5) TOP OR BOTTOM?

Just my luck.

Bud ended up in the cell right next to me.

The moment I stepped inside my cell, the weight of the situation finally hit me. The room was small and bare — just a bunk bed and a toilet/sink combo bolted to the wall. The floor was cold concrete.

The only good thing was that I didn’t have a cellmate yet, so I could choose the top or bottom bunk.

I took the top.

The air vent blew directly across it.

I didn’t even have time to take a piss before Bud showed up at my door. First thing out of his mouth, he wanted me to ask somebody for a cigarette.

That kind of pissed me off.

So I snapped back at him, a little heated.

“Nigga, you ask somebody!”

But when I looked around the tier, I understood why he was asking me. Most of the people out there were either Black or brown.

Bud was definitely in the minority.

I walked out and introduced myself to a couple of niggas playing the tier. Told them I was fresh in. Right away one of them asked if I was from New York.

Calling him Sun must have gave me away.

They introduced me to a nigga named Randy from Brooklyn. The crazy coincidence was that Randy used to live right around the corner from me on Putnam Ave. He was a few years older than me, but I knew his whole family.

We talked for a minute, catching up on neighborhoods and names. After a while he put together a little care package for me — soap, deodorant, toothpaste, a couple snacks, and of course cigarettes.

I gave Bud a pack, but only after making him promise he’d give me two back later.

The hustle never stops.