Entangled (Real in the streets)

by K Elliott

  “I don’t know what else to do. I guess you’re gonna have to go out and get some condoms.”

  He stood from the bed, his head spinning. “I don’t feel like going to no damn convenience store.”

  “Well let’s get down to business with or without the condom. I need to make this money. After all, I did leave the club with your ass thinking I was gonna get paid.”

  Jamal pulled the covers back and stared at her coldly. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you give me a disease.”

  *** Mark studied Jamal’s file carefully with Jeremiah staring over his shoulder.

  “Looks like this guy just got out of prison,” Jeremiah said.

  “Yeah, not even three months.”

  “What’s his address?” Jeremiah asked.

  “According to the Department of Motor Vehicles, he lives on Trade Street, downtown.”

  “He probably lives in the high-rise where Davis led us.”

  “That’s my guess, too,” Mark said.

  *** Ruff was on a new team now, no longer playing by the code of the streets. Theodore Ruffin, III was officially an informant, and he hated every minute of it, but he couldn’t imagine doing twentyfive years in federal prison. He would be close to sixty years old when he got out.

  When Dawg arrived with the product, Ruff and Mark were sitting in Ruff’s living room watching The Jerry Springer Show. Ruff introduced Mark to Dawg as TJ. He assured Dawg that TJ was cool and could be trusted.

  “Anybody who is a friend of Ruff’s is a friend of mine,” Dawg said as he shook Mark’s hand.

  “Good, ’cause I expect to be doing a lot of business with you guys. Ruff tells me that you boys have some good shit,” Mark said.

  “The best in town,” Dawg replied.

  “I need two kilos ASAP,” Mark said.

  “How much money you got?”

  “I got about $50,000,” Mark said.

  “I ain’t got shit,” Ruff said.

  “Don’t worry, Ruff. We’re gonna give you something on your face,” Dawg said.

  “Can we deal or what?” Mark asked.

  “Hold on a second,” Dawg said. He left and went outside to his car and came back with three kilos of cocaine. He gave Mark two; the other went to Ruff.

  “I see this is going to work out just fine,” Dawg said as he counted the money.

  “You damn right it is,” Mark said as he held the product to the light.

  *** Two days had passed since Jamal’s evening with Dream and her parents.

  He had been thinking about his mother every since he’d left the Nelsons’. He needed to find her just to know whether she was alive. He had driven to Dawg’s condominium and asked him to take a ride. Jamal shared the questions Dream’s parents had asked.

  “Maybe this girl ain’t for you after all,” Dawg said.

  Jamal turned and faced him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if her parents are all that worried about your mother and what school you went to, it just sounds like they don’t think you’re good enough for their daughter.”

  Jamal was silent for a while. Finally he spoke. “I really need to find my mama, though. I need to know if she’s alive.”

  “I understand, man, but you may not want to deal with your mama when you see her.”

  “What do you mean, man? This is my mama we’re talking about.”

  “I know, but you remember how your mom was out there before you left? I mean, she was like a walking corpse, stealing everything she could get her hands on to buy dope.”

  What Dawg said had irritated Jamal, and if Dawg had been anybody else, he would have slapped him. “I know, man, but it’s my mama, my only living flesh and blood that I know of.” His voice full of emotion.

  “I feel your pain, man, honestly I do, because you know you’re like a brother to me, but some things you have to block out of your mind in order to go on. I mean, if you keep dwelling on shit you have no control over, you will fuckin’ go crazy, man. Honestly, you got to let it go. Take my daughter, for instance. I love her to death, but her stupid-ass mother won’t let me see her. Some days I want to see her badly, but I know I can’t. So rather than fuckin’ my whole day up, I have to block it out of my mind or else I will hurt some undeserving stupid mu’fucka who might come out of the mouth wrong.”

  Jamal had forgotten about Dawg’s daughter. She had been born while Jamal was incarcerated.

  They rode for the next twenty minutes in silence before Jamal turned onto Albert Street in his old neighborhood. His old house was made of wood, with gray paint peeling from the side. No grass was in the yard, just dirt. The house was abandoned, and the windows were boarded up. Jamal stopped in the driveway, and childhood memories flooded his mind.

  Mary Stewart had worked two jobs to support Jamal. She had always made sure he had the best clothes and latest toys. She never missed a day cooking for her only son. Regardless of how tired she was, she always made sure her son was fed properly—until she met Lance. Lance was from D.C. He was a couple of years younger than Mary and a charmer. He introduced her to marijuana, and within a year, Mary started smoking crack and missing work. Eventually she was fired, and with no money coming in, Jamal was left to take care of himself. When he became old enough to work, he started at a legitimate job, but eventually began selling drugs after he met Angelo. There seemed to be such a big demand in the city.

  “What’s wrong with you, nigga?” Dawg asked, interrupting Jamal’s thoughts.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with me.”

  “Why are your eyes all red and puffy?”

  Jamal wanted to share his thoughts with Dawg, but he decided not to. Even though he and Dawg were from the same neighborhood, Dawg couldn’t possibly understand what he was going through. Dawg was fortunate enough to have his parents. “Let’s just leave,” Jamal said.

