Chapter Forty-Six

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Three years later...


FRENCH SMILED AT PAUL WHILE he talked a mile a minute. They were playing cards and everyone knew that was his main tactic at cheating. When it was his turn, he would talk and joke to distract those around him. A few others already learned his game plan a long time ago so it was nothing new.

Many were scared to speak up but others who had stripes were not. If he was on his bullshit today French would have no problem saying so. His nickname was "Big Poppa" but French was not going to call him that. He got the name from certain inmates who were called "bitches" in here.

Paul was openly gay and known for turning out a lot of the men in here. Even going so far as to rape others as well. He only did this to the fresh meat in prison who weren't protected or didn't know anybody. A lot of the men in here steered clear of Paul. It was known that birds of a feather flocked together and many thought if he was homosexual then they would be labeled as such because he was the company they kept.

French didn't care what Paul did, just as long as he kept his affairs away from him. In the middle of the game one of his men came over, he was the flamboyant type. There was no hair, nails and makeup for him to fancy himself with but his mannerisms were there.

"Papi the nigga next door keep fucking with me. He slapped me for no reason."

French kept his head down and so did the other men around the table. It wasn't an act of fear, just not wanting anything to do with what was happening.

"Yo' Murphy!" Paul yelled, making everyone look up at the top deck.

Seconds later a man appeared at the top of the rails. His eyes were bloodshot as if he'd been trying to sleep.

"Why you put your hands on my bitch? Do he belong to you? Don't put yo' hands on my fucking property!"

"Then tell his stupid ass to shut up with that fucking singing! I don't wanna hear about no man dropping his ass on a dick! Keep that shit in ya'll cell!"

Some of the guys around the table snickered and others were disgusted. It was Paul's turn and he was holding up the dispute with his lover's quarrel. French wasn't in the mood to play anymore because of the drama, so he forfeited. He placed his cards down and went to go find something else to do.

He didn't roll with in a gang in here, which was rare. Usually everyone was part of some crew for protection. He was by himself but was respected enough for the most part to be left alone. He still got into it with people here and there. But for the most part he stayed out of everyone's business and they did the same.

Deciding to go on the wreck yard, he went to his cell to grab his towel one time. It was a Wednesday, his assigned day to shower. He liked working out on those days the most because he could hit the shower right after instead of leaving his sweat to dry up and stink on his skin until shower day.

Finding a clean weight bench, French laid on his back and began to lift the 200 pound weight. He didn't have anyone to spot him, but he was use to this kind of heavy lifting since he lifted heavier at his home gym.

After Inola committed suicide, all three kids had been placed in foster care. French heard all three kids were split up, his daughter and the two boys. Apparently all of them had ended up in separate homes. He tried to find out who had taken his daughter in and even the other two boys just to see what they were living like; but the state claimed they couldn't find that information. French felt it was just because he was an inmate they wanted to treat him like dirt and just not tell him.

It was hell not knowing what ever happened to his baby girl. So in order not to go insane, he forced himself to believe she got adopted by a good family and was living amazingly. It was better than wondering if she got taken in by some sicko that liked to abuse kids.

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