by Ashley Snell
Blood soaked his bedsheets, and her dilemma with Free instantly went away when she saw her father lying with his eyes open and a bullet wound to the head.
“Daddy!” she screamed as she fell to the floor beside his bed. “Daddy, no! Please get up!” she cried as she kissed his face over and over again.
“Baby girl,” she heard him whisper weakly in her ear. She looked at him in shock as she realized that he wasn’t dead.
“I’m right here, Daddy. Just hold on for me,” she said frantically as she grabbed the phone off the nightstand and dialed 911.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the operator answered.
“Please, somebody help me! My father—he’s been shot!” Six screamed as she cradled the phone in her neck and attempted to scoop her father in her arms. “Please!” she begged as she placed his head on her lap. His eyes stared into hers, and she dropped the phone as she concentrated on her father. Her eyes burned as the tears fell from her face and onto her father’s cheeks. She wiped the wetness from his cheeks as she rocked him back and forth in her arms.
“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as she used her fingers to close his seemingly lifeless eyes. Her chest ached, and she tried to inhale, but each time she tried to suck in air a sharp pain erupted through her heart. She closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side as if she were in disbelief. “You’re going to be okay…just hold on, old man,” she pleaded as she took the sheets in her hand and pressed them up against her father’s wound.
“Baby girl,” he gasped. All Jones could do was look up at his beautiful daughter. The blood in his eyes partially obstructed his view of her, but he was grateful to have her voice in his ear when he needed her most. The amount of love he had for Six was so great that he didn’t mind dying, as long as she was by his side. She didn’t know it, but she was coaching him step-by-step as he made his way into the light.
“Don’t talk, Daddy…stop talking. I’m here, Daddy. Just save your energy,” Six said as she tried desperately to stop the blood from flowing out of his brain. There was so much blood on her hands that she knew her efforts were useless. Her father was going to die, and there was nothing that she could do to stop it.
“Hmm,” he grunted as his grip loosened on her hand.
“I love you so much, Daddy—you’re the shit, you know that,” Six stated. “Can’t nobody ever take your place, Daddy.” She closed her eyes and rocked him back and forth. “Your baby girl is right here with you. If you die on me, I’m going to fuck you up,” she threatened as she kissed his cheek.
“Where are they?” Six yelled in frustration, hoping the ambulance would quickly arrive.
Six felt her father let go of her hand and although his eyes were open, there was nothing but empty space behind his stare. “Daddy,” she whispered as she shook him slightly. “Daddy, wake up—please, Daddy. You’re all I’ve got!”
At that moment, the paramedics came through the door and witnessed Six holding her father in her arms. Her sobs revealed her tragedy as her body heaved violently from her cries while she gently rubbed his face.
“You’re too late!” she screamed. “What the fuck took you so long!” Her screams were more like raspy wails, and blood covered her as she closed her father’s eyes.
The paramedics approached her and tried to remove Jones from her grasp. “No! Don’t take him yet! I just want to say good-bye!” she cried. She was no longer a grown woman, but a daddy’s girl who had been crushed by her father’s sudden death.
The paramedics looked at each other confused. No one wanted to be the one to separate Six from Jones. Seeing her mourning over his dead body would have brought tears to the toughest of men.
“We have to remove the body,” a paramedic stated to a police officer who was entering the room.
The officer looked at Six and shook his head as the ringing of a cell phone erupted. He looked at Six’s cell phone that was on the floor at her feet, along with the contents of her purse. Six recognized the ringtone. She knew it was Britain, and as the officer answered the call, she stated, “Tell him to come.”
Britain walked into Jones’s house and noticed policemen and paramedics crowded around the doorway to Jones’s room.
“Six!” he yelled as he made his way toward the scene in a hurry. He pushed his way through, and when he saw what they all were looking at, he stopped midstep. Six was crying over Jones, blood saturated her clothing, and the officers were negotiating with her to release the body; she wouldn’t let go.
Britain stepped closely to Six and looked down at Jones’s body. Damn, he thought sadly. Somebody finally caught Jones slipping. Britain knew that karma would inevitably catch up to Jones as it did his father so many years ago. The life of a murderer for hire was never long, but he knew that this was something that Six would never understand. He kneeled beside her and stared up into her swollen eyes.
“Six, it’s time to let him go,” he whispered as the silent crowd around him watched glumly.
Six shook her head. “I can’t. I’m his daughter. He needs me,” she responded with her eyes still focused on Jones.
“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this, ma. There’s nothing you can do for him now,” Britain replied softly as he put his hand on her cheek, brushing the bloody hair out of her face. “Let him go, Six. Let the men do their jobs and take care of him.”
“He’s my daddy,” Six whispered. “Who would do this to him?” she asked as she looked up into Britain’s eyes.
Britain didn’t want to tell her the truth…he didn’t want to tell her that Jones himself had done this to many other niggas and had robbed many other little girls out of their time with their fathers. He simply shook his head and replied, “You’ve got to let go, ma.”