  “You’re the one driving.”

  As Jamal was about to drive away, a burgundy Nissan Maxima pulled in front of him, blocking his Expedition. A slender black man with a knotty beard jumped from the car and ran up to the driver’s side of the Expedition. “Hey, Jamal?” the man said.

  Jamal didn’t recognize him. “Who are you?”

  Dawg recognized him instantly. “That’s that snitch-mu’fucka, Tony. You remember him from back in the day. He used to buy from us before you got locked up. Word on the street is, the nigga got busted and now he’s an informant.”

  Jamal remembered him. “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “I got some information you might want,” Tony said.

  “Yeah, you got some information the police might want, too,” Dawg said.

  “Seriously, I need to talk to you guys,” Tony pleaded.

  “So talk,” Jamal said.

  “Hurry up and say what you gotta say,” Dawg demanded. “I don’t want anybody to see us with you.”

  Tony looked around before he spoke. “Listen, man, the DEA just got some information about you guys.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jamal said. “I haven’t been out of prison two months yet.”

  “I’m serious, man. They know about you. Some guy named Angelo out in California and everything, man.”

  Jamal and Dawg looked at each other in disbelief. They knew there was some kind of truth to Tony’s story, because Tony had mentioned Angelo. “Where did you get this info from?” Jamal asked.

  “It ain’t a secret that I work close with some of the agents,” Tony said.

  “I don’t get it. Why are you telling us this information then?” Dawg asked.

  “Because I can help.”

  “How in the hell are you gonna help us?” Jamal asked.

  “Because I know one of the agents pretty good, and he’s willing to squash the investigation for thirty G’s.”

  A sudden hardness appeared on Dawg’s face. “Nigga, you trying to extort us?”

  “I ain’t trying to extort nobody. I’m simply offering my help.”

  “How do we know you won’t fuck us around?” J
amal asked.

  “I tell you what, let’s get together tomorrow, and I’ll let you talk to the agent on the phone for yourself,” Tony said.

  “How do you know he’s willing to help us?” Dawg asked.

  “I’ve done this before. I ain’t new to this,” Tony said.

  Tony scribbled his cell phone number down on a piece of paper and handed it to Jamal.

  “Call me tomorrow around noon,” Tony said as he stepped away from the Expedition.

  *** Jamal didn’t know where to find his mother. She’d had one sister who supposedly lived in the Maryland area, but Mary Stewart had severed all ties with her more than twenty years ago. Jamal didn’t even bother trying to look her up. He decided it really wasn’t worth the hassle. He had tried to locate Lance, his mother’s ex, but was unsuccessful. He remembered what Dawg said about trying to block her out of his mind. That had been easy while he was incarcerated, but since he was no longer locked up, it was more difficult. The sheer possibility of being able to find his mother gave Jamal hope. He envisioned the day he could hug her again. He anticipated it.

  CHAPTER 8

  T HE NEXT DAY JAMAL called Tony. They decided to meet at Starbucks coffeehouse on East Boulevard in a predominately white neighborhood. Jamal figured he wouldn’t have to worry about someone seeing him in the presence of a known informant. He and Tony sat in the back of the coffeehouse near a group who was singing happy birthday. Jamal and Tony chatted while drinking cappuccino, and after Tony’s second cigarette, Jamal asked him to call the agent.

  Tony pulled a cell phone from his pocket and began to dial. Seconds later, “Jamal is here, and he wants to speak with you,” Tony said and passed the phone to Jamal.

  “Hello,” the agent said.

  Jamal could tell it was a white man by the dialect. “Yeah . . . What’s the deal?” Jamal asked.

  “You boys are in some serious shit. We’ve received a lot of

  information about you and your California connection. It’s just a

  matter of time before we take you down.”

  Jamal cracked his knuckles before saying, “Tony said something

  about you being willing to work something out so we can get this

  matter resolved.”

  “Yeah, we can resolve this matter one of two ways: You guys can

  give me a piece of the pie and I’ll turn my head, or you can wait

  and see what happens. I strongly suggest that you don’t choose the

  latter. If my memory serves me correctly, you just got out of

  prison.”

  “Is this shit about a payoff or my background? Spit your price

  and let’s get this over,” Jamal said.

  “Didn’t Tony tell you what it was going to cost?”

  “I want to hear it from you. Tony might be trying to tax me extra

  and how can I be sure you’re not running game.”

  “Well, Jamal, that’s where you’re just going to have to believe

  me, because at this point you have nothing to lose and everything

  to gain. My price is $25,000.”

  Jamal looked at Tony. “You tried to make an extra five grand.” “Do we have a deal?” the agent asked.

  “Tony will have the money in ten minutes.” Jamal paid for the

  coffee and walked out to the car with Tony following. He removed

  five thousand dollars from the black leather bag then gave the bag

  to Tony. He felt empty when the money left his possession, but he

  knew it didn’t compare to the emptiness of a lonely jail cell.

  *** It was one o’clock in the afternoon when Dream called Jamal. She missed him terribly and wanted to hear his voice. When he answered the phone she invited him over.

