by T. J. Hope
“Are you sure?”
He seemed to be in deep thought. He then looked at Jamika with a serious expression, put his fork down, and started to speak. “Jamika, I just want you to know that you are a good girl, and nothing that happens to you is directly because of you. It’s all business.”
Jamika looked at Tray, confused. Fine sweat beads had begun to form above his brow.
“What are you talking about?” Before Tray could answer, there was a knock at Jamika’s door. Jamika wondered at who could be knocking on her door. Agent Conner had gone home for the night, and no one besides Tray knew where she lived. She’d told her family that it was such a dump; she was embarrassed to have them visit until she was able to fix it up some. The knock came louder.
“Are you going to answer that?” Tray asked.
“Uh…yeah,” Jamika replied, getting up from the table. She looked through the peephole, but did not see anyone. She pushed the front window curtains aside to look out; still she did not see anyone. “Nobody’s there.”
“Just open the door, and see who’s there,” Tray suggested.
“No, if they can’t show their face, I’m not opening my door.”
“I’ll get it,” Tray said, getting up and walking toward the door.
“No Tray. Just let them stay out there. We are having a good time here.” Suddenly, Tray pushed her aside with so much force that she almost fell to the floor. She heard the click of the door unlocking, and could feel the warm outside breeze filtering into her apartment as she struggled to regain her balance. She looked up to see Daddy Dee entering her apartment, giving Tray a high five, while congratulating him on his good work.
Tray quickly closed and locked the door behind him. Daddy Dee was walking toward Jamika. Jamika struggled to not look afraid. Before she could fully comprehend what kind of trap it was that she’d fallen into, Daddy Dee hit her in the head with a hard, blunt object. She fell on the couch and looked up to see that she’d been hit by a chrome, Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum. She felt the warm blood oozing from her throbbing head.
Daddy Dee was standing in front of her, holding the gun at point-blank range from her head. As Jamika looked down the barrel of his Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum, her life flashed before her eyes. She wasn’t that surprised that her life would end at the hands of a man. It seemed that both life and men have had a vendetta against her for as long as she could remember. She always seemed to be slowly hurling toward this end. Jamika knew that if he shot that gun, she would surely not have a chance at survival.
Jamika thought of the bug that she’d had in her hair since earlier at the studio. She knew Agent Conner had long since gone home, and wondered if there was backup surveillance on her. They hadn’t ever mentioned it, but she really hoped so.
“Man, you asked me to get this girl alone for you. I didn’t know you were going to blow her damn brains out,” Tray was saying, clearly alarmed by Daddy Dee’s violence.
“I am paying you a quarter of a million for this set-up. What did you think I was going to do, talk to her?” Daddy Dee said, irritated by Tray’s ignorance.
“Well, let me leave. I don’t want to see this. I knew her when I was a little kid, man.”
“Man, sit down and shut the fuck up,” Daddy Dee said angrily. Tray complied.
Daddy Dee turned his attention back to Jamika. “So, what’s been going on, Meek?” Jamika knew she had to choose her answers carefully. The wrong words could end her life.
“I thought you didn’t remember me, Deonte?” Jamika stated softly. She silently prayed that someone somewhere was hearing this. “Didn’t I tell you that my name ain’t no damn Deonte.”
“Sorry, Darrell.”
“It ain’t Darrell, neither.” Jamika decided to keep quiet and let Daddy Dee control the conversation.
“Meek, I really cared for you back then,” Daddy Dee started again. “You were really wife material. I really didn’t mean for you to get caught with that shit. We hid it well. But, you did get caught, Now, you’re home in…what has it been…two years? Do you think I am a damn fool? I will kill you before I let you bring me down. So, be honest with me and I may consider letting your ass live.”
Jamika knew that was a lie. She could see by the look in his eyes that he was going to kill her. Right here, tonight. She decided to stick to her story. “Dee, look I really cared for you too. Shit, I still do now. I would never do anything to hurt you. I was really happy to see you at the—” Jamika heard the gun as it was cocked.
“Oh well, you are still lying. I guess you don’t want to live,” he interrupted.
