by Joy
“And now let’s go to Barb McNeil for news around the country,” the anchorwoman said.
“Hello, I’m Barb McNeil and I’m outside of Orient Prison in Orient, Ohio, where convicted felon Ramelle Blake has spent the last seventeen years of his life. Well as you know, after years of investigations, the State of Ohio found evidence that confirmed that Blake is, in fact, the Midwest Serial Killer. In less than forty-five minutes, Blake will be transferred to Mansfield Correctional Facility where death row awaits him.
“As you can see behind me, there are many protesters who oppose the death penalty out here on Blake’s behalf. No appeal has been filed nor is one expected to be filed; therefore, no last-minute stay is expected to be granted. Both family members of the victims and supporters have signed a petition requesting that Blake be put to death as early as next month. If they have it their way, Blake will be transported from MCF to Lucasville Correctional Institution where he will be put to death via lethal injection. The mother of one of the victims said that the families have been living in hell for years not knowing who was responsible for the deaths of their daughters. Now that the murderer’s identity is known, it would be punishing the families even more if the state forces them, via use of their tax dollars, to keep this monster alive any longer. The same mother also stated that she’s going to go out and buy a new dress to wear when she’s escorted into the prison to witness Blake’s death.”
Dollar turned the television off and headed toward his bedroom as he mumbled, “See you in hell, old man.”
As Dollar prepared for bed, a few thoughts ran through his mind. Dollar knew that going back to work for Redd was out of the question. He didn’t want to be on pins and needles waiting for the drama to erupt, not with Redd, but with Kera herself. This was all the more reason why Dollar needed to make something happen. Did he think his big break was going to show up on his doorstep one day? Hell no. He had to go out and just do the damn thang. He couldn’t go back to work for Redd, and he wouldn’t even consider working for some fast food joint. That was out of the question. It was time to make that move. Forget these punk-ass stickups. Dollar needed to make a big move.
After hours of contemplation and running game plans through his head, Dollar phoned Tommy and Ral to meet up with him. It was time to share his master plan with them.
“You want to rob a fuckin’ bank?” Tommy asked Dollar as she squeezed the lemon slice into her ice water.
“Shhhh,” Dollar said. “You tryin’ to tell the whole fucking world?”
“You’ve lost your damn mind,” Tommy said. “We can’t rob no bank.”
“Why not?” Ral asked. “A stickup is a stickup.”
“You two muthafuckas ain’t got nothing to lose,” Tommy said. “I got two; two very important things.”
“I’m so goddamn tired of you using them two girls as your excuse to be soft,” Dollar said as he pounded his fist on the picnic table at the DQ. “I’m sorry, T, but it’s time you start using them two girls as an excuse to raise up out of this town. What about that bookstore you be talking about? Niggaz in Gary don’t read. What you gon’ do, open it up next door to Jimmy’s Coney Island?”
Dollar always had a way of breaking Tommy down, talking her into doing something. There was one time when they were kids and Dollar convinced Tommy that she could fly if she swung high enough on the park swings and jumped off. Her arm was in a cast for almost two months.
Tommy couldn’t believe Dollar talked her into doing that dumb mess. But this time was different. They weren’t twelve-year-old kids. Tommy was grown, and robbing a bank just wasn’t her MO.
“I can’t do it, D,” Tommy said, putting her head down sadly. This was the first time she would ever not do something to please Dollar. From the moment she’d met him, all she ever wanted to do was please Dollar, but this time she just couldn’t.
“Yeah, you pussy, all right,” Dollar said. Dollar felt some degree of guilt for the way he was talking to Tommy. He hated having to appear to be so callous, but he knew that nice wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“Yo, Dollar, man,” Ral said, feeling bad for Tommy. He knew how hard it was for Tommy to say no to Dollar.
“Speaking of pussy,” Tommy said. “Why don’t you let the bitch you fuckin’, that Hennessey trick, help you rob the muthafucka? She can be Bonnie and you can be Clyde.”
