The Weight Part 3

I already knew that sixteen was the cutoff. No more Family Court for me. No more rehabilitation bulls.h.i.t, no more counseling, no more GED cla.s.ses. Prison.

I knew I'd have to go sooner or later if I wanted the right people to see me, so I was just as glad to get it over with.

Back then, on the Rock, they'd separate the young guys from the older ones. That was supposed to keep us safe from "predators." I wondered if anyone actually believed that stuff.

But it wasn't bad at all. n.o.body was going to be there long enough to worry about pulling me into their crew. And I had enough juvie time to send out the right signal: I'm not going to gorilla anybody into anything, and I don't have anything you want, either. But if you come at me, it's going to cost you something.

I was there a few weeks. It wasn't until I got Upstate that I found out how that Legal Aid had screwed me over.

"What was the big deal about getting a YO?" the writ-writer asked me. I knew I couldn't appeal behind my guilty plea, but I really wanted that YO, and I heard I could appeal not getting that that part. part.

I was surprised when he said that. Everyone said he was smarter than any lawyer. He was in for double-life, but he'd gotten all kinds of other guys out, 'cause he knew the law so good. Spent every day in the law library they had up there, like it was his office. Had guys bringing him coffee, sandwiches, whatever he wanted.

He read the look on my face. "Don't you get it, son? Far as the judge was concerned, you were a first offender, right?"

"I...guess so."

"What I'm saying, you had a long juvenile record, but this was your first adult bust, right?"

"Right."

"And every time you copped to one of those kiddie crimes, didn't your lawyer say a juvenile record doesn't mean anything, because it all gets sealed?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Do the math. The judge on your case, he knew all about your priors. As a juvie, I'm saying."

"But if they-"

"It's pure bulls.h.i.t," the writ-writer told me. "'Sealed,' all that means is they can't put it in the newspapers. They even changed that law back in '78, but that's only for homicides. And you didn't have ...?"

"No."

"Yeah. So, like I said, the public can't see your record. But the cops can. And they can pa.s.s that along to the ADA. And the ADA can pa.s.s that along to the judge. Just psst-psst psst-psst, see? Nothing on paper. That YO you want me to appeal for? Even if you won, it wouldn't be worth the paper it was typed on."

"It's three crates, right?"

"I just told you-"

"Three crates to talk to you, that's what they said."

"Yeah. That's my consultation fee."

"I'll have it for you as soon as-"

"Forget it," the old con said.

"I don't take favors," I told him.

He looked up at me. "You're just dumb about some some things, huh?" things, huh?"

I didn't know what to say to that. But I paid him, just like I said I would.

I didn't just learn things that first time in; I earned earned some things, too. That's when people started calling me Sugar. some things, too. That's when people started calling me Sugar.

Inside, color counts, but it's not like one race against another. I mean, it is, but there's lots of splitting even inside inside the colors. Like Puerto Ricans and Cubans, they're both Spanish, right? But they didn't mix. The PRs were mostly born here, but all the Cubans I ever saw, they got shipped in. the colors. Like Puerto Ricans and Cubans, they're both Spanish, right? But they didn't mix. The PRs were mostly born here, but all the Cubans I ever saw, they got shipped in. Marielitos Marielitos, the PRs called them. I didn't know what that meant, but I knew it wasn't no compliment.

The yard was divided up into what they called "courts." You couldn't step onto any crew's court without their permission, and the strongest crews claimed the best spots.

I was raised in a city where just being caught in the wrong neighborhood could get you seriously f.u.c.ked up, so it kind of made sense to me. Besides, there was what they called the DMZ, places where anyone could go.

But even there you had to be on the watch. Like the weights. They'd have them out in the yard for anyone to use, and no crew ever tried to claim them. But they claimed the time time to use them. So it wasn't just the yard that was divided up, it was everything to use them. So it wasn't just the yard that was divided up, it was everything in in the yard, too. the yard, too.

That was the part I didn't know. And that was how I got my name. I was doing one-handed curls when the Muslims sent some guys over to talk to me. I saw them coming, so I was already slugging by the time they landed.

Lucky for me, they weren't carrying. I think seeing me with the weights was such a surprise that they didn't plan anything, just rushed me.

Everybody saw it, but n.o.body did anything. They just watched. Even the guards.

When they finally broke it up, they could see n.o.body was cut, so everyone got tickets for fighting. I got thirty days; I don't know what the Muslims got.

