CHAPTER 14

D REAM FELT IT WAS her duty as a teacher and a human being to encourage Jessica and give her the confidence she to needed to transcend her situation. She kept Jessica late to bring her up to date on her assignments. One day after school they were on their way to Jessica’s house when Dream stopped by her apartment to get her overnight bag to stay at Jamal’s for the night.

“Ms. Nelson, you have a very nice apartment,” Jessica said. “Thank you,” Dream said, smiling as she disappeared into the bedroom. She came back and found Jessica staring at her degree and her National Honor Society plaques.
“Ms. Nelson, you must have been really smart in school.”
“No, Jessica, I consider myself average. I just have a good work ethic.”
“Are those your parents?” Jessica asked, pointing to a picture of Dream and her parents on her college graduation day.
“Yes. Don’t I look like them?”
“Yeah, especially your mom. You are very blessed to have such wonderful parents.”
“Jessica, you are blessed as well,” Dream said.
“Really?” Jessica’s eyes looked innocent and confused.
“You have a wonderful father, and you have me. See, when you lack in one area, God will send someone to help you pick up the slack.”
She smiled. “Ms. Nelson, I am blessed, too, huh?”
“Please believe it.”
Dream had become Jessica’s mentor. She helped her with her homework and they hung out together. They talked about college and Jessica’s career goals. Jessica told her she wanted to go to Howard University and become a doctor. Dream was surprised at Jessica’s aspirations at only fourteen years old. She encouraged Jessica to look beyond her circumstances and to try not to worry about the things she had no control over. She even discussed women’s health issues, and on one occasion they even got into a discussion about sex. Jessica proclaimed to Dream that she was a virgin still, but she had a boyfriend whom she talked with over the phone.
“A boyfriend?” Dream asked, surprised.
Jessica blushed.
“You’re too young for a boyfriend.”
“I’m fourteen. I’m old enough.”
“Do I know him?”
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Does he go to school at Spaugh?”
“Yeah.”
“Who is he?” Dream asked.
“I can’t tell you,” Jessica said, avoiding Dream’s eyes.
“Why not?”
“He’s white and you might tell my daddy. I don’t think he likes white people too much.”
“How do you feel about white people?”
“I don’t have anything against them. I know there are differences between the races but I know there is only one race, the human race. God created us all.”
Dream smiled. She was impressed with Jessica’s answer. The child clearly had her own opinions and views. “Jessica, I want you to feel free to tell me anything. Whatever you tell me, I’ll keep between us.”
Jessica met Dream’s eyes. “His name is Ian Pilcher.”
“Yeah, I know Ian. I taught him last year.”
Jessica smiled. “He always wants to kiss but I don’t want to kiss him, though.”
“Why not?”
“My lips are bigger than his.”
Dream burst out laughing.

***

The next day, after school, Dream drove her jeep up to Jessica’s house to drop her off. Charlie Irving sprinted to the car, beads of sweat covering his face, and his eyes were red as if he had been crying. “Jessica, go in the house. Let me talk to Ms. Nelson,” he said.

Jessica jumped out of the jeep and quickly and ran in the house.

Charlie met Dream’s eyes. “Ms. Nelson, I have a problem, and I need your help.”
“What can I do to help you?” Dream asked.
“My wife came here today and stole my car; I need you to take me to look for her if you have time. I have to find her before she sells it to one of the local crack dealers.”
“How do you know she stole the car?”
“She has a set of keys, and she’s stolen it before, loaning it out for crack.”
Dream contemplated. She really didn’t have time to take him to look for his car, and she knew this was dangerous. She didn’t know how Charlie Irving would react if he saw his wife or some drug dealer in his car. “Come on, but I can’t spend too much time looking for her, I have some papers to grade tonight.”
Charlie ran back inside and grabbed a thin blue and gray nylon jacket. He rushed out and jumped in on the passenger side of the truck. “I need you to drive to the west side of town.”
Once they arrived, Charlie directed Dream to Woodview Drive, a long winding road that consisted primarily of old, wooden, dilapidated homes. Most were crack houses. Drug dealers sat on the porches dealing. Young teenage boys paraded up and down the street with walkie-talkies and binoculars. Curiously, Dream turned to Charlie. “What is going on with these guys walking around like they’re in the army?”
“They look out for the drug dealers.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. One guy runs this whole neighborhood.”
Dream sat in silence. She was afraid, and she wondered what Charlie planned to do if he saw someone driving his car. She certainly didn’t want any trouble. Finally she asked, “Do you know this guy who runs the neighborhood?”
“Yeah, I had it out with him the last time I had to go find the car.”
She glanced over at Charlie who was biting his nails. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Yeah, it’s cool. Just drive to the end of the street then pull in the driveway of the last house on the right.”
When Dream reached the house, two men approached the passenger side of the vehicle. “What are you looking for?” one of the men asked.
Charlie let down his window. “We ain’t come here to buy no dope. I came to try to find my wife. Is Rico around here?”
“Rico don’t want to see nobody,” one of the men said.
“Rico knows me,” Charlie said.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Listen man, I didn’t come here to get in no altercation with you. Is Rico here or not?”
The man pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. “I still need to know your name so I can tell him who’s looking for him.”
“Tell him Charlie is looking for him.”
The man had summoned Rico by radio. Five minutes later Rico drove up in a white Infiniti Q-45. He was a short, stocky, dark man with flashy platinum jewelry and teeth.
“Wait here for a minute, I’ll be right back,” Charlie said as he left the car.
Dream scanned the area. She could feel the danger lurking. Inadvertently she made eye contact with one of the walkie-talkie boys who was licking his lips suggestively. She quickly turned away. As Charlie and Rico made conversation, she rolled down the window to eavesdrop.
“I just want to know where in the hell is my car?”
“I done told your punk-ass, I don’t know nuthin’ about yo’ damn car,” Rico replied.
“You had it the last time. In fact, you were the one who was driving it.”
“I had your car the last time because your crack-head wife gave me the car, remember? I ain’t steal shit. I ain’t got to steal,” Rico said, pulling out a wad of money.
“This ain’t about whether or not you have to steal. I just want to know where my car is.”
“I don’t know where your car is, and I don’t need your car. My rims cost more than that cheap-ass Ford Focus.” Rico chuckled, pointing to his Infiniti. “Your best bet is to get the hell away from here before you get hurt.”
“I’m gonna find my car if it means searching this entire street. I know it’s over here.”
Rico pulled a huge pistol from his side. “You’re going to get the hell away from here is what you’re gonna do. Now get out of my face.”
Charlie turned and hurried back to Dream’s jeep, which she already had running. “Let’s go,” he said.
Before she pulled off, Rico fired two shots in the air and she and Charlie slid down in their seats. Dream shook nervously as she slouched. She had never been so close to a real gunshot before. She was certain after she heard the gunshot she was going to die.
Rico and the walkie-talkie boys roared with laughter. Charlie sat up in his seat and looked at Rico and his workers still laughing. “It’s okay, Ms. Nelson. Those clowns were just trying to get a laugh.”
Her heart pounded, and chills traveled her spine as she held her ears, which were still ringing from the gunshots. Finally she got herself together and drove away.

***

When they reached Charlie’s house, Dream noticed he looked more depressed than earlier. She felt sorry for him. “Mr. Irving, if you’d like, I can take you to the police department so you can report your car stolen.”

He looked at Dream, avoiding her eyes. “I would like that, but I don’t know how to give the police a report when I know my wife has the car. How do you turn your own wife in to the police?”

Dream sat in silence. She had nothing to say, and she definitely didn’t know how to answer his question.
“Ms. Nelson, the sad part about the whole thing is that I love my wife very much. I wish you could see her. She is really a beautiful woman when she ain’t using dope.” Charlie was in tears.
Dream wanted to say something to ease Charlie’s heartache. She felt she needed to say something, but she just couldn’t seem to find the right words.

***

Dream arrived home at eight o’clock after a late workout at the gym. Her gym clothes were soiled and she smelled dreadful. She never took showers at the gym because of a few lesbian members, some of whom made her uncomfortable. The water in the shower was a bit cold, but quite refreshing. After she dried off she put on some shorts and an Atlanta Falcons football jersey. Hunger pains cramped her stomach. She was preparing herself a baked potato and a small salad when the phone rang. She glanced at the Caller ID and saw it was a number she did not recognize. She hesitated before picking up the phone. “Hello.”

“Dream, baby, what’s up?”

She knew the voice immediately. Is he out? she wondered. She hadn’t heard the little prison recording that usually preceded his calls. “Hey, DeVon. What are you doing calling here?”

“I got out this morning. Just thought I would hit you up to see what you were up to.”
“I’m chillin’. I’m really glad to hear your voice.”
“Are you?” he asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Listen, I was wondering if I can come over to see you.”
She contemplated before speaking. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“You still seeing that guy, Jamal, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I ain’t going to try to come between you two, but I was wondering if we can get together for lunch tomorrow.”
“I would like that. I can probably get away from the school around one o’clock. I don’t have a fifth-period class, so we can meet downtown at Mert’s on College Street.”
“Cool,” DeVon said.

***

By 1:15 P.M. the following day, the lunch crowd at Mert’s had thinned. Dream arrived at one o’clock and there were only four tables occupied. She took a seat near the front. When DeVon arrived his smile covered his entire face when he saw her. Instantly she realized how much she actually missed him. She stood and they embraced.

“I’m glad you decided to meet me,” he said.
“Yeah, and I’m glad I came. You look very nice,” she said, admiring DeVon’s bulging biceps and massive chest. His black fitted sweater looked as though it was shellacked on him.
He grinned. “Yeah, you still look good as hell. How’s your family?”
“Everybody’s good. Thank you.”
“So what’s good here to eat?”
“My personal favorite is the blackened pork chops.”
When the waitress appeared, they both ordered the blackened pork chops with yellow rice, gravy, and macaroni. They caught up on old times until the food came. DeVon made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to go back to jail, and somehow she believed him. After all, he hadn’t actually intended to commit a crime. He’d had an accident and as a result, someone lost a life. He filled her in on rehabilitation and vocational classes that he had taken while incarcerated.
She took a sip from her iced tea. “What kind of classes did you take?”
“Basic electrical ones. Hopefully I can get a job as an electrician.”
She nodded, impressed. It definitely seemed as though he had a plan. At least he had used his prison time wisely. She realistically knew it would be hard for a black ex-con to succeed in today’s job market. She remembered that DeVon smoked marijuana religiously, and the day of his car accident the investigating officer said DeVon reeked of it. Later, after being examined by the doctor, marijuana was found in DeVon’s bloodstream, and as a result, vehicular manslaughter charges were filed against him. “So can you pass a drug test?”
He chuckled. “Are you interviewing me?”
“No, I just want to know because that’s going to be essential if you really want to make it out here. Almost everybody is drug testing.”
“For your information, I can pass a drug test. As a matter of fact, I haven’t smoked any weed in more than six months. I have a job lined up already. I appreciate your concern.”
She stared at him briefly before turning away. Dream’s mind drifted to the last time she had made love to DeVon. He had come over the day before court. She hadn’t wanted him to be alone, because she knew he was nervous about his court appearance. When he arrived, it was dark, and she had candles lit. The dimlylit apartment was very romantic. She’d met him at the door wearing a robe, and nothing underneath. Laying eyes on her, he scooped her up and rushed to the sofa before they made their way to the bed. Their sexual appetites were ignited, and DeVon pounded her head against the headboard during intercourse. Before it was all over, they were outside on the back deck. It was 2:00 A.M. when they finally finished.
“Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself together.”
“I have. I mean, this whole prison thing has taught me that I ain’t no real thug. I thought I was until I met some serious brothers in there. Rapists, cold-blooded killers, and big-time drug dealers—real criminals who showed me I wasn’t shit. If not using drugs means I’ll stay out, then I won’t use again.”
“So why did you want to see me so bad?” she asked, bored with all the prison talk.
He hesitated before speaking, then he reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “I missed you, and I think we made a real good couple. I want us to get back together.”
Dream turned away briefly before resuming eye contact. “You know I’m involved with somebody.”
“But I need you,” DeVon pleaded.
She pulled her hand back, stood, flagged the waitress, and asked for the check. “I’ve got to go now, DeVon.”
He pulled a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and looked up at her. “Want to go dutch?”
“Save your money. This one is on me.”
He winked at her. “You know you still love me.”
“Find yourself a woman. I have to go now.”

***

Two days later, Dream was in the faculty parking lot loading her things in the back of her jeep when she felt a tap on the shoulder. She turned and was face to face with DeVon. “What do you want?”

“I just need to talk to you.”
“How did you get here?”
“I walked. I needed to see you.”
She took a deep breath. “Get in. We’ll ride and talk.” As they pulled out of the school parking lot, she glanced over at

him. She noticed he was casually dressed, wearing loafers, jeans, and a gray blazer. It was only three o’clock, wasn’t he supposed to be at work? Though she didn’t know much about electrical work, she figured he should at least be wearing work boots. “So were you off today?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“Yeah, I didn’t get the job.”
“Why not?”
“I need money for tools.”
“How much are tools?” she asked naively, because she really

didn’t have the faintest idea. She didn’t even own a screwdriver. “I mean, I can probably get all the tools I need from the pawn
shop.”
She turned and looked at him. He looked very sad and she
wanted to help him but wondered why. He had cursed her out
while visiting him in prison. Why did she feel so gullible? Why did
she want to help someone who didn’t appreciate her? “How much
do you think you’ll need to get the tools from the pawn shop?” she
asked.
“One hundred and fifty dollars.”
Dream pulled into a convenience store, jumped out, went to the
ATM, and retrieved two hundred dollars. “Get the tools you need,”
she said, handing him the money.
“I can’t take your money,” he said, leaving her hand dangling in
mid-air.
She frowned. “Take the money. I want you to have it to get what
you need.”
He quickly grabbed the bills and put them in his pocket. “I’ll
pay you back when I get my first paycheck.”
“If you do, fine. If you don’t, fine,” she said, looking straight
ahead.
He turned her face toward him and they stared at each other for
what seemed a long time. “I really appreciate it, okay?”

CHAPTER 15

A FTER THE DEA BUSTED Angelo’s girls, Jamal and Angelo figured they needed to come up with a different method of getting the drugs back to North Carolina.—at least until they felt better about going through the airports again. Angelo found a couple who was in desperate need of money. The husband-and-wife team had fallen on some hard times and needed to make some money to stop foreclosure on their home and to help their daughter with tuition. They agreed to drive the product across the country but said they would stop delivering product as soon as they were caught up on their bills. Angelo paid them two-thousand dollars each trip and they made at least two trips in a month. Everything seemed to be going well for Jamal until he received a call from Tony the informant who said it was very necessary that they meet.

“I’m beginning to think this shit is a game.” Dawg’s face became hardened.
“Why do you say that?” Jamal asked.
“I don’t know, it just seems like something ain’t right about this whole situation.”
“Well, Tony called me this morning saying that the Feds had some new info about us, and he wanted to meet with me again.”
“Are you sure this mu’fucka ain’t telling the cops about us?”
“How? He’s not around us enough to find out anything.”
“Well, I want to go with you this time when you meet him.”

***

It was 7:00 P.M. when Dawg and Jamal reached the Starbucks. They took a seat next to the fireplace.
Twenty minutes later, Tony showed up biting his chapped lips and rubbing his ashy hands together as if he was trying to keep warm. “What’s up, guys?”
Dawg stared at him. “What’s up with you?”
Tony pulled out a pack of Newports and looked around. Nobody else was smoking. “Is this the smoking section?”
“Who gives a fuck? Tell us what’s going on,” Dawg demanded.
Tony lit his cigarette before starting. “Okay. Two girls from San Diego got busted and they called your names.”
“How do you know this?” Dawg asked.
“I have connections with the DEA. Must we go through this again?”
“Okay, so what do we have to do now?” Jamal asked.
“Well, again, they’re trying to gather enough evidence to go to the grand jury to get you guys indicted.”
“What are you getting at?” Dawg asked.
“We need more money.”
“I thought your man said the $25,000 would take care of us,” Jamal said.
Tony took a puff from his cigarette before flicking the ashes on the shiny hardwood floors.
“He did say that, but that was before the new evidence was introduced. Now the agent has to get in the files and dispose of the new shit.”
Dawg stared at Tony again. “This shit sounds kind of funny to me.”
“Jamal spoke to the agent the last time. Everything I say is legit. How else would I know so much about what’s going on with you guys?” Tony asked.
“So, how much do you need now?” Dawg asked.
“Twenty thousand, and we’ll clear everything up, I swear to you.”
“When do you need it?” Dawg asked.
“I need it now. We need to do this fast before it’s too late.”
Dawg looked around the coffeehouse. Everybody was busy minding his or her own business. He then reached across the table and gripped Tony by the collar and yanked him halfway across the table. “If I find out that you’re fuckin’ us around, I will kill your ass. Know what I mean?”
“Y-yeah, man, I understand.”
Dawg then shoved him backward. Tony straightened out his rumpled shirt while looking at Dawg.
“Okay, Tony, this is the deal. I’m going to meet you back here in an hour,” Jamal said.
“Cool, I’ll be waiting on you in the parking lot.”
Jamal and Dawg headed to the car. Twenty thousand dollars more, Jamal thought. He definitely didn’t want to pay Tony the money, but he needed the protection. It was quite obvious that Tony had connections. He had names and specific incidents about a drug bust directly connected to Jamal and Dawg.
“I still say we don’t give the mu’fucka shit,” Dawg said.
“He knows something. How else would he know about the girls who got busted?”
“My whole thing is, whatever is gonna happen is gonna happen anyway.”
“You’re right, but I don’t want nothing to happen to us that can be avoided. You know the man is a snitch working closely with the Feds, and you know he’s probably friends with some of them agents. Besides, I talked to one of those redneck bastards on the phone. I believe Tony can help us out.”
Jamal quickly pulled in through the underground parking deck of the Arlington Condominiums. He hopped out of the car and got on the elevator. Once he was in his bedroom, he opened his safe and gathered twenty thousand dollars—all hundreds—and put them in a small, brown paper bag.
It took them twenty minutes to get back to Starbucks. Tony was in the parking lot behind the wheel of a black Buick.
“Give me the money. I want to emphasize the fact that I will fuckin’ kill him if he fucks us,” Dawg demanded.
Jamal passed Dawg the small brown bag. He knew that Dawg would be better at getting the point across to Tony. Jamal didn’t want to pay for the protection, but it seemed as though Tony had the key to his freedom.

***

The third week in November, Dream invited Jamal to a blacktie affair, honoring her father for thirty years of service in the school system. Her parents sat at the reserved table along with the superintendent and a couple of other principals from local high schools. Janice Nelson looked on in disapproval when Jamal approached the table in a full-length mink coat, wearing a diamond-encrusted pinky ring. She nudged Dream who was sitting beside her. “Why is Jamal making a spectacle of himself?” Janice whispered.

“What do you mean?” Dream asked.

“Look at what he’s wearing. Didn’t he know that this is your father’s day? He’s embarrassing us. He looks like a pimp.”
Prime rib was served, and shortly after everyone finished eating, a series of long-winded speeches about David Nelson’s dedication to service and his advocacy for higher learning followed. At the end of the evening, Harry Stevens, the district superintendent, approached the Nelsons with a glass of champagne in his hand. “Again, I want to commend you for your service,” he said to David Nelson. “Hello Dream. Are you still teaching at Spaugh?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
Harry turned to Jamal. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”
“That’s my boyfriend, Jamal Stewart,” Dream said.
“Well, I know you can’t be a teacher wearing a coat like that. That thing must have cost a fortune,” Harry said.
“No, I’m not a teacher,” Jamal said.
Harry sipped champagne and adjusted his crooked bowtie. “What do you do for a living, Jamal?”
Jamal became embarrassed. The Nelsons became silent. They, too, seemed a bit rattled by Harry’s question. Finally Jamal said. “That’s none of your business.”
Harry’s face reddened immediately. “Jamal, you are absolutely right.” He extended his hand. “One last question for you.”
Jamal sighed. “What is it?”
“Who is your furrier? I must get my wife a coat like that for Christmas,” Harry said sarcastically, and chuckled as he walked away.
When Jamal and Dream left for the evening they met up at Dream’s apartment. Dream figured Harry’s comments must have upset Jamal. She could only imagine how he felt. Once they were inside her apartment, she turned the TV to David Letterman.
“Can you turn that, please? I’ve had enough of white, corny-ass humor.”
“I guess you’re mad at the little comment Harry made.”
He grabbed the remote control from the coffee table and changed the channel to ESPN. “You are so smart.”
“Oh, it’s okay for you to be sarcastic but nobody else can, right?”
Jamal looked at Dream briefly but remained silent.
Dream walked over to the sofa where Jamal was seated and sat beside him. “Listen, baby, I’m sorry you felt uncomfortable at the dinner.”
“I just don’t fit in with your family and friends,” Jamal said.
Dream rubbed his leg. “As long as we like each other, nothing else should matter, okay?”
“That’s easy to say, but it does matter.”
“Jamal, I don’t know what you want me to say. I mean, I will admit that the way we think is different, but I see that as the good part of the relationship. I like the fact that you ain’t this straightlaced nigga who don’t know shit about the streets.”
He smiled boyishly, turned, and kissed her. “So you like thugs?”
“Basically.”
“Did I embarrass you by what I wore to dinner?”
She turned from his gaze. “Honestly, Jamal, you could have saved the fur coat and the diamond pinky ring for the player’s ball.”