There was a banging on the door. Someone must have come for her. Agent Conner must have had backup surveillance on her after all. Daddy Dee hadn’t expected anyone to come to the door and felt uncertain as to what to do. The knock came louder. Daddy Dee held his index finger up to his lips to urge Tray and Jamika to remain quiet.
“Pizza Hut delivery!” the voice shouted from the other side of the door. Jamika knew that had to be the FBI; she had to get to that door.
“Look,” Jamika whispered, “I ordered that for my neighbor. Her husband put her on a strict diet, and she was craving it. She asked me to order that pizza and have it sent here. It’s going to get very suspicious, if I don’t get that pizza.”
The bang on the door came again, “Pizza Hut delivery!”
Daddy Dee thought for a moment and then said, “Okay, get the damn pizza, no funny shit.”
Jamika got up to walk towards the door. Daddy Dee pulled her by the arm. “Wait, go get your purse and tie a towel or something around your head, you’re bleeding.” The knock came again. “This is a persistent motherfucker,” said Daddy Dee, annoyed. “Let him know that you’re coming.”
“Just a minute!” yelled Jamika. Jamika wrapped her head tightly with a bath towel and grabbed her purse.
She opened the front door, and looked into the face of Mark Rosier. Jamika didn’t know what to make of this, but she knew that her life depended on making the right moves, right now. “That’ll be eleven dollars and eighty-one cents, Miss,” Mark said to her with a wink of his eye, while pushing his way into the apartment. Jamika stepped back a little to allow him in. Nervously, she began to fiddle around in her purse for the money.
Mark saw the two men seated in Jamika’s apartment. He noticed how still and attentive they sat. He was sure that Jamika was in some type of danger. He had started to look for Jamika about two months ago, when one of his letters was returned from the prison. He realized that she had been released. He’d found her almost mistakenly; he had gone to a concert and saw her performing as an opening act.
He had followed her and the bald one on many occasions going out on dates together. It made him a little jealous to see Jamika so happy, spending time with someone else. But he really cared for Jamika and wanted to make sure this guy was good. So he followed Tray and discovered that Tray was meeting with Daddy Dee, each and every time he met with Jamika.
Mark did not know what was going down. But he figured that Jamika was being set-up by these guys in some way. Mark knew the laws well, and knew that for the charges Jamika had, she was let out of prison too early. That meant one of two things: she either snitched on someone, or was helping the FBI get someone specifically linked to her personal case. Being the Jamika he knew; it had to be the latter. He couldn’t imagine her as a snitch. So these guys must have also figured that out. Mark had started to follow her and keep an eye on her, as he was sure something big was going down.
Since Mark learned where she lived, he’d been dying to see her, touch her, and talk to her. He’d missed her. He’d driven all the way over and sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes, trying to figure out how to approach her. As he sat there, he saw the bald guy Jamika had been going out with, pull up in the parking lot. Mark had reclined his seat back behind his tinted windows in order to remain undetected. Then, the other guy he always met with pulled in as well, and they had a brief conversation.
The other on
e sat in his car for a while and then went up too. It just looked strange to Mark. It didn’t feel right. He remembered the pizza uniform he had in his trunk that he’d used to gain entrance to a luxury, apartment high-rise to take pictures for a client on a case he was working. He quickly changed clothes, grabbed his Pizza Hut prop box and ran upstairs to bang on the door. He surveyed the situation as Jamika continued to fiddle for change in her purse.
The bald one was sitting closest to him on the love seat. The other one was sitting on the long couch, staring at him, visibly trying to remain calm. I have to do something, Mark was thinking. He was finished counting out the change and handed it to Jamika.
As he reached to take the twenty from her, he looked in her eyes. They looked frightened and lost. He thought of how long he had waited to look into those hazel eyes. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go. He knew that if he did not act now, he might never see her again. Then, he saw it. A small circle of blood had begun to leak through the white towel she had wrapped around her head. They had already hurt her. They had hurt his Meek. Mark turned to walk out of the door.
