Men in Blue Pt. 01

The refrigerator was cleaned out, the door replaced and the girls were allowed to sleep that one night.

"Believe that white mother fucker? We working for him," Deechard cackled to no one in particular.

While Philip Thompson disposed of Dajonny and Bubba, Georgie slowly drove past Shapes, but did not see Shaley's Lexus. Cindy Broussard-Robichaux affirmed she'd not seen the young lady in the facility either.

Sighing, she drove home. The moment she entered the door, Ronnie was complaining about having to take care of the kids for the two hours he'd been home, dinner was not fixed, and Sandra's diaper was close to overflowing.

And Ronnie did not ask about her first day on patrol. He didn't ask about her job at all.

"Do you think, for once, I could come home to a husband and two children? Instead of three children, could I come home to a husband that has our supper ready that Sandra has a clean diaper on? Would that be too much to ask?" Georgie asked angrily.

"I sorry Mommy," Sandra sniffled.

"No, no, Sweetheart, Mommy's not mad at you," Georgie hastened to assure the two, almost three year old girl.

"Uh, pizza okay?" Ronnie asked.

"God, Ronnie; we just had that the other night," Georgie said.

RJ and Sandra happily agreed that waffles for supper was great and Georgie quickly whipped up the batter, fried a half pound of bacon and scrambled eggs.

Forty minutes after walking in to the house, supper was done, Sandra was bathed, and RJ was playing in the tub.

"Turn that off and get in here and bathe your son," Georgie snarled when she heard the television come on.

Ronnie sullenly came into the bathroom and roughly began bathing his son.

"Never mind, God, really? Really Ronnie? You don't know how to play with him?" Georgie said and pushed her husband aside. "Go read a story to Sandra; I'll take care of this."

"Okay, who's this?" she asked RJ, holding up a figurine.

"Timmy the Turtle," RJ said.

"And where's his best friend?" Georgie said, looking through the suds.

"Sammy the Snail's right here," RJ said.

"And if they had a race..." Georgie asked, developing the story for bath-time.

And after RJ and Sandra were in bed, and Ronnie had 'finally' been allowed to unwind after his stressful day, Georgie had a can of beer.

Shaley's kiss had shocked her, had surprised her.

In her mind's eye, Georgie could see the attractive girl, remembering the first day she'd seen the girl. Georgie saw her shapely leg lift up, saw the baggy shorts gape open, saw the blonde pussy.

"We got any more of them?" Ronnie asked, interrupting Georgie's rumination.

"Two more steps Ronnie you'll be right there at the refrigerator Ronnie, open it and look, Ronnie, do I have to do everything around here Ronnie, are you that helpless that you can't even look to see if there's beer in there Ronnie?" Georgie snapped.

"God damn, can see giving you a gun and a badge have turned you into a real bitch," Ronnie snapped.

"No, Ronnie, having a lazy , childish husband has turned me into this," Georgie snarled. "Don't like this? Do something about it."

And even after all of that, Ronnie expected to be able to roll over on top of her and pump his seed into her.

He gasped when she reached down and gripped his cock and balls in a firm grip.

"No means no, Ronnie," Georgie snapped. "And I said no."

Chapter 5

St. Ann Parish assigned a public defender to the case of St. Ann Parish vs Radon Emmanuel Jefferson. Kaitlin Monroe looked at the scrawny boy and sighed.

True, she had not really applied herself in college or Law School. As the daughter of a prominent judge in St. Elizabeth Parish, she had never needed to apply herself. Especially after Judge Harold Monroe's untimely death.

But, here in the real world, no law firms were vying for Kaitlin Monroe. No one wanted an attorney that had done the barest minimum possible to avoid expulsion.

Even St. Elizabeth Parish had not wanted her, either as a public defender, which was far beneath her, or on the District Attorney's team.

So now she was relegated to being a Public Defender for St. Ann Parish. St. Ann Parish included Elgee, Jack's Creek, Pinoak and Hardington. Elgee was primarily two government housing projects, a few businesses, and some recent speculation neighborhoods. Jack's Creek was nothing but a toxic landfill and a few trailers and shacks that housed inbred families. Pinoak was largely undeveloped; very rarely did Kaitlin have any cases that came out of that area. And the fifty people that inhabited Hardington were wealthy enough that they could hire their own legal firms should they ever need to have legal representation in St. Ann's court.

So, the vast majority of Kaitlin Monroe's clientele were from Elgee's housing projects. Radon was one of those.

This being his first time, the boy was quite nervous, agitated. Any of Kaitlin's questions were met with unintelligible chatter.