***

Dawg had told Mark that he and Jamal were taking a break from the business for a while because they thought the Feds were watching. Though it meant that he wouldn’t be hanging out with Dawg, Mark still kept him under surveillance.

Mark and Jeremiah were working together again. Jeremiah had apologized for offending him, and Mark had accepted the apology. Two days later, Mark overheard Jeremiah celebrating a trial victory of the Stinson brothers. Jeremiah was laughing about sending the boys’ seventy-one-year-old grandmother to prison for ten years. She was found guilty of conspiracy in allowing the boys to hide drugs in her house. The case was a real travesty, Mark thought. How could anyone delight in an elderly person’s misfortune?

Mark decided not to confront Jeremiah and figured it would be of no use complaining to the supervisor. He decided he would try to forget what he’d overheard. But he couldn’t forget. When he got home he quickly turned on the six o’clock news. He didn’t see the news anchor. Instead, he pictured Jeremiah’s laughing face, and it made him literally sick. Mark’s head was pounding, and sharp pains pierced his brain. Whenever he got headaches he knew he was stressed.

How had he allowed Jeremiah to get to him? Why was he thinking about the misfortune of the Stinson grandmother? During his nine years with the agency, he had witnessed whole families become confined. He had seen a disproportionate number of blacks get locked up for drugs, more than any other race, and yet he had not been affected. Maybe it was Jeremiah’s attitude, he thought. It seemed Jeremiah enjoyed locking up blacks.

It was seven o’clock when the news went off, and Mark hadn’t the slightest idea of what the headlines had been about. He pulled himself up from the sofa and went to the bathroom. In the mirror he saw that his eyes were bloodshot. He was neither looking good nor feeling well. For the first time in nine years with the agency, he wasn’t having fun. At that moment Mark no longer knew if he still wanted to be a DEA agent. It seemed as though his work was in vain. His life had become a paradox. Was he the only agent with a conscience? Was he the only person in his department who didn’t delight in an elderly lady’s confinement? Were there other agents going through the same thing? There had to be. Maybe he needed counseling.

Mark quickly dismissed the thought. Counseling was for crazy people. He wasn’t crazy; he needed someone to talk to. He thought about going to the agency’s chaplain, whom was Lutheran. Mark had only spoken to him once, and they didn’t know each other. Mark didn’t have anything against a Lutheran minister, but he knew there was nothing like the good old-fashioned, southern Baptist, fire-and-brimstone minister to tell it like it is. He needed the truth. He needed to know if he was wrong for having a heart. Was he wrong for disliking Jeremiah? He didn’t know how long he could go on without talking to someone.

Maybe it was time for him to call it quits or time to find something else to do. He was thirty-four now, and he needed to start a family soon. He wanted children of his own. He wanted a wife, but every time he met a woman, she couldn’t understand his obsession with his job. It consumed him. Whenever he worked on a case, he gave one hundred percent. He took the job home with him and would often integrate it in his conversation. This sometimes annoyed women.

Once, at thirty-one, he’d almost gotten married. Kendra was a twenty-nine-year-old psychologist he had met at a church picnic. She was everything he wanted in a woman—tall, attractive, intelligent, and spiritual. Two months after meeting, they were inseparable, and within six months, Kendra proposed. He had accepted. The wedding was to take place one year after their engagement. His parents were absolutely delighted because they loved Kendra, too.

Mark remembered his father telling him, “Boy, you got yourself a virtuous one.”
Mark was very happy until the agency sent him to Miami as a Panamanian to work undercover in an operation, targeting some big-time Columbian drug lords. He was then barely seeing Kendra, and his absence put a strain on the relationship. Finally she gave him an ultimatum: either he leave the agency or she’d walk. He had begged for her understanding, but she stuck by the ultimatum. When they split, he was in tears. The agency had cost him a lot.
At nine o’clock Mark called his father but got no answer. His father and his brother had gone to a pastor’s conference in Memphis. At 10:30 Mark found himself taking in the cold night air while warming his hands with his breath on the doorsteps of Pastor Tommy Stevens.
Pastor Steven’s smiled broadly. “Come right in, Mark.”
Mark eased in the door, and Pastor Stevens took his coat.
Pastor Stevens’ home was modest with antique furniture. On his living room wall was a huge mural of Christ nailed to the cross. A family Bible sat on the coffee table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, I’m fine,” Mark said.
The two men sat down. “So what brings you here?” the pastor asked.
“I’m troubled a little by my work.”
The pastor’s eyebrows rose. “Have you prayed about what it is that’s bothering you?”
“Yeah, I have, but I thought I needed to talk to someone about it.”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to come, because if you can’t bring your problems before the church, then who can you turn to?”
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time. You know that I work for the DEA, right?”
“Yeah, I think you told me this. I commend you on making a difference.”
Mark took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. “My career and my beliefs are in direct conflict, and sometimes I find it hard to deal with.”
“How are they conflicting?”
“I have a conscious, unlike some of my coworkers. I love my work, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that . . . I became a DEA officer to help the community keep the kids safe.”
“So you feel your coworkers are not working to help the community?”
Mark looked at the pastor with serious eyes. “I had one of my coworkers revel in the fact that he locked up an elderly lady.”
The pastor looked surprised. “What in the world did she do to get locked up?”
Mark waited a few seconds before speaking. “It wasn’t my case, but I think she may have had knowledge that her grandsons were drug dealers.”
“And for that she got locked up?”
“Yeah. It’s called conspiracy, meaning if you assist with any aspect of the crime, you’re just as guilty, no matter how small your role is.”
“Wow, I didn’t know they could do that.” The pastor placed his hands behind his head. “I can see why you’re having a difficult time doing your job. Mark, I really don’t know what to tell you except to keep doing your job and know that there are more good people out there than bad.”
Mark nodded. He was glad he had talked with someone about his problem. He had actually known officers to go to therapy sessions for job-related stress, but being a man of God, Mark felt he could only get his counseling from above. Pastor Stevens hadn’t been much help to him, but his soul was soothed.
The pastor picked a Bible up from the table and showed Mark a scripture. Luke 48:

Much is required from those to whom much is given, and much more is required from those to whom much more is given.

Mark was familiar with the scripture. He knew that the Lord would not place a burden on him that he could not handle. A lot was required of him. Most of the time he welcomed new challenges, but lately he hadn’t been up to the day-to-day confrontations that came along with being a black DEA officer. It had become hard to distinguish the good guys from the bad. Some of the bad guys were working right alongside him, and some of the so-called street thugs weren’t that bad underneath. He had to admit that his visit with Pastor Stevens had been a good one, and the scripture he had read was refreshing. He stood and the pastor retrieved his coat. They hugged before he left.

CHAPTER 16

I TWAS NOW THE end of November. At 6:00 A.M. the alarm clock sounded. Dream promptly hit the snooze button and dozed for five more minutes before jumping up and heading to the shower. Breakfast consisted of bacon and pancakes. After she was through eating she finished grading the tests that she had started the previous night. At 7:15 her doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole and DeVon was standing outside with a white hard hat in his hand. She quickly opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised.

“I just came to give you your money back for the tools you bought.”
“Come in.”
“Okay, but I can’t stay long; I have to be at work at eight. I got to catch the bus, unless you want to take me.”
“Where do you work?”
“Downtown.”
“I can drop you off. I see no harm in that.”
DeVon pulled a brown leather pouch from his pocket and took out two wrinkled hundred-dollar bills. “I’m sorry the money is so worn.”
“Are you sure you’re able to pay me?”
“Yeah. I can stand it. I’m expecting a big paycheck Friday. I’ve worked at least three hours overtime each day since I started. Take the money. You don’t know how much I appreciate what you did for me. I want to take you out to show you a good time.”
Dream walked over to the dining room table, picked up her test papers, and packed them in a small white book bag. “Listen, DeVon, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, you know I have a boyfriend. This can’t happen. I can’t go out with you. I can’t believe you haven’t met any women working downtown.”
“Those women downtown are too damn stuck-up. They see a brother with a tool belt on and he gets no play. They want those white-collar mu’fuckas.”
Dream knew exactly what he was talking about. She had known many women who refused to go out with a plumber or an electrician. Doctors and engineers were in, not a man in a tool belt. She gathered her things and they left.
They chatted while listening to the Russ Parr morning show. DeVon told Dream how much he was enjoying his job and that his boss was thinking about sending him to school. Devon said he planned to be a licensed electrician by the following year.
“Good for you,” she said.
He didn’t say anything; he just nodded and glanced over his shoulder.
“I hope you stick with it; I know electricians make decent money.”
“Yeah, they do all right I guess.” He looked back again. “What kind of car does your boy, Jamal, drive?”
“Why?”
“Because someone is following us in a white BMW.”
Dream looked over her shoulder quickly before refocusing on the road. She knew the car immediately. It was Dawg, and he was talking on his cell phone. She drove a half a mile farther and pulled into a service station.
“Who the hell is that, and why are you pulling into the gas station?” DeVon asked.
“Don’t worry. Relax. Everything is going to be okay.”
DeVon looked frightened. He was jittery and kept jerking his leg. “Is that your boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Who is he?”
“Nobody,” Dream hopped out of the jeep and walked to Dawg’s BMW.
He rolled his window down. “Jamal is on his way.”
“For what?” she asked.
“He’s probably gonna want to know who that mu’fucka is you’re riding with this early in the morning.”
“You know what? You are a stupid motherfucker, Dawg. It’s not what you think,” Dream shouted.
“No, you are the stupid mu’fucka. You’re the one with the nigga in the jeep,” Dawg said, laughing.
“What did you tell Jamal?”
“You’ll find out. He’ll be here in about five minutes.”
DeVon walked over and stood beside Dream. “What’s going on?”
“Playboy, I think you about to have a bad day,” Dawg said
“What the hell is he talking about?” DeVon asked Dream.
“Don’t pay him any mind.”
“I don’t like the fact that this mu’fucka just threatened me,” Devon said.
“I didn’t threaten you. I just promised you an ass whoopin’,” Dawg said.
“Get out of the car, and I will fuck you up,” DeVon shouted.
Dawg turned his car engine off and bounced from the seat. He was met with a hard right across his nose. He quickly nursed his nose and held one arm to protect his face. DeVon charged him swiftly, his head pounding Dawg’s stomach hard before they landed on the pavement.
“Stop it, dammit!” Dream demanded.
“I’m gonna fuck you up,” Dawg yelled from the ground.
Dream tried to pull DeVon off Dawg, but he was too strong for her. She finally yelled for someone to break up the fight but nobody cared.
Jamal’s Mercedes arrived. Dream ran to his car quickly. “Jamal, please break it up.”
Jamal got out of his car and shoved Dream out of his way as DeVon pounded Dawg’s face violently. When he reached the fight he grabbed DeVon’s neck, forcing him backward until Dawg was up on his feet. It was now two against one. DeVon made a futile attempt to cover his face. Jamal and Dawg pounded and kicked DeVon for three minutes.
Finally, Dream went inside the store and returned with the manager, a thin Indian man. “I am going to call the police if you don’t get off the property,” the manager said.
“You need to call the ambulance,” Dawg said. “This mu’fucka needs some medical attention. Look at him, bleeding like a bitch,” Dawg said, pointing at DeVon, who was lying unconscious with blood oozing from his mouth and nose.
Jamal pulled Dream aside. “Who the hell is this nigga and why were you with him?”
“No, the question is, who in the hell do you think you are?”
“So you’ve been playing me, right?”
She looked at him then turned toward DeVon who was still on the pavement. “It’s not even what you think. You are so fucking stupid. You didn’t ask me what was going on; you just reacted.”
“Look at me,” Jamal turned her face toward him. “What in the hell am I suppose to think when my girlfriend is riding with a nigga this early in the morning?”
The shrill sounds of police and paramedic sirens rang out. Dawg walked over, wedging his way between Jamal and Dream. “Jamal we need to get the hell out of here.”
Jamal and Dream stared at each other for a few seconds before Dawg pulled Jamal away, ordering him to get in his car and drive away.
The police arrived, and the manager told the police that Dream had seen the whole altercation and was engaged in conversation with one of the perpetrators.
“Ma’am, you want to tell us what you saw?” the officer asked.
Dream gathered her thoughts. She knew the police wanted to know who assaulted DeVon. She was caught in the middle. The right thing would be to tell the police what had happened and to give the officer some names. She then looked over toward DeVon who remained unconscious, with the paramedics tending him. Finally he was carried away on the stretcher.
She looked the officer directly in the eye. “It started over an argument.”
“What were they arguing about?” the officer asked.
Dream looked at her watch. “Listen, can I talk to you later? I’m a middle school teacher and I’m already late. Do you have a card? Maybe I can call you later.”
The officer stared at her oddly. “Now the store manager said you saw the whole thing and that you were talking to one of the assailants. Do you want to help us out or not? You’re not under arrest, but you do have a moral obligation, and I should hope you would want to do the right thing since you are a teacher.”
Dream stared at the pavement. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

***

Dream didn’t even bother going to work. She couldn’t after the fight. She knew she wouldn’t be in any mood to concentrate until she heard something from DeVon. At three o’clock that evening, she had called several hospitals before locating DeVon at the Carolina’s Medical Center in Room 338. Upon arrival the receptionist said only family was allowed, and Dream quickly lied, saying she was his sister. Inside DeVon’s room, Dream found him conscious, sitting up in the bed wearing a light blue hospital gown with thick white bandages wrapped around his head and several tubes inserted in his mouth. The nurse had told her that his jaw had been broken and his ribs fractured. He had also suffered a minor concussion.

Dream approached to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand. He jerked it back as he looked at her intently.
“DeVon, I know you’re mad and you have a right to be. I’m really sorry this happened to you.”
He turned his back toward her.
“So you’re going to turn your back on me?” she asked.
He then turned and faced her again. He pointed to a small pad and pencil on the table beside his bed. She handed him the items, and he jotted some words down and gave it back to her.

The paper read, Did you tell the police who did this to me?

She looked down at him. Finally she shook her head and he asked for the paper and pencil.
He jotted more words on the paper again and handed it back to her.
You are the one who turned your back on me. He looked sad, and his eyes were full of disappointment. She looked at him for long time. He was right. She had betrayed him. There was no denying it. She had been in a very compromising position, and she hated to betray anyone, she really did. Suddenly a tear trickled down her cheek.
DeVon pressed a button on the side of his bed and a nurse appeared and he indicated he wanted Dream to leave.

***

An hour before dark, Keisha and Dream, draped in thick sweat suits, walked through Dream’s neighborhood, absorbing brisk air and the dying sunlight. They walked swiftly facing traffic. Walking was Keisha’s favorite exercise, simply because she could talk and burn calories at the same time. Dream had contemplated telling Keisha about the fight. Finally, on the last mile, she decided to confide in her.

Keisha stopped in her tracks. “They were fighting?” Dream stopped. “Yes.”
Keisha smiled. “It must be nice to have three men fighting over

you.”
“DeVon is in the hospital,” Dream said.
“Are you serious?”
Dream didn’t answer, instead she started to walk again and

Keisha followed.
“Are you serious?” Keisha repeated.
“Yes. Dawg and Jamal jumped him and the nurse said a couple

of DeVon’s ribs are fractured, and his jaw is broken.”

 

“Why were they fighting in the first place?”

Dream faced Keisha. The wind was blowing and Dream’s lips had become chapped. “A few weeks ago, DeVon was released and I decided to meet him downtown for a harmless little lunch. A couple of days afterward, he came by the school and told me he had a job as an electrician, but he needed money to buy tools. I went to the ATM and got the money out and loaned it to him. This morning he showed up at my apartment to pay me back. I accepted the money and offered him a ride to work. While riding he noticed a white BMW following us, so I drove to a gas station and found out it was Dawg, who then gets on the phone and calls Jamal. Dawg and DeVon got into a fight, and when Jamal arrived he jumped in. He and Dawg beat DeVon up so badly that the paramedics had to come and get him.”

Keisha became serious. “That’s real fucked up.”
“I know,” Dream said.
“So did the police come?”
“Yes.”
“You told them what happened, right?”
Dream looked away. “No, I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I know that would have been the right thing to do, but

somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“I know you and DeVon aren’t seeing each other anymore but
you owe him that much. You should at least tell the police who
was involved or what happened,” Keisha said, glaring at Dream
from the corner of her eye.
Dream didn’t say anything. She turned from her friend and
faced the oncoming traffic.
“Dream, you’re protecting Jamal. He has hurt someone. You
can’t go on protecting him.”
“I know,” Dream said, still avoiding Keisha’s eyes.
“You aren’t going to the police though, are you?”
Again Dream was quiet. She didn’t have to answer.

***

Dawg looked in the mirror examining his swollen eye. It was practically closed, and he had been wearing sunglasses for the past two days. His eye looked worse than it did on the day of the fight. He had tried heat pads and ice packs but, nothing seemed to bring the swelling down. He picked and nursed it for about five minutes before stepping out into the living room where Jamal sat.

“Nigga, you look like you got beat with a baseball bat,” Jamal teased.
“Fuck you. If your girl hadn’t been so trifling, I wouldn’t be suffering now.”
“You suffering ’cause that nigga was whooping your ass until I came.”
“Forget you.”
“Put your damn glasses on,” Jamal said, chuckling.
“So, have you heard from your girl?”
“Naw. I haven’t called her.”
“Do you think she told the cops what happened?”
Jamal shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s a good question.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dream’s number.
“Hello.”
“This is Jamal.”
“Yeah. What do you want?”
“I just wanna know if you told the cops who me and Dawg were.”
“No, but I know I should have. You had no right jumping DeVon like that.”
Jamal felt a sudden numbness in his stomach. Had he heard her right? “Did you say DeVon?”
“Yes, I did, but it ain’t what you think. I was trying to explain to your stupid-ass friend before he decided to take matters into his own hands.”
“My question is, what were you doing with him?” Jamal asked.
“I was taking him to work, as if I have to explain anything to you.”
“You ain’t got to explain shit to me.”
“You know what, Jamal? I ain’t gotta listen to this,” she said sighing. “I didn’t tell the police on you. That’s all you really wanted to know anyhow,” Dream said before slamming the phone down.

***

It was Friday night and Club Champagne was crowded as usual. The crowd was a mixture of hustlers and professional athletes. Jamal took a seat in the corner, next to the pool tables and asked for Candy. One of the other girls in the club said she wasn’t working.

He drank straight Hennessy. After three shots he was drunk and horny. Later that night, a short, busty Dominican girl led him to VIP. After two dances Jamal pulled his penis out and tried to penetrate the young woman, but she jumped off his lap and ran downstairs and informed the bouncers. When they arrived they found Jamal zipping up his pants.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, buddy,” one of the bouncers said.
“Why?” Jamal asked.
“I’ve seen you in here before, which means you know that you can’t be pulling your dick out in here,” the man said.
“Come on, man. I was just playing with the girl.”
“I need you to leave,” the man replied.
“You can’t put me out, man. I’ll buy this fucking club,” Jamal said as he flashed a wad of money, offering it to the bouncer. “Go ahead, man, get you a couple hundred dollars, or take it all,” Jamal slurred.
The bouncer took the money, stuffed it back in Jamal’s pocket, and grabbed him by the arm.
Jamal turned toward the huge man and shoved him. Another bouncer then grabbed Jamal’s other arm. They led him to the front door of the club and tossed him out head first onto the gravelfilled parking lot. Jamal got up from the ground, brushed himself off, and staggered into his car. It was 1:00 A.M. and he was horny. He wanted to have sex with somebody. But who? Dream wasn’t speaking to him, and he couldn’t find Candy. He suddenly remembered Keisha and the day he had visited her when she was wearing those sexy little shorts. Fifteen minutes later he was at her apartment.
Keisha opened the door wearing a black form-fitting silk robe. “Jamal, what’s wrong?” she asked with a concerned look on her face.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jamal said as he eased his way into the apartment. “I was in your neighborhood and I thought I would stop by and say hi.”
Keisha closed the door and glanced at her watch. “It’s 1:30 in the morning.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“Hey, listen, if you come back tomorrow, I promise I’ll talk to Dream for you and ask her to give your sorry ass-another chance.”
“I didnt come to talk about Dream.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Jamal then placed his arm around Keisha’s shoulder and massaged lightly.
“Stop it, Jamal,” Keisha said as she pulled away from him.
Jamal put his hands around her waist then leaned into her and forced a kiss on her lips.
Keisha tried to get away from his grip, but he was too strong for her. He kissed her again and again. Finally she stopped resisting. As soon as he unzipped his pants she scurried off to her bedroom. She returned with a huge sword-like knife. “Get the hell out of here before I kill your sorry-ass.” Keisha said.
Jamal chuckled. “Put that damn thing up.”
“Jamal, I’m not playing with you. I want you to leave now!”
Jamal saw the seriousness in Keisha’s eyes. “I’m going to leave, but can you do me a favor? Please don’t tell Dream this happened. I swear to you, Keisha, this will never happen again. I had too much to drink.”
“Just leave, Jamal,” Keisha said, pointing at the door.

