She stole my daughter’s birthday present! Stop that girl right now!
Word travels fast in Pine Creek, especially whispers about money and property. It didn’t take long for the gossip about Marcus Hollis and the eviction, and especially the involvement of Jerome Barksdale, to reach the ears of the wrong people. Or, perhaps, the right people, depending on your perspective.
Big Ray sat in his usual booth at The Cue Stick, a half-empty glass of iced tea in front of him. His eyes, usually scanning the pool tables, were now fixed on a small, worn ledger spread open on the table. Miller, his chief enforcer, stood quietly by his side, impassive as ever.
“So,” Big Ray rumbled, his voice low but carrying a weight that silenced nearby conversations. “Jerome Barksdale, he’s telling folks around town that I authorized him to evict Dorothy Hollis’s boy from his mama’s house?”
Miller nodded. “That’s the talk, boss. Folks are saying you’re getting into the property game, squeezing out families.”
Big Ray slowly closed the ledger. His face, usually a mask of calm authority, hardened. “Is that so? Because I seem to recall a very clear rule: my name is not to be used for personal fraud. Especially not against local families, and especially not with fraudulent deeds.”
He picked up a cue ball from the table and idly rolled it between his fingers. The smooth ivory felt cold. “Jerome Barksdale has been making a lot of noise. Bragging about his connections, his ‘official’ notary stamp. Implying my backing.”
“He’s been using your name as muscle, boss,” Miller confirmed. “To scare people into signing over land, settle debts that weren’t yours.”
A slow, deliberate rage settled over Big Ray. He prided himself on maintaining a certain order, a certain code, in Pine Creek. His informal credit system worked because it was seen as fair, if strict. Fraud and abuse, especially under his name, undermined everything he had built.
“I don’t dabble in tax auctions and property grabs,” Big Ray said, his voice dangerously quiet. “That’s not my business. My business is clean debts, clearly understood. Not this dirty, forged paper mess.”
He looked at Miller. “Marcus Hollis’s mama, Dorothy. Good woman. Always paid her dues, even when times were tight. Never caused trouble. And now her son is getting treated like some street bum, losing his home, losing his daughter, all because Jerome Barksdale wants to make a quick buck and wave my name around.”
Miller simply waited. He knew what was coming.
“Go find Jerome Barksdale,” Big Ray instructed, his eyes glinting. “Bring him to me. Discreetly. We need to have a conversation about his understanding of street arithmetic. And what it means to use another man’s name without permission.”
The cue ball clattered against the table as Big Ray set it down. The message was clear. Barksdale, in his greed, had crossed a line he shouldn’t have. He had unwittingly tied Brenda’s land grab to the town’s criminal authority, and that authority was not pleased. The street underworld was about to intervene, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
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