Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison T. Parsell (ebook reader play store .txt) 📖

soon as everyone sees you two walkin' the yard together," Manley said, "They'll know what time it is. If anyone tries to press you, just tell Slide Step, and he'll take care of it. But don't worry, nobody's gonna fuck with you, because if they did, it'd be the same as if they were fucking with Slide Step."

Slide Step, I'd learn, was well respected, and everything in prison was about respect. You either had it or you didn't, and even when you did, it was frequently tested. There was a pecking order in prison, and inmates were constantly checking to see where they fit in. The boys were given the same level of respect as their man, and the man was obligated to protect them. The price for this protection meant that the boy gave up his independence (if he ever had it in the first place). Among other things, he no longer had control over his own body, which meant he had to put out sexually. But considering the alternative, it seemed the least damaging way to survive. "At least you only have to do it with one," Manley said, "rather than with anyone who can catch you."

This was true. It definitely could have been worse for me. Manley said that some men shared their boys with friends while others made them turn tricks by forcing them into prostitution. Over at the Reformatory there were boys who were owned by entire gangs, and they were forced to have to service the whole lot of them. "The man calls the shots," he said, "and the boys are expected to obey."

The quality of a boy's life was dependent on his man. So who your man was made all the difference. It seemed to go beyond sex, as if some of them took as much pleasure in dominating another. Perhaps it was their way of dealing with the frustrations of being locked up and told what to do all the time by the guards. Some men made their boys do all sorts of things. Back when I was staying in the dorm, Bottoms had to do his man's laundry and make his bed in the morning and anything else his man didn't feel like doing himself.

"Some men beat their boys," Manley said, as we arrived at the commissary. "While others, like Slide Step, spoil them." To the right of the commissary door, a price list was taped to the wall. An inmate clerk filled orders from the goods stocked on the shelves. Manley pulled a stack of tokens from his pocket and winked at me. "Your man is also responsible for commissary. So whatever you need, Slide Step's got you covered."

The commissary goods included soaps, shampoos, toothpaste, and deodorants. Cosmetics, as the inmates referred to them, along with cigarettes and candy and canned goods for cooking on the hotplates up in the units. Spam, chili, roast beef, and Vienna sausages. "Zoos Zoos and Wham Whams," Manley said. "Stock up baby boy, your cupboards are bare."

I thought about what he said, about the quality of a boy's life, and thought about how long it had been since I really was just a boy playing with toys. But it had been a toy that got me here-the plastic gun I had found in a field and a pretty girl inside the Photo Mat. Had it only been a year since I first learned to drive?

Slide Step was kind to me. He smiled a lot, and he always had a twinkle in his eye. At least he did for me, but mostly he was gentle-especially when he fucked me. I didn't like getting fucked, because it hurt. More than hurt, it felt like I was being cracked open, busting apart at the seams. It felt like I was being crushed, and it sent a wave of pain through my body. But soon the pain lessened and was replaced by a deadening, pulsating ache. Slide Step went slow and easy, rotating my hips until I was able to relax. He kissed the back of my head and ran his lips along the side of my neck-his warm breath in my ear relieving the panic. It was never enjoyable, but it wasn't terrible either. I was grateful he was so gentle.

Slide Step was a powerful man, athletic and strong. He also ran the drug trade inside the prison, as his mother did on the outside. I heard that she was a large distributor who the other cons talked about. Slide Step had the juice, the power, and his hand in a lot of things. I just wished he wasn't so old. At thirty, he was nearly twice my age.

Scatter Brain came up behind me and tugged at my hair. It was long and curly, like Peter Frampton's (my favorite singer).

"Homeboy!" Scatter said, smiling.

"Hey," I smiled back.

If only Slide Step was seventeen like Scatter and me.

Manley and I returned up the stairs, each of us carrying a box full of goods. "You need to be careful, Tim, because Slide Step is responsible for whatever you get into."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, you're a pretty motherfucker, for one thing. And a lot of these guys are going to come at you."

I stopped and looked at him. "I thought Slide Step was going to protect me?"

"He is. I'm not talking about that." Manley put his hand on my shoulder. "They'll come at you from the side, on the down low, to see if you'll slip up and do something with them." Meaning, would I cheat on my man. Manley stopped to look at me. "It could be a problem because it would be a disrespect to Slide Step."

I must have looked hurt, because he backed off right away. He said that it would be easy for me-being a fish-for someone to trick me into a compromising situation. Then Slide Step would have to straighten them out. He didn't want to see Slide Step get fronted off like that. It