CHAPTER 17

I TWAS ELEVEN O’CLOCK Monday morning when Mark marched into the United States Attorney’s office. The gold lettering on the door read: ASSISTANT U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVID RICARDO. Mark knocked lightly on the door and a voice called out for him to come right on in.

While on the phone, David spun around in a black, leather swivel chair nursing a cup of coffee. He managed to point to the chair across from his desk. “It’ll be a minute,” David managed to say.

“Take your time,” Mark said, looking around the office at David’s various academic degrees and a picture of him shaking Attorney General John Ashcroft’s hand with the U.S. flag in the background.

Finally David hung the phone up and smiled. After pleasantries were exchanged, “What can I do for you?” David asked.
“There’s something that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about which totally slipped my mind.”
“What is it?”
“You know that I’ve been undercover for a few months now working on the Stewart case, and have since gotten close to his right-hand man.”
“So you’re making progress, right?”
“I think so.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Dawg, also known as Steven Davis, said something very peculiar to me . . . ” Mark paused before resuming. “One night while we were out, he said he had connections with the agency. Someone inside is taking bribes, promising to disrupt our investigation.”
David’s eyebrows rose. “How did you let something like this slip your mind?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I took him seriously.”
“Can it be confirmed?”
“I don’t think so. I’m in charge of the case and I know damn well I haven’t been accepting any money from him.”
“Jeremiah Tolliver has been helping you out, hasn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think he’s been involved in anything like that?”
Mark hadn’t considered the possibility. Though he’d made it clear that he disliked Jeremiah, he never thought Jeremiah would be involved in the extortion of drug dealers. “No, sir, I don’t.”
“Mark, I don’t want you to discuss this with anybody else until we find out more information. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Mark said.

***

Peering through the peephole of her apartment door, Dream saw DeVon. It had been two weeks since she’d visited him in the hospital. He looked much better. An inflated purple lip was the only visible scar. She opened her door slowly.

“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Yeah, come on in.”
She led him through the kitchen, and they sat at the dining

room table. Dream felt awkward in his presence. “Would you like something to drink, lemonade or water?”

“No,” he replied, mouth still wired shut, speaking through clenched teeth.
His stare made her nervous, and she didn’t know what to do. Finally she said, “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”
“Wiff my mouf wired shut, I can’t pronounce da T-H sound.”
“DeVon, I know what happened was kind of messed up, and I want you to know I’m really sorry for what happened.”
He leaned forward and placed his forearms on the solid oak table. “I don’t believe you.”
She stood and began pacing. “I don’t know what you want me to do to prove myself.”
“Dream, you don’t owe me anyting. You had your chance to tell da police who beat my ass, and you didn’t. I just wanted to let you know dat you really let me down; I just can’t believe you’re involved wiff drug dealers. I would have never imagined you would do dat.”
“How do you know he’s involved with drugs? Do you know him?”
“It don’t take a genius to figure out doze niggas are up to no good. One of dem was driving a Beamer and da udda was in a Benz. Bofe cars had rims, and it was just something about da skinny mu’fucka in da Beamer. His whole attitude was like it was all about him.”
She nodded but didn’t respond.
“Lowered your standards, huh?” DeVon asked.
Dream glanced in his direction avoiding, his face, particularly his swollen lip. “What are you talking about? You’ve sold drugs before,” she said defensively, remembering that when she first met him he peddled dime bags of marijuana.
“Yeah, I was small-time, probably smoking more weed dan I sold, but doze niggas are big-time.”
“Whatever.”
He stood and walked over to her. “Do your mom and dad know what’s going on wit you and dis man of yours?”
“Nothing is going on. I haven’t seen Jamal since the day of the fight.”
DeVon stared at her without saying a word. “Leave dem guys alone before it’s too late. I don’t want anyting to happen to you. I came over here out of concern for you. When you visited me in da hospital a couple of weeks ago, I really had made up my mind dat I didn’t want to see yo’ ass again, but someting in my heart just won’t let me walk away from you like dat. I know you really need help, and I want you to promise me dat you won’t see dis Jamal character again.”
“I already told you that I ain’t seeing him anymore.”
“I know what you told me, but I want you to promise me dat you ain’t gonna see him again.”
Dream was silent for a moment before raising her head to look DeVon in his eyes. She could tell he was concerned, and she knew that he wasn’t about to leave until she promised to stop seeing Jamal. Though she hadn’t considered her relationship with Jamal officially over, she knew it probably was. The last time she had spoken with him, he hadn’t bothered to apologize for his behavior.
“Baby, don’t you see dat I care about you?” DeVon said.
“You sure as hell didn’t seem to care a whole lot about me when you were in jail.”
He grabbed her hand and gazed into her eyes. “Promise me you won’t see him again.”
Impulsively she hugged him but he quickly pulled away.
“My ribs are sore as hell. Remember your mobster-ass boyfriend kicked my ass,” he said, laughing.
She frowned and replied, “Lift your shirt up and let me see.”
He pulled up his shirt, and Dream examined the white bandages that clung to his torso. “Dey fucked me up pretty bad.”
“Did the doctor give you any painkillers or anything?”
He pulled a small white tube of cream from his pants pocket. “Dis is all I have. Da doctor told me to apply dis twice a day, and it’s suppose to help da soreness, but I can’t stand to touch my ribs; dey hurt so fuckin’ much.”
“A woman’s touch is what you need.”
“Is dat right?” He forced a painful smile.
She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. “Lift up your shirt again and lie across the bed on your back.”
He quickly pulled the black nylon shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor.
Dream unwrapped the bandages and took the cream, squeezing it into the palm of her hand. She applied it, smoothing it out in a circular motion. “How does it feel?”
“Ah, dis feels so good,” he responded, staring at the ceiling.
“Turn over on your stomach.”
“It’ll hurt.”
Dream grabbed the fluffy white pillows from the head of the bed. “Here use these, silly boy.”
DeVon’s Hershey-colored backside glistened as she applied the cream.
After several minutes, “I can’t take much more of dis.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m horny.”
She smiled. “You’re hurt, remember?”
Without a word he leaned toward her and their lips met briefly.
“We shouldn’t do this.”
“Why? You just said a few minutes ago dat you ain’t seeing Jamal anymore.”
She had become aroused as well. The sight of the rippling muscles in DeVon’s back had caused droplets of moisture to roll down her leg. Though she hadn’t seen Jamal in two weeks, she felt kind of guilty.
DeVon placed his hand behind her neck and pulled her toward him for another quick kiss. Then he unbuttoned her blouse. Her small brown breasts sat upright, and he smiled seductively before running his finger across an erect nipple.
She looked at him and attempted to fasten the buttons on her blouse before he leaned into her and grazed her neck. Her body tingled, and her hand fell from her shirt. Part of her wanted to fight the temptation, but another part of her wanted DeVon badly. He kissed her breast, and this put her in the mood. Finally he stood and dropped his pants, revealing an erection.
She took off her clothes and got a condom from her dresser drawer, tossed it to him and smiled.
Jamal sat quietly in Dream’s parking lot in an inconspicuous car. He had observed Dream and DeVon coming and going for the past three days. He had followed them to restaurants, the cinema, and a park. He had become sick of the sight of them kissing and hugging and seemingly having a good time. Today will be different, he vowed. Today he would end all the laughter and the good times. His nine-millimeter rested at his waist with a loaded magazine clip.
It isn’t fair, he told himself. How could he lose the love of his life so quickly? How could she betray him? He had money and DeVon had none. How could Dream leave him for a broke man? A damned nobody. This was not the way the relationship was supposed to end. It can’t end like this, he thought, as he pulled his gun out and stared down the barrel. He smiled, thinking of DeVon begging for his life.
Jamal had watched DeVon come over at 6:00 P.M. for the past three days. Each day Dream would open the door and greet him with a warm hug, obviously glad to see him, and this made Jamal angrier. He couldn’t remember her ever being that excited to see him. At 7:00, Dream and DeVon left her house and went to a little restaurant downtown. He followed them. Inside the restaurant, he took a seat on the other side, occasionally gazing in their direction. They didn’t see him because they were too busy laughing and smiling. He fumed inside.
Keisha arrived with a date midway through the meal. It was officially a double date, and the fun was much more apparent. The laughter grew louder, and the kissing and flirting was sickening. At one point they had gotten so loud that the manager came from the back to calm them down.
After dinner, the happy group went to a comedy show, which Jamal chose not to attend. He was in no mood for laughter. He figured, with his luck, one of those stupid-ass comedians would call him out and reveal him. He drove back to Dream’s parking lot and waited for her to arrive.
Dream and DeVon showed up around 11:00. Jamal had it all planned out. Whenever DeVon decided to leave, Jamal would follow, abduct him at gunpoint, take him to a remote location, and kill him. Take the body to a nearby river and dump it there. At 11:45 Jamal saw Dream giving DeVon a good-night kiss. DeVon left walking as usual. He apparently preferred walking, and Jamal thought he must live nearby.
In the pitch-black dark, DeVon walked quickly along the highway. Jamal pulled alongside DeVon and slowed the vehicle. The two men made eye contact.
“Yeah, what do you want?” DeVon asked.
Obviously, DeVon didn’t recognize Jamal. He stared intensely and Jamal could only see the whites of his eyes. DeVon was shaken and visibly afraid. Jamal placed his finger on the trigger of the handgun. Just one shot to his chest would rip through his lungs or stop his heart. Go ahead, don’t think, just fire. But Jamal couldn’t bring himself to fire. It would be senseless to kill DeVon. Jamal glanced over his shoulder once again. There was no traffic on the dark road. He could kill DeVon, and nobody would ever know. But why kill someone who had done absolutely nothing to him directly. Why take the risk of being charged with murder? He didn’t want to end up back in prison where there would be no money to be made and no women. He placed the gun between his legs, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.
He drove back to Dream’s apartment and dialed her number.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Hello, this is Jamal.”
“And?”
“I want to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Listen, Jamal, I have to go to work in the morning. I’m a grown woman, and I don’t have a whole lot of patience for your childish games.”
“So you’re back with DeVon, huh?”
“I’m not with anybody.”
“You gonna tell me that you haven’t been with DeVon tonight?”
“I ain’t telling you nothing. In fact, I don’t feel that I have to tell you anything. Good night.”

CHAPTER 18

C HRISTMAS DAY. It was very cold, and a thin layer of ice covered the ground. Dream and DeVon were dating steadily but hadn’t officially given themselves a title. Whenever someone would ask whether they were a couple, they would both reply that they were just hanging.

It was around six o’clock and Dream had just returned from her parent’s home where she had gone to pick up her gifts. Her phone rang an hour after returning.

“Hello.”
“Before you hang up, look out the window,” Jamal said. “Why?”
“I bought you a Christmas gift.”
“Bye, Jamal.”
“Well, it’ll be outside whenever you decide to check it out.” She hung up then looked out of the window. A black 320 Eclass Mercedes, with red and white bows wrapped around it, sat in the parking lot. She anxiously rushed outside.

It was beautiful, and her name had been sprayed across the windshield with whipped cream. She examined the charcoalcolored leather seats and the wood-grained dash. A Christmas card lay on the seat.

Just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I hope we can work out our differences. Jamal.

Dream immediately called Keisha; she arrived at Dream’s apartment fifteen minutes later. “Do you think I should keep the car or return it? I don’t know what to do.”

Keisha opened the door of the Benz and got behind the wheel. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can tell you what I would do.” “What would you do?” Dream asked with serious eyes. “I would keep it.”
“Keep it?”
“Don’t you want to keep it?”
Dream hesitated before speaking. “Well, yeah of course I do.” “Well then that settles it. Keep it.”
Dream didn’t reply, instead she walked around to the passenger

side and sat down.
Keisha turned toward Dream. “You’re worried about what
DeVon is going to think, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“No.”
Keisha turned the key, firing up the ignition. “Well, keep the
damn car. Are you crazy?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong here, but weren’t you the one who said
that I should have told the police who Jamal and Dawg were?”
Dream asked.
“You didn’t though, so that’s irrelevant. Don’t you know this is
a fifty-thousand-dollar car?”
“Let’s take it for a spin!” Dream said.

***

Later that night, Dream was sitting cozily by the fireplace in her pajamas, sipping eggnog. The Christmas tree lights blinked splendidly as the Temptations sang the classic Silent Night. DeVon arrived with a gift, and she invited him inside and hugged him.

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

“Merry Christmas to you,” he replied and passed her the gift along with his coat.
She grabbed his hand, led him to the fireplace and poured him a glass of eggnog, She then opened his present. “You shouldn’t have,” Dream said, examining a black Coach handbag.
“I had to. You have been so good to a brother,” he replied, no longer speaking through clenched teeth.
“I got you a present as well,” she said, disappearing into her bedroom and returning with a green box with a beautiful red bow. “Here you go.”
He smiled and tore into the package. It was a sweater from Banana Republic.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” he said as he picked her up and spun her around.
She smiled innocently then became saddened. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
He looked her directly in the eyes. “Good or bad news?”
“It depends on how you take it.”
“I don’t like the sound of it already.”
She looked at him then poured another glass of eggnog.
“What is it, Dream?” he demanded.
“Jamal gave me a present.”
He smiled. “Oh, that’s cool. I mean since we are not officially a couple, and we’re just chillin’. Is that what you were afraid to tell me?”
“Yeah. Don’t you want to know what he gave me?”
“Not really, but you can tell me if you like.”
“He bought me a car.”
DeVon’s bottom lipped dropped. “A car? What kind?”
“A Benz.”
“Well, you didn’t take it, did you?”
“Yeah, of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because the mu’fucka is gonna think he owns you now. I think you should give it back.”
“Seriously?”
“I am serious,” he said, staring at Dream with intense eyes.
She sipped her eggnog slowly without responding.
“Give it back,” he demanded.
“Me and you ain’t together. You can’t tell me what to do.”
DeVon stood, went to the hall closet, retrieved his coat, threw it over his arm, and headed for the door. “When are you going to get it? That nigga ain’t no good. Okay, he has money, but is money everything?”
Their eyes met and held but neither said anything. Finally DeVon opened the door and left.
Later that night Jamal called Dream.
“Hello,” she said.
“How did you like the gift I got for you?”
“The car is really nice. Are you sure you want to give me something that expensive?”
“Don’t worry about the cost. I can afford it, or else I wouldn’t have bought it, believe me. The question is, what is your little boyfriend gonna say once he sees the car?”
“You mean DeVon?”
“Who else?”
“He already knows about the car. He stormed out of here after he learned that you gave it to me.”
“Good, now I won’t feel guilty about asking you can I come over.”
“Come on over, I’ll be waiting on you.”

***

The evening of Valentine’s Day, Jamal took Dream to T-Bones on the lake, a cozy little steakhouse located in Lake Wylie, a subdivision just south of Charlotte. The food was mediocre. But Jamal really liked it. He could have dinner overlooking the water. For February the weather was kind of warm but breezy. Jamal and Dream looked wonderful together. She was wearing a long wrap skirt with black leather riding boots and a gray turtleneck sweater with a black leather jacket. He wore a black leather jacket, black jeans with a black headband, and a huge diamond in his left ear.

When the waitress appeared, Dream ordered a flounder and shrimp dinner and Jamal a rib-eye steak, medium well. While they waited on their food, they talked about everything from politics to music. Finally, Dream felt the moment was right and pulled a small Valentine’s Day card from her purse and passed it to him. Inside the card was a gift certificate to Dillard’s department store. It was the only thing she could think to get him, since he was such a shopper.

He smiled. “Dream, I love you,” he said, gazing into her eyes. He then dug inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. When she opened it, a beautiful smile emerged as she pulled a four-carat diamond ring in a platinum setting from the box. Jamal placed it on her ring finger.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

She turned from his gaze, looking out on the lake at the water rippling in the moonlight. “I don’t know. I have to think about it.”
He looked sad. “Listen, Dream, I know you can’t picture yourself marrying someone like me, but I’m about to go legit, baby. I’m going to stop dealing in a couple of months.”
She looked him in the eyes. He seemed serious and his voice sounded sincere. Despite their differences, Dream did love him more than she had loved any of her previous boyfriends. “I need you to stop if we’re going to have any kind of future together.”
“So I take that as a yes.”
She met his eyes and smiled. “I’ll marry you, Jamal.”
“Yes! Yes! She said she’ll marry me,” Jamal told the waitress who had appeared with the food.
The waitress sat their food down and announced their engagement to the entire restaurant. The patrons went wild, shouting and cheering. Dream held up her ring and Jamal just looked on, sipping his iced tea.

***

“You’re gonna get married?” Keisha asked, surprised. “Yeah,” Dream answered, showing off engagement ring. “Do your parents know?”
“No. I haven’t told them yet.”
“Are you sure you want to marry this guy? I mean, after all, you

were saying just a few months ago that he had issues and you didn’t know if you wanted to deal with him.”

“I know what I said, but he promised me he was going to stop dealing.”
Keisha looked at Dream oddly before saying enthusiastically, “Congratulations. When is the wedding?”
Dream beamed with excitement. “We haven’t set a date yet.”
“Well has Jamal found his mother yet?”
“No, and you know what? I totally forgot to tell him you said your private investigator could probably find her.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he can locate her. All he needs is her name, date of birth, and birthplace. I know Jamal would probably like to find her now, especially since there’s going to be a wedding.”
“I’ll get him to give me the information, and I’ll call you with it.”
Keisha didn’t respond. Her attention seemed to be somewhere else.
“Did you hear me, Keisha?”
Keisha took a deep breath. “I have to tell you something before you get married.”
“What’s wrong?”
Keisha turned away from Dream briefly. “Do you remember the last time you and Jamal had broken up, after Jamal and Dawg had the fight with DeVon?”
“Yeah.”
“One night, Jamal came over to my apartment after he had been drinking, and he tried to go there with me.”
Dream hesitated. “Why are you just now telling me this shit?”
“I didn’t know how you would respond. I knew you cared about him a lot, and I knew this would hurt you.”
Dream’s eyes became bloodshot. “You damn right it hurts. If you were anybody else, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I know it’s the truth because you’re my girl.” Dream began crying.
“Like I said, he was drunk. And since that night, it hasn’t happened again.”
“I don’t think I can marry him now.”
“Dream, it is not that serious. If you love the man, marry him,” Keisha said as she grabbed Dream’s hand. “Girl, look at this ring. If this ain’t love, I don’t know what is.”
“I still need to hear what Jamal has to say about the whole situation.”

***

Jamal blew his horn and Dawg came running to the car with a small nylon bag in hand. Inside the car, he unzipped the bag and showed Jamal what he had traded for product. “Check it out, man. It’s a baby .380,” Dawg said, rubbing the small chrome handgun.

Jamal looked at the gun briefly before screeching out of the parking lot. He wasn’t in the mood to comment about a handgun. Actually, he felt Dawg should have left it inside. They rode a few minutes before Dawg asked where they were going.

“Nowhere specific. Just needed to talk to you about some things.”
Dawg put the gun back in the bag and tucked it under his jacket. “What you want to talk about?”
Jamal looked at Dawg for a second then shifted his attention to the oncoming traffic. “I proposed to Dream.”
“You did what, nigga?”
“I’m going to get married.”
“You making a big mistake.”
“I love this woman, and I think I’m doing the right thing by tying the knot.”
“What about your goal to make $500,000?”
“What about it?”
“So I guess making money is no longer your focus, huh?”
Jamal looked away briefly before resuming eye contact, “Of course it is; I just think this is the right thing for me to do. You should be happy for me, man.”
“She’s going to change you. Her mama and daddy already think she’s too good for you, remember?”
“I ain’t marrying her mama and daddy; I’m marrying her.”
Dawg looked out the window. “Don’t do it, Jamal. The next thing you know, she’s going to have you talking about getting a job.”
“I plan on looking for one real soon,” Jamal said.
“There goes the goal out the window.”

