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to be like pulling teeth because Dave’s mother had never been a member of Isis’s fan club. After the phone rang three more times, Isis was about to hang up, but then someone picked up on the other end.
    “Hello?” Ms. Davis answered.
    “Hi, Ms. Davis, this is Isis.”
    “Hey, Isis, how’re you doing?”
    “I’m doing fine.” Isis took a deep breath and proceeded. “The reason I was calling you is because the people from the prison called me because Dave had me down as a next of kin along with you. But I don’t think they got an answer when they tried calling you.” Isis was lying about Dave’s mother being next of kin because she didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Dave would have never put his mother’s name on a list. Not after the way she acted once he was convicted of the crime. She never went to see him, not one time, and refused to take the collect-call block off of her phone.
    “Damn, they did kill that boy last night, didn’t they?”
    “Yeah, they did.” Isis was silent for a second or two, and then she took another deep breath before continuing. “They called because they need someone to pick up the body, so he can have a decent buri—”
    Ms. Davis cut her off. “Look, I ain’t using not one iron motherfucking dime of my insurance money to bury that goddamn boy. Why can’t the state bury him? Shit, they da ones that kilt him.”
    Most people would have been shocked to hear a mother speak like that about her child who had just passed, but not Isis. She had hoped the conversation would go differently, but when it didn’t, she wasn’t surprised. And even though she wanted to snap off on Ms. Davis, the woman was still the mother of the man she had loved for what seemed like forever. Besides, Dave wouldn’t have wanted her to; he would have done it his goddamn self if he could’ve!
    “No. I mean they can, but it wouldn’t be much of a funeral,” Isis told Dave’s mother. “And he deserves way better than what they are going to give him if we don’t pick up the body. I think we need to get together and handle this.”
    “Well, shit, I honestly don’t see why.”
    Once again, Isis bit her tongue. “With all due respect, when he was out here, he was good to all of us. I just think that we should put him away nicely.”
    “When he was out here? Phuh! That was years ago. Hell, he ain’t did shit for me in the past five years,” Ms. Davis barked. “And I know he was hustling in that prison too, and he ain’t send me not one red cent. Furthermore, that motherfucker knew he was dying; do you think he signed life insurance papers for me to be the beneficiary? Hell, no!” She raised her voice. “I’ma tell you something right now: They can bury his ass in a cardboard box and set his ass on fire for all I care. Like I said before—and I will say it again—I ain’t taking one dime of my hard-earned money to do shit for that nigga.” Dave’s mother finally took a breather.
    Isis was about to get a word in, but Ms. Davis started back up again. “Shit! The nigga is dead; he ain’t gonna know nothing about no funeral or what was done with his body for that matter.”
    What Isis wanted to say was: “That’s really messed up that you feel like that about your only son. I don’t remember you feeling that way when he was out here throwing bricks from the time he was twelve years old to pay your miserable ass’s bills.” She wanted so bad to set the record straight, but instead she told Ms. Davis, “I wasn’t calling you for any of your ‘hard-earned’ money anyway; I knew better. It’s sad. I only wanted to borrow your truck to pick up your son’s body. But forget it—you might charge me to drive it. It’s okay. I will find another way.” Isis hung up in Ms. Davis’s ear. She had wanted to tell Ms. Davis off for a long time and still hadn’t given it to her like she’d really wanted to.
    Isis hit the flash button on the phone and clicked back over to Phoebe. “Phoebe,