“That ain’t even her style. She’s on some entirely different shit. She’s got far too much class for that,” Dollar said. By the expression on Tommy’s face, Dollar realized he had just hurt Tommy’s feelings.
“She’s got too much class, huh?” Tommy said.
“Besides, even if she was into this shit, I couldn’t convince her of robbing her own shit. That’s one of the rules of the game: you don’t fuck with your own backyard. Outside of the fence is cool, but not your own backyard.”
“So, you wanna rob your girl’s bank?” Ral asked. “Damn. Won’t she recognize you and rat you out, dude?”
“I’ma wear a mask, and in addition to that, that’s where Tommy comes in,” Dollar said, turning to Tommy. “You dress up in some of that dress-up shit you got, you know, wigs, makeup and shit. You pretend to be a customer. Tell her you wanna look into her designing a financial portfolio for you. You keep her occupied back in her office while the shit goes down. If need be, use your piece to keep her back there, but don’t hurt her. Just keep her back there out of our way. She’ll never suspect a thing. Besides, I just put twenty thousand dollars into that bank for investments. Why would I do that knowing I’m about to go rob them and have to risk my money being all tied up and shit?”
Ral thought for a minute. “Don’t they got some kind of insurance for that?”
Dollar gave Ral the “shut the fuck up” look. He was getting inside Tommy’s head and he could.
Tommy kept shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Ral was most attentive as he rubbed his index finger under his nose.
“Look, all I’m asking you to do for now is to just at least think about it,” Dollar said to Tommy. “This is our big move, T. Remember when I said we wasn’t gonna do that robbin’ niggaz shit forever? Well this is it, T. This is that big move that’s going to put us in retirement.” Dollar looked over to Ral to see where his head was at. “You in, Ral?”
“Hell yeah,” Ral said, sniffling.
“It’s all on you now, T,” Dollar said. “The world is on your shoulders.”
On Dollar’s way home from meeting with Tommy and Ral he decided to stop by the clinic to see what his baby brother was up to. The clinic had standing room only. The fact that it was a Monday might have had something to do with it. Folks had been putting off seeing a doctor the entire week before. Come Friday at 5:00 p.m., once the doctor’s office was closed, they realized just how bad off they were. They had to suffer through the entire weekend before seeking relief.
Dollar walked up to the sign-in counter and asked if Klein was in. “I’m sorry,” the receptionist at the clinic said to Dollar. “He’s in with a patient. We’re extremely busy today.”
“Just let him know that his brother is here to see him,” Dollar replied.
The receptionist paused before lashing out at Dollar. “For your information,” she said, “his brother is dead, which makes your statement very cruel. Now please just sign in and wait your turn like everyone else.” She then mumbled under her breath, “Folks will do anything to keep from waiting.”
Dollar was a little stunned by the fact Klein had actually told people he was dead. Sure he’d told both him and his mother to consider him dead, but he’d been back from the grave for a while now. Obviously Klein had no intention of ever making Dollar a part of his life. Dollar figured he’d cut his losses short now. “Look, never mind,” he told the receptionist and then walked away. He wasn’t about to set himself up for something that would never exist between him and his baby brother. Klein was now dead to him too.
Dollar walked back through th
e clinic lobby to the exit door. He pushed the door open to leave the clinic knowing that he had no intention of ever stepping foot back in there again. A hand from the person entering the clinic wrapped around the edge of the door as Dollar proceeded to leave. This hand displayed a very unique tattoo. It was a tattoo of a cross with barbed wire wrapped around it. A hand was grasping the cross as if it barely had an ounce of strength left. Underneath the design were the words HOLD ON.
Dollar remembered seeing this before. He knew exactly who it belonged to.
“Well if it ain’t Dollar Bill,” the man entering the clinic said. “Fancy running into you here. Oh, yeah. I forgot. This is your turf, huh; your hometown? What a coincidence bumpin’ into you here.”
Dollar stood still and frozen as the man continued.