***

 

“I feel like I’m losing my best friend,” Dawg said to Mark.

“What do you mean?” the agent asked, admiring Dawg’s apartment.
Dawg looked at him intently as if he were contemplating the disclosure of a deep secret. “Jamal, my boy, is about to get married. I mean, I know I should be happy for him, but I really think the woman is going to change him. He’s already talking about getting a job and retiring from the game. That’s the reason I haven’t been able to supply you lately.”
Mark took a deep breath. “This must be one helluva lady to make a man think about giving up the kind of money that comes along with the game.” Mark had not gotten any closer to Jamal over the months. For this reason, he had not yet sought an indictment against Dawg.
“She’s okay, I guess. She’s a teacher. She comes from a family that thinks she is too good for my boy.”
“So what about you, Dawg? I don’t ever hear you talking about no women in your life.”
Dawg pulled a picture from his wallet and presented it to Mark. It was a photo of a little girl in a leotard and ballet shoes.
“Is this your daughter?”
“Yes, that’s my angel.”
“Where is she?”
“In New Jersey with her mother.”
“Do you get to see her often?”
Dawg yawned. “I haven’t seen her in three years. Her mother won’t allow me.”
Mark passed the picture back to Dawg. He didn’t want to ask too many questions about Dawg’s personal life, because he didn’t want to become attached to him. Dawg was a criminal and Mark knew he had to keep that in mind.
“So what about you? Do you have a woman?” Dawg asked.
“No, I don’t have one.”
“Kids?”
“No.”
“Why not, man? You have got to be at least thirty.”
Mark smirked. “Yeah, I guess you can say I’m an old man now, but to be truthful with you, I’ve just been concentrating on making money. I guess one day I’ll find a woman. She’s gonna have to be strong, though.”
Dawg turned and faced him again. “You know what? You sound a lot like Jamal. I wish you could meet him, man. You two guys are a lot alike.”
Mark longed for the day he could meet Jamal as well, but he knew it wouldn’t be under pleasant circumstances. He was nothing like Jamal. As far as he could tell they were opposites. Jamal was pushing the poison, and he was trying to stop it from coming into the community.

CHAPTER 19

T HE HUGE SMILE ON Jamal’s face revealed that he was glad to see Dream as he entered her apartment. He kissed her on the forehead and noticed she was frowning.

“What’s wrong baby?”

Dream placed her hands on her hips. “Jamal, do you want to tell me about the night you visited Keisha’s apartment and tried to get with her?”

“Ah, shit,” Jamal said as he threw his hands up in disgust. “Do you know how long that’s been?”
“Answer the question, Jamal,” Dream demanded.
“I was drunk, okay? I was drunk and horny. If I hadn’t been drunk, I would have never tried her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about it, Jamal?”
“It happened during the time we weren’t speaking, about a week after we kicked DeVon’s ass?”
“Why did you have to try my best friend?”
Jamal approached Dream, placed his hand under her chin, and kissed her lips gently. “Baby, I made a mistake. Nothing happened, I promise you. What did Keisha say happened?”
“She said nothing happened.”
“Okay, there you have it. Why are you still tripping?”
Dream became sad. “Because I don’t know if I can trust the man that I’m about to marry.”
Jamal entered the living room and took a seat on the sofa. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand then glanced at Dream. “I guess that stupid-ass Keisha is trying to mess things up for us now. Since she doesn’t have a man she probably doesn’t want you to be happy either, huh?”
“No, that ain’t even the case, Jamal. Believe it or not, she actually thinks I should go ahead and marry you.”
“And what do you think?”
“Jamal, you already know that I love you but—”
“But what?” Jamal interrupted.
Dream took a deep breath then ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t want to get hurt. Marriages are meant to last forever.”
“And we’ll be together forever.” Jamal responded.
“I don’t know if I can live with the fact that my man has tried to have sex with my best friend. You know, if we get married both of you will be part of my life forever. How will I get over thoughts that you may be looking at her sexually? You may be attracted to her more than you are to me.” Her voice cracked as if she were about to cry.
Jamal stood and hugged Dream. “Baby, I know I’m not perfect. Lord knows I’ve made many mistakes. I swear to you, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
Dream pushed Jamal away. “Jamal, I love you, too, but many changes have to be made if we want this relationship to work.”
“I promise you, I’ll change,” Jamal said softly.

***

The third day of spring, U.S. Attorney David Ricardo convinced a federal grand jury to indict Dawg, superceding Connie and Jennifer’s indictment. The grand jury had refused to indict Jamal and Angelo. The evidence simply wasn’t there. Jeremiah was pleased, though, because he thought Dawg would cooperate to bring down Jamal and Angelo. Mark had pleaded for more time to get closer to Jamal. He knew there was no longer a chance to connect with Jamal.

It was 6:00 A.M. when the task force comprised of local policemen, U.S. Marshals, and DEA agents used a battering ram to knock Dawg’s door down. When he looked up there were three Marshals pointing automatic weapons at his head.

“Put your damn hands up where I can see them!” one of them shouted.
Dawg slowly held his hands up and was yanked off the bed. He was handcuffed, and the gun inside the nightstand was confiscated. “Will somebody tell me what in the hell is going on?” he asked.
“We have a warrant for your arrest, Steven,” Mark said before he ordered the other agents to search the house.
Dawg’s eyes met Mark’s, and then he started to laugh. “This is a joke, right, TJ?”
Mark pulled his DEA badge from his pocket and showed it to Dawg. “I’m afraid not. This is serious business. You’ve been indicted by the federal government.”
“For what?”
“Cocaine conspiracy,” Mark replied.
“So you’re really working for the fucking cops, huh?”
“I guess you can say that,” Mark said. “Take Mr. Davis downtown. We’ll search the apartment.”
Two local cops picked Dawg up from the floor and forced him toward the front door of the apartment. He stopped and turned to face Mark. “You know, I would have never thought you were a fucking sellout, low-down-ass cop.”
“I know, which is why you’re in deep shit”
The search yielded cell phone records, rental car receipts, and $120,000 in cash, all of which would be used in court. Mark was hoping they would find some product but was satisfied with the evidence that was gathered.

*** “Yo, man, I’m locked up,” Dawg said over the phone.

Jamal sat up in the bed and wiped his eyes. He glanced at his clock. It was ten in the morning and he was still half asleep. “I told you to pay that child support. How can you be so stupid?”

“I’m not locked up for child support, man. The Feds came and got me this morning.”
After a long pause, Jamal finally spoke. “What do you mean the Feds?”
“The DEA came and arrested me for drug conspiracy.”
Jamal stood and paced nervously. “Are they looking for me?”
“Naw, man. You wasn’t on the indictment, just me and those two chicks from Cali. It was a superceding indictment. They had already indicted the chicks months ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. What I need you to do is to get me a lawyer so I can find out what in the hell is going on. I go to court in the morning for arraignment.”
“You got that. I’ll make sure you have one of the best,” Jamal said before hanging up.

***

Dawg was arraigned and denied bond. Hours later, two Marshals brought him to an interrogation room for questioning. Mark, Jeremiah, and U.S. Attorney David Ricardo were present. “Good morning, Mr. Davis,” Mark said.

Dawg leaned his head back, avoided eye contact with Mark, and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know what make brothers get with the white man and bring other brothers down.”

“Don’t give me that white man shit!” David shouted. “The bottom line is, everyone in the room is from different backgrounds. We all had the same choices to make. It just so happened you made the wrong choices.”

“I can’t believe this shit,” Dawg said.

“Well, believe it, and also believe that you’re facing a life sentence,” David said.
“I’m going to go to trial on these charges. I ain’t accepting no plea, and I definitely ain’t helping ya’ll mu’fuckas bring other people down,” Dawg replied.
Mark pulled a small black device from a manila envelope. He turned the device on and a recording of Dawg’s voice suddenly filled the room. “Oh, we got plenty, man. It’s the best shit we’ve had in a long time.”
“How do you think a jury would react to hearing you brag about how good your shit is?” Mark asked.
“That wasn’t me,” Dawg replied.
“Sure sounds like you to me,” David said, smiling.
Dawg met David’s eyes with a hard stare and then placed his feet on the conference table. “I don’t give a fuck what it sounds like. You won’t get me to admit to shit.”
“Davis, I’ve seen you with drugs; you’ve sold me drugs. Don’t you see you cannot win?” Mark pleaded.
“I ain’t admitting to shit.”
“And you are definitely going to get life,” David said.
“Why am I here talking to you guys in the first place?” Dawg asked as he turned toward Mark.
Mark paced the floor. “Well, Dawg, it’s like this: Despite the fact that I feel you’re a low-life, I want to help you.”
“Well, if you want me to turn into an informant, you have the wrong man.”
“So I guess you don’t want to help yourself,” David said.
“Take me back to the county jail,” Dawg said.

***

The inmate visitation room at the county jail held a long line of phones on a Plexiglas partition, separating the inmate from the visitor. Jamal sat in a chair nervously awaiting Dawg’s arrival. When Dawg finally appeared, the two men smiled at each other before picking up the phones.“What’s up?” Jamal asked.

“A whole bunch of shit is going on.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t really trust these phones,” Dawg said.
“Keep it clean.”
Dawg looked over his shoulder at a deputy who was a few feet

away reading the sports section of the newspaper. “The guy that Ruff introduced me to, TJ, turned out to be a DEA agent.”

Jamal’s jaw dropped. “So what’s up with Ruff? Has he been indicted?”
“I don’t think so. I think he’s informing, though.”
This made sense to Jamal since Ruff was the guy who had introduced TJ, and he had not been indicted. “Has anybody said anything about me?”
“They brought me in to interrogate me, but I didn’t cooperate with them. I didn’t give them a chance to ask me nothing.”
Jamal nodded. “Is there anything you want me to do for you?”
“I just need you to get me an attorney, man. I really ain’t got no money since the Feds took my stash.”
“Okay, you have my word, I’ll get you the best attorney.”
“What about the girls? How do they come into the picture?”
Dawg shrugged. “I really don’t know. All I know is that their names were on the indictment. The Feds must have linked them to me or something.”
“Time’s up, guys,” the deputy said.
Dawg stood and smiled at Jamal once again. “I’m going to be a’ight, man. Don’t worry about me.”
“I know you’re going to be a’ight,” Jamal said before turning and walking out of the door. He really wanted to believe everything was going to be okay, but somehow he couldn’t.

***

Jamal didn’t know where to turn. His childhood friend was now in custody, and he knew it would be a matter of time before the Feds came after him—if they weren’t already looking for him. He needed someone to talk to, someone who could probably make some kind of sense of this whole situation. He knew Dream wouldn’t understand, and he knew he shouldn’t call Angelo because he didn’t want to say too much over the telephone since there was a strong possibility that his phone was tapped. After serious contemplation, he called Tony. For some reason, Jamal felt he would have some answers. They decided to meet at Starbucks again.

Jamal and Tony sat outside as a huge crimson sun beamed brightly. Tony was surprised to learn about Dawg’s detention.
“What in the hell did I pay you for?” Jamal asked.
“For protection from the DEA.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jamal replied.
Tony sipped his cappuccino slowly. “Well, you didn’t get indicted, did you?”
Jamal tapped the table nervously. “No, not yet. But who’s to say that it isn’t going to happen.”
“You’re right. It very well might happen. You boys should have stopped dealing when I told you about the investigation. I know you didn’t think the protection was going to last forever.”
“Listen, man, I don’t want to hear about what we should have done. The bottom line is, we chose to keep going. What I need for you to do is ask the agent if they’re still trying to indict my black ass, and if so, can I pay my way out.” Jamal’s eyes were intense.
Tony placed the Styrofoam coffee cup on the table. “I’ll call you tonight.”

***

Later that night Tony called Jamal. “I have some good news for you,” Tony sighed. “Dawg ain’t informing on you.”
“I already knew that. What else can you tell me?”
At this point, there is nothing we can do to help him. He is more than likely going to prison for a long time. It seems like Dawg has been selling to an agent and his case is pretty much open and shut.”
A brief silence subdued them. Jamal thought about his friend who had been jailed a few times in the past but had never actually done any prison time. Prison was a dreadful experience that Jamal didn’t wish on his worst enemy. “So can I pay your man some more money like I did the last time to get them to ease off me?” Jamal asked.
“No. There is nothing I can do about it now. You guys should have stopped when I warned you the last time.”
“I didn’t know Dawg was dealing with the DEA.”
“ Jamal, my advice to you is just lay low. If your boy don’t go running off at his mouth, you may have a chance, but you need to stop dealing.”

CHAPTER 20

D REAM’S LONG LEGS CLUTCHED his waist. Jamal breathed heavily as entered her. He kissed her passionately as her wet tongue whirled around in his ear. He loved when she did that; it made him harder. He also liked the fact that she was open and willing to try new things.

Twenty minutes and three positions later, they stopped, and a tear rolled down her cheek. The sex was so good. He lit a Black and Mild cigar and sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Since when did you start smoking cigars?” she asked.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been stressing lately,” he said as he exhaled.
She stared at him. His eyes were heavy, and he looked as though he had gained a few pounds around the midsection. “What’s wrong now?”
“The Feds locked Dawg up on drug charges.”
She looked him in the eye. “When did this happen?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“So what does this mean for you?”
He stood and put his boxer shorts on before answering. “Nothing, I hope.”
“But you don’t know whether you’re going to jail or not, do you?”
“No, I really don’t.” He sat back on the bed and dropped his head.
“Well that’s just fuckin’ wonderful. The man I am about to marry is going to prison. Let me tell you something, Jamal, I am not going to be spending my weekends visiting nobody at no damn prison.”
Jamal was dizzy from the cigar. He put it out in a Mountain Dew can that was on the floor. “I ain’t going to jail.”
“I guess this means you’re going to stop,” she said.
“No, this means that if the police, FBI, DEA, or anybody else comes to get me, they better be ready to die, because I will die before I go back to jail.”
Dream stood and slipped on some gray gym shorts that were lying on the dresser. “I can’t believe you’re talking like this. What are you, stupid or something? I mean, first these two girls get locked up, then your boy goes to jail. You might be next, but you don’t want to stop? Instead you are making preparations to shoot it out with the police. Jamal, you’re going to have to stop if we’re going to get married.”
Jamal avoided Dream’s eyes. “I already told you I was going to stop, but right now I need to make some money just in case the bastards are lucky enough to catch me with my guards down. I won’t be broke doing time. Plus, I’m gonna have to get Dawg a lawyer and retain one for myself.”
She suddenly remembered what Keisha had said about finding his mother. “I almost forgot to tell you that Keisha knows a private investigator who can probably find your mother if she can get a birth date and birthplace.”
“She was born November 17, 1954, in Orangeburg, South Carolina.”
Dream walked to the kitchen, opened the junk drawer, retrieved a pen, and quickly jotted the information down. She could tell by Jamal’s response that he really wanted some kind of closure in his search for his mother.

***

Jamal paid fifty-thousand dollars for Dawg’s legal defense. After he had left Dawg’s attorney’s office, Jamal and Dream visited Jamal’s old defense counsel for consultation. Thomas Henry was a board-certified criminal defense lawyer who specialized in drug cases. Thomas was a short, plump, white man with a receding hairline. He wore his hair in a ponytail. He drove a blue convertible Jaguar with ACQUIT on the license plate.

Thomas had represented Jamal on his last case. Initially Jamal was sentenced to twenty years, but Thomas had argued on a sentencing issue and got it reduced to five years on appeal. It had cost Jamal $75,000, but he felt he couldn’t put a price on his freedom.

Thomas and Jamal shook hands as soon as they saw each other. “Hey, buddy. It’s been a long time,” Thomas said. He turned to Dream and smiled.

“Yeah, almost six years,” Jamal said.
“Have a seat,” Thomas pointed to the two plush burgundy leather chairs that were in front of his desk. “What you got for me?”
“How much will you charge me for a retainer?”
“Is it a state or federal case?”
“Federal,”
“Usually it’s thirty thousand for a federal case, but for you, I’ll work something out since we go back,” Thomas said, smiling.
“I need to retain you now. I got a feeling I’m about to have a case real soon,” Jamal said as Dream looked on, concerned.
“Why do you say that?” Thomas asked.
Jamal turned from his gaze and Dream grabbed his hand. “Let’s just say a few people I know have been indicted for a drug conspiracy.”
“How do you know these people?” Thomas asked as he placed his elbows on the desk and rested his chin in the palm of his hands.
“I just know them from hanging out.”
Thomas looked at him suspiciously. “Now, Jamal, you know I know the game and besides, I’m on your side. Now if you want me to help, you must tell me what’s going on. I am not authorized to repeat anything that you say. Everything that goes on in this office is confidential.”
For the next twenty-five minutes Jamal disclosed all his dealings to Thomas. He told him about the California trips, his relationship with Tony, and the knowledge that Tony had given him about the DEA seeking an indictment. Thomas didn’t say anything; he just nodded and scribbled on a legal pad.
Dream was amazed at the whole story. It’s better than watching the Sopranos, she thought. She had known about most of Jamal’s involvement, but today was the first time she had heard about Tony and his involvement with the DEA.
“Do you think you can help me?” Jamal asked.
“Technically, Jamal, since you are not indicted, there’s nothing I can really do. I’ve got a few sources downtown in the U.S. Attorney’s office; I’ll keep my ear to the ground and see what I can find out for you.”
“Now, how much should I expect for you to charge me for the retainer?”
Thomas leaned back in his chair and began to run his fingers through his oily ponytail before saying, “Since you don’t actually have a case yet, I’ll say fifteen thousand dollars. I’m going to need an additional $45,000 before I can represent you in a trial.”
“I understand. Do you still take cash?”
“I’m not supposed to, but since it’s you, I’ll do it.”
Jamal smiled. “You know I’ve always been a cash-money type of guy.”
Thomas stood and walked over to the oak double doors and turned the gold lock. “Do you have the money on you now?”
“Yeah,” Jamal said before opening a black leather bag. The money was in thousand- dollar stacks. Jamal counted fifteen stacks.
Dream couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. In less than an hour she had seen Jamal spend $65,000 in cash for attorney’s fees for him and Dawg. It was no secret that Jamal and Dawg had been up to no good, but the attorneys were bigger crooks than the dealers were. The sad part was that they were robbing people, legitimately, with outrageous fees.
When they left the attorney’s office Dream noticed Jamal looked sad and he wasn’t saying much in the car. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked.
“I feel like a goddamn fool. I only have eighty grand left. The fucking lawyers are breaking my ass. I need to make some money.”
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to feel this way, and she certainly didn’t want him to think that he needed to have a whole bunch of money to have her affection. “I can sell my ring and the Mercedes. Those things aren’t important. The only thing that’s important is the way that I feel about you,” she said as she placed her hand on his ear.
What she said made him feel better. He had never met anyone who loved him unconditionally. He liked the feeling. They stopped at a downtown traffic light. “Baby, ain’t nobody selling shit. You’re keeping everything I bought for you. That’s the bottom line,” he said.
“I know you want me to keep the ring, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something desperate.”
He glanced over at her before the light turned green. “I don’t want to be broke and in jail. Eighty grand won’t last long. The lawyer will want forty-five grand of that.” He thought about the ring, the vehicles, the new apartment, the vacations and trips. He might have reached his goal of $500,000 and gotten out of the game if he hadn’t been so foolish with money.
“Baby, honestly, I don’t think you’re going to jail. I don’t see how,” she said naively.
“Well, I’ve been dealing with the system for a while, and I’ve got a better idea about how it works. The Feds are after me, and I need to go to Cali to see Angelo so I can make some money.”
“Well I’m going with you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Jamal hadn’t anticipated this. He grabbed her hand and held it tight.

***

Mark was sitting at his desk reading a Sports Illustrated article when his phone rang.
“DEA, Mark Pratt speaking.”
“Listen, man, I got some information you might want,” a voice said.
“First of all who is this?” Mark asked.
“My name is Eric Culpepper.”
“Would you speak up? I can barely hear you.”
“I can’t really talk too loud. I’m in the county jail, and the other inmates might hear me.”
“How did you get through without calling collect?”
“My baby’s mama called on the three-way.”
Mark assumed this guy had overheard somebody talking about some relevant information and decided to call the DEA. He knew more than likely the guy was facing some kind of charges himself that he was trying to get out of. In all his years of law enforcement Mark had never had anyone call from jail with information unless they were trying to get out. “You say you are in the county jail, huh?”
“Yeah,”
“I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”

***

Mark wore a black Kenneth Cole suit and a gray shirt. With a yellow legal pad in hand, he looked like a lawyer when he entered the room. The room was a large, cafeteria-style area with long white tables and mismatched chairs.

