah-Rah was so caught up in the feeling of this incredible nutt he didn’t realize that Marcus was almost turning pale from his fist clenching the man’s throat closed.  He opened his eyes, let go and Marcus began to gasp great gulps of air, all the while his dick spit off one or two more shots of jizz.  He grabbed Rah-Rah by the neck and kissed him almost violently.  They rolled around on the bed, rough, man-kisses for each other as the orgasm’s rage began to spend… 

 

…And then they fell back on the bed together, both naked, panting and gasping for breath, drained and pretty much satisfied as they held onto each other like grim death. 

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

 A little while later they both woke up; it seemed as if they’d fallen asleep for about ten minutes or so.  Rah-Rah looked at the door window and wondered if anyone had heard them, saw them going at it…. And then he looked down at Marcus, who was awake as well, smiling up at him.  He reached out.  “I like ya, Robbie, I like ya a lot,” Marcus whispered to Rah-Rah, kissing the underside of his neck in rapid succession. 

Rah-Rah held Marcus tighter, and their sweat and nutt-juice mixed and blended into a sticky paste that glued them together momentarily; their hearts beat on the same rhythm as Rah-Rah thought to himself, ahhh, this feels so good, finally being with a dude who wants to be mine, all mine… I dont want to let you go, Marcus… mmmmm… 

It was then that Rah-Rah remembered his phone call from Joe, and his good feeling dropped away.  “Marcus…” I have to tell you something, he murmured. 

The change in his tone alerted Marcus instantly.  “That doesn’t sound like its good news,” he said hesitantly, holding onto Rah-Rah. 

“That yelling you heard; I was on the phone earlier,” Rah-Rah began; “with my uncle Joe.”  And he proceeded to tell the man all that had transpired in the conversation.  When he was finished Marcus looked up at him with fear and a level of fury. 

“You lied to me,” he whispered. 

“What do you mean, I lied,” Rah-Rah asked, sitting up in surprise. 

“You told me you didn’t want to lose my friendship or the sex,” Marcus said with hurt and disappointment in his voice; he began to reach over to the floor and pull on his pajamas.  “You made me feel like you wanted both… wanted more.” 

“But-but I do,” Rah-Rah said, spluttering as Marcus dressed at top speed.  Rah-Rah realized then that he didn’t want Marcus to pull away from him like that, to not be touching him right then was almost agony; he wanted the man back in bed naked, with him, deeply in his arms... 

He tried to explain what he was feeling.  “Marcus, you made me feel something I haven’t… well, what I mean is…” 

“What you MEAN is,” Marcus interrupted coldly as he put on his slippers and re-belted his robe, “you’re leaving pretty soon anyway, so you just said what you had to say, to get what ya wanted from me; and now that you got to ‘hit-it’, its ‘so-long-stranger’ now, isn’t it...?”  He began to walk towards the door angrily.

“NOOO, dude, you got the wrong idea-” Rah-Rah said, trying to untangle his feet from the twisted bedsheets.

But Marcus had now reached the other side of the room.  He turned back and faced Rah-Rah, pain and shame in his face.  “Don’t worry, I wont mention this to anyone.  But if you think I'll forget that you played me and messed with my head just for a final-night fuck, then you just think again, nigga!!!”  And before Rah-Rah could react, Marcus had crossed the room, snatched open the door, and was closing it from the other side before another word was said.

Rah-Rah, still naked underneath the bedcovers, stared at the closed door.  “What the fuck just happened,” he asked aloud, completely confused.