I know they got visits, though. Even in the bing, if you had religion, you could always get to see someone. Like me, I was down as Catholic, so the guards asked me if I wanted to see a priest. The Muslims, they were a religion, so there was this-I don't know what to call him-he came around every day.

One day, he stopped by my cell. He was wearing one of those little round hats. I went over to the bars, carrying a towel wrapped around my hand in case he was there to stick me. I had had to come to the bars, or they'd think I was weak. to come to the bars, or they'd think I was weak.

He had a strong, calm voice. Kind of talked all around what he had to say, but what it came down to was that the Muslims had no beef with me. They got it that I didn't know the rules about what times you could use the weights. And they also knew I'd told the DC-the Disciplinary Committee-that I couldn't tell them who else was in the fight. It all happened so sudden, I didn't even remember what color the other guys were.

It's kind of complicated, but it wasn't like the Muslims were giving me a pa.s.s if I ever did it again, just saying I didn't need to look over my shoulder when I unlocked.

I didn't believe him, but it turned out he was telling the truth.

A few months later, I still didn't have a crew, but there was some guys I was all right with. I hung with them when they lifted. We spotted for each other-and not just on the weights. I was on my way over to them one day, just pa.s.sing by this little court, when I heard something in Spanish. I figured it was about me, but I didn't want to challenge anyone without making sure I had to.

One of the guys I worked out with, his girlfriend was Latina. The first time he told me that, I thought that was her name, Latina. But I'm never dumb on the same thing twice.

Eddie was a real short guy, but he had huge arms and a big chest from pumping every day. Sitting down, he looked bigger than me. When I first came in, he could out-bench me, too. Not by the time I left, though.

Everybody liked Eddie, even the guards. He was always joking around, playing cards, goofing off. Had a smile for everyone. And he could tell some great great stories-he only took vacations from jail to get some new material, is what he said. stories-he only took vacations from jail to get some new material, is what he said.

One of the things that made his stories so good was how he could make his voice sound like other people's. He used that trick even when he wasn't telling stories, just to stop other guys from getting...depressed, or whatever you want to call it.

I remember when Reno came over to talk to us. Well, to me, really. Reno was deep into that White Power stuff, and Eddie had tipped me they'd be coming around. "You look like a recruiting poster for some Aryan army, kid. Blond/blue, big and buffed. All you need is some ink."

I'd told Eddie that I didn't want anything to do with that crew. All that political stuff sounded weird to me. "What does a thief need with politics?" I asked him.

"That's a good one," he said, like I just told a great joke.

I didn't try and find out what I'd said that was so funny; I was just happy that a guy like Eddie thought I could tell a good joke.

Anyway, when Reno kind of strolls over one day, Eddie heads him off: "Sir, you do do realize you are entering New York's most exclusive men's club? Membership is restricted to those bearing a personal invitation from the Governor." realize you are entering New York's most exclusive men's club? Membership is restricted to those bearing a personal invitation from the Governor."

Reno gave him a look. Then he decided Eddie was joking around, so he laughed along with the rest of us.

Then him and Eddie took a little walk. Not far, but enough so I couldn't hear what they were saying. The way they said goodbye, Eddie tapped his own chest, right over his heart, and Reno did the same.

"No ink, kid. Understand me? No ink, not ever ever. You don't go along with that, you could get me killed."

"I don't have any-"

"Yeah," he cut me off. "I know. That's what I used to pull that fool's chain."

"But you've got...I mean..." I felt so bad. I knew Eddie was trying to look out for me, but I was too f.u.c.king stupid to even figure out how he was doing it. Eddie's whole body was so covered with tattoos that it looked like he was wearing a shirt even when he wasn't.

"Look close," Eddie said. He touched his chest with one finger.

"I don't see-"

"I said close close, bro."

It was like trying to read one of those walls when one gang overtags another, and then the first one comes back. After a while, it just looks like a mess. But I kept trying. And then I saw it. One of those n.a.z.i crosses, only it was made out of lightning bolts and arrows. You couldn't see all of it-a lot of it was buried under other tats. But it was there.

"Get it now?" Eddie asked me. "If they need to check, the AB can see they got my heart. You can see it yourself, right where it should be. Only, I had to get it covered up. Like camouflage, see?"