"Yo, yo, yo, Homeboy," Kaitlin finally snapped. "I do not speak Ebonics, Hip-hop, Rap, ghetto or whatever it is that you think you saying. I all white, see? One more time and this time enunciate each word as if your life depends on it, feel me dog?"

"What that mean?" Radon asked.

"Speak English. Slowly. And clearly. So that even a dumb ass cracker bitch like me can understand," Kaitlin snapped.

His English did not improve much, but Kaitlin's eyes opened wide as the message became clear.

"Wait here," Kaitlin said and marched across the hall to the ADA's office.

"You have got to come listen to this kid," Kaitlin hissed at William Hunter.

While Radon was telling the assistant District Attorney what he knew of The Men in Blue, as Dan, Jase, and Philip had been labeled, Angel and Miguel were driving in their pickup truck to rendezvous with their connection.

"Fuck; we got company," Miguel warned as a police car pulled up behind them.

"What they want with a mariachi band?" Angel joked, not smiling as the cruiser hit the siren for a short blast.

Mariachi band was the cover Angel had devised. There was a trumpet case and a guitar case in the bed of the pickup truck. He pulled over as a second police cruiser, coming from the opposite direction pulled into the oncoming lane. Both police cars boxed him in on the shoulder of the road.

"Angel, my man!" Dan smiled as Angel lowered the window.

"I know you?" Angel asked, confused.

"No, but we know you," Dan smiled.

"Hey, hey, you need a warrant look in that!" Miguel yelled as Jase reached into the bed of the pickup truck and flicked open the trumpet case.

"Legal genius here," Dan laughed as Jase opened the guitar case also, finding both empty.

"So, where you supposed to meet up with your boys?" Dan asked.

"The rest of our band? They are waiting at Casa Ole; you heard of it? It is Mexican restaurant," Angel said.

His head snapped back as Dan punched him in the face.

"Your boys; ones bring in the heroin, ass hole," Dan said, not smiling.

"Funny thing about this stretch of road?" Jase informed Miguel, pulling him through the open truck window and punching him several times. "This little part of the Atchafalaya is full of snapping turtles. Those mean ass little mother fuckers will eat anything."

While Jase and Dan were tying several cinderblocks to Miguel and Angel, Georgie was completing her work-out at Shapes. Today she was on the free weights and had just completed her squats. A glance at the clock told her she still had ten minutes until her massage. Finishing her twenty ounce bottle of water, Georgie decided to go to the sauna and wait there for her massage.

"Hi," Shaley quietly said.

"Shaley!" Georgie happily cried out.

She gave a tight embrace to the unresponsive girl, then pulled her down the hall to the sauna.

"Listen, I uh, I really been..." Shaley mumbled.

"I'm gay," Georgie said suddenly.

"You're what?" Shaley asked, startled.

Georgie had finally decided she just would not hide it any longer. As a girl, she knew she was supposed to like boys, and she did. She liked Mr. Richards, Betsy's dad. She liked Jim, her big brother. She liked Paw-paw, her mom's daddy. There were several male teachers she liked.

In high school, she knew she was supposed to like boys, and she did. She liked Billy, her chess buddy. She liked Garland; he was so funny and smart. She had even gone to the Homecoming Prom with him and given him her virginity. She had liked Father Bill of St. Patrick's; he encouraged her to be an altar server.

Ronnie Edwards had asked her out a few times. Betsy Richards had pined over the attractive man so Georgie went out with him, wondering why Betsy, who was several pounds overweight, would pine over such an unintelligent and unimaginative man.

Then Ronnie had asked Georgie to marry him. Georgie knew she should be elated, excited, but really didn't understand what the fuss was about.

Now, sitting in a sweltering room, holding onto Shaley's soft hand, looking into Shaley's uncomprehending eyes, Georgie finally made the decision. She wasn't going to waste one more minute doing what she was supposed to do. Instead, she was going to do what she wanted to do.

"Listen, shit, it was just one kiss!" Shaley declared.

"Maybe for you," Georgie smiled happily. "For me? It was the kiss I was supposed to have."

"Mrs. Edwards? I'm ready for you now," Gretchen, the masseuse called out.

"Listen, we'll talk after I'm done, okay?" Georgie said happily, giving Shaley's hand a squeeze and stepping out of the steam.

"All good and relaxed?" Gretchen asked as Georgie climbed onto the table.

After a vigorous massage and cool-down, Georgie went looking for Shaley, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

Georgie showered, dressed, and then sent a text to Shaley.

Less than a minute later, Shaley responded with a demand that Georgie leave her alone; that she was blocking Georgie's number.