The inmate was a huge bronze-colored man with cornrows. He reeked of generic cigarettes.
“I’m Agent Mark Pratt.”
“I’m Eric. My friends call me Psycho.” The men shook hands before seating themselves.
“First of all, let me ask you, what are you in here for?” Mark asked.
“I’m awaiting trial for accused rape.”
The answer caught Mark totally off guard. Mark could never understand why a man would force himself on a woman. He suddenly disliked Psycho. “So what did you hear?”
“Before I give you my information, I’m going to have to know what you’re gonna do for me.”
Mark took a deep breath before speaking. “I can’t promise you anything, especially with the type of case you have. With a rape case, you either did it or you didn’t.”
“Listen, man, I did it,” Psycho said, wiping sweat from his brow. “I know I’m going to prison, but I don’t want to go for twenty years, which is the plea the D.A. is offering since I’m a habitual offender. I have two priors.”
Mark fumbled with his class ring as he listened carefully to Psycho. Now he really didn’t want to help a career criminal. “If your information is relevant, I’ll recommend that the D.A. give you ten years. Please understand that I cannot guarantee you anything.”
Ten years was still a very long time to be incarcerated, but Mark figured a veteran of the judicial system like Psycho could serve the time with no problems as long as there were weights, poker games and generic cigarettes. Psycho certainly didn’t appear to be the type that people would miss once he was away from the streets.
“A guy name Dawg is in my cell block and he shared a lot of information with me about his dealings.”
“Steven Davis?”
“That’s my man,” Psycho replied.
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me about trips he and his boy Jamal made to California and the girls who got busted bringing drugs from Cali. He told me about you and how some cat named Ruff introduced you to him.”
Mark didn’t bother writing the information down since there was nothing he didn’t already know. “This information you have is very general, but I still may need you to testify about what he told you. Would you have a problem with that?”
“No. I wanna do everything possible to help myself.”
Mark grimmaced at the sight of Psycho. He was indeed a real low-life. He was a rapist who would do anything to save his skin, but Mark thought he would be needed if Jamal was arrested. “I’ll be in touch with you a week before trial if we decide we need your testimony.”
Psycho frowned as he stood. “If you don’t decide to use me to testify, will you still be able to help me get a lower plea agreement?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“That’s life,” Mark said.

CHAPTER 21

M AY 29, 2003. Dream somehow believed she could protect Jamal. She felt that if she wasn’t with him, something would happen to him. She didn’t agree with what he was doing, but she knew she had to be there.

Angelo picked Jamal and Dream up from the San Diego National Airport. This was the first time Jamal had seen Angelo since Dawg had been arrested. Jamal filled him in on all the details.

“Your boy Ruff turned out to be an informant.”
“Jamal, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, man.”
“You say you’re sorry, but my best friend is in jail now because

of your sorriness.”

Angelo’s face became serious. “Hey, man, did you come out here to do business, or to jump all over my ass? Me and you are the last men standing.”

“I came to do business; I need money,” Jamal replied.

“Okay, that’s what I wanna hear. How much money do you have?”
“Enough for two kilos.”
“How are you gonna get the product back to the other side?”
Dream listened to their conversation, though she vaguely knew what was going on. She remembered Jamal telling her that the mules, Connie and Jennifer, had gotten locked up.
“I’ll take my own shit back. That ain’t my biggest concern,” Jamal answered.
Dream looked at Jamal. She never expected him to say that he would travel with drugs on him. “Honey, I don’t mean to butt in, but I don’t think that would be a good idea, especially since you feel that you’re being watched.”
“What in the hell am I suppose to do?”
Dream didn’t know what to say. She knew he was determined to make some money any way he could. She didn’t want him to take any unnecessary chances. She envisioned herself going through the airport with the drugs on her. Nobody would ever suspect her, she thought. “I’ll take it back this one time if you keep your promise that you’re going to stop dealing, Jamal.”
“She’ll probably have a better chance of getting it back than you,” Angelo said.
Jamal was surprised. He knew that she could probably go through the airport undetected, but he wanted to make sure that she understood what she was getting herself into. “Can I have a minute alone with her?” Jamal asked Angelo.
After Angelo had excused himself, Jamal said, “I don’t want you to think you have to do this, baby. I mean, I don’t want you to get in any trouble. You know if you get caught you’re going to jail.”
She looked straight in his eyes. “I know the risk, but I want to do it. I know nothing is going to happen to me. Look at me; do you honestly think anybody would suspect me?”
She was innocent and naïve. He knew she was right. “I think it will work as long as you’re alone,” he said.
“It will. Trust me,” she said. He pulled her close and they held each other.
“So what are we gonna do?” Angelo entered the room again.
“Get the dope, man. We’re ready to get out of here,” Jamal replied.
Jamal explained to Dream that the drug game was serious business and that she was expected to act accordingly. He made sure that she was dressed conservatively for the flight. She wore khaki pants and a white button-down shirt. Her hair was up in a bun, and she wore glasses and carried a San Diego State book bag. The drugs were stuffed in a girdle underneath her blouse. At the airport, she passed through the metal detectors and returned to North Carolina with no problem.

***

Two weeks later, Dream and Jamal returned to San Diego, but this time they weren’t able to score. In the California airport on the way back to Charlotte they were rushed by the DEA just as they stepped away from the ticket counter.

“Let me see your IDs,” a heavyset black man demanded, flashing a shiny DEA badge.
Jamal and Dream showed the man their IDs. “Okay, we’re going to have to conduct a strip search,” the man said before walking up to the attendant at the ticket counter and asking her to retrieve their bags. They would be searched as well.
“Why do you want to strip search us, man? What’s your reason?” Jamal said.
The big man grabbed Jamal’s arm and escorted him away.
Two female officers, one white and one Mexican, led Dream to a small office. “Okay, honey, I’m gonna need for you to get undressed,” the Mexican said.
Dream shook nervously. She knew she didn’t have any drugs on her but she had never experienced anything like this in her life. She felt violated. “You want me to do what?” she asked.
“Strip. Take everything off, ma’am.”
Dream was confused. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“We have reason to believe you are traveling with narcotics,” the white agent said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Dream shouted angrily.
“Just strip down, ma’am. If you’re clean you can go on about your business. If it turns out to be true then you are going to have to go with us.”
Reluctantly Dream peeled off her pants and shirt. “See, I ain’t carrying no drugs.”
“I’m gonna need for you to take everything off, ma’am.”
Dream looked at the white agent coldly. Is this lady some kind of lesbian? she wondered. She couldn’t believe they were going to infringe on her privacy. The last time she had been exposed was for her gynecologist for her yearly pap smear. She finally pulled down her panties and the agent asked her to bend over and cough. Dream was absolutely embarrassed.
“Okay, Ms. Nelson, everything seems to be fine. You are free to go. But let me warn you: Be careful who you hang out with,” the white agent said.
“What’s that suppose to mean?” Dream asked as she pulled up her pants.
“Means your boyfriend, Jamal, is a known drug dealer, and it’s just a matter of time before we get him. I suggest you stay away from him, because he is the subject of a federal investigation.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dream said sarcastically as she stepped out of the stall.
Jamal was nowhere to be found when she left the bathroom. Dream assumed he was still being searched. Hesitantly, she went to the gate where they were supposed to board, then took a seat. When Jamal showed up she was shaking, and he could tell she had been crying. He kissed her forehead. “Baby, I’m sorry this happened to you.”
She stood and they hugged. Her heart raced. He knew she had never experienced anything like this. He didn’t know what else to say to comfort her. Travelers scurried to different concourses. Announcements of flight departures and arrivals filled the airport, but Dream and Jamal were oblivious to their surroundings; all that mattered was that they were together and safe.

***

Dawg smiled broadly as he entered the visitation room and saw his best friend. He picked up the phone.
“What’s up, nigga?” Jamal asked.
“Not much. In here it’s the same old shit. Just trying to make it. You know how this shit can be.”
“I know.”
“So what’s been up with you?” Dawg asked.
“Just paying them lawyers up and trying to stay free, man, ’cause if both of us are locked up, we can’t help each other.”
“Well, you ain’t gotta worry about me. I mean, you know I ain’t gonna tell them shit. I’ll swallow a life sentence before I go out like that.”
Jamal stared at his friend through the Plexiglas partition. He suddenly remembered when he was on the other side awaiting trial a few years earlier when Dawg had come to see him. Now the whole scenario had reversed. Life was strange. “So what is your attorney saying?” Jamal asked.
“He’s says it’s not looking too good. He wants me to take a plea.”
“What kind of plea?”
“Ten at eighty-five percent, meaning I’ll have to do about eight and a half. If I take the plea, I’ll be thirty-six when I get out.”
“So what are they saying about me?”
“I don’t know, man. They took me to the interrogation room. Since I told them I ain’t have shit to say, and they brought me back here, I ain’t heard from the bastards.”
“How is your mom taking it?” Jamal asked.
“Ma is taking it alright. She’s gonna be at my trial.”
Jamal hated to think about Ms. Davis in the courtroom during Dawg’s trial. He knew the prosecution would make Dawg look like a madman. Prosecutors had to make the jury think that all dealers were a menace to society. The sad part about the whole thing was that the jurors almost always sided with the prosecution. Jamal knew the Feds had a ninety-five percent conviction rate. It was almost inevitable that his friend was going to prison. Jamal stared at Dawg. His hair had grown out wildly and the orange Mecklenburg county jumpsuit swallowed his thin frame. Dawg had lost about ten pounds. Many people lost weight in jail because of worrying and not being properly fed. “So when is trial?” Jamal asked.
“In three weeks,” Dawg said.
A deputy burst into the visiting room and held his arm up, looking at a watch. “Time’s up.”
“You know that I can’t be at your trial, right?” Jamal said. He didn’t particularly like hanging out in courtrooms. Plus he was afraid that he would be recognized by one of the DEA agents or the prosecuting attorneys.
“I know, man. Don’t worry about coming. Hell if I were you, I wouldn’t come either,” Dawg said as he stood and placed his hand flat on the glass. “One love.”
Jamal held up his hand, and they high-fived through the glass. “I’m wit’ you, nigga,” he said.

***

When Dream walked into Keisha’s office, she knew something was wrong because Keisha avoided eye contact. “Bad news, huh?”
“I’m afraid so,” Keisha said as she looked Dream in the eye for the first time.
“What’s wrong?” Dream asked.
“The private investigator couldn’t find Jamal’s mother.”
“Oh, I know he’ll probably be disappointed, but he’ll live.”
“That’s not all the bad news,” Keisha said as she glanced through the window of her office.
Dream narrowed her eyes. “What do you have to tell me?”
Keisha handed Dream a copy of a newspaper article dated February 8, 1999.
The headline read NORTH CHARLOTTE BAGLADY BURNED: Dream read the article.

The eerie smell of charcoaled human flesh hung in the air as firefighters retrieved what is believed to be Mary Stewart. The burns were so severe she couldn’t be positively identified. Court documents with her name were discovered outside the abandoned house where her body was found. For the last four months, people of the North Charlotte neighborhood saw Stewart pushing a grocery cart up and down the streets or standing at the corner of Davidson and the Plaza with a cardboard sign that read: PLEASE HELP ME EAT TODAY. The cart contained her belongings: a couple of sweaters; a huge black nylon purse; two pairs of socks, one of which she had used as mittens; and a huge blanket. Who was Mary Stewart and why was she so down on her luck? People of the neighborhood, who asked to remain anonymous, said Stewart was a crack addict who stole and conned to get her hands on money to support her habit. Police records indicate that she had been picked up three times within the past year for petty larceny and other misdemeanor charges, often released on her own recognizance. When she got out of jail she had nowhere to go, and she often slept in abandoned houses along with other addicts.

February 6 was the coldest day of this winter, with temperatures below freezing. Before nightfall Stewart is believed to have made her way into one of the houses to start a fire for warmth. Shortly after that, it is believed that she dozed off, and the fire burned out of control, trapping the victim inside. She is survived by a son whose whereabouts are unknown.

Dream couldn’t believe what she had just read. She sat looking ahead without saying a word. She immediately thought about Jamal and how he would react to the news. Why hadn’t somebody told him? she wondered. With all the things Jamal was going through, she didn’t know if now would be a good time to break the bad news to him. She looked at Keisha who was still staring out of the window not saying a word. “Keisha, what should I do?”

“I don’t know. This is one of the saddest stories I have ever read in my life.”
“I know. How did your private eye find it?”
“He searched the Internet and found the article. After reading it he went down to county records and found the death certificate. He’s good, isn’t he?”
“Too damn good,” Dream said, still staring at the article.
“You got your hands full, baby girl, “Keisha sighed. “I suggest that you don’t tell him.”
Dream placed her hand underneath her chin and shook her head sadly. “I can’t tell him. Now is definitely not the time with all that is going on.”
“What’s going on?” Keisha asked curiously.
“Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I gotta be concerned if my girl is concerned.”
Dream knew Keisha would keep prying for information. It was her nature. Dream could never hide anything from her. In college, Dream had briefly dated Chris Watson, a guy from White Plains, New York. One night after a basketball game, she and Chris had started arguing in front of the sophomore dormitory. Chris got upset and slapped Dream, leaving her with a black eye. Keisha found out, but Dream denied that it had happened. Keisha confronted Chris, and when he admitted to assaulting Dream, Keisha had several guys on the football team rough him up.
Dream didn’t really want to go into detail about what was going on with Jamal, but she felt she had to tell her friend something. “Jamal is being watched,” Dream said in a barely audible voice.
“Watched? What do you mean? Who is he being watched by?”
“I think the Feds are watching him.”
Keisha’s face grew serious. “What makes you say that?”
Dream knew she had just opened the door for a barrage of questions. She knew Keisha would start telling her what she should and shouldn’t do, and she wasn’t in the mood to hear her best friend acting like a mother. “His boy, Dawg got, locked up.”
“That nigga ain’t involved you in his bullshit, has he?”
Dream and Keisha’s eyes met briefly before Dream turned away. She thought about the trips to California. There was no way she could let Keisha know that she and Jamal had been approached by the DEA. Though she had volunteered to bring drugs back, she knew she couldn’t tell Keisha, because she would assume Jamal had forced her to do something she didn’t want to do. “Of course not,” she lied.
“Good. You remember what happened to Kyla Stevens, don’t you?”
Kyla Stevens, a beautiful, light-skinned girl with long, wavy hair, had attended high school with Dream and Keisha. After high school, when Dream and Keisha headed to North Carolina Central University, Kyla went to Clark Atlanta University and got involved with a big drug dealer. After Kyla’s freshman year, she came back to Charlotte driving a Mercedes CLK. A lot of girls were jealous of her—until she was indicted as part of a drug ring. Ten months after her arrest, she was sentenced to twenty-five years in federal prison.
“I remember what happened, but believe me, her situation is nothing like mine,” Dream replied.
“I want you to leave Jamal alone. If you don’t, I’m going to tell your parents what he’s into,” Keisha said, her voice full of emotion.
“Don’t you dare,” Dream said. She thought about the possibility of her parents learning that Jamal was selling drugs. She would never hear the end of it. She could imagine the disappointment on her father’s face. She knew her parents would be hurt, especially if she was ever charged with anything. She knew God had been on her side in San Diego. If she had gotten arrested, she would have embarrassed her parents, and that was something she would never want to do.
“You need to stop seeing him or else I swear to you, I’m going to tell your parents.”
“Keisha, don’t test me. It’s not that easy, especially since we planned to get married. I mean I am human. I just can’t cut somebody out of my life and say the hell with them.”
Keisha walked up and placed her arm on Dream’s shoulder. “I know, but please understand, I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
“Nothing is gonna happen,” Dream said. But she wasn’t so sure.

CHAPTER 22

A T 8:00A.M. JAMAL rolled out of bed, showered, and was putting some frozen blueberry waffles in the toaster when the phone rang. “Jamal?”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Thomas Henry here. Just calling to touch bases with you.”
The toaster bell sounded. Jamal spread some strawberry jam on his waffles and added maple syrup. “Did you find out anything?”
“Yeah. One of my ex-law partners works in the U.S. Attorney’s office says you are definitely being watched closely. He said something about you being affiliated with Steven Davis.”
“Yeah, that’s my friend, the guy I was telling you about,” Jamal said as he put his plate down and walked to the living room with the cordless phone.
“As of right now, you are in the clear, but it seems like one of those agents down there has a wild hair in his ass. He wants you bad and is asking every new arrestee if they have any information about you.”
Jamal paced nervously and peered through the huge bay window. He was glad Thomas Henry had looked into the investigation, but he wasn’t thrilled with the information that had been relayed. He suddenly lost his appetite. Prison time looked very possible. He thought about Dawg and how he looked in jail with his orange jumpsuit. He thought about not being able to do simple things again such as: chewing gum, driving cars, and dating a woman. He knew he would lose Dream if he went to jail. He sat on the sofa and took a deep breath.
“Actually there is nothing you can do, except hope everything blows over after your friend goes to trial.”
“And if it doesn’t blow over?”
“Just come to my office in the morning.”

***

The following morning, Jamal was restless and jittery as he sat in the lobby of Thomas Henry’s law firm. He bit his fingernails while looking at a People magazine. The lobby brought back many unpleasant memories. He remembered his first visit. He was nineteen the first time he had gotten into trouble. He had gotten locked up for the unlawful possession of a handgun, and the arresting officer had promised that he would go to jail. Jamal was a kid then, and the possibility of being locked up was scary. He had known older guys in the neighborhood who had gone to prison and lost their minds. Some even turned gay. Others became dangerous predators, like child molesters and rapists. He was so afraid of going to jail at nineteen, when he first met Thomas he had told him he would take any amount of probation; he just didn’t want to go to prison. That case was ultimately dismissed. Here it was almost ten years later, and he was a now veteran of the judicial system. The possibility of prison time was still just as unappealing.

The receptionist called and led him to Thomas’s office. “What’s up?” Jamal said. He took a seat in the chair across from

Thomas’s desk.
“Jamal, I’m gonna be honest with you. Like I said on the phone,
it seems as though they don’t have anything on you as of yet, but
if your friend is convicted and it doesn’t blow over, they are going
to try to get you and put you away for a long time,” Thomas said
as he adjusted his tie and avoided eye contact with Jamal. Jamal was silent.
Thomas met his gaze. “If you are indicted and the trial blows,
yeah there’s a pretty good chance you’ll go back to prison.” Jamal turned from Thomas. “Fuck that. I’m leaving this place
now. I ain’t sticking around to go to jail for some bullshit.” “Where are you going?”
Jamal stood and turned toward the door. “I ain’t telling you shit.
I don’t trust nobody.”
Thomas hesitated before speaking. “I was just going to tell you
that if you needed a passport I can get you one, but you’ve got to
pay. I don’t suggest you go anywhere until after your friend goes to
trial.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jamal said.

***

The first week in June, it had rained for three days straight. Rain was common during this time. Dream sat on her living room floor looking at pictures of wedding dresses as the thunder roared and crackled outside.

It had been four months since Jamal had proposed, and they still hadn’t made any plans and hadn’t set a wedding date. Jamal admitted to her that he was waiting on the outcome of Dawg’s trial. Dream knew that if Dawg was sent to prison, they weren’t going to get married.

The trial was two days away. Dream would be glad when it was all over, regardless of the outcome. She dozed off, lying on the floor, and dreamed of her wedding day. She dreamed of a huge wedding with more than five hundred guests: two pianists, and two soloists, ten bridesmaids and three flower girls. All her friends from school were there, and Keisha was her maid of honor. Jamal wore a black tuxedo with a lavender vest and tie. Everybody stood as she walked down the aisle. Her parents were there, looking proud.

Something was missing from her dream. As she strolled down the aisle, she noticed that there weren’t any family or friends on Jamal’s side of the church, not even a best man. She woke up in a cold sweat and said a quick prayer for Dawg before dozing again.

***

The morning of Dawg’s trial, Jamal didn’t eat breakfast. He didn’t have an appetite. All he kept thinking about was his friend and what he was in for. Jamal felt kind of guilty that all of this had happened to Dawg. He knew it was going to take a miracle for his friend to win this trial. Jamal had known only one guy to beat a federal drug case, and just before leaving the courtroom, that same guy had a new indictment from another district by fax.

