by K Elliott
*** Mark called Dawg the following day and inquired about some product, but Dawg was smart enough not to say anything over the phone. They decided to meet at Club Champagne.
The girl at the door was a tall, light woman with long hair. She wore fluorescent green spandex and six-inch heels. Her smile was radiant. “Ten dollars please,” she said.
Mark pulled out a roll of money and gave her a ten-dollar bill. He placed an extra five dollars in her tip glass before walking in. Black women of all complexions and sizes walked around revealing their half-naked bodies. Loud rap music blared in the background. Mark didn’t recognize the artist who was degrading his baby’s mother over the drumbeat. He spotted Dawg sitting at a table in the back with an attractive woman who had hazel contacts and a bad weave.
“What’s up, TJ?” Dawg said, slapping hands with Mark. Mark sat directly across the table.
Weavehead stood. “I got to go, baby,” she said, and kissed Dawg
on his cheek.
“If you see any girls in here you want, just let me know and I’ll
see to it that they treat you right,” Dawg said to Mark. “I didn’t come here for that. I came to talk business,” Mark said. “I can understand,” Dawg said as he took a sip from his Corona.
“I tell you what, I’m all ears.”
“Why don’t we take this outside? I have a terrible headache and
this music isn’t helping,” Mark said.
The night air was frigid. Dawg and Mark made their way to
Dawg’s car and got inside before starting their conversation.
“What’s up?” Dawg asked.
Mark started the recording device in his pocket. “You said the
ship came in yesterday, I just wanted to know what was available.” “Oh, we got plenty, man, and it’s the best shit we’ve had in a
long time.”
Mark met his gaze. “Good ’cause I should be finished with the
last package you sold me soon.”
“Well, you know how to get in touch. Is there anything else?” “No, that’s all I wanted to talk about.” He stopped the recorder. When Mark was about to step out of the car Dawg called out to
him, “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, we got some new connections.” Mark was surprised to hear this. He thought for sure Jamal and
Dawg were still getting the product from California. “What, you
got a different supplier?”
“Oh no, we got the same supplier. I’m talking about some
connections with the Feds.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we paying the DEA off now. So if you get in any kind
of trouble, just let me know.”
Mark wondered what he was talking about. He knew Dawg
couldn’t possibly be paying the DEA off because he was the agent
in charge of the investigation. “I’ll make sure I do that,” he said as
he got out of the car.
CHAPTER 11
J AMAL HAD GOTTEN TO know Candy. She was twenty-two and had come to Charlotte two years earlier to attend college. When money had gotten tight she began to strip for extra income. During her second year of school she became pregnant and subsequently had to drop out and dance full time to support her child. When money was real tight she offered sexual services to some of her customers. But now she was having sex just to stay ahead. Jamal loved having sex with Candy. There was no limits to their adventures. They had oral sex, positional sex, and they even made videos. Candy had even agreed to a ménage a trois if they could find another girl.
Jamal arrived at Candy’s apartment at 7:30, and at 8:00 they were at Red Lobster for dinner. After some jumbo shrimp and red wine, Candy performed oral sex on Jamal while he wheeled his Mercedes. The car swerved and she rose. “Why did you stop?” Jamal asked.
Candy smiled. “Did it feel good?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“I know it must have felt good because you were about to kill
us both.”
Jamal pointed to his stiff penis. “Go ahead, finish the job.” Candy held her hand out. “I need some money.”
“What are you, crazy? Why must this always be about money
with you and me?”
“Because it’s like that. Nigga; I don’t love you. I love what you
can do for me.”
Jamal stopped the car, then reached over Candy’s lap and
opened the door. “Get out and walk.”
“I ain’t walking nowhere. You picked me up and you’re going to
take me home.”
Jamal grabbed Candy by the neck and began to squeeze until
her face turned red. Then he shoved her and caused her head to
hit the passenger window. “Get out before I hurt you.” Candy opened the door and jumped out the car. “Fuck you,
Jamal,” she said as she walked away.
*** Dream was surprised when she opened her door and saw Jamal with a Love and Basketball DVD in his hand.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“It’s a free country.”
“But you’re in control of your apartment.”
She stepped aside as he walked in and seated himself on the ottoman. She sat on her sofa Indian-style, wearing a Carolina Panthers football jersey and some blue gym shorts.
Jamal didn’t know what to say. He had never been good at apologies, and he really didn’t know where to begin. “So, what’s been up?”
Dream shrugged. “Nothing much. Going to work every day and coming back to the house.”
Their eyes met before Jamal turned his gaze to some pictures on the end table. He could tell she had been hurt, and this made expressing himself more difficult. “Listen, I don’t really know what to say except I’m sorry about the way I acted, and I want you to know it really wasn’t what you thought it was . . . I mean, there was a woman on the phone, but it wasn’t like I was seeing her or anything. I met her in the club but we did nothing more than talk as she danced.”
