Book excerpt (Chapter 2)

Chapter Two

Finding Tonya while I was in prison was truly a blessing.  That’s right, I went to prison.  I went from being a hot and in demand hairstylist to a prison convict.  Tonya helped me to make it through those seven years with more strength than I could conjure up without getting “high”.  We were re-connected through a mutual friend stumbled upon at one of her jazz sets.  Not surprised that I was in prison, Tonya with her shock therapy was talking about starting a family.  During our weekly lunch gatherings, she always expressed her desire to remain single and free.  Her motto was “When I eat, my family is fed”.  It seemed rather selfish to me, but who was I to judge?  Her letters helped me to understand her better.  We were into some of the same negative activities.  The only difference was I got caught and she didn’t.

While in college part-time, my career was as a hairstylist.  Tonya was a make-up artist.  We knew a lot of the same people traveling in the same circles.  The beauty salon was where you learned who was doing what in the streets.  Surprisingly, many people knew her name, but not much about her person.  She was just as mysterious in the classroom as she was in the streets.  I often teased her and called her the lone stranger, because she had a way of appearing from no place in particular and always alone.  We hung out at the 50 Yard Line club on the south side of Chicago every Sunday night.  We were the Cinderella hustlers always laying in the cut once the clock struck midnight watching the “High Rollers” fall in.  One Sunday, the ballers started piling in real deep and the atmosphere went from styling and profiling, to stifling hot and downright uncomfortable.

The dance floor was jammed to capacity like it always when the DJ started pinning “The Joneses”, a steppers anthem by the O’Jays.  Just as this mad cutie grabbed my hand to squeeze us on the dance floor, Tonya stood and demanded that we leave right that minute.  Tugging me away she whispered in my ear, “It’s too many enemies fallin’ through here let’s ghost” meaning let’s disappear.  Mumbling about her paranoia I followed her as she quickly made her way through the crowd not even checking to make sure that I was behind her.  Tonya had a way of smelling trouble like she was psychic or in the life herself.  Being that she appeared to be so spiritual and deep I could only speculate.  We skipped Sundays for a few months and just in time too.  Every other week, one of the hot spots in town was either getting robbed, sprayed with bullets or both.  One thing I do know for sure is that sister is just as messed up as I am.  Only she’s searching for a way out.

Dear Neicey,

I hope that all is well.  I apologize for missing my last visit, but I was in the hospital.  Girl, my eyes started rolling around in different directions, and I couldn’t see a thing for two weeks.  The doctors ran so many tests that my arms look like a pincushion.  When they prepped me for that MRI I was praying to Jesus.  The machine looked like a coffin and the sound reminded me of a steel mill.  I was scared they were going to cut my head open.

I had the weirdest dream while I was down.  Almost like God was talking to me Himself.  I could have sworn I heard a voice telling me that it was time for me to change.  Girlfriend, I almost ran up out of that place when I opened my eyes, and I was the only person in my room.  What’s even scarier is that the doctors still don’t know what’s wrong with me, or what caused the blindness.  My vision came back on its’ own.  On top of that, we just found out that my mother has cancer.  She started chemotherapy last week.  Now go figure.  Leave it to me to always have the mysterious and unnatural drama going on at the same time.  You know the person Ms. Jay called first? By the time I got to the hospital all of her doctors and nurses knew who her “rock” was.  My momma is a trip.  She gave the staff the blues about touching her.  She even called this morning to remind me to bring my make-up kit when I come today.  ‘Ms. Dark and Lovely’ needed her grooming before her visitors began to arrive.  I’m following her lead on this journey, because she’s a fighter.  No matter how many times I give her a reason to snap on me she knows I got her back.

Anyway, that’s where my head is at in the Windy City.  I’ll see you in a few weeks, and we can really catch up.

Stay strong,
Tonya

I wrote Tonya back on that kite the same day it came, because my girl sounded drained and scared.  Her people couldn’t distinguish her emotions.  Like it or not she was her mother’s clone.  Although she could never hide her feelings from me, somehow we could just feel each other.  That’s my girl for real.  Have no doubt.  She’s crazy, mysterious, and vindictive.  If she let’s you in, you’ll see her as downright vicious if you push her long and hard enough.  With all that she still had a good heart.  The big mystery was that she was slicker than a can of heated motor oil sitting on the ground in blistering August.  She literally made her moves right in front of you.  All you had to do was blink once and you missed it.

It was nothing for Tonya to tell me that we had lunch reservations at Houston’s on the Mile.  Before Pookie and Rae-Rae and Shanaynay took over it was a five-star dining experience.  Tonya taught me about food and restaurant critic ratings.  One time we were waiting to be seated.  Reservations were running twenty minutes behind schedule.  That was more than enough time for Tonya to forget that her name was Taylor Party.  I kid you not, the charge card that she used for dining read, “Taylor K. Party expiration date 7/87”.  When the table’s ready pager went off the hostess called her name.  I could barely contain myself as I nudged Tonya reminding that nut that she was Taylor Party.  “She must be deaf” I heard some of the guest whisper as we followed the hostess.  Using the nails of my index finger and thumb with discretion I pinched to hold Taylor by her forearm.  Barely moving my lips I told her if she got smart with one person my reaction was going to be G-H-E-T-T-O in the worse way.  It wasn’t the other guest’s fault that she forgot her alias.  She was just like Ms. Jay.  They both had personalities that reflected sit-com television sometimes even daffy.  They could go from naive to vicious never changing facial expressions.  Her game was tight though.  She didn’t steal identities.  She created them.

