Sincerely, Yours

Chapter 5

• Kenji •

As a youngin', I always thought about what I would want to be when I got older. I grew up on a small street in Baltimore and didn't get to experience much— however, I was damn sure that I wanted my own everything. I wanted to experience being a wealthy, black man. Life for me at a young age was never rough. My moms' did her best to provide for me throughout my childhood years. I am her only child due to my bitch ass father walking out on her when she was four-months pregnant with me.

I guess I wasn't good enough for him and it effected me throughout my years. I never imagined that I would turn to the streets and that I could actually successfully make a living for myself. I was ten-years-old when I met Ro. From the jump, Ronin was a solid nigga. He had my back and I had his.

Ro and I together was always considered a recipe for disaster. Regardless of what shit we caused or whatever situation we got jammed up in, he was my brother for life— the only person besides my moms' that I trusted enough to tell anything.
The streets exposed us to a life neither one of us thought we'd have to physically live; but it also educated us a men in ways others won't understand.

To keep it all the way real with ya, we're all addicted to something that takes the pain away. Though the streets was greatly known for causing pain, it certainly took away a lot of mine. I never had to see my moms' stress out over a bill. I bought her a house and then began setting myself up. After getting a business degree I went onto opening three barbershops in my hometown. I wasn't expecting business to be booming, but you'd be surprised how much people will fuck with you when you add resources to your own community.

"Grant!" This bitch ass warden yells my name. I mug him from my bottom bunk, not caring to budge. "Get your ass up! You have a visitor." Monteź steps aside to allow one of the guards to open up my cell. A fortifying sigh escaped my mouth upon hearing his words. I made it clear to my mom that she didn't have to keep coming all the way up here to see me, but then again she ain't hear from me since the altercation in the prison yard due to Monteź bitch ass having me on restriction.

"And nurse Mitchell wanted to keep you in the infirmary." The warden chuckled humorously, "You look pretty fine to me Grant." There wasn't much I could do about his smart ass mouth being that I didn't need anymore time added on to my sentence for brutally fucking his pump-faking ass up. On the walk to the visitation wing my mind drifted back to the beautiful, kindhearted woman who treated my wound in the infirmary. I respected how she stood up to the guards because the previous nurses damn sure weren't passionate enough to.

Upon entering the secluded room, I had now realized that it wasn't my moms' who came to pay me a surprise visit, but Alicia Bardot— my lawyer. I mentally prepared the bad news she probably traveled all this way to deliver. "To what do I owe this visit?" I causally claimed the seat across from her. Alicia licked her honey sweet lips, she had a bubbly outlook today. "Can my client and I have some privacy, please?" She waited for the guards to excuse themselves because I had rights to attorney-client-privileges.

She cleared her throat, "I know you think I'm here to dump some bullshit on you, Kenji— however, I come bearing good news." She spoke in a silvery tone, opening the file folders before her. My eyebrows raised. I wasn't quite sure what good news Alicia could possibly have after all this time. "Kenji Grant, I'm going to get you home, sooner than soon." Alicia grinned while tapping her carmine-red fingernails on the documents.

My eyes scanned through the freshly printed papers as quickly as they allowed me to; trying to get a better understanding of what the actual fuck Alicia was hinting at. By now, I was way over the promised time served and hopeful parole hearings. I became content with knowing Solitude would be my home away from home for eight-years. I cleared my throat, "Excuse my French when I say this, but what the fuck is this? Saying there's a eye witness willing to testify after four-motha' fuckin' years?" I found myself heated in the moment rather feeling cheery.

"Look, I know you're pissed. But don't I always keep my word? No broken promises on this side and you know that Kenji." Alicia understood my frustrations. She spent overworked hours since my sentencing trying to file motions and grant appeals on behalf of being released at an earlier date— she always warned me the outcome wouldn't be as we'd hope, and unfortunately, my behavior here at Solitude hasn't quite always met the requirements.

"What makes you so sure you could get me outta' here before Christmas?" I raised my eyebrows, uneasy with her level of confidence. Don't get me wrong, I have no doubt that Alicia is one of the best lawyers to have by your side; but the system don't fuck with niggas who look like me. I fit the stereotype of a criminal to a T— being a black man. "Judge gave us an arraignment hearing... two weeks." Alicia smiled. This news now explained her bubbly outlook. "How did you pull this off?" I asked.

"All I'll say is, this is what you pay me to do, and you have some loyal people behind you outside of here." She kept her response short and simple. Her midnight-black hair plunged over her shoulders while sliding the documents back into her bag. "I'll be back on Monday so we can start prepping for your appearance." Alicia gave me a heads up while removing her sculpted figure from the round table.

"Appreciate ya'." I pointed to her as she slipped me a warm, hopeful smile. Still, I wouldn't dare get my hopes up about this upcoming hearing, even if the ball may seem as if it's in my court. Like I've said before, I fit the stereotype to a T.

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