Entangled (11 page)

The waiter appeared and Dream ordered the blackened pork chops while Keisha had baked chicken with rice. They both requested lemonade.

After the food came they chatted about men—their favorite subject. Keisha told Dream about a partner in her accounting firm who had been pursuing her relentlessly; she said he had sent her roses every day for two weeks and had taken her to lunch for the past couple of days.

“How does he look?” Dream asked.
“Fine as hell.”
“Well, what’s the problem? Why won’t you give the guy a

chance?”
“He’s married.”
“That’s too bad,” Dream said, shoveling a forkful of pork chop

into her mouth.
“Yeah, can you imagine me trusting this man after he shows me
that he runs around on his wife?” Keisha asked.
“I know, right?”
Keisha took a quick sip from her glass before speaking. “So,
what’s been up with you and Jamal?”
“Jamal has some serious issues, and I don’t know if I’m going to
be able to deal with them.”
Keisha sat her glass down. “What kind of issues are you talking
about? I mean, I know he hustles, but what else?”
“For one thing, Jamal hasn’t seen his mother in years. I haven’t
talked to him about it, but I can tell it’s bothering him. Besides
that, he’s seeing someone else.”
“How do you know this?” Keisha asked curiously.
“When we returned from California, his cell phone rang. When
he answered, I heard a woman’s voice on the other end saying that
she’d met him at Club Champagne. I think she’s a stripper.” “Did you ask him about about it?”
“Yeah, and he gave me the typical cheating-nigga answer,
it’s not
what you think
, but I know it’s exactly what I think because a few
months ago, I found a gold anklet at his apartment.” “How did he explain that?”
“Dawg claims to have borrowed the apartment. He went on to
say that one of his hoochies left the anklet.”
“That actually sounds like something Dawg would do, though.
But tell me, why hasn’t Jamal seen his mother?”
“I don’t know. Jamal is so secretive about his personal life, I
didn’t bother asking him.”
“Well, if you decide you’re gonna see him again, I can probably
get a private investigator that I know to track his mom down.” “I’ll pass the information along if I ever see him again.”

When Dream got home that night she lit several candles in the bathroom and took a long, hot bubble bath. The candles were therapeutic. She sat in the water thinking about Jamal and her past relationships. It seemed as though she always got the ones with the major issues. She didn’t regret any of the thugs she had dated in the past. She had a lot of fun with them. But with the fun came the baggage. The babies’ mamas, the failure to pay child support, and more recently with DeVon, the prison term.
Was all the drama worth it?
she asked herself. The water had gotten cold and she added more hot water.

She’d had more fun with Jamal, in such a short time, than with any other boyfriend. She had never met anyone quite as confident as Jamal. He knew how to live, and he made her very happy. Now he was giving someone else back massages and watching movies at someone else’s house. She couldn’t stand the thought of that.

When she got out of the bathtub, her skin was wrinkled and pale. Dream quickly dried off and applied lotion to her body. Within minutes she was in the bed and under the covers naked. She liked feeling free. She liked the way the covers felt against her skin. She wished Jamal was there lying next to her. She became sad thinking about him, and she felt a tear trickle down her cheek before she decided to dial his cell phone. She blocked her number so he couldn’t see it on the Caller ID.

He picked up on the first ring. “Hello.”
She didn’t say anything; she just wanted to hear his voice. “Hello. Hello. Hello. Who the hell is playing games?” he said

“The kingdom of heaven is like a pearl merchant on the lookout for choice pearls. When the merchant discovered a pearl of great value, he sold everything to buy the pearl,” Pastor Tommy Stevenson said to his congregation.

Mark sat in the back of the sanctuary looking straight ahead and focusing on the sermon. He had always enjoyed sermons about the kingdom of heaven ever since he was a boy.

Mt. Prospect was a small non-denominational church with a mixed congregation. The church wasn’t anything like his father’s back in Dallas. Where his father’s church body was predominately African-American, Mt. Prospect was about twenty percent AfricanAmerican; Caucasians, Asians, Hispanics, and West Indians also attended. His father’s church collected about a $100,000 in tithes and offerings a week. Mt. Prospect collected about that much in a year.