“I don’t know why anyone would want to live in this shithole of a town. How that ho talked me into moving here I’ll never guess. I ain’t got no plans on making this my permanent home, though. I just got some business I need to handle; then I’m moving West, Cali or some shit.”
Dollar had no idea why this fool was standing here chumming it up with him like they were the best of friends. Still, he listened, having a feeling it must be leading up to something.
“What you doing up in the clinic? You catch something while you was in the joint? You got the clap or something? I know you probably been running up in everything with a pussy. You know how it is when you get out of the joint. Hell, a muthafucka would fuck a sheep on a farm.” He burst out laughing.
“My brother works here,” Dollar replied.
“Oh yeah. Is that so?” the man said, sticking his head around Dollar and peeking inside the waiting area. “If your brother is anything like your father, maybe he can hook me up, you know, tit for tat. I’d hate to have to wait for all these sick muthafuckas to be seen before I can see the doctor.”
“What did you just say?” Dollar asked.
“I said I’d hate to have to wait for all—”
“No, I mean about my father.”
“Oh, shit, you know what I mean. I do a little something for him and he does a little something for me. Like back when we was all in the joint.”
Dollar stared into Wojo’s eyes as if he had the capability of dissecting his brain. “My father,” Dollar said, wanting to confirm that he and Wojo were on the same page.
“Yeah, Romeo, the ladies’ lover, or should I say killer.” Wojo laughed. “Can you believe they fell for that shit, Romeo, the Midwest Terror, serial killer or whatever?” His eerie laugh was like nails down a chalkboard to Dollar’s ears.
Wojo stood in the doorway laughing hysterically. It was an evil, wicked laugh. At this point, he was the only one who knew the punch line.
“That old bastard held that shit over my head for years before finding a way to put it to use. You know how it is when you first get to the joint; you act like some ol’ bitch and running your mouth.”
“Naw, I don’t know anything about that,” Dollar answered the rhetorical question.
“Well, anyway, I was in for possession with intent to sell. Those funky-ass cops were so worried about trying to stick a drug charge on a brotha that they let all the real evidence slip right between their fingers: the rope, the gloves, the blade, all dat shit. Let’s just say a nigga got away with murder, literally.” He winked at Dollar. “Guilt and shame must have been eating your pops alive,” Wojo said. “His boy was fixin’ to spend the rest of his life behind bars, the son he had abandoned as a small child. How could he make it up to you? So, with nothing to lose, he decides to be someone he’s not. Who admits to a crime they didn’t commit to save the next bastard?” He shook his head. “Blood or no blood; fuck that. He could have easily been a free man, but he made you one instead. And me too for that matter.” He let out another irritating laugh. “Memorized every detail I told him.”
Dollar just stood there and glared at him. He couldn’t believe he was hearing what he was hearing. Wojo was saying it, without saying it, that he was the one really responsible for all those murders. He held the truth. But what did Dollar give a shit about the truth now? Authorities finding out the truth would only mean him finishing off his time.
Dollar’s stomach was turning ninety miles per hour. Dollar stood in the doorway watching Wojo’s dingy off-white teeth open and close as he continued speaking.
“Your father was going to make good with you if it was the last thing he did. Nigga acted like he was God up in the joint or some shit. I guess that makes you Jesus. Whose soul will you sacrifice yourself to save?”
A woman walked up and brushed through Dollar and Wojo.
“Damn, that’s one more muthafucka who’s going to be ahead of me,” Wojo said as the woman proceeded to the registration desk. “Let me get my ass in here and take care of my business. I’m sure I’ll run into you again. Maybe we can do lunch sometime. And hey.” He placed his hand on Dollar’s shoulder. “I hope you don’t hold shit against me from back in the joint. You know how a nigga gotta act hard up in there. It was all show; strictly business.” Wojo chuckled and headed into the clinic.
