by K Elliott
“Let me talk to the attendant. Maybe we can go on with the ceremony and just pretend we’re really getting married. We really don’t know what’s ahead for me anyway.”
Jamal stepped over to Meagan. “Listen, I don’t have my ID,” Jamal lied, “but I was wondering if we could go ahead with the ceremony without the license. We’re more interested in the symbolism. We don’t actually have to be married for real.”
She looked at him oddly. “So you just want to go through the motions?”
“Yeah,” Jamal replied.
“I don’t think we’ve ever done this before,” Meagan said.
Jamal pulled $300 from his pocket and handed it to the attendant. “It’s really important to my girl that we go through with this. Do you understand?”
“I’m sure I can work something out with my boss,” Meagan said as she folded the money and put it in her pocket.
Ten minutes later.” By the powers vested in me, by the state of Minnesota, I unlawfully pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister said.
Jamal, Dream, and Meagan all burst out with laughter.
*** Jamal and Dream arrived in Charlotte two days later. Jamal checked into an Innkeeper motel, and he finally turned on his cell phone to check his messages. Angelo had called repeatedly with death threats. The last message was from Thomas Henry. He said it was urgent that they spoke. When Jamal called him, he learned that he had been indicted. “What? When did this happen?” Jamal asked.
“Actually it happened yesterday. As soon as I learned about it, I called you, but your phone wasn’t on.”
“What do you think I should do?” Jamal asked
“The last time I spoke with you, you already had your mind made up on running. I personally think you should turn yourself in. We may be able to beat it since your friend hasn’t informed on you.”
“You think so?”
“I don’t know, but we have a good chance. If you run you’re going to make it worse. I tell you what, I’ll get a copy of your indictment and see exactly what’s going on, then I’ll call you back.”
“Cool,” Jamal said.
*** They returned the rental car and Jamal asked Dream to rent him a white Toyota Camry—a common car that could easily blend. Dream drove while Jamal slumped down on the passenger side so nobody would see him. He had her to drive to Boulevard Homes, a local housing project where he could have his cocaine cooked into crack, doubling his amount of product. Jamal had always prided himself on not selling crack. He felt it was for the lower level guys, he told himself. Money came fast selling crack, but the prison time was much more severe. Jamal tried to stay away from it, but since he was already wanted by the Feds, he now wanted to make as much money as possible.
Groups of teenage boys were huddled underneath the streetlights. Wine bottles and beer cans littered the streets. Crack pipes could be found sporadically. Windows in many buildings were boarded up. They stopped in front of Building 12. Jamal got the product out of the trunk and they entered the building. He tapped lightly on the door of Apartment C.
“Who is it?” a frigid voice asked.
“It’s me, Jamal.”
An old woman with a prosthetic arm opened the door. She
smiled, showing an array of yellowish teeth. “Come on in.” The apartment was dingy-looking. Cigarette butts and dirty clothes covered the floor. Jamal and Dream stepped inside. “Minnie, this is my girlfriend, Dream,” Jamal said. Dream forced a smile.
“Have a seat,” Minnie said. Jamal grabbed a shirt from the floor and placed it on the sofa before sitting down; Dream chose to remain standing.
“I need you to cook some coke for me,” he said.
“How much?”
“About two kilos today, but there will be more as soon as I get rid of this. You know I’m going to take care of you.”
Minnie smiled. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
The kitchen did not have a refrigerator or a stove, nor did it have any kitchen utensils or a place to sit. A microwave, a hot plate, and a small Styrofoam cooler with dingy water sat in the corner. Dream cringed as soon as they entered the kitchen. She had never known of anyone to live in such conditions, but it was no big deal to Jamal.
“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got,” Minnie said.
Jamal took two brick packages and placed them on the table.
When Minnie opened the kitchen cabinet and grabbed a large Pyrex dish, roaches leaped out at her —big ones, small ones, white ones. Some even had wings.
Two hours later, when the crack was finished cooking, Minnie excused herself while Jamal sat on the floor gathering the product. Crack covered the floor and a foul smell hung in the air.
After Jamal had gathered everything, he put a little portion aside for Minnie. He figured she could make some extra money. They had waited for twenty minutes and still there was no sign of Minnie. Finally Jamal called her name. She didn’t respond.
They entered the living room. Still no Minnie. Jamal remembered she had excused herself, so they headed to the bathroom.
“Minnie,” Jamal yelled again, but still no response.
Flick, flick, flick. Jamal opened the bathroom door; it was very dark inside. Flick, flick, flick. He heard the sound again, but this time it was followed by sparks of light. When Jamal turned on the light, he almost gagged at the sight before him. The frail old lady sat on the edge of the corroded bathtub holding a crack pipe to her mouth with the prosthetic limb. She had a cigarette lighter in the other hand. Jamal became disgusted. Suddenly he thought about his mother and how she had been addicted. Minnie kept flicking, oblivious to their presence and unaware that the cigarette lighter was out of fluid.
