She opened the refrigerator door, realizing she had forgotten the sour cream. “Dagnabbit,” she said, thinking of how important
the sour cream was to the recipe for creamy homestyle mashed potatoes that she had gotten out of her
Southern Flavor Cook Book
, which she had purchased at the Barnes and Noble downtown. “I knew I forgot something. I swear sometimes I think I left my
head on the bus,” she said.
“What, Daisy, what happened?”
“I forgot the sour cream,” she said, cursing herself.
“Well, I can run down to the market and get you some, if you want.”
“No, Billy, you been working at the factory and what not, just go on and rest. I’ll run down to the store, just go on and
watch your football game,” she said, grabbing her purse and car keys.
Sticks had just about had it with the South and wanted to go home. It had been two of the longest, hottest days he had ever
experienced in his life. His travel companion offered no relief from the merciless heat that engulfed them. Sticks was stripped
down to a dirty wife beater, dirty jeans, and dirty Adidas, and looked raggedy and withered, drained. The deer, the ditch,
the tow, the Crazy 8 Motel they stayed in, Ray J, the diners with nothing on the menu but eggs over easy, biscuits, gravy,
sausage, juice, water. That’s it, don’t ask for nothing else.
“Do you have turkey bacon, Ethel?” asked Sticks, reading Ethel’s name tag and wondering how she got her hair to stand up in
a beehive bun on top of her head.
“No, it’s not on the menu, sir,” she said, like a robot woman with bright blue eye shadow on her eyelids and cherry-red lipstick
painted on her mouth.
“Just runny eggs, sausage, biscuits, and gravy?” he asked, apparently talking to himself, as she stood there waiting for his
order. “I wanted pancakes, no pancakes?” he asked, realizing he was in hillbilly hell.
“No, it’s not on the menu, sir.”
“That’s because there’s nothing on the menu in this motherfucker,” he said, sliding the menu across the countertop at her
and walking out.
That was actually a couple of hours ago and he still had not eaten. Sticks and Ray J pulled into the Shalat Apartment Homes.
The investigator had done a thorough search, leaving no stone unturned and delivering valuable and precise information to
Simon Shuller.
“Let me see here,” said Sticks, looking at the piece of paper Simon Shuller had handed him. “Okay, she’s in apartment 1805.”
It was all about to go down. He parked his car around the back of the building. They got out of the car and Ray J checked
his .45, tucking it into the back of his pants. “Let’s go get this done with,” he said to Sticks.
“Let’s do it,” Sticks agreed, and led the way with Ray J close behind. They got up to the apartment and walked to the door
marked 1805. Sticks knocked at the door, then stepped to the side.
“Damn, you sure was quick about it,” said Billy as he opened the door. “What you do, fly to the…” he said as he swung the
door back to the unfamiliar faces in front of him. No one said a word. Everyone exchanged quick glances, Ray J eyeing the
inside of the apartment for others.
“Is Daisy here?” asked Sticks.
Unthinkingly, Billy answered him. “Well, she’s not here right now. But she’ll be back.”
That was all Ray J had to hear. He had found his mark; it was time for some action. He pulled his .45 from behind his back
and held it at point-blank range in Billy’s face.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Billy asked, oblivious, being backed into the apartment, the door closing behind the three of
them.
“Who the fuck are you?” asked Sticks.
“Nobody, I’m nobody,” said Billy, scared to death and about to pee on himself. He had never had a gun pointed at him.
God, please don’t let them kill me.
“What the fuck you doing here, nobody?” questioned Ray J, as Sticks looked around the apartment for signs that someone else
was there.
“I’m just visiting,” said Billy, trembling on the inside.
“Where’s Daisy?” asked Sticks.
Billy stood in silence for a minute as he thought about everything that was going on. As scared as he was, he’d just have
to face the unknown, but there was no way he was telling these guys that Daisy was down the road at Wibler’s Market. One thing
for sure, two things for certain, Daisy was in a world of trouble with the likes of these guys looking for her, and Billy
knew they were here to bring her no good.
“Nobody, where’s Daisy?” asked Ray J, poking his side with the gun.
“I can’t tell you that,” he said, knees trembling.
“What did you just say?” asked Sticks as he turned around, frowned, and busted Billy in the face with his right hand, dead
on his jaw. Billy fell back but caught himself before falling. “I know you ain’t protecting this whore. I’m gonna ask you
one more time, where the fuck is Daisy?”