"So n.o.body could see-"

"So the f.u.c.king cops cops can't see it. That's what they do now: they read a man's ink, and it goes in their book. But they look at me, they just see this big mess. I got every kind of ink you could think of, so I get put down as a tattoo-freak." can't see it. That's what they do now: they read a man's ink, and it goes in their book. But they look at me, they just see this big mess. I got every kind of ink you could think of, so I get put down as a tattoo-freak."

"What's so good-?"

"What'd I just tell tell you, kid? Okay, one more time, real slow. That fool who came over before, what I told him was that the Brotherhood needs men who can slip under the radar. We don't go to meetings, we don't be going all 'Heil Hitler!' on the yard, nothing like that. The law's got undercovers; why shouldn't we?" you, kid? Okay, one more time, real slow. That fool who came over before, what I told him was that the Brotherhood needs men who can slip under the radar. We don't go to meetings, we don't be going all 'Heil Hitler!' on the yard, nothing like that. The law's got undercovers; why shouldn't we?"

"But you told me to never get one."

"Ain't that that undercover, too, bro?" undercover, too, bro?"

"That's why you said never get any ink at all." why you said never get any ink at all."

"And that still goes. I just told that sucker I was getting you ready for this big mission. Feeding you one spoon at a time. So you can't be seen hanging with the Double-Eights."

"He bought that?"

Eddie grinned. "You know what he's in for? Cooking up some crank. And guess who he sold it to?"

It was like Eddie's smile made me smarter. I know that's crazy, but that's how it felt, me hitting the right answer on the nose. "An undercover cop?"

"Oh yeah!" Eddie said, holding up his palm for me to slap, laughing.

Eddie, he was welcome all over the place. So I was glad he was there that day-you couldn't want a better guy to ask.

"You know what azucar azucar means, Eddie?" means, Eddie?"

He was on the last rep of the set he was doing. I thought he'd let the bar down first, but he kept the weight up and answered me between nose-breaths. "Sure." "Means." "Sugar."

Soon as he said that, I turned around and looked over at the PRs, trying to find the one that had said that word. I let them see me staring. That way, whoever said that about me, he'd have to step out.

Eddie put the weight down so quick it was a good thing the spotters saw it coming. He hopped off the bench and stood next to me.

"Hey! Don't chump yourself off, kid. You want to be like every other paranoid p.e.c.k.e.rwood in this joint? Just 'cause guys're talking a different language don't mean they're talking about you you."

"Yeah, but-"

"Take a deep breath; you're gonna feel like a blockhead in about a minute. Listen: You know there's still Spanish guys in here for blowing up buildings and stuff, years ago? Older guys. Not gang-bangers-like political prisoners, okay? Los Macheteros Los Macheteros, they call themselves. That comes from slaves who had to spend all day in the cane fields. What they wanted was to cut Puerto Rico loose from America, be its own country."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"I'm pretty tight with some of them," Eddie kept going, like he never heard me. "Good men, you get to know them. Smart as h.e.l.l, and stand-up, too. You with me? Okay, now, some of them were watching that day you got jumped by those Muslims. The way they told it, you went through those fools like you was working in the cane fields. Chopping 'em down like you had a machete."

"I still don't see-"

"That's your last name, right? Caine?"

"Yeah..."

"I know you spell it different, but it sounds the same. Cane fields, they're talking about sugar sugarcane, get it?

"n.o.body was downing you, kid. Azucar Azucar, it's all in how you say it. Like when people say a boxer's 'pretty,' you heard that, right? 'Pretty' don't mean he's a punk; it means he's slick and smooth."

Eddie reached up high, then brought his hand down into a fist. Held it in front of his mouth, like it was a microphone.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and those who have yet to decide," he boomed out. "Tonight we bring you fifteen rounds of boxing for the heavyweight championship of the world! In this corner, weighing in at a ready two hundred and eighty pounds, sporting a perfect record of twenty-six wins, twenty-four by knockout, two by fix...the challenger: Timmy 'Sugar' Caaaiinne Caaaiinne!"

Everybody standing around the weight stack clapped, like I really was going to go against someone. One guy even yelled out that he had major money on me.

"You like it now now, kid?"

I sure did. Beat the h.e.l.l out of people calling me "Tiny." You know, "Tiny Tim." Big f.u.c.king joke.

After a while, everybody started calling me Sugar. When I gated, I took it with me.

That was a long time ago. I hadn't taken a felony fall since I wrapped up that first bit. Seven arrests, one misdemeanor conviction. The other cases all got dropped, one way or another.