Strangely, Shaley's rejection emboldened her and Georgie drove home.

At her apartment, Rayanne very carefully read the directions on the package of soup mix, got out the saucepan, measured the water, and then turned the stove on.

Ten minutes later, Rayanne Williams sat down at her very own table and ate her very first bowl of chicken noodle soup that she'd made herself. When the Dr. Pepper caused her to have a truly magnificent belch, Rayanne could not help but giggle happily.

When the men had set up the cute table/bench set, they had set it up so that the harsh overhead light illuminated the table perfectly for studying. Rayanne sat happily studying her Sociology 101 textbook, swinging one leg idly.

When she finished, she got out her laptop, opened up the Word program, and took the mini-test at the end of the chapter, checked her answers, then, feeling terribly guilty, logged onto the Internet and checked the U.L.D. on-line newspaper, clicking on the 'Personals' link.

She just knew that Mr. Gordon, or Miss Kelly were monitoring her Internet use, but told herself, if she did it quickly enough, maybe they wouldn't notice.

There were no new ads of Women Seeking Women so Rayanne logged off quickly.

She heard a bit of a commotion outside and peered out to see the tenants of Apartment 2B attempting to get a couch out through the door.

"Mother fucker, how'd you get the fucking thing in?" one of the boys complained.

"Fuck, man, her dad and brother did it, all right?" Rayanne heard another male's voice complain.

The girl turned and saw Rayanne watching them and curled up her already angry face even more.

"Tell them tilt the back of it forward," Rayanne suggested. "He's going to have to lift up this end and get it over the railing, then they can swing the end out."

She'd witness enough 'midnight moves' to know a thing or two about getting big bulky pieces of furniture in and out.

"Thanks," the guy inside of the apartment called out as Rayanne's suggestion did enable them to get it through. "I owe you a beer."

"Huh? Oh, no, no thanks, I don't drink," Rayanne smiled pleasantly and closed her door.

A moment later, someone knocked on the door and Rayanne opened it to find the small brunette girl standing there. When she'd seen the girl earlier, it had been from behind and Rayanne had admired her sleek legs and tight looking backside in the denim cut offs. From the front, she could see that the girl was pregnant, about five or six months from the looks of it.

"My dumb ass boyfriend and his useless brother can't figure out how to get the recliner out; you come tell them what to do?" the girl asked.

Rayanne made sure to have her key and made sure to lock the apartment, even though she was just going two doors down.

Apartment 2B was a disaster area. The carpet had several small burns, there were holes in the sheetrock, and there was a heavy, foul odor.

"That?" Rayanne asked, pointing to an overstuffed recliner.

"Yeah, ass hole one and ass hole two are tearing it all up," the girl sneered.

"Hey, Debbie? Fuck you, all right? Fuck you, God damned bitch," Debbie's boyfriend yelled.

"Gee, I wonder why we're breaking up," Debbie sneered.

"Fuck you, tell your mom come get this fucking shit," Brandon snarled.

"Okay, here, lay it on its side, you're going to have to get the top out first, then work this end out, and then once it's out, just sit it up," Rayanne said, helping Debbie tilt it over.

"Gee, maybe if you weren't so fucking drunk and stupid all the time, you could have figured that shit out," Debbie sneered at Brandon.

"Know how we can get the table out?" Kevin, Brandon's brother asked.

"Legs come off? Or fold in?" Rayanne asked as she and Debbie managed to get the recliner out the door.

"No shit! They do," Kevin declared, showing Brandon that the legs did fold in.

"So where you moving to?" Rayanne asked, groaning inwardly as Debbie squatted, a maneuver that exposed even more of her cute little backside.

"Me? Moving in with my mom," Debbie shrugged. "Shit for brains got fired from Domino's Pizza. How the fuck you get fired from Domino's, huh? Domino's!"

"And who's the cunt ain't never worked a fucking day in her life, huh?" Brandon shot back. "Eighteen years old, ain't never had job one, ever!"

"And then can't find a job nowhere," Debbie continued. "Kind of fucking hard find a job sitting on your ass smoking dope and playing fucking stupid video games!"

"Suck my dick, stupid cunt, just suck my fucking dick," Brandon sneered, grabbing his crotch.

"Never again, that's for sure," Debbie sneered.

"Anything else got to go?" Rayanne asked, wanting to get away from the arguing couple.

"No, the bed's his, TV's his," Debbie said and held out a small hand. "Thanks; good to meet you."

"Hope it's a girl," Rayanne said, indicating Debbie's belly.

"Yeah, like we need more stupid bitches in the world," Brandon said.

