Big Bill to the rescue!
Bill was my first serious boyfriend after my divorce from Sperm Donor. I met him through his sister, who was my best friend at the time, and we worked together at the television casting agency that I would later go on to own.
Bill owned a security company; offering guarding and armed response services to his clients on the East Rand. What I didn’t know until near the end of our two and half year relationship, was that he was also a mercenary; a.k.a. a hired killer. Granted he wouldn’t kill at whim, and would only do so when paid a packet of dollars and on behalf of warring factions in war torn African countries [I know far too much for my own good]; but still *shudder*.
Anyway, this post is not about my relationship with Big Bill – that’s several posts of their own.
Once Suits had finally admitted where my vehicle was, I had no option but to contact Big Bill and request his assistance in retrieving it. There was no way I was I going to head into a dodgy side road off Claim Street to negotiate the return of my vehicle, from some very scary and dangerous men. Instead I was going to enlist the services of a not so scary but equally if not more dangerous man of my own.
I set up a meeting between Big Bill, Suits and myself; so that Suits could give Big Bill the exact location of the vehicle; as well as brief Big Bill on the Nigerian gang that he would be encountering, including a description of their arsenal and which other buildings in the vicinity they had under their control.
Thereafter he and a reconnaissance team consisting of his senior security supervisors headed into town to gather more intel; confirm that the information Suits had provided was accurate; and get a visual on my vehicle and to ensure it was still in the same condition in which it was “sold”.
A few days later I was tasked with having to call Suits’ drug dealer, and offer to buy back the vehicle for his outstanding debt. Naturally the amount had escalated due to interest [hahaha, seriously, that’s what the dealer told me!] and from owing approximately R4,000 for how ever many grams of coke that could buy in the early 2000’s; the outstanding balance was now in excess of R10,000. Needless to say, I did not have this kind of money to fork over, but Bill told me not to worry.
Big Bill’s crew set out to the location a few hours before the allotted meeting time, so that they could get into their respective positions and await the meeting to commence, which was due to be between myself and the dealer; well as far as the Nigerians were concerned.
Needless to say, there wasn’t a chance on gods good green earth that I was going to meet face to face with the them. I was to stay put in Big Bill’s vehicle whilst he “negotiated” the price of the return of my car, and once someone drove it out and I had positively identity it – from a safe distance; it would be driven away by one of Bills boys whilst Big Bill finalised the deal.
Due to the distance I was stationed from the handover, I was unable to hear what transpired between Big Bill and the dealer; however I was privy to the stand-off and in this case, actions speak louder than words. The dealer was obviously not impressed with the offer made to him, and pulled a gun out on Bill. Not to be outdone, Bill’s boys came out of the hiding places, and the dealer had several guns pointed towards him.
The leather car seat was wet by this stage; and not from sweating in a locked car … I literally peed my pants when I saw more men coming out of parking garage and they definitely weren’t on Bill’s pay roll. Never before have I seen such an arsenal of weapons pointed in every which direction.
Negotiations continued in this manner for what seemed an eternity, and finally I saw my little City Golf being driven out of the same parking garage the armed men emanated from. Big Bill handed over a few bills and with weapons still trained on him, the dealers and everyone else in the damned street, he took a slow stroll to his vehicle.
“I saved you R6,000. I got the car back for R4,000.”
“Kokayi will drive your car back to base.”
“I’m going to drop you at home, and then I have to return to conclude business.”
“Stay the fuck away from Suits.”
“I’m serious. I’d kill him myself if I didn’t think he’s doing a good job of it on his own.”
I never saw Suits again after the meeting. And if ever his name was mentioned by mutual friends, I would just raise my hand with a stop motion. With Mix and hubby being the only real mutual friends; once we lost touch, I didn’t hear anything about Suits at all.
So imagine my shock at seeing him again this weekend, as if no time had passed.
And strangely enough, Big Bill contacted me again last week too. He is begging to landscape my garden. That’s quite a career change. I just hope he’s not wanting to do it to find a place to bury bodies. You never know.