…After losing all my commissary shooting dice in prison, I sat by the six telephones on the wall in our dorm of one hundred and fifty inmates contemplating life and all its obstacles. I grew up Church Of God In Christ (COGIC), but as soon as I became insightful in things of the world, I began to explore and enjoy its evil trappings – the beginning of my downfall into the street life.
“Mac what’s up player,” my homeboy lil’ Hill hollered on his way to visitation. Contemplating interrupted.“I wish I had a woman to come see me and bring me money, give me sex, choke on weed and eat Porterhouse steak I hollered back. My Mom’s phone was turned off due to me calling collect all the time, so I really had no connection to the outside world, except when my homeboy’s came back from visitation and told stories of how much fun they had with their wives, sidepieces or their children. I didn’t have any kids, so that also meant I didn’t have a baby momma to come visit me.
Feeling desperate and in need of someone to talk to, I picked up the phone behind me on the wall and asked an off brand dude for the first three numbers of his area code. We called them other inmates from small towns OB’s for off brands because no one had ever heard of the places where they were from until we met them in prison. “My area code is 683.” I said thanks quickly and wrote down ten bogus phone numbers off the top of my head beginning with the 683 area code. My dad shot dice for as long as I could remember and brought home the change to prove it. He was a real hustler. So I knew a little about gambling and decided to take a chance on a made-up phone number hoping to reach a real dime.
I began with the 683 area code and then dialed the first number on my list. This is a collect call from Mac I said, will you accept? “Yes,” the woman on the other end said. Show time. “How are you doing today? My name is Mac, thank you for accepting my call it truly is a blessing to hear your beautiful voice on the phone. Who am I speaking with?” After all my macking intro, with a tinge of irritation in her voice she said, “Mac, how did you get my number?” I was quick to hit her back with this one. “God sent me to you through this new program called inmates keeping in touch with the free world. I need a friend in my life. I wanted to ask you to be my special friend. I am a single male with no kids, some college education…but enough about me what’s your name.” Disinterested but interested, she said, “My name is Lisa.” I asked Lisa to describe herself. Not that looks are the only thing that matter you understand, but I wanted to have a picture of her in my mind until we met. I needed to have a real vision of love after looking at OG’s, murderers, and thieves in the cage. “You sound so sweet and sincere. Thank you for accepting my call. It means the world to me. May I ask, are you married Lisa, any children?” With no hesitation she replied, “I’m recently divorced. My husband of 20 years cheated on me with one of his co-workers and we have a 20-year old son from the marriage and a Rottweiler name Lexus.” I quickly assessed the numbers in my head and knew I had a winner. She had been married for 20 years and her son was 20, that let me know she did it right…no babies and probably no booty before marriage. She kept one dog and got rid of the other; that let me know a dog can also be a woman’s best friend…so I was in.