Billy knew they meant business. He prayed and prayed that she didn’t walk back through that door. He didn’t want to see her
hurt. Before he could even think about responding, he found himself the target of a brutal beating. On the floor, in a fetal
position, he was kicked and stomped down. His head was bleeding, blood was dripping from his mouth, his shoulder was completely
dislocated from the stomping, and two of his ribs were broken.
“I’m gonna ask you one more time. Where’s the girl?” said Ray J, bending down and putting the gun in Billy’s face once again.
Billy had already seen his life flash in front of his eyes, all twenty-six years of his life. Ray J stuck the barrel of the
gun in Billy’s mouth. “Nigga, I’ll blow your brains out, you fucking understand me? Answer me,” said Ray J, ready to kill
him.
Sticks really wanted to make it back home. He damn sure didn’t want to get jammed up down South.
“Whoa, calm down, man,” he said, nodding to Ray J to be easy. Then he added, “What the fuck is you protecting her for, she’s
a whore, everybody fucked her.”
Billy lay still on the ground listening to Sticks as his eyes shot daggers of death at him.
“What you like her? You getting mad ’cause I’m talking about your ho? Y’all in here playing whorehouse and shit, I see somebody
in there cooking and shit. Man, don’t you know, you can’t turn no whore into a housewife. Shit just won’t work,” said Sticks.
Tears fell from Billy’s eyes as he listened to Sticks slander and degrade Daisy. He was in so much pain, his side hurt more
than his head and he could feel that one of his teeth on the upper top right side was loose. All he could do was lie still
on the floor, holding his side tightly with both his arms, trying to protect the area in case they hit him again.
“Man, hog-tie this motherfucker,” said Ray J, reaching into a bag he had carried from the car, and throwing a roll of rope
to Sticks. “Tie him up tight too,” said Ray J, his gun in hand.
Sticks thought nothing of it, caught the rope in midair, put his gun down, and rolled Billy onto his stomach, showing no mercy.
Billy screamed in agonizing pain as Sticks began to tie him up, folding his wrists behind his back and using the rope to secure
them. After his wrists he tied his feet together at the ankles. Then, before he could turn around and tie Billy’s ankles to
his wrists he felt the barrel of cold steel pressed against the back right side of his head. He looked down at Ray J’s feet,
standing right behind him, about to take his life.
“Simon Shuller sends his best regards,” said Ray J, and he pulled the trigger, taking the shot, the perfect shot. Sticks raised
his head just in time to see it coming, rather than never knowing what hit him. He knew it was coming, death, and the grim
reaper was a tall, light-skinned, big, solid-built nigga named Rayford Johnson. Sticks, shocked at first, looked over his
shoulder at Ray J, then his hand felt the back of his head, and he could feel his body falling to lie next to Billy’s, then
darkness.
“Aww, damn, mister, please don’t kill me, please. I won’t say a word,” said Billy as the keys to the door could be heard on
the other side. It was Daisy coming back from the store. She opened the door and walked straight into the kitchen, never even
looking into the living room.
“Hey, Billy, I’m back,” she said, setting her things on the counter. She turned the corner and her eyes widened to the size
of golf balls. “Billy, oh, my god,” she screamed, “are you okay?” She ran to him.
“Watch out, Daisy,” said Billy as Ray J grabbed her. Daisy struggled as Ray J tightened his grip around her body with one
arm, his free hand around her neck, choking her as he pressed his body against hers. “I remember you, from the Honey Dipper,
right?” he questioned checking out her face real good. “Shit, I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on. Damn, you
had a nice body, girl, and a pretty pussy. I always did want to fuck you. I missed that damn party though, the bachelor party.
I heard though. I heard all about you. You take a lot of dick, baby. Damn, you fine.” Daisy whimpered as she looked over at
Billy. He looked beat up real bad. His head was swollen and blood was still dripping from his mouth.
He looked up at Ray J holding a gun to Daisy’s side with his arm still wrapped around her, while his free hand began to fondle
her body.
“Please, stop, I don’t do that no more,” she said, fighting his hand off.