Just when I thought I was immune to her shock therapy she revealed another dimension of the notorious Tonya.  Honestly, I believe she intentionally used her writing classes to convince others that she was on the edge of insanity.  Why else would she write a poem about fighting the urge to die?

Tonya Holmes
Artist in Apprenticeship

The Candle in Your Heart

There’s a candle in your heart,

With it, from others you are separate,

Without it, you are lost in darkness,

With it, the wisdom of life is forever yours.

There’s no one alive, with your caring sensitivities,

We each have our faults in reality.

There is a time when life comes to you with a breeze.

Then when all of a sudden failure and disappointment,

Take your candle into its deepest freeze,

Remember,

Never let it die, that candle in your heart,

For if you do it will truly cause destruction,

Never let it die, it is only yours,

Only you can use or abuse its presence.

After hearing that poem, I was convinced that my girl was sucked into a black hole, and trying to find her way home.  It feels kind of deep being locked in a cell like an animal, and still being able to experience my friend’s mind while gaining a new  understanding of her issues that she thinks no one understands.

The first time I wrote to Tonya, I confessed to having a drug problem.  That little monkey danced my tail right into this jail cell, and ran away with the key.  Making the choice to use my own product was the beginning of my spiral decline.  My mind stayed so clouded by cocaine and grain alcohol.  I missed a few chapters in my life that ended up writing themselves without me.  I went from traveling every other weekend with Tonya, to getting high three days consecutively and sleeping for two.  My new client named Terri began booking herself last in my appointment book every Friday night; lingering behind as the clients and stylists made their exits; leaving us alone to have a little champagne with a couple of lines of cocaine to cap off the evening.

It was one of those warm spring evenings after a full day of rain.  The humidity level was so high that the salon looked like a ghost town in the desert.  Sisters very rarely keep their hair appointments when it rains.  Finding solace in the back office, translation taking a nod, I heard glass shattering in the front.  Assuming it was Terri, I headed to the door to see what she had broken this time.  That girl was as clumsy as clumsy could get, she was always tripping over her own two feet.  Reaching for the doorknob, I was thrust back by the force of four DEA agents storming through the salon like stick-up men.  Before I could regain my balance, two men flashing FBI badges and Terri!  They were crashing through my back door.  If I had a gun, Terri would have been dead on the spot.

Glaring like a pit bull, my entire body became flush with fever as I started having flashbacks about all the late nights Terri sat in here keeping me company while I cut up bricks.  Had she been in here the last time that Chico made a drop?   That won’t matter, because he always dropped with elaborate vases of flowers.  Did she plant any bugs in my home when she came to my last cocktail party?  Oh my God!  My mind screamed, as the video images of our previous gatherings began to replay themselves in my mind.

Before I knew it I turned and leaped into her direction successfully catching her powerful right hook with my jaw.  I regained consciousness in a jail cell, the MCC to be exact.  My saving grace was the fact that Chico and I weren’t due to connect until early the following week.  My safe only had two ounces and sentenced me for two years while the scales and cooking utensils added five.  This sealed me in for seven.  And seven years of federal time are just that, seven years.  I definitely strengthened my focus in prison.  There was nothing else to do but focus.  If you had any sense you kept your focus on a plan of action to keep you out, or to stay out of prison when your out date rolled around.  Thankfully my girl and I are both writers and enjoy communicating often.  It gave me something very positive and constructive to devote my energy to.

Dear Tonya,

I hope that everything is OK with your mom.  I remember how strong Ms. Jay is and I know she’ll be OK.  How’s your baby sister holding up?  I know it’s really hard on her with her being your mom’s baby and all, but you need to chill.  Stop being so hard on her, you helped to spoil that girl right along with Ms. Jay.  Being locked up really makes you think.  Right now I’m thinking about all the fun we used to have and how we had it going on.  I promise you this though; when I get out I’m gone hit ‘em hard.  I hate to admit that you were right.  But you were right; you can’t trust anybody in this game.  I’ll be home in one minute and back on my square.  I still get mad at myself for blaming you for being a bad influence when you were trying to school me.  Instead of being jealous I should have listened.

Stepping out of the pity party, I’ll have my Associates degree when I come home and I’m thinking about going to nursing school.  After sitting up in here for the past six years watching people from the outside stroll in and out, I’m definitely not going back into the hair game.  By the way, thanks for looking out, you’re the only person keeping me straight with commissary.  I may not be friends with the “girl” any more but I’m gone grind that monkey until I get back on my feet.  Stay strong,

Neicey

Dear Neicey,

I hope your spirits are feeling better today.  I could tell by your letter that you’re getting anxious.  That old adage “the idle mind is the devil’s playground” is more than just words.  Even though I’m the last person to try and preach, you need to change your thinking before you come home.  Things have changed so much these past few days that your thinking is sure to have you back in jail in less than six months after you’re released.  Sometimes our own selfish motives illuminate, “cause and affect”.  Your cause right now could even take you out of the game permanently.

I’m learning how to live better today.  I’m tired of always looking over my shoulder wondering when will be my turn to get caught up.  Today I’m trying to live positive and keeping my intentions pure and sincere.  My next lie could have me ending up as your roommate before you come home.  Girl have you seen the news?  It’s getting crazy.  If I see one more familiar face being arrested, I’m disappearing for a good minute.  Not to come down on you but you know the ending of the game.  Death or jail.  As your friend I’m asking you to ask yourself, are you using common sense?  You’re coming home with at least two years on paper (probation); if you get caught up again you might end up in prison for the rest of your life.

Tonya