*** When they left Minnie’s house, Jamal ordered Dream to drive to a Bojangles restaurant on the west side of town. They were in the parking lot only five minutes when the white Infiniti Q-45 drove up. Dream recognized the man immediately. He was the same guy who had fired at her and Charlie Irving. Rico was his name.
Rico jumped out of his car and got in the backseat of the Camry. “What’s up, Jamal?”
“Rico, this is my girlfriend, Dream.”
Rico smiled without saying a word.
Dream glanced at him, but didn’t say anything. She knew he hadn’t recognized her. All this time Jamal had been supplying Rico, who was supplying Jessica’s mother, who was busy stealing her husband’s car and not attending to her child’s well-being. She began to understand how the product trickled down into the community. She suddenly realized that she may have even brought some of the drugs to Jessica’s mother, indirectly.
“I need your help on some things,” Jamal said.
“Whatever, man, I’m with you.”
“I need you to help me move some product, man. The Feds are looking for me and you are about the only one I can trust. So I need you to move as much as you can, as quickly as you can.”
“Bring it on,” Rico said.
“Do you have any money?”
“I didn’t bring any.”
Jamal handed Rico a small paper bag. “Here’s two kilos. Call me when you’re done.”
Jamal and Rico slapped hands before Rico got out of the car.
Keisha was both surprised and happy to see Dream when she walked into her office. “Girl, I’m glad to see your crazy ass,” Keisha said as they hugged.
“I’m glad to be back,” Dream said, smiling.
Keisha’s eyes grew serious. “Tell me what’s going on now.”
Dream turned from her friend’s gaze before speaking. She didn’t want to hide anything from Keisha. She was glad she had come to see Keisha because so much had happened. She needed someone to talk to, and Keisha would be much easier to talk to than her parents. “Jamal has just been indicted by the Feds.”
Keisha raised her eyebrows. “Well, I hope you’ll stay away from his ass.”
“He pretty much knows we don’t have a future together. I just want to be around him until he goes away.”
“
Goes away? What do you mean, goes away? Where is he going?” Keisha asked.
“I think he’s going to leave the country?”
“Where is he going to go?”
“Honestly, I really don’t know.”
“You’re not going to go with him, are you?” Keisha asked.
Dream looked at Keisha oddly. She realized that Keisha no longer had faith in her judgment. “Hell no, I ain’t going with him. Do you think I’m crazy or something?”
“I was just asking. You did go clean across the country with that crazy-ass nigga, getting your parents all hysterical.”
“You know what? I can handle my parents. Don’t you worry about my parents.”
“Call them to let them know that you’re okay.”
“I’ll go see them.” Dream replied.
“When?”
“Whenever I feel like it.”
Keisha placed her hands on her hips and sighed without responding.
At 8:00 A.M. Mark and DEA agent Ken Clarkson knocked on Dream Nelson’s door. Ken was a tall, blond man with a square jaw. He had been with the agency for six years. He was replacing Jeremiah while the agency investigated Jeremiah’s possible misconduct.
Dream opened the door wearing a white robe. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. My name is Agent Mark Pratt, and this is my partner, Ken Clarkson. May we come in?”
Dream stepped away from the door. “Come on in.”
Both of the agents stood in living room, while Dream sat on the sofa with her arms folded.
“What can I do for you?”
“Ms. Nelson, I’m not gonna take up much of your time. My sources have told me that you are involved with a guy named Jamal Stewart. Have you seen him lately?” Mark asked.
Dream frowned. “What’s going on?”
“Ms. Nelson, as of now Jamal is wanted and we are trying to locate him,” Ken said.
“I haven’t seen him,” Dream said.
“Are you sure?” Mark asked.
“What reason would I have to lie?”
“I have documented information that you took a plane out to San Diego this weekend, and I also know that you have traveled with Jamal a couple of times to California.”
Dream hesitated before speaking. “So are you calling me a liar?”
The two men stood. “We’re not saying you’re lying. In fact we don’t know whether you are lying or not. All we know is that if you are withholding information, you will be charged. And if we get this guy without your help, he may decide to give us information on you and whatever your involvement may have been. You may very well find yourself on the inside looking out. Have you ever been incarcerated, Ms. Nelson?” Mark asked.
Dream frowned. “Hell no, and I ain’t gonna be either,” she said candidly.
“Let’s hope not,” Mark said. He opened the door and they left.
***
“Fuck you, mu’fucka!” Jamal yelled into the telephone. “You gonna pay me or you gonna pay the fuckin’ doctor!” Angelo yelled.
“I ain’t paying you shit. I already told you this,” Jamal said as he
rose from his hotel bed.
“What made you flip on me, man? I loved you like a son.”
Angelo said.
“You are the cause of all this shit. Your man turned out to be a
fuckin’ informant, and that bitch, Jennifer, told on my man. Now,
all I know is that my best friend is facing twenty-five minimum
and you think shit is supposed to be all love. It ain’t happening.” “I’m sorry, man. I ain’t know Ruff was going to go out like that.
I really didn’t. As far as that bitch . . . you know a bitch will be a
bitch. That ain’t no reason for you to pull the shit you did.” “I went to prison without mentioning you the first time. You
said it yourself you owe me.” Jamal said.