“Bitch, is you crazy?” questioned Ray J, smacking Daisy in the face three times with his free hand. She couldn’t block him
or duck him. And then he grabbed her hair, pulled her close to him, and looked her dead in the eyes. “You fucked everybody
and you begging me please, looking at me like I’m disgusting you. You gonna beg me please, all right. Let’s go.” Daisy stood
emotionless, the gun and the circumstances consuming her. Her past was right here in her face and as numb as she had been
all those years, she was just as numb standing there in the living room of her present.
“Come on, we got to go, you got court,” said Ray J.
“Get off her,” hollered out Billy, tied and unable to do anything.
“Damn, shut the fuck up, nigga,” Ray J said, before turning around and firing one bullet to silence him. It seemed as though
she heard him, after he was shot, or maybe it was the single shot that broke her reverie.
“Billy, noooo! Oh, God, please, no, Billy,” she screamed, trying to break free from Ray J as Billy lay on the floor in a pool
of blood.
“Bitch, say one word and I’ll kill you, too. Shut up!” he commanded, grabbing her hair as he dragged her across the floor.
He made her reach down into Sticks’s pockets and get the keys to the car outside. “Hurry up about it, and come on,” he ordered.
That was all he needed, his business here was complete, and upon returning home, he’d collect a king-sized ransom for a hard
day’s work.
Just as he opened the door and stepped out of the apartment, he saw Agent Lang and Agent Chambers turning the corner and heading
toward them.
“Daisy Mae Fothergill, FBI!” Agent Lang yelled out. She took one look at Daisy and recognized her from the video surveillance
from the bank. The suspect was only four hundred feet away. Just as she began to reach for her piece, Ray J like lightning
began firing at them.
“Watch out!” yelled Chambers as he pushed Lang into the safety of a doorway that was two feet inside the hallway, body pressing
her away from harm. He peeked around the tiny corner of the cubby entrance. The coast was clear.
“Come on,” he said, nodding to Lang as gunshots could be heard from outside. Tommy had given strict orders that there was
to be no exchange of gunfire that could hurt his star witness. An FBI agent, using a bullhorn, was offering fake assurances
to Ray J, who was hiding behind a tree and using Daisy as a human shield. Ray J quickly took out his clip and replaced it,
fully loaded and ready.
“I got him, I got a clear shot,” an agent could be heard through the headpiece plugged into Delgado’s ear.
“Take him,” he said, believing the kid would make the shot.
But as his aim was off by two inches, and there was a sudden movement by Ray J himself, the sniper hit dead on his shoulder
bone, shattering it into a thousand pieces inside his flesh.
“Aaahhh!” Daisy screamed for help as Ray J took the hit to his shoulder, letting her go, screaming in pain. He reached for
his arm, and another bullet pierced his chest cavity, knocking him back onto the ground, where he crawled against the tree.
The sniper from the roof zeroed in on Ray J, looking through the scope of his rifle. Ray J no longer had Daisy to use as a
human shield. He was outnumbered and he knew it. He lifted his gun and pointed it at Daisy. The gunshot seemed surreal. Tommy
Delgado fired it right above Daisy’s head, taking the chance she wouldn’t interrupt its path. Daisy turned around to see Ray
J with his gun in hand, pointed at her, and a bullet hole right between his eyes, before he fell back onto the ground right
beside her.
“It’s my favorite shot,” he shouted, looking at Daisy, who looked as if she was about to faint. “Daisy Mae Fothergill?” he
asked.
Unable to speak, she shook her head yes. Delgado held out his hand, helped her up.
“I’m Detective Delgado, do you remember me?”
Daisy softly shook her head yes again.
“We talked a while back. I’m here now and I’m going to take care of you. Everything will be all right,” he said as a broken
and frightened Daisy Mae began to cry in his arms. “It’s okay, we’re going back home now.”
B
obby DeSimone entered CFCF on State Road. Politely, he held the door for a young black girl pushing a baby stroller.
I would never want my kids to come through the door of this place, even if it were to visit me.
And he meant it. This was no place for children. No place at all for them. He bypassed the waiting line, walked over to a
desk, and spoke with a corrections officer who politely escorted him to a private waiting area.
“Probably be about twenty minutes. They just finished up count. I’ll let the CO on his block know you’re here.”
Within fifteen minutes, Bernard Guess was being seated at a table in a room where DeSimone was waiting for him.