Six nodded her head and choked up again as she brought her father close to her chest one last time. “The last real nigga on earth just died. I love you,” she whispered before allowing the paramedics to remove his body. She stood to her feet, but the world spun beneath her, and she collapsed in Britain’s arms.
Britain carried Six out of the house, and she clung to him desperately as he placed her in his car. She cried silently the entire way to his home. Britain did not know what to say to quell her pain, so he didn’t say anything at all. When his father died, he hated hearing the million apologies from people who could never understand. He didn’t want to be another useless voice in her ear. He wasn’t going to tell her that it would be all right because he knew for a fact that the pain never went away. Six would feel the loss of her father for the rest of her life. All he could do was help her bear this new cross.
He reached over and grabbed her hand as he whipped his car through the city streets. When Six felt Britain wrap her hand in his, she squeezed it tightly, hanging on for dear life. In one night she had lost both of the men in her life. She had lost Free due to mistrust, and she had been robbed of her father by the streets. As she stared out of the window, she realized that Britain was not the man she planned to be with, but he was the one who was here, by her side, when she most needed him.
Britain pulled up to his Grosse Pointe Woods estate. He pressed the numeric keypad on his steering wheel, and the gates opened, welcoming them into his castle.
He helped her out of the car and into the house, where he removed her clothing. As he pulled her shirt over her head he wished he could take away some of her grief.
“Lift your leg, ma,” he whispered as he removed her jeans.
He put her clothes in a plastic bag and tossed it in the trash.
“No,” she whispered, reaching her hand out to stop him. “Don’t just throw them away.”
Britain nodded, understanding that she was trying to hold on to every little piece of her father. He retrieved the bag and replied, “I’ll have them cleaned for you.”
She stood in his great room in just her panties and bra and pulled at her hair as she closed her eyes. Britain picked her up and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom and in
to the master bath. He turned on the shower, then kicked off his shoes before he stepped inside with Six still in his arms.
“Stand up for me, baby girl,” Britain spoke. When he called her by the same nickname that her father had given her, she broke down all over again.
The water hit her body as her father’s blood swirled down the drain. She sobbed with her face in her hands. Britain allowed her to cry as he grabbed a loofah and softly washed her body. He paid attention to every part of her body to make sure that he didn’t leave a trace of blood, even washing her hair. By the time he was done he was soaking wet, but the Armani slacks could be replaced. Six was important to him, and he knew that right now she needed to be catered to. She was fragile and vulnerable. He made it his personal mission to make sure this didn’t destroy her.
After drying her body and lotioning her down from head to toe, he dressed her in a nightgown that she had left at his house. He tucked her in and whispered, “I’m here if you need me.”
Six did not respond. She simply stared at the wall as a lone tear escaped and fell onto her pillow. She heard Britain leave the room, and she balled her fist and bit her finger to stop herself from crying too loudly. She knew that sleep would not come easy that night because all she would see in her head was her father’s bloody face.
Britain closed his eyes as he removed his wet clothing and sat down on the bed. He couldn’t believe that Jones had been killed. The devastation that he saw in Six is what hurt him the most. She’s never going to get over this, he thought as he lay back in his bed and rubbed his goatee. He could hear her crying in the next room, and the pit of his stomach felt hollow just knowing that she was suffering. He was feeling Six and had grown closer to her than any other woman he had ever been with. He never wanted to see her this way, and as much as he wanted to give her space, her cries were like a magnet—they drew him near. He put his robe on over his pajama pants and went back into his guestroom.
Six heard him open the door and although her back was turned to him, she could feel his presence.
“Hold me,” she requested.
Britain got into the bed with Six and wrapped his arms around her, causing her crying to cease. He rubbed her back in tiny circles for hours before she finally drifted to sleep. As Britain lay in bed with her in his arms, he thought, This is how it’s supposed to be. With her next to him, he found peace, but he knew that it was only temporary, because before he could fully own Six’s heart, he would have to mend it.
Six awoke to a full breakfast platter sitting on the side of the bed, but her appetite was nonexistent. She heard her phone ring, and she reached over to grab it off the nightstand. It was Free. As soon as she saw his name pop up on her caller ID, she sent him to voice mail. There’s nothing left to say, she thought angrily as she went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and red. Her tears had created ashy trails down her golden face. She brushed her teeth and rinsed her face with cold water before wrapping herself in Britain’s robe, exiting the room.
Making her way down the marble corridor, she felt as if she would throw up. She still hadn’t wrapped her mind around what had happened. She started down the glass stairs to find Britain directing some of his goons into the house. They were carrying bags from all of her favorite department stores and placing them in the living room. There had to be over fifty bags in the space: Macy’s, Bloomingdale’s, Saks, Tiffany’s…all of the designer bags filled the room.
“Britain?” she said unsurely as she descended the rest of the stairs.
He turned around and looked at her with concern. “Good morning, ma,” he said as he extended his hand to help her down the last step. He kissed the top of her head.
“What is going on?” she asked.
“Everything you will need is here. From new clothes to tampons,” he stated. “I don’t want you to ever have to go back there. I’ve made arrangements to have your father’s place cleaned up, and I instructed them to box all of your father’s belongings and have them shipped here. You can go through them when they get here to choose what you would like to keep. I’ve already taken care of the funeral arrangements, and you can stay here with me as long as you like.”