He had said everything she wanted to hear, and she really did believe him. “Jamal, I really hope you didn’t expect to just come to my door with a video and everything would be as it was before. It doesn’t work that way. I mean, I really do miss you. In fact, I miss you so much I cried myself to sleep a couple of times. I just can’t let you walk in and out of my life as you please.”
He hadn’t anticipated her saying this. “Did your ex-boyfriend get out?”
She was confused by what he had asked. “What in the hell does that have to do with anything?” she asked.
“I just want to know why you’re treating me like this.”
Dream became annoyed. She was the victim, but he was saying she was treating him badly. She stood from the sofa and walked over to the door. “Please leave, Jamal.”
He got up from the ottoman and slowly walked past her into the hallway. When she tried to close the door, he grabbed it and stepped back inside and placed his hand behind her neck. She struggled before he forced his lips to meet her wet mouth. “I love you, Dream,” he said as he left the apartment.
Ten minutes after he had gone, Dream sat and stared blankly at the Discovery channel. Jamal was the man she loved, but at the same time she hated him. For the rest of the day she tried hard not to think about him. By the end of the evening, she found herself dialing his cell phone number. When he answered, she asked him to come over.
*** Dream was awake before dawn, Jamal was still asleep. She smiled as she stared at his muscular body. She was glad he was back with her. Back where he belongs, right back with Mama, she thought. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him. She had grown to love him in just a short period of time. She loved everything about him—his caress, the anticipation of his sex. She liked his chest against her breasts and the salty taste of his mouth. She smiled again before reaching down and shaking him. “Jamal, wake up. Would you like me to cook you something to eat?”
Jamal rose from the bed. “Naw, that’s okay. I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.”
She leaned to him and kissed him on the forehead. “Nothing is too good for you. You’re back where you belong.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“What did you see in that stripper in the first place?”
Jamal sighed. “I don’t know. I was just passing time at the strip joint relieving frustration.”
“I could relieve your frustrations.”
“Yeah?”
Dream started dancing teasingly and seductively. She then took off the T-shirt she was wearing, exposing her perfect breasts. “Hell, if you pay me, I’ll fulfill all your fantasies.”
“Really?” Jamal asked.
“If the price is right,” she teased.
Jamal’s eyebrow’s rose. “What about a threesome?”
“A threesome?”
“Yeah, me and you and another woman.”
“Hell, no!” Dream frowned. “What do you think I am, some floozy?”
“Well, you’re the one that said if the price was right.”
Dream folded her arms across her chest. “Jamal, I was only joking. I guess I ain’t enough woman for you.”
Jamal pulled her closer. “Baby, you know it ain’t even like that. I don’t need to have a threesome. It’s just a fantasy.”
“Believe me, we won’t go there,” she said adamantly.
*** In early October, maple leaves in beautiful shades of orange, yellow, and red decorated the neighborhood lawns. Dream loved the fall. It was her favorite season. She liked teaching during the fall because of all the activities that went on at the school, especially the football games and dances. The feeling she got was nostalgic, and it made her reminisce about her high school days, which was another reason she liked teaching.
Dream pushed a cart containing an overhead projector and several workbooks. She had just left her third-period World history class, and she was headed to her U.S. history class, which was located on the third floor of the school. She got in the crowded elevator and as the door was closing the intercom sounded. “Dream Nelson please report to the office.”
A short, burly white boy with red hair reiterated what the intercom had just said. “Ms. Nelson, they called for you to come to the office.”
“I heard. Thank you very much.” He smiled. “I sure hope you ain’t in no trouble, ’cause whenever they call me to the office, I’m always in some kind of trouble,” he said.
“I think I’ll be okay. I appreciate your concern,” Dream said before pulling the cart off the elevator and moving in the direction of the office.
When she got there, the school secretary presented Dream with some balloons and twelve yellow roses. The card read: THANKS FOR BEING YOU. LOVE, JAMAL.
“Looks like someone cares a whole lot about you,” the secretary said.
“Yeah, I’m fortunate to have a good boyfriend.” Dream smiled.
“Those are high-dollar roses,” the secretary said in a very country accent. “I sure wish my husband would send me something every now and then to let me know he appreciates me.”
Dream didn’t respond. She just inhaled the scent of the roses and relished the moment.
*** When the school day was over, Dream called Jamal and immediately thanked him.
“Listen, I’m tired of you thanking me for everything. You’re my woman, and I’m supposed to do little things like that for you.”
“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like you go too far.”
“Since when can’t a man buy his woman some flowers?”
“Silly, you know what I mean. What do you have planned for today?”
“Actually I’m supposed to meet this Nigerian attorney today, and he’s supposed to show me this loft that he has for rent.”
“Can I come along?”
“I was going to ask you to.”
*** The Arlington was the tallest high-rise complex in downtown Charlotte. It housed about five hundred tenants. Guests were required to check in with security before seeing a resident.
When Jamal and Dream arrived at the security desk, they paged Nigel Ojukwu and he invited them up.
“I’m Jamal, and this is my girlfriend, Dream,” Jamal said after they entered the apartment.