Mark always enjoyed the sermons. Pastor Stevenson was a short white man in his early forties, with a receding hairline and a pure heart, and he worked diligently for the Lord. After service he would always stand at the exit and shake hands with everyone in the sanctuary.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure that a man discovered hidden in a field. In his excitement, he hid it again and then everything he owned and bought it,” Pastor Stevenson said as he paced in front of the pulpit. “How many of you in here are willing to sell everything you own to get to heaven? Turn to your neighbor and say that you’ll give up everything you own to go to heaven.”

A short, round-faced white woman grabbed Mark by the arm and repeated the pastor’s words verbatim.
“The kingdom of heaven is like a fishing net that is thrown into the water to gather fish of every kind. When the net is full, fishermen drag it onto the shore, sit down, sort the good fish into crates, and throw the bad ones away.” Pastor Stevenson screamed and paced. His face was beet-red when he finished.
When the service was over, Pastor Stevenson gave Mark a firm handshake. “Pray always,” he whispered to Mark.
When Mark got home he took off his church clothes and put on a Nike sweat suit and a pair of running shoes. He reflected on what the pastor had said about the good fish being separated from the bad ones. Mark sometimes felt guilty about having people arrested, especially after working undercover. He would often get close to some of the people he was trying to bring down. He would constantly tell himself he was doing the right thing. He was a good fish and the bad ones had to be separated.

Later that evening, Mark was watching the Atlanta Falcons play against the San Francisco 49ers when his cell phone rang. “What’s up?” Mark said.

“The ship has arrived,” Dawg said excitedly.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, man. What are you looking to get this time?” “Nothing right now. I have a little bit left from the last time,”

“A’ight, playboy, I was just checking on you,” Dawg said before hanging up.
Mark had made several purchases from Dawg, and it was just a matter of time before he had him arrested. He wanted to make another purchase to make his grand jury presentation more impressive, but he knew his agency wouldn’t allow him to use but so much funds to make drug buys. He decided he would call Dawg the next day and record his conversation for more evidence.

Mark called Dawg the following day and inquired about some product, but Dawg was smart enough not to say anything over the phone. They decided to meet at Club Champagne.

The girl at the door was a tall, light woman with long hair. She wore fluorescent green spandex and six-inch heels. Her smile was radiant. “Ten dollars please,” she said.

Mark pulled out a roll of money and gave her a ten-dollar bill. He placed an extra five dollars in her tip glass before walking in. Black women of all complexions and sizes walked around revealing their half-naked bodies. Loud rap music blared in the background. Mark didn’t recognize the artist who was degrading his baby’s mother over the drumbeat. He spotted Dawg sitting at a table in the back with an attractive woman who had hazel contacts and a bad weave.

“What’s up, TJ?” Dawg said, slapping hands with Mark. Mark sat directly across the table.
Weavehead stood. “I got to go, baby,” she said, and kissed Dawg

on his cheek.
“If you see any girls in here you want, just let me know and I’ll
see to it that they treat you right,” Dawg said to Mark. “I didn’t come here for that. I came to talk business,” Mark said. “I can understand,” Dawg said as he took a sip from his Corona.
“I tell you what, I’m all ears.”
“Why don’t we take this outside? I have a terrible headache and
this music isn’t helping,” Mark said.
The night air was frigid. Dawg and Mark made their way to
Dawg’s car and got inside before starting their conversation.
“What’s up?” Dawg asked.
Mark started the recording device in his pocket. “You said the
ship came in yesterday, I just wanted to know what was available.” “Oh, we got plenty, man, and it’s the best shit we’ve had in a
long time.”
Mark met his gaze. “Good ’cause I should be finished with the
last package you sold me soon.”
“Well, you know how to get in touch. Is there anything else?” “No, that’s all I wanted to talk about.” He stopped the recorder. When Mark was about to step out of the car Dawg called out to
him, “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, we got some new connections.” Mark was surprised to hear this. He thought for sure Jamal and
Dawg were still getting the product from California. “What, you
got a different supplier?”
“Oh no, we got the same supplier. I’m talking about some
connections with the Feds.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we paying the DEA off now. So if you get in any kind
of trouble, just let me know.”
Mark wondered what he was talking about. He knew Dawg
couldn’t possibly be paying the DEA off because he was the agent
in charge of the investigation. “I’ll make sure I do that,” he said as
he got out of the car.