  “So you want to see me?”

  “What do you think?”

  “What do you want to do in the middle of the day?” he asked. “Come cuddle me,” she said.

  “I’m not coming over there lying around in the middle of the

  day.”

  “Just come over. I‘m sure we’ll find something to do. We can

  cuddle later. I just want to see you. Is there a problem with me

  wanting to see you? I actually miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” Jamal said. “I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”

  *** When Jamal stepped inside Dream’s apartment, his eyes were immediately drawn to the picnic basket that rested on her dining room table. “What’s in the basket?” he asked.

  Dream smiled brightly. “Food that I put together. I figured since the weather was nice we could have a little picnic.” She left the room and returned with a Frisbee and a huge blue blanket.

  Jamal couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a picnic. He looked at the Frisbee under her arm. The whole idea seemed so innocent to him. “Let’s do it,” he said.

  Thirty minutes later, they pulled into Freedom Park. The sky was clear and the sun looked like a huge orange ball. The temperature was in the mid-eighties. The park was crowded, as usual, with skaters and joggers darting up and down the sidewalk, while others played with dogs and children. Jamal and Dream sat in the grass across from the basketball court.

  Dream had prepared macaroni salad, ham sandwiches, and lemonade. After they finished eating, Dream suggested they throw the Frisbee.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Why do you think I brought it?”

  Reluctantly, he stood from the blanket, and she walked across

  the field with the Frisbee in her hand.

  When she had reached the other side, Dream threw him the

  Frisbee. Jamal caught it and tossed it back. They went back and

  forth across the field. Surprisingly, he was actually enjoying her

  dashing across the grass. Her tiny athletic frame was revealed in

  her fitted gym shorts. After about ten minutes, he yelled, “Let’s

  take a rest.”

  She approached him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just ain’t feeling this. Are you trying to make me soft?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”

  “I just feel like I could be doing a lot of other things with my

  time.”

  “Oh, am I wasting your time?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  “What are you trying to say, Jamal?”

  “This ain’t my thang, that’s all.”

  She put the Frisbee under her arms and placed her hands on

  her hips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you just get out of

  prison?”

  “Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” “You need to try different things, Jamal.”

  Before he could respond, a white couple with two children

  walked past. The little girl sat on the man’s shoulder while the

  woman held the hand of the little boy.

  “Jamal, that’s what life is all about,” Dream said, pointing at the

  couple.

  “What? Trying to act white?”

  “No, dammit. I am talking about family and children and

  watching them grow up. There is more to life than going back and

  forth to jail.”

  Jamal was silent. He couldn’t bring himself to disagree because

  she was right. He had always wanted children. He felt alone since

  he didn’t know where his mother was. It was obvious that Dream

  wanted to do more than date. She had clearly thought about a

  future with him—one that included kids. She offered him a new

  perspective. He didn’t want to argue; he couldn’t, she was right.

  There was more to life than going back and forth to jail and selling

  drugs, but that was the only life to which he had been exposed. He tried walking away but she stepped in front of him. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “I was just thinking. Y
ou made some good points, but please try

  to understand that I’m used to having to watch my back and sleep

  with shanks under my pillow. All this Frisbee and picnic shit is

  something I’m going to have to get used to.”

  “I understand, but you’re gonna have to talk to me if we are

  going to be together,” she said with serious eyes.

  He turned from her glance. “That’s another thing I ain’t used to,

  opening up to people.”

  “Jamal, you can be yourself around me. I know you just got out

  of prison, and I accept you for you. I know you’re kind of

  hardcore, that’s what attracted me to you. But what you have to

  understand is, you are not in prison anymore. There is nothing

  sissified about going to the park with your girl.”

  He stared at the sky. “I understand what you’re saying, and you

  are so right,” he said as he turned and faced her. “Let me see the

  Frisbee.”

  She handed him the disk and sprinted across the grass. He flung

  the Frisbee in her direction.

  *** After the picnic, Dream and Jamal returned to his condo. “Jamal, whose anklet is this?” Dream picked the gold chain up from the bedroom carpet near the nightstand.

  Jamal did not want the peace of the afternoon to end. “I don’t know,” Jamal replied, realizing Candy must have left it. Dream’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean, you don’t know? This is your apartment, is it not?”

  “I let Dawg use the apartment a couple of days ago; he must have had one of his girls here. Honestly, I don’t know where the anklet came from.”

  “Jamal, you don’t have to lie to me. I’m grown. Tell me the truth. I can deal with it.” Her voice was full of emotion.

  Jamal decided very quickly that the truth was something she wasn’t about to get out of him. “I don’t know where the anklet came from.”

  Dream’s face became serious. “Please don’t put my life in danger by sleeping around. I really like you, Jamal.”

  “It’s not what you think, honestly.”

  *** Later that evening, Dawg came over and Dream asked him about the anklet as soon as he walked in the door.

  Dawg appeared to be confused and decided to change the subject. “What happened to welcome, how are you doing, Dawg, and all that good stuff?” He smiled.