Six leaned against him as he put his arm around her shoulders. “This is your home now. There is nothing I can’t give you, Six. I just want to make you happy, ma,” he said.
She nodded and whispered, “You’re too good for me. Thank you for everything, Britain.”
After everything was in the house, all of his workers left and Britain sat down on the plush leather sofa, pulling Six down into his arms. He cradled her like a baby as he stroked her hair.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” she uttered. “He was my life.”
“What would you say if I asked you to build a new life with me?” Britain stated. He wanted to get everything out in the open. He was falling in love with Six, and he wanted her for himself. Jones’s death reminded him that life was too short and he didn’t have time to waste. The life he was leading could be a lonely one. Being king meant nothing if he did not have a queen to share his world with.
As Six’s head rested against Britain’s chest, she could hear his heart beating anxiously as he awaited her answer. Free popped into her mind, and she forced herself to push him out. As much as she wanted to be with Free, she couldn’t trust him. What he had done was unacceptable. She had held him down from the very beginning, and although he had not always been faithful, she had never questioned his love for her. She attributed his cheating ways to a nigga just being a nigga, but after everything—after holding him down while he was in prison, after proving to him that her love was unconditional—she expected so much more from him. After all that she had given of herself, she expected his loyalty in return.
Free’s actions made it so much easier for Six to love Britain. She had fought her feelings for him long enough. Now that her father was gone, Six had no one. She didn’t want to be alone. She felt like Free had abandoned her and threw away all they had built over the years. It was like she didn’t even know him. Britain was offering her a lifestyle of comfort, happiness, and wealth. He was offering her his heart. She knew that he had strong feelings for her. It poured out of him when he spoke to her, and she could feel it in his touch. The only thing that had ever stopped her from taking it all the way with Britain was Free. Fuck him. He didn’t appreciate what he had. Now I have to do what’s right for me, she thought.
Six looked up at Britain and replied, “I would say okay, but I’m not really in the state of mind to talk about us right now. I know I don’t always act like it, but I’m really into you, Britain, and I’m lucky to have you in my life. If I didn’t have you right now, I don’t know where I would be. I need you to help me get through this. My father was my everything. He was the one person who was always here for me…no matter what he, always loved me.”
Britain caressed her face and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m here for you, Six. Know that no matter what happens here with us, I’m going to always make sure you’re straight—believe that.”
Free pulled up to Jones’s house and discreetly wiped the tears that had accumulated in his eyes. That’s fucked up, he thought as he got out of the car and pulled up his baggy denims before approaching the house. Jones had been good to Free and had accepted him with respect from the very first time they had met. His head was spinning when Big Lou delivered the news about Jones’s murder, and he instantly began to worry about Six. He knew that he had gotten caught up and that they were beefing right now, but his girl needed him. He had never meant to hurt Six; he hoped that Six could forgive him. He knew that their problems were not important right now. I know she’s hurting, he thought. He saw firsthand just how close Six had been with her father, so he knew that she was going through it behind the murder. He just wanted to be there for her, but every time he called her phone he got her voice mail.
He strolled
up the walkway and just as he was about to knock on the door, it opened. A white man answered, and they stared at each other in confusion. Free frowned when he read the tag on the man’s green collar shirt.
Cooper Cleaner and Recovery Service? he thought.
“I’m looking for Six Jones,” Free stated suspiciously.
“I’m sorry, sir. She isn’t here, but we are supposed to deliver these belongings to her,” the man informed him.
Free peeked inside the house. It was cleared out. He pulled out his phone and dialed Six’s number, but got the same result—voice mail.
“Yo’, my man, where are you delivering her stuff to?” Free asked as he rubbed the top of his head, something that he did when he was frustrated.
The worker looked down at the box in his hands and read the shipping label.
“Grosse Pointe Woods,” he reported.
Free clenched his fists as his nostrils flared when he heard Britain’s neighborhood. She’s moving in with that nigga, he thought, enraged. “Fuck!” he yelled as he punched at the air in rage. He felt like he had just been punched in the gut. At this point, his life could not get much worse. I have to talk to Six—the only reason she’s giving that mu’fucka the time of day is because of that Sparkle bullshit, Free thought. He trotted back to his car and started the engine. I have to talk to her.
Chapter Sixteen
Six stood at the back of the church withering like an autumn leaf. She couldn’t make herself walk down the aisle. She could see her father waiting for her up front. His casket sat among hundreds of white roses, her favorite flower, but she didn’t have the strength to even put one foot in front of the other. Her eyes were blocked by the large Prada sunglasses she wore. She didn’t want people to see her tired and weary eyes. It was as if her heart had died along with her father. She didn’t want the world to judge her, so she hid behind the dark tint, wishing that she could keep them on forever. Six used all of her will to keep herself from crying. Her father wouldn’t have wanted her whooping and hollering in front of the crowded room, so she contained her emotions, burying them so deep inside she was sure that she would be dealing with them for years to come.