Nigel was a tall man with a very dark complexion and a large head. He was wearing a gray, pinstriped Armani suit and a crisp white shirt. Jamal shook his hand, and Nigel showed them around the loft. The bedrooms were spacious, and the view was even better than the one Jamal had at the place Dawg had rented for him. It had two full bathrooms, and everything was in excellent condition.
“I love this place,” Dream said as she looked onto the huge terrace.
“It’s nice, except I don’t really like the brown carpet,” Jamal said.
“It’s one of the best, if not the best high-rise building in the city,” Nigel said.
“How much are you asking?” Jamal asked.
“I just want the mortgage, three thousand a month.”
“What about some new carpet?” Jamal asked.
“I’ll have some put in if you get the apartment. Now what was it you said you did for a living?” Nigel asked curiously.
“I’m a concert promoter,” Jamal answered quickly.
Nigel looked at Jamal then glanced over at Dream. “I just got one main rule: No drugs in my apartment.”
Jamal’s face became curious. He wondered whether he had a look on his face that said he was a drug dealer. He knew the guy was a lawyer, and he wondered if Nigel had done a background check on him. “Mr. Ojukwu, why did you put so much emphasis on that statement?”
“Oh, no reason, I just know how some of you concert promoters are, having those wild parties with the stars and all.” Nigel placed his arm around Jamal’s shoulder. “It’s a joke, man. Don’t be so uptight.” He laughed.
Jamal smiled weakly while looking at Nigel suspiciously.
*** Rain fell lightly when Jamal and Dream stepped out of the lobby of the building.
“Did you really like it?” Jamal asked Dream after they were in the car.
“I loved it, but I don’t really see the logic in paying that much money for something that’s never gonna be yours. Have you ever thought about buying a house?”
He opened the glove compartment, pulled out some papers, and passed them to her before firing up the ignition. “This is gonna be our future home.”
The papers were the house plans Dawg had sent him during the five years of his incarceration. The plan showed a two-story, twobedroom home with a huge children’s activity room and a formal dining room; a three-car garage, a home theater, and his-and-her bathrooms attached to the master bedroom.
“I like it. When are you gonna have it built?”
Jamal pulled his Mercedes through the exit gates. “I don’t know. Right now, it’s gonna be hard to put it in my name because I don’t have a job, which is one reason I rent.”
“Jamal, have you ever thought about taking some of the money you make and going legitimate?”
He glanced over before wheeling the Benz carefully onto the slick street. “I have, but honestly, I don’t know what to do. I’ve been dealing so long.”
Dream felt sorry for him. She knew he was smart. She knew if he applied himself to something legitimate, it could very well work out for him. But what could he do? she wondered. He had no marketable skills.
*** It was 5:00 A.M. when Jamal received a call from Angelo. When he saw the number on the Caller ID, Jamal immediately answered the phone. He knew it had to be important for Angelo to call so early. “I got bad news,” Angelo said.
“What happened?” Jamal asked as he sat up in his bed. “The girls got busted.”
“How did this happen?”
“Connie called me about an hour ago. She said the DEA agents
bum-rushed them as soon as they checked their luggage last night.” “Can’t nothing good come out of that
,” Jamal said as he stood and began to pace with the cordless telephone to his ear.
“Make sure you tell Ruff. Connie said she ain’t told the cops shit, but she don’t know about Jennifer. As soon as they took them to the jail they separated them.”
“Well, what do you think she’ll say?” Jamal asked.
“To be honest with you, Jamal, I don’t know,” Angelo said.
Jamal appreciated Angelo’s honesty, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Well, if you hear anything else, give me a call,” Jamal said before hanging up.
*** Mark arrived at his office shortly before eight o’clock. He had three messages on his phone—two from his father urging him to call home because he hadn’t heard from him in a while and one from Agent Don Gonzales of San Diego.
He had waited until noon before calling Gonzales back. “Don Gonzales speaking.” “Good morning to you, sir. My name is Mark Pratt, a DEA agent with the Charlotte, North Carolina Division. I received a message from you stating that you had some info that might be helpful to me.”
“Yeah. We made a bust at the airport yesterday. Two young, African-American women headed in your direction. They had four kilos of cocaine on them. One of them cooperated immediately. She said she was heading to Charlotte to meet a guy by the name of Jamal Stewart. When I called, I initially got another agent who said you were investigating this Stewart fella.”
“Yeah, that’s right; I’ve been watching him and his little organization for a few months now. In fact I infiltrated, and I’m now hanging out with Jamal’s right-hand man.”
“Well, this girl says she is willing to do anything to save her skin. If you’d like, I can have two agents fly both of them out to you to see if you can get some statements from them.”
“I would like that very much.”
CHAPTER 12
J ENNIFER PHILLIPS WAS A very pretty girl with light skin and delicate features; she looked to be in her early twenties. She was kind of shy and reserved at first, and she kept biting her fingernails in the interrogation room. She just looked at the floor while Mark, Jeremiah, and U.S. Attorney David Ricardo asked her questions.