“If you go to prison, consider yourself lucky, because I plan on
sending you to hell, mister. You just fucked me out of close to
$115,000,” Angelo said before hanging up.
Jamal hated his relationship with Angelo had to end. He was a
man Jamal once loved like a father. He thought they would be
friends forever. Angelo was a guy that Jamal trusted, and he would
bet his last dollar that he wouldn’t cooperate with the police. Jamal
didn’t feel good about double-crossing him, but he knew his
troubles were Angelo’s fault. Besides, Angelo had plenty of money;
Jamal did not. He had to do what it took to get the funds he
needed to run from the Feds.
It’s all Ruff’s fault, Jamal thought. If only he had let somebody
know that he had been busted, they could have gotten him a highpowered attorney. Ruff might have done three or four years, and
they could have made money forever.
Jamal remembered the old men in prison with the canes. Some
were sick and in wheelchairs. Others had emphysema, cancer, and
other chronic illnesses. Some had been locked up for forty years.
The world had moved on without them. Some had children they
hadn’t seen in twenty years or more. Some had grandchildren they
had never seen and would never see. A life sentence in federal
prison meant being carried out in a pine box. Only then, if you
still had family, would they be able to get your body. It was all Ruff’s fault. He would have to pay.
CHAPTER 26
A ROUND 12:30 P.M., Jamal heard a knock on his room door, and he quickly ran to it and looked through the peephole. It was Dream carrying a McDonald’s bag. He was pleasantly surprised. “Baby, “I’m glad to see you.” He kissed her forehead.
She smiled. “Yeah, I figured you might be hungry, so I brought you some food.” She placed the bag on the small round table next to his bed.
“Yeah, I am. I was just about to go out and get me something.” She handed him a Quarter Pounder with cheese some fries, and a medium Coke. “I hope you like what I got you. I didn’t know what else to bring.”
He put some ketchup on his fries and chomped away. “Right now, I’m hungry. I’ll eat just about anything.”
She sat across from him. “Jamal, do you think anybody knows you’re here?”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Not unless you told them. What made you ask me something like that?”
She looked at the ceiling before answering. “I had a visit this morning from the DEA.”
He placed his burger on the table. “The DEA?”
Their eyes met. “Yeah, they wanted to know if I had been in contact with you.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Jamal, baby, I didn’t let them know anything, but they knew I had been to California.” Her eyes were sincere and he believed her.
“Yeah, they probably checked the flight records.”
“That’s what I thought,” she replied.
“I’ve got to get the hell out of here in a hurry.”
“Have you decided where you’re going?”
“Yeah, I’ll probably end up somewhere like Toronto or Jamaica for the time being, I think I should be able to go there with my fake birth certificate and ID.”
Dream looked sad. Reality had begun to settle in on her. Jamal was serious about leaving and there was nothing she could do to help him. She would probably never see him again. “Give me a kiss, baby.”
Jamal stood, walked over, and leaned toward her. He wrapped his arms around her and they kissed. “I got to handle some business,” he said as he pulled away from her.
She looked into his eyes. His face was intense and she had never seen him look that way before. “What are you about to do, honey?”
“I’ve got to get rid of some more of this stuff, and I have to make sure I take care of the mu’fucka who is responsible for putting me in this predicament
.”
Dream rose from her seat and walked toward him. “Baby, don’t get yourself in more trouble.”
“It’s too late for that, it’s all or nothing,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
Jamal pulled the mattress back on the bed and pulled out a chrome handgun.
Dream took a step back when she saw the gun. “What in the hell are you doing? Put that thing away.” she ordered.
He put the gun in his waistband. “There is something I’ve got to handle. This mu’fucka has made my life miserable, and I intend to do the same for him,” Jamal said before storming out of the room.
*** It was nine o’clock and Jamal had sold more of his product, though he still had a lot left. Things weren’t moving as fast as he would have liked. He had to be extra cautious now. Since he had been charged. He didn’t know who knew he was on the run, so he had to take things slowly, even if it meant having his product longer than he had anticipated.
He wheeled the Toyota Camry to the west side of town. He pulled into an Exxon gas station, filled the tank, and bought a pack of cigars. When he got back in the car, he lit a cigar and began to plot his mission.
He slid the Tupac Me Against the World CD in the player and selected “If I Die Tonight.” Ruff would pay for what he had done, Jamal thought. He had never killed before, and he never thought of himself as a killer. However, he knew that the only way he would be able to live with the fact that his best friend was in jail was to take Ruff out. He thought about the concept of death and God. He felt he was too young to die. He didn’t know if there was a hereafter, but if there was, it had to be better than life in this world. As far as he was concerned, he was already in hell.
He pulled to the end of Ruff’s street, put his cigar out, and turned off his headlights. He didn’t care about covering his tracks. He was wanted already. He stepped out and jogged up to Ruff’s doorstep.
Ruff came to the door wearing a pair of blue Old Navy boxer shorts with no shirt. He was startled when he opened the door. “Jamal, what are you doing here?” He took a step back inside the house and attempted to shut the door.