Jamika’s heart dropped. She thought that Mark was a private investigator. What was he doing delivering a pizza that she never ordered? Why had he blinked his eye? Why was he leaving? Jamika’s questions were simultaneously answered when Mark quickly turned and brandished two .45 guns. He held one in each hand.
He held one pointing toward Tray and the other toward Daddy Dee. Mark paced himself and started to speak slowly. “I need you both, to get the fuck out of here! You go first,” he said, pointing to Tray. “Walk over slowly and stand by the door. One funny move and I will shoot you.” Tray rose with his hands in plain view and started slowly toward the door. The moment Mark turned his head to assure Tray was doing as he was told, Daddy Dee pulled out his own gun. He pointed it directly at Jamika.
“Nigga, drop it, or I’ll blow a hole so big in this bitch, her insides will decorate these walls.”
Mark tried to think quickly, but all of his sense of logic seemed to elude him. One thing he knew for sure was that he could not fire both guns at once from different angles. He was in fact, a good marksman. Yet, hitting both men, the way they were positioned was virtually impossible. He could not risk the unknown outcome.
He slowly bent to lay the guns on the floor. Jamika surveyed the scene. Things did not look good for her and Mark. She wished Mark knew that Tray was unarmed and as scared as she was. “Step back to the wall!” Daddy Dee was ordering Mark, with the gun still aimed at Jamika. “Tray, get those guns off the floor.”
“Man, look, Dee. I’m not with all this crazy shit. This has gone too far, man. You asked me to set you up with this girl, man, that’s all. This is not me at all. I do not kill, and I do not fuck with guns,” Tray said, pleading for understanding.
“Tray, will you just pick up the damned guns. This will be all over within less than five minutes. I got all your money in the car. I figured you might bitch up on me if I needed you. That is why, I brought along a half million dollars for you, dawg. Just do this for me, get those guns off the floor.”
Tray looked from Daddy Dee to Jamika, then at Mark. He wanted no part in a murder, especially the murder of Jamika. She was such a sweet, talented girl. She was headed places. He thought of how he had betrayed her and set her up to be murdered. What had he been thinking? He and Jamika had bonded. They’d confided in one another. He looked at her again. In his mind’s eye, he saw the little five-year-old Jamika that he used to play with and protect. He could do a lot with a half million dollars though. But, what if he was caught?
Daddy Dee, Jamika and Mark all looked at Tray. He was staring at Jamika as if he was in some type of trance. He wasn’t moving. He hadn’t even blinked his eyes. “Tray!” Daddy Dee screamed at him. Tray blinked rapidly and turned his head to look at Daddy Dee. “Man, would you please get those guns off the floor?” Daddy Dee was calmly asking.
Tray turned quickly, pushed through the door and ran off. The patter of his quick steps could be heard on the pavement until they faded away. Daddy Dee realized he would have to do this on his own. He walked over to the door quickly to close it, aiming the gun from Mark to Jamika. Mark saw that he might have a chance with the two guns still on the floor in front of him. There wasn’t any way that Daddy Dee could pick up both of those guns and still keep a steady aim on both of them. Mark knew that he was much too quick to allow that to happen.
Daddy Dee knew that Mark was a huge threat to him. He had to get those guns out of his reach. He felt that Jamika could be handled with his eyes closed. He decided to aim the gun directly at Mark, as he knelt to retrieve the two .45 guns from the floor.
Mark immediately recognized the strategy that Daddy Dee had chosen, and prepared physically and mentally. He knew that failing would mean his and Jamika’s deaths. Daddy Dee picked up the first gun, with his gun still aimed at Mark. He kicked the remaining gun across the room, opposite where Jamika and Mark were standing.
Mark knew it was now or never. Mark hurdled forward with all of his weight toward Daddy Dee. He heard the loud explosion of the gun as it was fired. He did not feel anything and figured he must not have been hit. He had knocked Daddy Dee to the floor; they fought fiercely.
Jamika looked on terrified. She had just seen Mark get shot. Yet, he was fighting as if he hadn’t felt it. The blood had begun to soak through the blue pants of the Pizza Hut uniform. Jamika noticed that Mark must have finally realized that he’d been shot, because he wasn’t contending with Daddy Dee anymore. Daddy Dee had started to get the best of him. Mark lie on the floor, gritting his teeth, holding his injured hip. Daddy Dee pointed the gun at Mark, cocked it, and pulled the trigger.