J
AMAL HAD GOTTEN TO
know Candy. She was twenty-two and had come to Charlotte two years earlier to attend college. When money had gotten tight she began to strip for extra income. During her second year of school she became pregnant and subsequently had to drop out and dance full time to support her child. When money was
real
tight she offered sexual services to some of her customers. But now she was having sex just to stay ahead. Jamal loved having sex with Candy. There was no limits to their adventures. They had oral sex, positional sex, and they even made videos. Candy had even agreed to a ménage a trois if they could find another girl.

Jamal arrived at Candy’s apartment at 7:30, and at 8:00 they were at Red Lobster for dinner. After some jumbo shrimp and red wine, Candy performed oral sex on Jamal while he wheeled his Mercedes. The car swerved and she rose. “Why did you stop?” Jamal asked.

Candy smiled. “Did it feel good?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“I know it must have felt good because you were about to kill

us both.”
Jamal pointed to his stiff penis. “Go ahead, finish the job.” Candy held her hand out. “I need some money.”
“What are you, crazy? Why must this always be about money

with you and me?”
“Because it’s like that. Nigga; I don’t love you. I love what you
can do for me.”
Jamal stopped the car, then reached over Candy’s lap and
opened the door. “Get out and walk.”
“I ain’t walking nowhere. You picked me up and you’re going to
take me home.”
Jamal grabbed Candy by the neck and began to squeeze until
her face turned red. Then he shoved her and caused her head to
hit the passenger window. “Get out before I hurt you.” Candy opened the door and jumped out the car. “Fuck you,
Jamal,” she said as she walked away.

Dream was surprised when she opened her door and saw Jamal with a
Love and Basketball
DVD in his hand.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“It’s a free country.”
“But you’re in control of your apartment.”
She stepped aside as he walked in and seated himself on the ottoman. She sat on her sofa Indian-style, wearing a Carolina Panthers football jersey and some blue gym shorts.
Jamal didn’t know what to say. He had never been good at apologies, and he really didn’t know where to begin. “So, what’s been up?”
Dream shrugged. “Nothing much. Going to work every day and coming back to the house.”
Their eyes met before Jamal turned his gaze to some pictures on the end table. He could tell she had been hurt, and this made expressing himself more difficult. “Listen, I don’t really know what to say except I’m sorry about the way I acted, and I want you to know it really wasn’t what you thought it was . . . I mean, there was a woman on the phone, but it wasn’t like I was seeing her or anything. I met her in the club but we did nothing more than talk as she danced.”
He had said everything she wanted to hear, and she really did believe him. “Jamal, I really hope you didn’t expect to just come to my door with a video and everything would be as it was before. It doesn’t work that way. I mean, I really do miss you. In fact, I miss you so much I cried myself to sleep a couple of times. I just can’t let you walk in and out of my life as you please.”
He hadn’t anticipated her saying this. “Did your ex-boyfriend get out?”
She was confused by what he had asked. “What in the hell does that have to do with anything?” she asked.
“I just want to know why you’re treating me like this.”
Dream became annoyed. She was the victim, but he was saying she was treating him badly. She stood from the sofa and walked over to the door. “Please leave, Jamal.”
He got up from the ottoman and slowly walked past her into the hallway. When she tried to close the door, he grabbed it and stepped back inside and placed his hand behind her neck. She struggled before he forced his lips to meet her wet mouth. “I love you, Dream,” he said as he left the apartment.
Ten minutes after he had gone, Dream sat and stared blankly at the Discovery channel. Jamal was the man she loved, but at the same time she hated him. For the rest of the day she tried hard not to think about him. By the end of the evening, she found herself dialing his cell phone number. When he answered, she asked him to come over.