Fork in the Road
Monday
Rosita and Abe follow up on a lead from the Greenhouse robbery-fertilizer delivered to an unusual location. They interview the manager of the local motel off the beaten path. "There are four young men…been here 23 days; they pay cash and only leave at night," she clarifies.
The manager nods, "On day 28 I can legally force them to leave and that is what I plan to do. This place may not be fancy but it is decent and they are filthy, disrespectful, racists, pricks. My assistant manager is a good kid…going to college. Zyris is Punjabi and they give him hell. He always turns the other cheek. I want to shove a grenade in their little assess," the older gentleman rants.
"Bring copies of the documents to the station and have the assistant manager come in and give a statement…thanks for your time," Abe wraps up the interview.
"Done," the manager replied before Rosita cuts him off with a request.
"If you have security cameras or footage-we need that too," her investigator skills urge the request.
"Good catch Espinosa," Abe compliments as the exit the office.
"I was well trained," she smiles with confidence.
"Uncle Andre, how are you? Michonne's voice is filled with nostalgia and love.
"Hey Little M…I am good. How are you and how is that little town treating you?" he inquires.
"I am fantabulous and Kings' County is amazing," she brags with enthusiasm.
"Mm-hm…what is his name? What does he do and when do I meet him?" he cuts through her gushing.
Michonne laughs, "His name is Rick Grimes…he's a deputy sheriff and I hope to introduce you both as soon as you have time away from your jet-setting lifestyle," she teases.
"As usual the angels are on your side. I am free this week…call when you get on the interstate," he instructs.
She swallows deeply, "We need to meet at your office…we need living wills," she responds.
"What are you telling me Michonne?" his tone is expectant.
"I'm getting married…he is the love of a lifetime," she confesses from her heart.
"I am so happy for you…let me dust the cobwebs off this old legal mind so I can keep my promise and take care of you," he replies with clarity.
"I know you will but you do not have to worry…he is one of the good ones," she reassures.
"I'll be the judge of that," he chuckles, "See you soon," he ends the call.
Daryl and Rick enter the local pawn shop, "Emmitt, where you at?" Daryl bellows.
"I'm coming…quit all that hollering," he snaps.
Daryl glances around the shelves and looks down at the glass case in front of him. Hmm…that's interesting. He studies a small open red velvet box.
Emmitt approaches the officers, "Glad you came. I fired that stupid nephew of mine. He was making side deals. I run an honest business…I will not tolerate a thief. Come on back," he opens the counter door.
Rick and Daryl follow Emmitt to a back room with a table covered in assault rifles and automatic weapons. The hair on the back of their necks stands on end. "Daryl, these look like some of weapons from the abandoned building operation," Rick states grimly.
"Bigger…some of these weapons are from the FBI raid," Daryl confirms.
"Hey…wait a minute…I do not need the Feds on my ass. What do I gotta do?" Emmitt panics.
"Close for today and pull any paperwork you have," Rick directs.
Daryl makes a call, "Mills…its Dixon."
"Operative Dixon, this is the most inopportune time…we are in the process of giving birth to our first born," Crane explains but is interrupted.
"Tell him to call back when the epidural kicks in," Abby shouts.
"I will do nothing of the sort," Ichabod returns his attention to the phone, "Please contact Agent Foster," he continues to ignore Abbie's instructions.
"Will do…hey, congratulations and good luck," Daryl offers with a smile.
"Thank you for your kind words but I believe patience is what I require the most," he ends the call.
Emmitt returns from the front of the shop with a yellow invoice, "The seller is identified as Pete but the address is for Grady's Motel. That dumb bastard didn't get a copy of the identification or nothing," he explains in frustration.
Rick turns to Daryl, "The suspects may still be in town…I will call the Captain."
"We won't be home on time tonight," Daryl sighs.
Maggie, Sasha and Michonne tucked away in a rarely used corner of the legal research library. Michonne delivers the condensed version of the Mike-Lori saga. "According to Beth…Lori lost her position as court recorder-that has to be the original trigger," Sasha concludes.
"Is Mike still in town?" Maggie inquires.
"I assume. I try to act normal but this whole thing is unnerving. I reassure Rick with pictures throughout the day because one wrong move from either of them and they will catch a bullet to the temple. He is that on edge," she exhales.
Their phones signal one after the other, "Working late."
Shane delivers Lori home, "You have your medication?" he looks around her living room and notices the pictures on display are a mix of her current life and old high school memories.
"Yes and I set an alarm on my phone. I could fix dinner," she suggests.
"Lori, please do not do this…I don't appreciate suddenly becoming your substitute Rick," he snaps.
"Is that what you think this is? You are going to stand in my house and act like the two of us do not have a history apart from Rick," she pushes back.
"What did we have exactly? A short lived secret is all I can remember," he challenges.