At the Edwards' house, Ronnie had a very uncomfortable dinner while Georgie played with Sandra and RJ. Georgie had come in, uttered those four little words no husband ever wants to hear, 'We Need to Talk' and then set about preparing their dinner.

"And who's zucchini boat's almost gone?" Georgie said happily as Sandra was almost finished eating her stuffed zucchini.

"Mine! Look!" RJ demanded.

"Whee!" Georgie laughed happily.

Ronnie wondered if Georgie had found out about the two hookers he'd fucked while she was gone at the Academy. He hadn't gotten popped when they had that recent sweep-through, but maybe one of the prostitutes had said something. Georgie was a cop now; she'd have access to that kind of shit.

Or, she'd found out about the five hundred bucks he'd blown on his Fantasy Football league. But who could have predicted that Drew would be playing like shit?

"Should have picked up Brady," Ronnie mumbled and drank more beer.

In the small one bedroom unit on Block D, Victor Fernandez grew more and more agitated; Angel and Miguel should have been here two hours ago.

Then he heard the key in the door and pulled his nine millimeter out. Angel or Miguel would have delivered the two knocks, paused, then two more knocks before putting the key in the door.

"Fuck, aw God damn aw fuck!" Jase screamed when Victor's shot hit him in the shoulder.

Philip and Dan both shot Victor multiple times; he was certainly dead by the time the ambulance arrived to take Officer Jason Cruz to St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center.

Chapter 6

After three weeks of fighting, Georgie agreed to move out of the small house. It had been Ronnie's house before they married and he had made all payments as well.

Sophia Coutre, her lawyer, grimly told Georgie she should have insisted that Ronnie be the one to leave. True, she had not contributed financially, but she had kept the household running.

"But, water under the bridge now," Sophia said. "Let's talk about custody."

Ronnie's attorney, Parker Johnson, going through a divorce of his own, had advised his client to be as inaccessible as possible, to freeze all bank accounts, to cancel all charge cards.

"And you say, all of a sudden she comes up with this 'guess what, I'm gay' shit?" Parker snapped, still smarting over his wife's refusal to let him take his three girls to Disney world for the Thanksgiving break.

"Kind of explains why she was such a dead fuck," Ronnie giggled.

At her apartment building, Rayanne peeked into Apartment 2B; having watched the progress as the landlord's crew ripped out the old carpet and replaced it with more cheap carpet, the same neutral beige color. She'd monitored their progress on patching the sheetrock, even chatting pleasantly with the workers as she left for classes, or returned from classes.

"Hey, how you doing?" the landlord himself smiled as he changed the deadbolt on the apartment door. "You're the girl, excuse me, young lady in two D, right?"

"Yeah; got somebody moving in?" Rayanne asked, nodding in satisfaction that she could no longer tell where the holes had been.

"Yeah, real nice lady, don't think I'll have any problems out of her," the man said. "Got two kids and all."

"Oh, good, good," Rayanne enthused and skipped away to go to class.

"Prefer then young, dumb, and blonde," the landlord muttered as he watched Rayanne's bubble butt in her faux suede skirt. "But I wouldn't mind a little chocolate every now and then, Sweetie."

In Unit 28, Deechard's sneered as she saw Jase, arm in a sling. She'd had enough of tricking for this white ass mother fucker; last night, she'd brought in three hundred dollars and ain't had shit show for it.

"That right?" Jase asked, not smiling.

Deechard never saw the kick coming.

"Any of you other fucking hos think you had enough tricking for me?" Jase screamed at the four girls that sat on the filthy couch.

"Come on, bitch," Jase snarled, pulling Deechard up by her dreadlocks.

He marched her, dazed and staggering, up to the roof of the building.

The two winos that slept in the alley witnessed Deechard's suicide by jumping and a fresh bottle of Thunderbird made sure they'd remember that it was a suicide.

At the Edwards' home, Jim Sanders and Ritchie Himmer shook hands then bent to the task of moving Georgie's things to her apartment.

"It's a pretty clean little place," Ritchie assured Jim as they drove to the apartment on Bailey Street. "Hell, I wouldn't mind living here, I mean, if I had to."

"Uh huh," Jim agreed, sweeping a practiced eye over the building and surrounding area. "That bar ever give y'all trouble?"

"Every now and then, no drugs, though. Usually dumb ass college kids ain't got enough sense go home and forget about it," Ritchie admitted.

It took the two men only three trips to finish the task. Jim admired the furniture that Georgie had bought from O'Neil's in Elgee and smiled sadly as he spotted the four dolls on his sister's bed.