Somethin' To Think About

Jasmine sat in the back of the van en route over the Rikers Island Bridge, looking into the water down below, her thoughts running wild. For the past eight months, three times a week, she took this very same trip. However, for some reason she just couldn’t escape the thought of one day the van going over the railing and plunging into the water (a voluntary risk that she and so many others like her took on daily). Outside of her man, son’s father, and love of her life blowing trial for a murder for which he’s being held without bail, this was her greatest fear. Jasmine and C.B., also known as Corey Banks, had been together for the last seven years. They were the prime example of unalike attracting, and a-alikes repelling. While Corey grew up in Harlem’s Lincoln projects, with one older and one younger sister, Jasmine grew up on the east side inside the Wagner Houses, with one older and one younger brother. At twenty-five years of age and Puerto Rican, she has never dated a man of Latin descent. Jasmine Velez, with her caramel complexion, shoulder length raven hair, and well-proportioned one hundred and thirty-eight pound frame, stood at the model height of 5’9.” She drove men she visually came in contact with crazy. She paid nothing or no one any attention other than C.B. and Corey, Jr. Her primary focus in life was based on them. The Oliver People frames she wore added an extra degree of sensuality to her, bringing about an exotic mystique. But it was her long legs, apple bottom and nice firm breasts that caused C.B. to continue his strong love for her. They first met seven years ago. The continuous intensity of their relationship made Corey become more and more possessive over her. Not in a sense where he ever suspected her of fucking around on him or anything, but to the point where Corey knew that he couldn’t properly function without her by his side. Out of all of the other females that he dealt with on the side, none of them were cut from the same exquisite cloth as she was. It’s why she held the position she had. Seeing Jasmine with C.B., one would never think that she was a graduate of Fordham University, holding a degree in Business Management as well as securing a high position inside the Chase Manhattan Bank. C.B., on the other hand, was a high school drop out who’d been in and out of the system since the early days of his youth. Having had the opportunity to see many before him from right in his immediate area lay it down and make something of themselves, C.B. took full advantage of his influence over those that looked up to him and took control over the entire project like his late mentor, Baby-K. Corey’s 6’1” figure, smooth Nat King Cole complexion, curly hair and always perfectly lined goatee made him an item among the ladies. It was killing him that he was still making ten thousand dollars a day, but wasn’t able to be present for the actual earnings. However, knowing that his loyal little homey, B. Rus, was out there on the strip holding down the fort, taking care of Jasmine and little C.J., kept him mentally afloat. The moment he ever received a bail, he knew he’d be released, but due to his extensive record, the Manhattan District Attorney’s office was successful in getting the judge to keep denying him bail. Jasmine hated what seemed like a forever process of entering the prison once she was over the bridge. One had to wait in long lines that bore the sign to whichever building your loved one was detained. You then had to wait for a dirty bus to take you there, fill out some more paperwork, and then wait sometimes for another hour, only to spend one measly hour with your people. After the C.O. called C.B.’s name and handed him the card with Jasmine’s name on it, he walked through a sliding door of the Beacon’s visiting room. An officer working the floor then directed him to the fifth chair in the second row, over to his left. No longer than a minute later, in came Jasmine, looking beautiful as ever. Upon making eye contact with each other, they both immediately started to smile and blow kisses in the air at each another. “Hey girl, you look awesome today. How was your ride up?” C.B. asked while lifting Jasmine up off of her feet and kissing her all over her face. “Stop it with your crazy self … You got the cops looking all over here like something is going on.” Jasmine glanced at the officers who stared her and her man down, hoping that a package of contraband was passed off. “So what, no one in this world can stop me from showing my baby love. You look tired ma, what’s up?” C.B. noticed the exhaustion on his baby girl’s face. Gently, he placed his hand on her chin and raised her head so that they once again made eye contact. “Nothing, my period came last night. Other than that, I’m fine. What’s up with you?” Jasmine responded. She lightly brushed a piece of lint off the side of C.B.’s right cheek. “Ain’t nothing but the same ol’ shit … And as you know, that without variety breeds tedium.” Jasmine was used to C.B. using so-called big words. It wasn’t something that he all of a sudden picked up in prison because he had a dictionary nearby. Extending his vocabulary was part of his everyday routine even before he got locked up, because although he didn’t finish high school, he had a strong affinity for reading. Every chance he got, whether he was on the block doing hand to hand or behind the scenes moving and shaking, he would pick up a book and read it from cover to cover. “For these last past few days, I’ve been in a serious state of dissatisfaction and weariness. That’s why I’m just hoping these people give me a bail next week. Enough of me though, what’s good with little C.B.?” “He was asleep when I left. My mother is taking him over to my grandmother’s later on this evening. What happened? I tried to call you last night but I kept getting your voice mail … Is everything okay, baby?” “Yeah, but you know something? I figured that too. I was just telling my man that before they called me for the visit. I’m telling you, I can feel it when you’re reaching out to me, on some real telepathy shit. What happened was, the officer that holds my cell phone in his locker called in yesterday. I’m unable to get to it when he’s not here. I know B. Rus was probably trying to get at me too. Listen, when you leave here, I need you to go and see him, tell him I said to make sure they locate that snitch nigga Tonk, and get rid of him before I go to court. I’m telling you, I want that nigga dead, ma.” “He called me while I was waiting for the van. He’s supposed to meet me on 125th and Lexington when I leave here. All I have to do is call and let him know I’m on my way,” Jasmine remembered. “Did he give you that twenty-five thousand?” “He’ll have it when I see him later on, he said.” “This gotta be one of the hottest days of June thus far, right?” C.B. asked, fanning himself from the heat. “I’m telling you.” Jasmine responded, tugging on her blouse that seemed to be sticking to her skin. “Damn, I miss you to death, girl. Just seeing you in them open toe Reberto Cavalli’s and skirt got my dick hard as a missile. Come here, what color thongs you got on?” he asked, while rubbing up on Jasmine’s inner thigh. “Stop being so fresh, I have on red panties. Didn’t I just tell you I got my period, boy?” She smiled and looked around nervously. “Yeah, that’s right. Oh shit, listen before I forget. I also need you to tell B. Rus that I’m going to send my C.O. man at him and to give him three ounces of that purple, and also hit him wit’ two G’s. This way he can pay for my cell bill and have about a stack left over for him.” “You sure you don’t want me to Western Union the money to him, like I did the last time?” “Nah, that’s okay … Just tell B. Rus that him or Matt will handle it on their end. They love to give him that smoke for me anyway. I just need you to take that money they give you down to my lawyer before my next court appearance.”