It was ten o’clock when Jamal finally got out of bed. The trial was set, and he knew, regardless of the outcome, his life would never be the same. If Dawg was convicted, Jamal would have to get out of town. If he was acquitted, Jamal knew he had to find something else to do besides drugs, because the Feds would pursue him relentlessly.

Jamal wanted a normal life with a house, a wife, and a dog. He wanted to find a good job and settle down with Dream. She was a good woman, and he knew he was very fortunate to find someone like her. She wanted him to stop selling drugs. She had asked him a long time ago, and he really wanted to stop. He had initially planned on making a half-million dollars, and they had hoped to make it quickly, get out of the business, and stay legitimate. Having set aside all lawyer fees, he now had nearly $100,000. But how long would he have it? he wondered. How long could he run with such a relatively small amount? He needed to make preparations for the worst—and fast. He needed a new identity.

***

Cedric Patterson was a tall, slender, clean-cut man with honeycolored skin and perfect teeth. He had a fetish for designer clothing. He and Jamal had met at a federal prison in Butner, North Carolina. Cedric had been sentenced to twenty-four months for credit card fraud. He had six other co-defendants who were placed on probation, but he was sentenced to prison since he was the mastermind of the little credit-card scheme. Cedric was a fairly intelligent guy who had worked at American Community Financial Company as a loan officer. For six years he took profile information from consumers and stole identities. He would then pass the information on to members of his ring who would get credit cards and loans under the assumed identities. Some even got cars that they would later sell to a chop shop in Pennsylvania, along with fictitious titles that Cedric made on his home computer.

Two months earlier, Jamal had run into Cedric in a local nightclub. Cedric told him he could get him a new identity for four hundred dollars.

Cedric had several identities Jamal could choose from. The first was Jeremy Collins, who was born in 1970 in Indiana. He had excellent credit and only a few minor brushes with the law, according to the criminal record Cedric pulled from the Internet. Jamal liked his profile—except for the fact that he was white. Because of this, Cedric warned that it might raise a red flag if Jamal was ever to get a job, or even use it for credit purposes.

The next identity was Rashaun Ingram. Rashaun was a twentysix-year-old black man with poor credit, and he was wanted for child support. It didn’t take long for Jamal to decide he didn’t want any part of that guy. The last and final identity was for Andre Michael Von, from Tampa, Florida. He was a thirty-one-year-old black man with a decent credit history and a simple possession-ofmarijuana charge. After reviewing his identity, Jamal decided Andre would have to work. “What information do you have on this guy?” Jamal said.

“I’ve got his birth certificate, and I can make you a Social security card. You can either take it down to the Department of Motor Vehicles and get you an ID, or I can make you one of those, too.”

“What do you suggest?”
“I would probably get the one from the DMV, because the one that I make really ain’t the best quality. A veteran cop can tell that it’s fake.”
Jamal was silent for a moment. He didn’t want to use a lowquality ID. He would probably have to get a passport through his lawyer and leave the country soon. Jamal pulled four crisp, onehundred-dollar bills from his wallet and gave them to Cedric.
Cedric smiled and gave Jamal the necessary paperwork. “Let me know if you meet anybody who needs their credit straightened out. I can do that for five hundred dollars,” Cedric said.
Jamal put the documents in his pocket and nodded. He couldn’t believe it had been three years since he and Cedric were at Butner together. They had both gotten out and gone back to the same things that had put them in. It was what they knew best.

***

Jamal was at home lying across his bed, thinking about the possibility of going back to prison and where he would run if the Feds indicted him. He knew he could not stay in this country without the risk of being spotted by some damn Good Samaritan.

He received a call from the security desk down stairs. The guard informed him that Candy Melton was in the lobby and that she wanted to come up and see him urgently.

“Send her up.”

Jamal walked to the bathroom, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. He hadn’t seen Candy since the day he’d put her out of his car and told her to walk home. He had moved since the last time he had seen her. How in the hell did she find out where I live?

Jamal opened the door and invited Candy into his apartment. He offered her a seat, but she declined. “What brings you over here, and how in the hell did you know where I live?”

“Jamal, let me start by saying that I apologize for just showing up at your home like this, but I really need to talk to you about something.”

Jamal’s face became serious. “Again, how did you find out where I live?”

 

“I have a friend who works at the cable company. The cable bill is in your name.”

 

“Okay. What’s so important that you had to track me down? I hope you ain’t come over here for no damn money, because I ain’t giving you shit.”

Candy sighed and turned away briefly before resuming eye contact. “I wish it was something like that, but it’s a little bit more complicated.”

“What do you mean?”
“Jamal, I think you need to get tested for HIV.”
“What the fuck are you saying?”
“I was seeing someone else at the same time I was seeing you.” “And?”
Candy didn’t say anything but looked away again.
“Okay, what does that have to do with me?”
“Yesterday the damn guy showed up at my apartment and said

that he thinks I should get tested.” Candy now had tears in her eyes.
“Does he have AIDS?”
“No, but he says that he is HIV positive.” She wiped her eyes with both hands.
“That’s the same shit in my book.”
Tears slowly rolled down Candy’s cheeks. “I haven’t been tested yet. Jamal, I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I’m HIV positive.”
“I hope you don’t expect no sympathy from me. First of all, you come to my house and tell me that you have possibly exposed me to some bullshit,” Jamal said as he walked over to the door and opened it. “Get out of here before I kill your ass.”
Candy used her hands to wipe her eyes again as she took a step toward the door. “Jamal, I’m sorry, I swear to you.”
“You damn right you sorry. A sorry-ass bitch is what you is,” Jamal said as he was about to close the door. After a few seconds of contemplating, he yanked her back into the apartment. “You know what, I can’t let you get off that easy.” He closed the door. “Who is this nigga spreading this shit?”
“His name is Raoul.”
“What kind of name is that? Is this mu’fucka Spanish?”
“I think he’s half Dominican or something.”
“Where the fuck does he live?” Jamal asked.
“I don’t know?”
“Bitch, don’t lie to me.”
“I ain’t lying.”
Jamal grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”
Candy’s face became flushed, and she struggled to get away. But Jamal was too strong. “Jamal, let my arm go. You’re hurting me.”
Jamal scooped Candy up and carried her into the bedroom, closed his door, pulled a handgun from underneath his pillow, and waved it in her direction. “You’re going to tell me where this nigga lives, or else you ain’t gonna have to worry about no fuckin’ virus.”
“He lives near the university.”
Jamal cocked the hammer on the handgun. “We’re going to pay this Raoul a visit.”
“Why are you doing this, Jamal? You don’t even know if you got the virus or not.”
“I just want to see how the nigga looks in case I have to kill his ass later. I swear to you, Candy, if I got the virus, somebody is going to die,” Jamal fumed.
Candy’s pupils expanded. She stared up at Jamal while lying on her back.
“Get the fuck up and take me to this mu’fucka.”

CHAPTER 23

R AOUL WAS A SMALL-TIME crack dealer who pretended to have more money than he actually had. According to Candy, she had met him in the club one night, and he had propositioned her to have sex with him for a thousand dollars. When they arrived at the hotel room, he then confessed to having only five hundred. She was pissed, but she still took the money. They then started having sex on a regular basis. Candy admitted that she had actually started enjoying their sexual escapades so much, she stopped charging him because she wanted it just as bad as he did.

Raoul’s townhome was in a quiet neighborhood lined with huge oak trees. Jamal pulled in the driveway with his headlights off. He didn’t want any attention from the neighbors.

Jamal and Candy walked up to Raoul’s doorstep and rang the bell.
A few minutes later Raoul opened the door. He was a short man with curly hair and a thin mustache. “Candy,” Raoul said, then looked at Jamal.
“Raoul, this is Jamal,” Candy said.
“What’s up?” Raoul offered his hand.
Jamal left it dangling. “You tell me. What’s up?” Jamal said.
“What’s this guy’s problem?” Raoul asked Candy.
“Jamal thinks he may have been exposed to the virus because he and I were once involved.”
“Okay,” Raoul said.
“Is that all you can say?” Jamal said.
Raoul shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”
“Raoul, can we come in?” Candy asked as she looked around. “I know you don’t want your neighbors to hear all your business.”
“I don’t want this motherfucker to come in my house.” Raoul stared at Jamal. “I don’t like his attitude.”
Jamal shoved Candy aside and walked up to the doorway and brandished a stainless steel handgun. “I think you need to let us in.”
Raoul stepped back.
“Jamal, put the gun away,” Candy pleaded.
Jamal and Candy entered the house. Candy closed the door.
“Mu’fucka, you better convince me that I might not have the damn virus, or else you going to hell tonight.”
“You’re going to get out of my house making threats.”
“Listen,” Jamal said, pointing his finger in Raoul’s face.
Raoul knocked his hand down.
Jamal struck Raoul with the butt of the gun across the forehead. Blood spurted in every direction. Raoul fell backward, and the back of his head hit the floor.
Jamal stepped back realizing some of Raoul’s blood had gotten on his shirt. He rested over Raoul, pinning his arms to the floor using both knees. He stuck the barrel of the gun in Raoul’s mouth. “Imagine how close you are to death.”
“Get off him or I’ll call the police, Jamal.”
Jamal made eye contact with Candy. She was standing by the doorway with the phone in her hand. He realized he had too much at stake. He really wanted to kill Raoul. Even though he wasn’t certain he had the virus, the thought itself was troublesome. He knew he had been exposed because he and Candy had never used protection. He saw fear in Candy’s eyes, and tears had begun to well up in Raoul’s. Jamal’s mind then shifted to Dream. How would he tell her he had exposed her? She would definitely leave him at the worst point of his life. He thought about Dawg who was awaiting trial. His friend needed him to stick around at least until he found out his fate. He knew that if he killed Raoul he would have to leave town immediately, and he wasn’t quite ready because he hadn’t been charged with anything. He pulled the barrel of the gun from Raoul’s mouth and slapped him with the butt of it once more. Jamal darted out of the front door got in his car, and drove away.

***

The next day Jamal called a local doctor’s office and scheduled an appointment for an HIV test. When he got to the receptionist’s desk, he was told to pay a hundred dollars since he didn’t have health insurance. After he filled out the questionnaire about previous illnesses, the doctor came out and escorted him to a back room.

With a clipboard in hand the doctor studied Jamal’s paperwork. “HIV testing, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jamal answered.
“Do you think you’ve been exposed?”
“No,” Jamal lied.
“Do you want the results to be public record?”
“I have a choice?” Jamal asked, surprised.
“Yeah. Since you paid for the test out of your pocket, you have that option. If you had health insurance, we would have had no choice but to make it public record. Sometimes this information is sold to databases and can even end up on the Internet.”
Jamal was shocked. He couldn’t believe that paying a hundred dollars would ensure so much privacy. He wondered how many people were actually infected with the virus, living life as if they weren’t. Jamal was glad he had this option, because he definitely didn’t want Dream to find out. She couldn’t know whether the results were negative or positive. He didn’t want her to know that she had been exposed. “I don’t want anybody to know,” Jamal said.
The doctor then asked Jamal to sign a consent form. Shortly afterward, a nurse entered the room and withdrew a sample of blood from Jamal’s left arm. The nurse told him to sit in the lobby and that the results of the test would be available in twenty minutes. “The doctor will call you back and go over the results with you,” she said.
Jamal sat in the lobby wondering how everything had gone so bad at once. What did he do to deserve such bad luck? He had always thought of HIV as a gay man’s disease. He’d stayed clear of homosexuals while in prison. He was a real man and he prided himself in being a real man. He couldn’t believe that being HIV positive was so much a possibility. He glanced at his watch and twenty minutes had passed, so he approached the receptionist. “Excuse me. The nurse said the doctor would be calling me in twenty minutes.”
“Whenever the doctor is ready he will call for you,” the receptionist said.
“What’s taking the doctor so long?” Jamal asked.
“I don’t know,” the receptionist said. “Just have a seat, Mr. Stewart, and I’m sure someone will be with you shortly.”
Jamal returned to his seat; ten minutes passed and he still hadn’t heard from anyone. He stood from his seat and eased out of the front entrance.

***

Mark was confident that they would win the trial. The prosecution had sufficient evidence against Dawg. Besides the recording, Mark had purchased drugs directly from Dawg. He was relieved that the trial would be over soon. He wasn’t glad that Dawg was about to go to prison for a long time. He actually thought Dawg was a decent man who hadn’t had the guidance he needed to be a well-rounded person. Mark sometimes found it hard to separate his job from personal feelings.

During the past winter months, Mark had talked to Dawg extensively about his family, his future, and his goals. Dawg had told him he didn’t want to be involved in drug dealing for the rest of his life. He had aspirations to own his own business someday. He had told Mark that he wanted to have a carwash or a lawn service; something that didn’t have a lot of overhead.

Dawg’s mother was a hard-working woman employed by a local nursing home in downtown Charlotte. She was a maid and had worked there for the last fifteen years without missing a day, according to Dawg. Mark was almost certain he would see Dawg’s mother in the courtroom.

Steven Davis was only twenty-eight years old, facing at least twenty-five years behind bars if convicted. The only way he would get less than the mandatory twenty-five was to testify against Jamal and Angelo. Mark didn’t expect him to do that. Dawg and Jamal were like brothers. they had a special relationship. Mark knew the trial would be an emotional one, but he had a job to do.

Dawg’s jury of peers consisted of ten middle-aged white men, one white woman, and a black woman, Mable Johnston, who listed her occupation as a Sunday school teacher. The judge was Theodore Owens, a sixty-eight-year old Republican from Mississippi. He was often selected in drug cases and had a reputation for giving the maximum sentence allowed.

Mark sat behind the prosecutor’s table. Dawg, along with his attorney, sat at a table adjacent to the prosecution. His mother, Patricia Davis, was a light-skinned, heavyset woman with a natural haircut. His attorney, Michael Conner, was very capable and wellrespected in the legal community. Two weeks after Dawg’s indictment was issued, Michael had negotiated a ten-year plea agreement, which Dawg quickly declined, a move that made absolutely no sense to Mark. Now the stakes were higher, and today Michael would have to fight for Dawg’s life.

Once the trial began the prosecution began an all-out attack. Their witnesses included Ruff, Mark, and a car salesman. Jennifer was testifying in exchange for a reduced sentence. Mark was later called to the witness stand to testify about five kilos of cocaine that Dawg had sold him. A car salesman testified that Dawg made a large cash down payment on a Mercedes. All the testimony corroborated, and great details were given about the money and the cocaine with which Dawg had been associated. The next day the prosecution called a surprise witness, Psycho, an inmate from Dawg’s cellblock.

“What the hell is he doing in here?” Dawg shouted. “I need order in this court,” Judge Owens demanded. He slammed his gavel hard and peered down over his glasses. “Mr. Conner, you need to talk to your client about how to conduct himself in my courtroom.”

Michael turned to Dawg. “Listen, we don’t want to upset this judge. You need to get a hold of yourself.”
“I just want to know why in the hell is this guy on the witness stand.”
“Do you know this guy?”
“Yeah, he is in my cellblock.”
“Let’s just see what he has to say,” Michael said before apologizing to the judge for Dawg’s outburst.
For the next forty-five minutes, Psycho testified that Dawg had told him about trips to California to pick up large sums of drugs. He said Dawg told him about large quantities of money that he and Jamal had made weeks before the arrest. He ended his testimony by telling the jury about thousands of dollars Dawg had allegedly spent on cars, women, and jewelry.
After four days of testimony and rebuttal, the trial ended. It took the jury only thirty-eight minutes to return with a verdict. The judge asked everyone to rise. The jury foreman, a middleaged white man with a large brown birthmark on his balding forehead, was then instructed by the judge to announce the verdict. “We the jury find Steven Davis guilty as charged as to count one, guilty as charged as to count two; and guilty as charged as to count three.”
Mark had mixed emotions about the verdict. He was happy that he had been effective in doing his job, but at the same time; he was sad that another black mother would lose her son to the prison system. He glanced over at Dawg who was hugging his mother tightly as she wept.
The sentencing would be put off for another six weeks, and again, Mark would have to be present to see Dawg and his mother.

***

Jamal and Dream were on the way to his apartment when he had received a call on his cell phone from Thomas Henry. He listened in silence as Dream drove. A huge frown suddenly covered Jamal’s face as he absorbed the bad news.

“What’s wrong?” Dream asked.
“My lawyer just received information that Dawg was found guilty and that the grand jury is scheduled to meet in a couple of weeks. My phone records and my credit report have been subpoenaed. He said it was quite likely that Angelo and I will be indicted soon.”
“What does that mean for us?” Dream asked.
“It means the marriage is off. I’ve got other things to worry about—like, my ass,” Jamal said, without looking at her.
“Is your attorney sure that the grand jury is going to try to indict you?” Dream had already assumed that she and Jamal would never get married. Her plan of an extravagant, beautiful church wedding was simply a dream.
“He’s never lied before,” Jamal replied. His attorney had worked with a lot people in the prosecutor’s office. Thomas was connected, and he could find out about any ongoing investigation.
“So what are you gonna do?”
“I need to get some of my things out of the apartment. I can’t stay there anymore.”
When they arrived at his condo, Jamal quickly gathered some clothes and personal belongings.
“So where are you going tonight?”
“I don’t know,” he said, glancing at her briefly before shoving some of his belongings into several laundry bags.
“Do you think it’s necessary to leave tonight?”
“Yeah. The last time they got my ass, it was about four in the morning. The Feds are some sneaky mu’fuckas,” he said.
Twenty-five minutes later they rode without saying a word to each other. The CD player was barely audible. Dream didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. She had never experienced anything quite like this before. She didn’t want Jamal to go to prison, but she had made up her mind that she was not going with him. She felt she had already been involved with his criminal activities a little too much. She had dealt with criminals before, but only petty ones. Jamal was in a class by himself, and she loved him.
“So you really don’t know where you are going, huh?”
Jamal adjusted his seat and leaned back. “Not right now. But I know I will probably end up on one of the Caribbean Islands.”
“You’re just gonna live the rest of your life running? How long do you think you can do that?”
“ I have a phony birth certificate and Social Security number. After I get a new passport I think I’ll be set,” he replied. He felt comfortable telling Dream his plans. He didn’t feel she would ever tell anyone.
They pulled into a CVS drugstore. Jamal needed razors to shave his head. Andre Von would be a bald guy with a clean-shaven face.
After exiting the store, Jamal heard someone call out his name. He turned and met Patricia Davis, Dawg’s mother. He had only seen her twice since he had gotten out of prison. “Hey, Ma,” Jamal said as he hugged his friend’s mother. Her eyes were red and puffy.
“I guess you heard about Steven, huh?” she said softly.
Jamal felt remorseful about his friend being locked up, even though he knew Dawg’s mother wasn’t accusing him of having anything to do with it. It didn’t feel right to him that he was free and Dawg was locked up. “Yeah, I heard about him,” Jamal said, before dropping his head.
“We just gotta keep the faith. It’s cloudy right now with my son locked up like an animal, but I know the Lord is gonna bring us some sunshine. Just like after your mama got killed. It was cloudy for a while. We didn’t think we were going to make it, but we did.”
Jamal raised his head. “What did you just say?” His voice was thick with emotion.
“I said right after your mama was killed, we didn’t think we were going to make it but we did.”
“My mama was killed?” Jamal asked, looking her directly in her eyes.
“Oh, my God,” Mrs. Davis said, covering her mouth. “You didn’t know that your mama had been killed, did you, baby?”
Jamal’s mouth flew open. His lips went dry, and his eyes became misty. “How was my mama killed?”
“I’m sorry, Jamal. I’m really sorry, baby.” She grabbed him around his shoulders.
“How was she killed?” Jamal demanded as he stepped away from her grip.
“Your mama was killed in a fire. She burned up in an abandoned house trying to keep warm. I’m sorry, baby, I really am. I told Steven to tell you. I guess he didn’t know what or how to say it.” Her voice was sincere.
Jamal dropped his shopping bag and stared at the ground. His only flesh and blood was gone and he had lost his best friend to the judicial system. He had met the love of his life and now he had to leave her. The possibility of being HIV positive haunted him. For the first time he didn’t have any direction. Patricia grabbed his hand and took him in her arms again. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. The Lord is on our side.” She patted him on the back lightly.
Jamal lowered his head before kissing her on the cheek. He pulled ten-1-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and gave them to her. “Make sure Dawg has money while he’s downtown in the jail.” They hugged. He gathered his shopping bag and walked slowly to his Mercedes. The night air chapped his already dry lips, and the dashing sounds of the traffic in front of the store grew louder. Car brakes screeched and sirens from far away rang out. The world and the people in it were busy. In no way slowing down, the world had moved on, without Mary Stewart. Sixteen steps seemed like a ten-minute walk, but he finally arrived at his car.
“I saw you with that lady. What was that all about?” Dream said.
Tears rolled down Jamal’s face. “That was Dawg’s mother. She just told me my mother was killed in a fire.”
Dream turned from his gaze without responding.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, I heard,” she said in a barely audible voice.
Jamal reclined his seat and covered his face with his hand. “I guess you just don’t give a flying fuck, huh?”
Dream leaned into him, putting her head on his midsection. “Baby, you know that’s not true. It’s just . . . ”
He sat up and they made eye contact. “What were you about to say?”
She turned away and noticed Dawg’s mother pulling out of the parking lot in a silver Pontiac. “I already knew your mother had been killed. The private eye that Keisha knows found out.”
“Why in the hell didn’t you say something to me?” he yelled.
She didn’t know what to say. She felt horrible for hiding the truth; she simply had not known how to tell him. “So much was going on with Dawg’s trial and everything. I didn’t think you needed something else to worry about.”
He grabbed her arm and made her face him. “You didn’t want to worry me? We are talking about my mother here. This ain’t something that could have waited. Didn’t you think I should know?”
“Baby, I’m sorry. I should have told you. But put yourself in my position and tell me what you would have done. Your boy, Dawg, must have known for years, and he didn’t tell you. So I’m not the only one who couldn’t find the words.”
Jamal placed his head on the steering wheel and sobbed. “I ain’t got nobody now. Dawg is going to prison for probably the rest of his life, and my mother is gone. To make matters worse, the Feds are trying to send me to prison, too.”
Dream patted his back while he sobbed. Finally when she saw that he wasn’t able to drive, she took the wheel, and Jamal sat on the passenger side. He reclined with his arm across his face. His crying was unbearable. Dream had never seen a grown man cry like Jamal, but she had not lost one of her parents either.