"I…we were young. Was I supposed to destroy best friends? Why didn't you ever tell him?" she hurls the weighted accusation.
Shane stares and stammers, "I don't know? You acted like nothing happened so I followed your lead," he admits.
"We continued once he came back…you never said what you wanted and you never asked what I wanted?" she pokes at the old wound of their betrayal.
"Why didn't you come clean? You kept initiating our times together," he retorts harshly.
"Really…if I did you could both call me a whore and I would be left with nothing to show for it? Even now…I am accused of making you a substitute Rick-what about Jessie? Why are you two together? You have dated more than half the women in town…how come you didn't start chasing her until after she dates Rick," she shouts.
Shane doesn't respond. He knows the truth and clearly so does Lori. She intrudes on his inner dialogue, "Did you keep your promise?" she asks quietly.
He stares at her as she moves closer to him. He backs up until he hits the wall behind him. He nods his head and whispers, "Yes."
Lori slides her hand into the front of her jeans and into her panties. She begins stroking her honey pot. Shane's head drops and he watches as his dick begins to harden. His lips part a fraction of an inch. "Open your mouth Shane," she commands seductively.
He follows her instructions. She removes her sticky fingers and rubs her juices on his lips and tongue. "Whose honey dipper can you lick?"
"Yours…only yours," he rasps out licking his lips.
"Are you sure? Did you lick Jessie's dirty clit?" she accuses.
"No…yes," he stammers in confusion, "I did not lick her clit," he confesses quickly.
"Of course not…you want my honey," she begins to remove her jeans.
"Stop…I need to think," his mind swirls. What am I doing? Is this what I want?
She pulls her jeans with her panties down; removes her shoes and steps out of them spreading wide. "Eat my honey…I know you missed my honey dipper…look at it. It missed you…you haven't licked it in so long," she moans.
Shane lowers to his knees and devours her. Lori smiles triumphantly, "Celebrate good time…come on," she hums.
Tyreese holds the rapt attention of the kitchen staff sharing tall tales from his time in the League. The raucous laughter draws Eva out of her office and away from a stack of invoices. She watches her grown son and rolls her eyes. Eva dreads this conversation. She cannot hide from it any longer. All of friend's kids are building lives with a purpose and her son is letting time pass. Tyrone I need your guidance right now or you will meet your son at the pearly gates. "Good to know all the dishes are washed…food preparation is done…" she doesn't have to finish as the staff return to their tasks.
"Relax Mom…it was a short break," he smiles wide.
"Tyreese…come on in this office," she directs gently.
"What's up?" he passes through the doorway and falls into the first chair slouching a little.
Eva sits slowly and folds her arms on the desk in front of her. She studies her son. She loves him to the depths of her soul but enough is enough. "You know I love you," she puts up her hand to stop him from speaking. "When you retired and were unsure of what to do next I welcomed you with open arms. Unfortunately, that was years ago. You have not made one attempt to do anything. So as your mother we are going to figure things out-today," she declares.
He shifts uncomfortably, "I thought you liked having me here…helping out."
"See…right there is the problem. You are not invested. I do not need help. I have a staff. Do you want to run things…manage all aspects or begin to learn how so I can retire before I drop dead or do you want something else for your life," she inquires.
"Maybe…let me think about it," he attempts to buy time. I do really want any responsibility.
"How much time do you need?" she pushes for a concrete answer.
"Six months…I can come up with some goals and a plain," he bargains.
"You have been back for years and you don't have goals or a plan," she whisper-shouts. "Fine…hard truth-when your daddy passed away we both did the best we could to move forward. You had ball…it was easy and seemed to make you happy, but you never had to work hard to be good. I had guilt and I spoiled you. That was a deadly combination," he cuts her off.
"I got into the League…most don't make it but I did," he challenges defiantly.
"True…but answer me this…how come most of the guys you entered with played 2-3 seasons longer than you? You didn't have a major injury. I will tell you why…you are spoiled and lazy. You do enough to get by. As your mother I cannot enable that behavior any longer. You have 45 days to set some goals and put together a plan," she states with conviction.
"What!" he exclaims. "Is this because I didn't buy you a big house? You didn't want one. I sent you on trips, kept you in the latest Lexus," he spouts off.
"Boy…did you fall down and bump your big ass head? You did not do a damn thing for me I could not do for myself before you became a pro. Clearly, all the time you spent with them gold-digging tramps has you messed up. I am your momma…carried you for nine months…brought you in this world and raised you the best way I knew how. And I am still raising your trifling behind based on this conversation," she huffs in anger and pain.
"Momma…wait-I am sorry," he tries to pull back.
"We can agree on that…you are sorry," she points toward the door, "Be back in 45 days," she turns back to her work with tears in her eyes.
Tyreese hangs his head in shame. Daddy I am sorry. I will fix it. He prays silently.