Dollar put his hand over his mouth and bent over. He quickly ran off to the side and vomited up everything he had eaten and eventually the lining of his stomach. He stood still, unable to lift his feet, as the world spun around him. He couldn’t see straight. He couldn’t think straight. All he could envision was a man, his father, being injected with lethal fluids. His life had been taken for a crime he had not committed. In all actuality, Romeo had literally given up his life so that his son could have one.
Dollar reevaluated everything Wojo had just shared with him and put things in perspective. At the end of the day, in his heart, any man who abandoned his wife and kids deserved the death penalty. Romeo had only gotten what was coming to him.
CHAPTER 25
Dear Mama
It was late Sunday morning and Dollar lay in his bed flipping channels with the remote control. He had spent a couple of days earlier in the week casing the bank, the position of the tellers, cameras, and the daily routine of the security guards. He had ordered in food and ordered pay-per-view movies for the past two days. The only thing he got out of the bed to do was use the bathroom. He hadn’t even showered. There were just so many heavy things on his mind. Life outside of the cage seemed to be taking more of a toll on him than inside. And he had to admit that his mind hadn’t been right since running into Wojo and learning what his dad had done for him. The issue with Kera and the whole Mya pregnancy thing had been gnawing at him as well. He’d been a complete asshole to both women. Yeah, he wanted to be hard so whenever life knocked him down the fall wouldn’t hurt. But somehow his heart had managed to harden in it all. If he didn’t know any better, it was as if he’d inherited the God syndrome from Ramelle. Like father, like son.
There were thoughts of his brother. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to patch things up 100 percent with him.
A small, digital envelope was visible on his cell phone signaling to him that he had voicemail messages. He allowed all calls to go directly to his voicemail. He didn’t want to be bothered by anyone. No distractions. He had to get his mind back right.
For some reason Dollar was feeling empty inside. Here he was, a free man, who was supposed to be spending the rest of his life behind bars but had been spared. A part of him felt he owed his father at least a thank-you, while another part of him felt his father deserved nothing more than a fuck you. Did Kera and Mya deserve apologies? Had he played them or had they played themselves? Then there was Tommy. She’d been trying to open up her heart, soul, body, and mind to him. His mind was too busy on the money to even acknowledge her feelings.
One thing after another constipated his head and overtook his thoughts where he could hardly function. Did any of it even matter though? Those chapters in his life had been written and read. There was nothing he could do to change it. He had to get over the madness. Now was not the time to get soft.
&nbs
p; At the same time, though, Dollar knew that there was so much to be grateful for. He had a roof over his head and food to eat. He had big plans. Soon he would be living more comfortable than ever. Still, there was a major void. Something was missing. A detail had to have been over looked and it was nagging in the pit of Dollar’s stomach.
Out of nowhere, Dollar rose up in his bed. He may have done many women wrong, but there was one who deserved an apology more than anybody. A sudden wave of energy took over his being. He went to his closet and picked out some garb to sport for the day. He jumped in the shower and hit the road.
As Dollar drove, he took in the city air. With no final destination, Dollar just drove while he listened to his Best of Al Green CD. Once he had listened to every song on that, he popped in his Tupac Me Against the World CD. As Dollar listened to the beat of song number nine, he knew why he was on the road. He knew what had lifted him up out of that bed and where he needed to be at that very moment.
“Dear Mama,” Dollar said as he sat on the ground gazing at his mother’s headstone. Choked up, Dollar swallowed hard and maintained his composure. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to come back up here and I know I haven’t talked to you in a while. I don’t know what to say, Mama. I’m your oldest boy.” Dollar put his head between his knees and fought back his tears.
“I made some mistakes, and despite my decisions, you taught me well, Mama. Me being in jail wasn’t no reflection on you. That was all my doing. I was young and just wanted to find a quick route to taking care of you and my little brother. Can you believe he’s about to be a doctor? My little brother, a doctor. I still can’t believe it. I guess you know me and him ain’t tight like we was when we was younger. I know that ain’t making you happy. I know I ain’t making you happy, Mama. I know you looking down on me and . . .”