CHAPTER 24

W HEN DREAM PULLED UP in front of her apartment building it was only 8:00 P.M. She glanced over to see if Jamal was okay. He was silent.
“Jamal, are you gonna be alright?”
He sat up and lit a cigar. “I’m okay. I just had to get myself together.”
“So I guess you’re getting out of town tonight, huh?” she asked.
“Yeah, can’t stick around here,” he said as he rolled the window down and blew out his cigar smoke.
She felt awkward talking to him. She didn’t want him to leave, but given the circumstances, she knew he had to. “I guess you’ll call me when you get where you’re going, huh?”
He nodded and leaned into her, giving her a peck on her jaw.
“Give me a real kiss,” she demanded.
He leaned into her; their parted lips met, and they kissed passionately for about three minutes. His lips were wet and succulent, and Dream’s whole body was shivering when she finally pulled away.
“Please stay the night with me,” she pleaded.
He grabbed her hand and stroked it gently. “I want to, believe me, but I gotta go, baby. I can’t rot in nobody’s jail.”
She hesitated. “Well, I’m coming with you.”
He looked at her strangely. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but then again, she had surprised him before when she offered to bring product back on the plane. He really didn’t want to put her life in jeopardy, but he didn’t have anyone else he could count on. He really did need her.
“I love you, Jamal, and I want to be there for you.”
He leaned closer and hugged her. “I’m going to need to get you a fake ID if you’re going to go with me. Is that okay with you?” “Whatever you want me to do, I’m with you. I love you.”
Jamal pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Cedric. “Hey, man, I need an ID today for my girl.”
“I can get you one, but it’s going to take a couple of days. I’m in Vegas right now.”
“I can’t wait. Do you have anybody who can get me one? I got a thousand dollars. I need one today.”
“Jamal, I want to help you, man, honestly, I do. But that’s going to be impossible because I’m out of town.”
“When you get back in town, do you think you can make a couple of passports? I got somebody else working on it, but I trust you a little bit more.”
“Jamal that 9/11 shit has made it damn near impossible to make a passport you could safely get by with,” Cedric said.
“Motherfuck!” Jamal yelled into the phone before ending the call.
“What’s wrong?” Dream asked.
“I can’t get you an ID. You’re going to have to use your own name for a few days.”
They quickly went inside her apartment and gathered a few of her belongings.
A few hours later, they pulled into a Super 8 motel in Greensboro and checked in under her name.
As soon as they were settled, Jamal called Angelo and told him about the outcome of the trial. He told him what his attorney had said about the Feds seeking indictments on the both of them as well.
“So how much time is Dawg looking at?” Angelo asked.
“At least twenty-five years, but that’s not what I called to talk about. I need to see you for business.”
“Come on out tomorrow and I’ll fix you up real nice.”

***

The next day Jamal shaved his head bald. He went to the Department of Motor Vehicles with the documentation he’d received from Cedric. When he came out, he was officially Andre Von, and that was the name he used to check into the airport.

***

It was six o’clock when Jamal and Dream got off the plane in California. She rented a car, and they stopped at a mall where Jamal purchased two Samsonite briefcases. They checked into a hotel suite near Mission Beach. Jamal told Dream not to unpack. They would be going to Los Angeles later that night. She didn’t ask why.

At 7:45 P.M., Angelo arrived at their hotel room. They hugged as they greeted. “We’re still standing,” Jamal said.
“I know that’s right,” Angelo said chuckling. “I want to keep standing.”
“Getting down to business. I need about ten kilos.”
Angelo looked at Jamal suspiciously. “You’re going for the gusto, ain’t you? That’s a long way from your usual.”
“I’ve gotta get paid. The stakes are high, man. I don’t know if I told you, but I’m trying to get the fuck out of the country.”
Angelo walked toward the door. “Give me about four hours, and I’ll be back with what you need.”
When Angelo left, Jamal asked Dream to help him fill both of the briefcases with newspaper. She became suspicious. In the past he had put his money in the briefcases. “Why are you putting newspaper in there?” she asked.
“I ain’t got a whole lot of money, and I need to get my hands on some fast,” he said, looking away from her.
“I thought Angelo was your friend,” she said, trying to make eye contact with him.
He turned and faced her. “See, in this game, you don’t have any friends. Dawg was the only real friend I ever had. Now that I’ve lost him and my mother, anything goes.”
“So you don’t think Angelo is gonna open the briefcases and see the newspaper?”
“No, because each will be covered with $25,000. That’s fifty grand.”
She looked confused. “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”
“Honestly, I don’t want to do this. But at this point, with everything going on, I don’t give a damn about Angelo. I got to make sure we’re okay.”
She dropped her head, not knowing what to make of Jamal’s disloyalty.

***

Less than five hours later, Angelo arrived with a huge green duffle bag. He and Jamal went to the kitchen, and Angelo opened the bag and dumped the product on the table. Jamal took a huge knife from the drawer, cut the wrapping off one of the kilos and used his finger to scoop a little bit of the coke from the wrapping and tasted it.

“That’s the best in Mexico,” Angelo said.
“Yeah, it tastes good and my tongue is numb as hell.” “Where’s the money?”
Jamal went to the den and came back with the two briefcases in

hand. “Here you go, $165,000.”

Angelo cracked each briefcase open, saw the money, and closed them. “Well, I guess this concludes our business. Make sure you stay in touch with me and let me know what you’re gonna do. If you decide you need something else, call me.”

***

As soon as Angelo left, Jamal and Dream got in the rental car and drove to Los Angeles. An hour later Angelo called, but Jamal didn’t answer his cell phone. He just sent the call to voice mail and laughed. “What a sucker.”

Angelo called ten times before they reached Los Angeles. They checked in the Doubletree Hotel, under the alias Andre Von.
They slept until noon the next day. The temperature was in the mid-eighties, and the sky was fairly clear. Dream wanted to sit out by the pool and take in the sunshine, so they sat at a table next to the pool, shaded by an umbrella. Dream looked troubled and Jamal wondered why. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering where do we go from here,” she said.
“Right now, I don’t wanna think about that. I just want to enjoy the west coast,” he said, sipping pineapple juice.
“I really don’t want to think about it either, but my parents are probably worried.”
“Relax, baby. Let’s just enjoy L.A. Let’s do a tour, maybe check out some of these movie stars’ homes or catch a Lakers game.”
She smiled. “I would like that very much. I love Kobe Bryant.”
They traded in their rental car for a convertible Jaguar. Dream loved the Los Angeles scenery with the beaches, palm trees, and mountains. In Hollywood they dined at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles. Jamal ordered smothered fried chicken, livers, and giblets. Dream ordered a chicken breast with waffles. They both ordered orange juice. Shortly after the food arrived, R & B singer Brandy sat at a table adjacent to theirs. When Dream caught Jamal staring, she slapped him playfully. “Okay, Jamal, you can stop gawking.”
“Ain’t nobody gawking. Now you know if Wesley Snipes or Taye Diggs, was in here you would be all in their mouth,” he replied.
“Damn right. I ain’t gonna lie I would. But they’re not here, so it ain’t fair for you to be looking at that heifer.”
“You’re a hater.”
“I’ll be that.”

***

After they left Roscoe’s, they took a tour bus through Beverly Hills. Dream looked in amazement at the big mansions. She felt like she was at a taping of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. From the tour bus they also saw the landmark Hollywood sign. The tour ended at the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Dream took a picture beside the Eddie Murphy and Wesley Snipes stars. “Keisha ain’t gonna believe that I was actually at the Hollywood Walk of Fame,” Dream said before ordering Jamal to snap more pictures.

The Lakers beat the 76ers in double overtime. It was 12:08 P.M. when the game was finally over. Jamal and Dream headed back to the room.

Dream got into the shower and came out wearing a leopardprint thong. Jamal was lying on his back in his boxers. She lay next to him. Surprisingly he didn’t respond.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked as she sat up on the bed. “Nothing. I’m just not in the mood,” he said as his mind went back to Candy. Then he thought about the day he had left the doctor’s office before getting the results of the HIV test.
“That’s a first.”
“I was just laying here thinking about prison and how much I hated it.”
“I can’t imagine being locked up with somebody telling me what I can and can’t do,” she replied.
“It’s rough, and the funny thing about it is, I ain’t even been out long.” He looked uncertain about what lay ahead.
Dream didn’t hear the confidence she had once heard from him, and for the first time since they’d left Charlotte, she wondered if she had made the right decision.

***

Jamal woke up around 6:00 A.M. He called the airlines and found that there was a 1:00 P.M. flight from L.A. to Charlotte. When Dream awakened, he told Dream they would be flying back to Charlotte. “Are you crazy?” she asked.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I am not about to go through what I went through the last time. Did you forget that you're being watched? By now you might even be charged.”
“No, I didn’t forget. I have a new ID, remember?”
“You do, but I don’t, remember? My name may be on some sort of watch list by now.”
Jamal hadn’t thought about that possibility. After all, Dream had been harassed by the DEA in the San Diego airport as well. “We can always drive,” he suggested.
“How long will it take to get back to Charlotte?”
“We can do it in about two and a half days if we hurry, but I ain’t in no hurry. We still haven’t visited The Mall of America like we had planned.”
She looked confused. “Do you think that would be a good idea? I mean, with the drugs we got on us, and with Angelo probably after your ass now, shouldn’t we just go somewhere and get settled?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this before. Nothing is gonna happen to us.”
Within the next hour, Jamal wrapped the product in fabric softener to kill the scent. He also painted JUST MARRIED on the back of the car. He knew that people, including police, were receptive to newlyweds. Dream giggled when she saw the car. “Jamal, you are crazy.”
“I gotta do what I gotta do to be safe,” he said.
“It’s creative. I can definitely give you that.”

***

The next morning the DEA picked up Tony Jennings and brought him in for questioning. Tony had always been fairly comfortable in the interrogation room, but today he appeared really uneasy as Mark and U.S. District Attorney, David Ricardo hammered away with questions. “Do you know why you’re here?” Mark said.

Tony shrugged. “I ain’t got no idea. Why am I here?” “Do you know Jamal Stewart?”
“Yeah, I know Jamal.”

Mark took a seat beside Tony and looked him directly in the eye. “We just received word that you have been extorting him and Steven Davis.”

Tony turned from Mark and breathed heavily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did Jamal tell you that?”
“Actually, Jamal hasn’t been arrested yet. Did you or didn’t you do it?” David asked.
“If we find out you did do it, you know you’re going to prison for a long time. There’s a good chance you’ll be in jail with some of the same people you helped us bust,” Mark said.
“If I admit to it, what will happen then?” Tony asked curiously.
“We know you had someone helping you who worked with us. We need to know who assisted in this corruption,” Mark said.
“Agent Tolliver helped me. He supplied the information to me that I used to bribe Jamal and Dawg with, and this ain’t the first time we’ve bribed big drug dealers,” Tony said.
Mark and David looked at each other. “Jeremiah,” they said in unison.

***

It had taken Jamal and Dream three days to reach St. Paul, Minnesota. Many travelers seemed to take notice of the JUST MARRIED sign on the window. Complete strangers rode by honking their horns in congratulations. A couple of cops even drove by and gave them the thumbs-up. They checked into a Hampton Inn in Bloomington, Minnesota. After they were settled, Dream called Keisha from the hotel room phone. She knew Keisha would be worried.

“What in the hell are you doing in Minnesota?” Keisha asked.

Dream knew she must have looked on the Caller ID to figure out where she was. “I’ll be home in a couple of days.”
“You better come on back. I spoke with your mother the other day, and she is about to file a missing persons report if you don’t show up. You need to give your parents a call.”
“Whatever you do, don’t let them file a report. Let my mother know that you spoke with me and that I’m alright.”
“What am I suppose to do when she asks me where you are?”
“Just tell her I wouldn’t say, but I assured you that I was alright.”
“You know they’re blaming Jamal for your disappearance, don’t you?”
“What?” Dream said as she sat on the edge of the bed.
Jamal looked on wondering what had happened.
“Yeah, they’re accusing Jamal of abducting you, and debating whether they should go to the police.”
“You can’t let them do that. You have got to go over and let them know I’m okay. Promise me that.”
“You got my word. I’ll go over and let them know.”
After they hung up, Dream lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. “What’s going on now?” Jamal asked.
“Nothing. My parents are just worried about me since they haven’t heard from me in a while.”
“Maybe you should call them.”
“I’ll just see them when we get back to Charlotte.”
“Have it your way, however you want to do it. In the meantime let’s go to the mall. You have got to see it. You ain’t gonna believe the size of this thing.”

CHAPTER 25

T HE MALL OF AMERICA had 525 specialty stores and four major department stores: Macy’s, Bloomingdale’s, Nordstrom’s, and Sears; a huge amusement park; and a wedding chapel. Dream was completely astounded by the size. “This thing is unreal. I have never seen anything like this in my entire life. It’s gonna take us forever to walk around this mall.”

“I know what you mean. I heard someone say the last time I was here that seven Yankee stadiums will fit in here,” Jamal said.
Dream and Jamal walked around for about two hours, visiting at least twenty different stores. Leaving Bloomingdale’s, they saw the wedding chapel. The Chapel of Love was beautifully decorated. The pews were all white, and the walls were decorated with elegant floral arrangements. There was no difference from a real church. Wedding ceremonies and christenings were performed daily. Jamal and Dream looked at each other upon entering the chapel.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
“I don’t know. Do you think we should, especially since we don’t know what the future holds?”
He looked into her eyes. “Let’s not worry about the future, because whatever is gonna happen is gonna happen. I know I said earlier that I didn’t think we should get married, but I want to do it, because honestly this may be my last chance.” He knew that he would probably leave the country if he didn’t get killed shooting out with the police, but he had been fortunate enough to find someone whom he truly loved, and marriage was something he wanted to do before it was too late.
“You really are serious, aren’t you?” Dream blushed.
“Yeah, I am.”
“I guess we can do it since the car already says we’re married,” she said, laughing.
The attendant’s name was Meagan. She was a tall blonde with a lean frame. She showed them the various packages, including music, photos, and flowers whenever requested. They were surprised to learn that the chapel even had a bridal boutique.
“You mean I can pick out a wedding dress?” Dream asked as she beamed with excitement.
“Yes, our designers include Jessica McClintock, Alfred Angelo, and a lesser known company called U.S. Angels. What size are you?” Meagan asked.
“I’m a size six,” Dream replied.
Dream decided on a ravishing, cream strapless, floor-length Jessica McClintock gown with a flared bottom. Jamal chose a black-and-gray Hugo Boss, single-breasted, three-button tuxedo.
“You two make a lovely couple,” Meagan said with a bright smile. “Now, do you guys have a marriage license?”
Dream and Jamal looked at each other. Neither had thought about a marriage license. “How long does it take to get one?” Jamal asked.
“There is a five-day waiting period if you’re from Minnesota. Where are you guys from?”
“North Carolina,” Jamal answered.
“Well, I can probably get you guys one today. Fill out these papers, and I’m going to need a copy of your birth certificate and your driver’s license.”
“Excuse us for a minute,” Jamal said as he pulled Dream aside. “Listen I forgot that I don’t have my real ID. There is no way we can do it unless you want to marry Andre Von.”
Dream looked down at her gown. She had really hyped herself up for a wedding ceremony. Though she would be getting married in a mall, this was supposed to be her day, but there was nothing they could do. “I guess I can take this dress off now, because I don’t have my birth certificate either.”
“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.

Jamal stuck his foot in the doorway and grabbed Ruff underneath the chin. He pushed Ruff backward and closed the door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ruff asked.

Jamal grabbed Ruff’s puny neck and applied pressure. “Now, I know you didn’t think you wouldn’t see me again, did you?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” Jamal said.
“I ain’t have nuthin’ to do with Dawg getting locked up,” Ruff said desperately.
“I think I’ve heard enough from you, Ruff, and I know the cops have heard enough from you,” Jamal said. He threw Ruff on the floor. He pulled the gun from his waist and quickly pumped three bullets into Ruff’s temple.

***

Jamal Stewart was still at large, and one of the would-be witnesses against him had been mysteriously murdered. Mark sat at his desk frustrated. He knew Jamal had something to do with Theodore Ruffin’s death, though the Charlotte homicide detectives said they didn’t have enough evidence to pin the murder on Jamal yet. Mark had worked on this case long and hard, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got some kind of closure.

Mark had begun to become disheartened until he received a call from his old friend, Don Gonzales, of the San Diego DEA, informing him that Angelo Morgan was headed to Charlotte. Angelo had not been charged with anything. Mark hoped Angelo would lead him to Jamal.

Mark had only seen Angelo’s mug shot, which had been taken in the early eighties while Angelo was in federal prison. Though the picture was old, Mark had no problem spotting Angelo when he got off the plane. He looked the same as he did in the picture, only his hair was gray. Mark and Ken followed Angelo to a downtown hotel where they observed him meeting with two other black guys at the front desk.

Angelo checked in and took two pieces of luggage to his room. Mark and Ken waited out in the parking lot, hoping Angelo would come down and lead them to Jamal. Angelo never left the hotel that night.

Mark and Ken finally got tired of waiting. They left. ***

It was 2:00 P.M. when Keisha arrived at Dream’s apartment. She had left work early because she was still worried about her friend. They made margaritas while Dream told Keisha about the visit from the DEA. She mentioned Jamal’s vow to get even with the person responsible for putting him in the predicament. “He showed me a gun, and I think he may have killed this man. He was definitely mad enough to kill the last time I saw him.”

“I know you’re going to stay the hell away from him now,” Keisha said.

“He should be leaving any day now. It won’t be a matter of me staying away from him. He is gonna be leaving me.”
“Have you seen your parents yet?” Keisha asked.
Dream ran her finger around the margarita glass and licked the salt while avoiding her friend’s eyes. “I haven’t gotten a chance to see them yet.”
“I’m going to tell your mom what’s going on if you don’t get your ass over there and see them.”
“I’m gonna go see them today. There’s no need for you to go and make matters worse.”
Keisha took a quick drink from her margarita before speaking. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. This Jamal nigga is a serious motherfucker.”
Dream looked at Keisha briefly before turning away. “I know. I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming.”
“I tell you what, these brothers out here got some serious issues. It’s just hard to tell what kind of things they’re into . . . I mean, I met this guy downtown the other day, Rashad. The nigga is fine as hell. Chocolate complexioned, nice hair, nice teeth, and a body to die for. But he is one of the biggest liars I have ever met in my life.”
“What did he do?” Dream asked curiously.
“Well, for one thing, he is unemployed, but he told me he worked for American Express as a financial analyst. Lie number two: he said he didn’t have any children. He has three babies’ mamas and also got some fucked-up credit; just filed bankruptcy two months ago.”
Dream burst out laughing. She could always count on Keisha to cheer her up. “Girl, you are too much. How did you find all this out?”
“My private investigator. I have to check all these niggas out now. I have to be careful that I don’t get involved with no madman.”
Dream became sad. She began to think about her past with men. Somehow she could never pick a decent man. When she was younger, it was fun hanging out with petty criminals and thugs, but now she was in the midst of a serious conspiracy. She believed it would be better if Jamal left the country, since the Feds had knowledge of them being a couple. If Jamal went away, she could go on with her life—a simple life as a middle school history teacher.
She wondered what had happened as she looked at Keisha. Why had she fallen in love with such no-good men? She had even neglected her parents lately. She had not seen her mom and dad for weeks. She decided it was time she paid them a visit. “Keisha, will you go with me to see my mom and dad.”
Keisha reached over and placed her hand over Dream’s. “Whatever you need me to do, I’m with you. Stop looking so sad. It’s gonna be alright. Have faith.”