The gun did not go off. Jamika realized that the gun must be jammed. Daddy Dee fiddled with it, trying to get it to fire. Jamika ran to the abandoned .45 across the room and picked it up. She knew absolutely nothing about guns, but she had to do something to try to save herself and Mark.
Daddy Dee saw her run and turned to look at her. Jamika brought the gun up, out and toward him. She held it with both hands, and stood with her legs shoulder-length apart for balance. Daddy Dee started to laugh. “Meek, you ain’t going to hurt a fly, now put that down.” Jamika didn’t say a word. She concentrated, and manually got the gun ready to be fired. Daddy Dee ran toward her and she fired.
The bullet grazed his shoulder. He dropped his own gun, and looked at her in disbelief. Jamika’s hands were sweating and shaking. They seemed all cramped up. The gun rattled loudly in her trembling hands as she struggled to hold onto it. She felt overheated and afraid. She quickly glanced over at Mark, who lay in a puddle of blood and was shivering violently. She figured he must be losing too much blood, and would die there if he wasn’t helped soon.
She concentrated and tried to hold her hands steady. Mark was willing to give his life for her. He must really love her. She couldn’t let him die there. She looked back at Daddy Dee. A smile crossed his lips. His eyes looked deranged. The look brought her back to Zahrice and the way he’d shot her and killed Quinton. She braced herself and shot the gun again.
She completely missed him this time. Daddy Dee’s laughter became louder. It sounded far away and haunted to Jamika. Jamika no longer felt afraid, she wanted to kill him. She remembered the vow to herself of no more tears. She would not give up. She started to walk toward him. She knew that at close range, she could not miss. His laugh halted, and his eyes became wide as the hot metal was pressed against his temple. Jamika cocked the gun.
The door flew open and in stepped Agent Conner; about ten U.S. marshals followed. “Put down the gun!” yelled one of the marshals.
“Now!” ordered another.
Jamika was tired of giving up and letting go. She had to kill him. She heard Agent Conner’s voice speaking to her. “Mika, come on now. It’s all over, baby girl. We got him.” Agent Conner realized that Jamika was about to pull the trigger and stepped in closer to her, “Mika,
it’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore. If you shoot him, it’s all over for you as well. We’ll have to send you back to prison. All the hard work you put in would be for nothing. Your whole life is over if you pull that trigger.”
Jamika abandoned her no more tears mantra as her grip grew tighter. The tears filled her eyes quickly, blurring her vision. She wanted to kill him so badly, but did not want to return to prison, so she handed the gun over to Agent Conner. She stepped back to allow the marshals to take Daddy Dee into custody. A marshal was attending to Mark, who had lost a large amount of blood, and was going in and out of consciousness.
Police sirens and ambulances could be heard approaching. Jamika took a deep breath as the reality of it all began to sink in. The sting was over. They had gotten Daddy Dee.
Chapter Twenty
Two years had gone by since the big scene in Jamika’s apartment. Seven women, including Jamika, had been brought in to testify against Daddy Dee, birth name Dennis Walker. He was also being charged with attempted murder on Mark Rosier. After the high profile trial, Daddy Dee had been sentenced to spend the rest of his natural life in prison.
Tray had been found murdered in his car a week after Daddy Dee’s arrest. There were no suspects in that case.
Jamika had gotten to keep the apartment used during the sting for one year; she was granted clemency and paid ten thousand dollars as agreed upon. When Juicy’s album came out, Jamika became known very quickly. She sang on three of the twelve tracks on the new album, and was on two of the videos with Juicy. At the same time, she was testifying on national television against Daddy Dee. People were being very empathetic for her and found her very likable.
By the time Jamika’s album came out, people were buying them like hotcakes. Jamika had succeeded in her lifelong dream of being a singer and becoming a star. Her album had gone gold, and her song was now holding the number three spot on the Billboard charts. She’d already completed four videos to accompany her own album.