***

Janice and David Nelson smothered Dream with hugs and kisses as soon as they laid eyes on her. “My baby is safe and sound,” Janice announced.

“Yeah, and we’re gonna make sure she stays that way,” Keisha said.
Mr. Nelson held Dream for a long time. Though she felt as if her parents were treating her like a baby, she was glad to get all the attention. Being in her daddy’s arms made her feel like a little girl again.
Janice had prepared lasagna and garlic bread. Keisha, Dream, and the Nelsons all sat at the dinner table eating. Everybody was kind of uncomfortable at first. Nobody wanted to talk. Dream knew there were many questions that her parents wanted answers to. She knew they deserved an explanation for her disappearance. She could feel her mother’s penetrating eyes. “Mama, I know you’ve got some things you are dying to ask me. What do you wanna know?”
Janice eyebrow’s rose. “Now, baby, whatever you choose to tell me, I’ll be okay with it but somehow I know that Jamal boy has something to do with your being away without contacting us.” Dream turned, avoiding her mother’s eyes.
Mr. Nelson spoke. “Don’t be too hard on her, Janice. The main thing is, our daughter is back, and she’s safe.”
“That’s right,” Keisha said.
Dream turned to face her mother. “I will admit I made some bad choices.”
Mr. Nelson bit into his garlic bread. “We have all made some mistakes, baby. Like I said before, the main thing is that you’re here, and you’re alive.”
Dream smiled at her father. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“What you thanking me for?” Mr. Nelson asked.
“Just for being there for me.”

***

Keisha, Dream, and her parents all went into the den to watch the six o’clock news. Dream and Keisha glanced at each other when a mug shot of Jamal flashed on the screen. The news anchor said Jamal was armed and dangerous, and wanted for a number of criminal offenses, including the first-degree murder of Theodore Ruffin. He then went on to say that if anyone had any information concerning the whereabouts of Jamal Stewart, they should contact the police.

Dream turned from Keisha and just stared straight ahead. Though she was surrounded by her family and her best friend, she felt alone. She felt guilty because she had known Jamal was preparing to commit murder. Now he had taken a life, and she knew this would forever haunt her.

After a minutes of silence, Janice finally spoke. “Do you know where Jamal is?”
Dream met her mother’s glance. “Actually, I don’t. I haven’t spoken to him today.”
“If you knew, would you tell somebody?” Janice said.
Dream stared at the floor. “Honestly, I don’t know,” she said finally. She wanted to do the right thing. She knew Jamal was a criminal and that he needed to be brought to justice, but she didn’t know if she could turn him in. She still loved him.
“He’s a murderer baby. You can’t go on protecting him,” Janice spoke softly.
Mr. Nelson walked over and sat beside his daughter on the sofa. “Baby, if you know anything about Jamal’s whereabouts, I think you should tell the police. It’s just the right thing to do before he kills someone else.”
Dream looked into her father’s serious eyes. He looked worried. “Daddy, honestly, I don’t know where Jamal is.”
He rubbed her knee gently. “I believe you.”
Dream stood from the sofa. “I think I better leave.”

***

Jamal was napping in his hotel room when he received a call from Rico for more product. They would meet in the IHOP parking lot on Independence Boulevard. Jamal quickly jumped up from his bed, slipped on some sweatpants and a pair of running shoes. He headed out of the door with the product tucked underneath his arm. He scanned the parking lot on the way to the car. There seemed to be no immediate threat.

Rico had been kind of slow moving the product, but he was the only person whom Jamal could trust to do business with. When Jamal pulled out of the parking lot, a dark-colored SUV appeared from nowhere and seemed to be tailing him. He quicky changed lanes, but the SUV switched lanes as well, flicking its high beams. Jamal could barely see the road.

A half-mile later, he approached a busy intersection and the truck pulled alongside him. Jamal saw the two men in ski masks inside the truck. Spontaneously, Jamal whipped the car onto the median of the road and leapt from it.

The two men fired repetitively as Jamal darted through a maze of cars.

 

***

At 11:00 that night, Dream lay awake in her bed. She had tried to force herself to doze, but she simply couldn’t rest. Her emotions were getting the best of her. She was depressed, and the little bit of self-esteem she had left was quickly diminishing. She was saddened by the fact that her parents acted as though they no longer trusted her, and she felt stupid for failing to investigate Jamal a little more carefully before dating him. She tried not to think about him. She focused on returning to her summer job at the Sylvan Learning Center.

At 12:30 Dream was startled by a loud knock. She got up, put on her robe and a pair of slippers, then quickly ran to the door. She opened the door slightly with the security chain still attached.

Jamal stood before her shaking. Mud and grass covered his body and face.

“I think you better leave, Jamal. Too much is happening with you. I can’t live my life on the edge with you anymore.”
“Open the door, please. I’ve been shot at.”
“And the first place you come is here?”
“You’re the only one I’ve got right now. Please open the door.”
Dream deliberated a few moments before opening the door. “What happened to you?” she asked, stepping aside after releasing the chain lock.
“I was going to meet Rico when two men pulled up in a dark green SUV and opened fire. I had to hop out of the car and run.”
She folded her arms in disgust. “So I guess I need to report the rental car stolen.”
“That’s up to you. I mean, I get shot at and all you can think about is a damn car?”
“Jamal, what do you want me to say? I’m sorry it happened. Who do you think did this to you?”
He wiped dirt from his face with his shirt. “I don’t know. Maybe Angelo had something to do with it. I received a call from him earlier today and he threatened to kill me.”
“How did he know where you were staying?”
“I can’t be sure.”
“So what do you need me for?” she asked.
“Actually, I need a place to lay my head tonight, but you act like you have an attitude with me or something. What have I done?”
“What haven’t you done? You’ve stolen from your friend, and according to the news, you’ve killed a man. Have you forgotten you’re a wanted man?”
A sudden hardness appeared on his face. “Have you forgotten that you were with me when I stole from Angelo. You ain’t no fuckin’ angel. You know what? I don’t need to stay here,” he shouted as he turned toward the door.
Suddenly he turned around with his handgun and pointed it.
Dream’s eyes grew wide and she began to tremble.
“You’re coming with me. Put on some clothes.”
“Jamal, don’t do this to me,” she yelled.
“Bitch, you enjoyed the benefits of the game, now you gotta pay just like everybody else.”
She looked into his eyes again. He was serious and she was afraid for her life. She put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and they left.

***

Three days later, Mark lay on the sofa with the remote control in hand searching for the evening news. On channel three the huge mug shot of Jamal Stewart was shown. The news anchorman called Jamal a one-man crime spree, stating he was armed and dangerous. He was wanted on a host of charges that included kidnapping, drug conspiracy, and murder. Crime stoppers offered a ten thousand dollar reward for any information that led to Jamal’s arrest.

Mark turned to channel 9. A huge picture of Dream Nelson was on the screen. The anchorman said Dream was a twenty-five-yearold middle school teacher who was believed to be with her boyfriend, held against her will. The setting changed to Spaugh Middle School. One of the reporters interviewed the principal. A short, bald man with a pink face said Ms. Nelson was a studious employee and that he had spoken with her just before school ended for summer break. He went on to say that he was saddened by her disappearance and was praying for her return.

Channel 36 showed David and Janice Nelson standing in front of their home holding a picture of Dream in a cap and gown—her college graduation picture. David said she was their only child. He wanted her to know, if she was watching, that they loved her very much. Janice begged for anyone with information concerning the whereabouts of their daughter to please come forward. Midway through her speech, the tears came streaming down her face.

Disappointed, Mark turned the television off and stared at the ceiling. He felt as if he had not done his job. His heart went out to the Nelsons. He wondered what was going on with Dream and Jamal, and he wished she had listened when he had spoken with her. It was too late now. Dream was gone, perhaps forever. He said a short prayer for her before dozing.

***

The next day, as soon as Mark walked into his office his phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Mark, David speaking. I have some good news.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve just received some information concerning the whereabouts of Jamal Stewart.”
“Oh yeah?” Mark said as he walked to the other side of his desk.
“Yeah, his attorney called and apparently he saw the girl’s parents on the news and it touched him so much that he is willing to help us nail Jamal.”
“Isn’t it unethical for an attorney to divulge information about a client?”
“Not if it concerns an ongoing crime. Who cares about ethics, anyway? This guy is scum.”
Mark hesitated before speaking. “I just hope the girl is still alive.”

***

Dawg stared blankly when the judge gave him a life sentence. Mark looked on, actually feeling sorry for Dawg’s mother. He had been trained not to let his emotions get in the way of his job, but he always seemed to find himself getting kind of emotional when women were involved. He was only human. He would tell himself he had a mother, and he definitely didn’t want her to go through anything remotely like what Steven’s mother was going through, because essentially the judge had just killed Steven. He would never be free again to roam the streets. Mark was happy about the fact that he had been instrumental in getting drugs off the street, but he was disappointed that a black mother had just lost a son.

CHAPTER 27

A WEEK HAD PASSED since Jamal abducted Dream. While evading the Feds they had stayed at several cheap motels before finally settling in at a Ramada Inn in Davidson, North Carolina, outside the Charlotte city limits.

Dream woke up at 6:00 A.M. while Jamal was asleep. She still couldn’t believe what had happened to her. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t seen this dark side of Jamal. The man whom she thought was the love of her life had turned out to be nothing but a gangster. Angelo was looking for Jamal to kill him and the Feds were pursuing them. She knew nothing good was going to come out of this situation. “Damn,” she cursed herself. Not for being stupid, but for being in love with a dealer.

Two hours later, Dream pulled the curtains back and peered down into the motel parking lot. The lot was empty, except for her Mercedes and two pickup trucks.

“Do you see anything suspicious?” Jamal asked as he sat up on the bed.
She turned and faced him. “No, just the same two trucks that was here last night.”
“How did you sleep last night?”
She frowned. “How in the hell was I supposed to sleep? The Feds are after you, remember? Plus Angelo is probably looking to kill your ass.”
Jamal stood and placed his hand underneath her chin. “Listen, Dream, baby, I’m sorry but this is the way it has to be right now. But I swear to you, it’s gonna get better. I got my lawyer working on us some passports under aliases. As soon as he gets them, we’re off to one of those third-world countries, and we can live like a king and queen.” He walked over and pulled a huge duffel bag from underneath the bed. “I got close to five hundred thousand dollars in here. Do you realize how good we can live in another country? Like I said, we’ll be on king and queen status.”
She pulled away from him. “I don’t want to go to a third-world country. I wanna be with my friends and family.”
He became angry. He stepped toward her and grabbed her wrist. “You see, bitch, it don’t work like that. You’re all in, and you may as well get used to it.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Jamal, you’re hurting me.”
“And damn it, you’re pissing me off.” He grabbed her by the hair and flung her to the bed.
“What you gonna do now, Mr. Big Man, beat me?” she yelled.
“Listen to me, damn it.” Jamal sat on the bed and gently held her hand. “Dream, everything is going to be alright. I promise, babe.”
She wanted everything to be okay. She wanted everything to be like before, but she knew it never would.
His cellular phone rang. He grabbed it from the dresser.
“Where the hell are you?” Thomas asked.
“Now, I know you don’t expect me to tell you no shit like that,” Jamal replied.
“So, you don’t trust me? I’m the one who’s supposed to get the fuckin’ passports, remember?”
Jamal paced the floor nervously. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just need time to think.”
“Where’s the girl?”
“She’s with me.” Jamal said as he glanced over at Dream, she was still sobbing.
“Well I hope you know her picture is being shown on the news.”
“For what?”
“Her parents are saying you kidnapped her.”
Jamal stared blankly. His problems were piling up. He felt like a man walking aimlessly on the edge of the Grand Canyon, waiting for the slightest hint of wind to force him over. “Can we meet somewhere?”
“Where?”
“The Waffle House on South Boulevard at midnight.”
“The Waffle House it is.”

***

Jamal sat on the edge of the bed with his chin resting in his hands, as if he were contemplating something drastic.
“What’s going on now, Jamal?” Dream asked softly.
“They’re trying to say I kidnapped you.”
“Well, you are holding me against my will.”
“Would you listen to me?” he pleaded. “I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Jamal.” Dream grabbed his hand. “But we can’t go on like this. I mean, it’s not the Feds I’m worried about. It’s the contract on your life that concerns me.”
Jamal sighed. He was more concerned with the Feds than a contract on his life. “Baby, you’re right. Tonight I’m letting you go with my lawyer.”
“That’s good, but what about you?”
He looked away. “I’ll be alright. Trust me.”
She leaned forward and kissed his nose. “I’m gonna always love you, Jamal Stewart.”
“I’ll always love you, too,” Jamal said as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. They kissed passionately and explored every crevice of each other’s body. Neither wanted the feeling to end; both knew it would be the last time they made love with each other.

***

At 11:00 P.M. they rose and showered together like they had done so many times before. The mood was pleasant. They played with each other the way they used to. He sprayed her with cold water and she squirted shampoo in his eyes.
“Damn it, Dream. My eyes are burning.”
She laughed. “Come here, let me kiss them.”
“Get away from me, crazy ass girl.” He pushed her away and

they exchanged smiles.

 

***

They left the hotel at 11:35. On the way to the Waffle House, Jamal called Thomas Henry to make sure he would be there. When they pulled up, they heard cars screeching to a halt. Several vehicles had formed a barricade. They were surrounded by FBI, DEA agents, and local policemen. “Put your goddamned hands up!” a burly DEA agent yelled.

Jamal knew everything he had worked so hard to build was about to end. The passenger door opened and a huge DEA agent yanked Dream from the car.

“Jamal, get out of the car,” another agent demanded.

Jamal looked behind him. There was nowhere to run. There were at least fifteen officers. He wondered where they had come from. It seemed as though they were rising from the ground. He grabbed his gun from underneath the seat. Jamal fired four shots through the windshield, killing only one officer. He suddenly became overwhelmed by the return fire. The shots flew from all angles, striking his head and chest, taking his life. Jamal’s body lay slouched in the seat as his eyes protruded.

The ambulance arrived. The firemen arrived. Media ran rampantly. The police taped off the scene. Dream had been struggling to answer questions from Agent Pratt, but when she saw the coroner bring out a body bag, reality hit her. Jamal was gone forever. “They didn’t have to kill him,” she moaned. “Please don’t go away from me, Jamal. Please don’t go.” She ran up to the coroner’s van but was ordered to step away as Jamal’s body was loaded and the door was closed. When the coroner drove away, she dropped to her knees and cried.

***

Angelo and his two goons had been apprehended at his hotel room on weapons charges. Since Angelo was a convicted felon, it was simple for the grand jury to return an indictment on him. His plea agreement was fifteen years, which was like a life sentence to him because of his age. He had pled guilty and was shipped to a federal prison in southern California.

Jeremiah was subsequently indicted for obstruction of justice and was fired. Most of the cases he had been involved in had a good chance of being overturned. The U.S. Attorney’s office was not too happy about that. David Ricardo would later recommend that Jeremiah be sent to a federal prison and placed in the regular inmate population where he knew he would be slapped around once word got out that he was a former federal agent.

***

Dream pulled to the side of the road and sat with her head resting on the steering wheel. She felt nauseous and felt as if there was a metal wrench churning inside her stomach. It had been two hours since she’d left the doctor’s office, and she still had not made it home. She didn’t want to go home; she wanted to end her life. She knew something was wrong after she’d received a call from Doctor Sinclair saying it was very necessary that she saw him immediately. Two weeks prior to the phone call, she had taken her annual physical required by the school district.

She had lost the desire to live the minute Doctor Sinclair told her she was HIV positive. That would be the last thing she would remember. He had tried to tell her everything was going to be all right and that life would be okay for her if she received the proper treatment. He had even told her about support groups that would make her HIV-induced world easier, but before he could say anything, Dream stormed out of the room crying. Her life had been ruined because of Jamal. She figured it had to be him, because he was the only one she’d had unprotected sex with. Did he even know he was HIV positive? How did he get it? Maybe he had been a closet homosexual, or maybe . . . he got it from the stripper. “Damnit,” she said as she slammed her fist against the dashboard. “Why in the hell did I get involved with a character like him?” she asked herself. School had just started three weeks before, and things were starting to look up for her again. She was teaching American history, and had her own homeroom class. She absolutely loved her kids. She had started seeing DeVon again, and they were actually talking about marriage and starting a family one day.

After Jamal had been killed, she thought for certain she would pick up and move on with her life. She had actually felt blessed to be alive. She knew that she could have very easily ended up in a prison like Dawg, or could have been killed like Jamal. Now, after receiving the news from Dr. Sinclair, she didn’t feel she was fortunate after all. In her mind, Jamal was the lucky one. His life was over. He had not suffered, nor did he have to live with the stigma of being HIV positive. How would she tell her parents? How would she tell DeVon? She was glad she had not had unprotected sex with him.

Dream opened the glove compartment and got the sleeping pills—she swallowed seventeen of them and started crying again. Fifteen minutes later she was unconscious.

An hour later, a state trooper found her slouched behind the steering wheel of her car and called the ambulance. She was then rushed to the emergency room, where her stomach was pumped.

***

David and Janice Nelson entered Dream’s hospital room with flowers and balloons in hand. Dream sat up on the bed and made eye contact with her parents. She didn’t know what to say or do. She didn’t know how much they knew. Her father approached the bed and gave her a hug. “Baby, it’s going to be okay, your mother and I will be here for you.”

Dream knew immediately that they knew about her being HIV positive. Dr. Sinclair must have told them. Suddenly the tears came. “D-daddy, how did you find out?” she struggled to say.

“After we received the call from the hospital, saying you had overdosed, I called Doctor Sinclair and I asked him if he knew why you would try to take your life; I knew you had been to his office yesterday. He was kind of hesitant to answer my question. He told me he had given you some bad news that he couldn’t share with me. So I drove over to his office this morning and demanded he tell me. Reluctantly he did.”

“Baby, we will always love you,” Janice said as she leaned forward and kissed Dream.
Someone tapped on the door. Keisha and Dream’s student, Jessica Irving, appeared. They rushed to Dream’s bedside and hugged her.
Dream smiled when she saw Keisha. She knew that no matter what, Keisha would always be her friend. Dream knew she had made some mistakes, and seeing Jessica made Dream realize that though her life would no longer be the same. There were still many reasons to live. She had a purpose that was far greater than teaching history. She would now teach her children life skills. These were the same skills she and Jamal had lacked. She had learned from her experience, and she felt she needed to pass her lessons along. She wasn’t going to give up. She would live every day to the fullest, thankful for her friends and family, and enjoy what the Lord had given her. At that moment she realized she was loved, and DeVon or any other man no longer mattered. She wasn’t worried about whether or not DeVon would accept her and her condition. She closed her eyes briefly and thanked God.

***

Mark was slouched in the seat of a U-Haul truck with a USA Today covering his face. From afar, he observed the huge stucco mansion of his latest subject, Tommy Dupree, a twenty-six-yearold black man, short and round, who loved cars. A new Lincoln Navigator and a Lexus LS 400 were in the driveway.
An hour later Tommy came out. He was wearing a green-andwhite sweat suit. He was draped in diamond jewelry, and two women clung to his stubby arms. Placing his newspaper on his lap, Mark fired up the ignition as he wondered where his new investigation might take him. He wondered how Tommy’s story would unfold.

A word from the Author

Hopefully you enjoyed this work of fiction. The story you have just read was not written to condone or condemn anybody’s behavior and none of the characters in the book are good or bad but simply living their lives or playing the hands that they were dealt. I’m not a criminologist or psychologist but an observant artist trying to paint an unbiased picture. If you learned something from the story fine if you didn’t hopefully you was thoroughly entertained. Post all your comments about the story on Amazon.com and Barnes and Nobles.com or visit my website at www.k-elliott.com

About the Author

K. Elliott resides in Charlotte, North Carolina. He has participated in and completed various creative writing courses at both Central Piedmont Community College and Queens University. In 2001, Elliott received a scholarship that allowed him to attend the North Carolina Writers Network Conference. Elliott was also a finalist in 2001 Keystone poetry competition.