Entangled (8 page)

Mark studied Jamal’s file carefully with Jeremiah staring over his shoulder.
“Looks like this guy just got out of prison,” Jeremiah said.
“Yeah, not even three months.”
“What’s his address?” Jeremiah asked.
“According to the Department of Motor Vehicles, he lives on Trade Street, downtown.”
“He probably lives in the high-rise where Davis led us.”
“That’s my guess, too,” Mark said.

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

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

“Anybody who is a friend of Ruff’s is a friend of mine,” Dawg said as he shook Mark’s hand.
“Good, ’cause I expect to be doing a lot of business with you guys. Ruff tells me that you boys have some good shit,” Mark said.
“The best in town,” Dawg replied.
“I need two kilos ASAP,” Mark said.
“How much money you got?”
“I got about $50,000,” Mark said.
“I ain’t got shit,” Ruff said.
“Don’t worry, Ruff. We’re gonna give you something on your face,” Dawg said.
“Can we deal or what?” Mark asked.
“Hold on a second,” Dawg said. He left and went outside to his car and came back with three kilos of cocaine. He gave Mark two; the other went to Ruff.
“I see this is going to work out just fine,” Dawg said as he counted the money.
“You damn right it is,” Mark said as he held the product to the light.

Two days had passed since Jamal’s evening with Dream and her parents.
He had been thinking about his mother every since he’d left the Nelsons’. He needed to find her just to know whether she was alive. He had driven to Dawg’s condominium and asked him to take a ride. Jamal shared the questions Dream’s parents had asked.
“Maybe this girl ain’t for you after all,” Dawg said.
Jamal turned and faced him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if her parents are all that worried about your mother and what school you went to, it just sounds like they don’t think you’re good enough for their daughter.”
Jamal was silent for a while. Finally he spoke. “I really need to find my mama, though. I need to know if she’s alive.”
“I understand, man, but you may not want to deal with your mama when you see her.”
“What do you mean, man? This is my mama we’re talking about.”
“I know, but you remember how your mom was out there before you left? I mean, she was like a walking corpse, stealing everything she could get her hands on to buy dope.”
What Dawg said had irritated Jamal, and if Dawg had been anybody else, he would have slapped him. “I know, man, but it’s my mama, my only living flesh and blood that I know of.” His voice full of emotion.
“I feel your pain, man, honestly I do, because you know you’re like a brother to me, but some things you have to block out of your mind in order to go on. I mean, if you keep dwelling on shit you have no control over, you will fuckin’ go crazy, man. Honestly, you got to let it go. Take my daughter, for instance. I love her to death, but her stupid-ass mother won’t let me see her. Some days I want to see her badly, but I know I can’t. So rather than fuckin’ my whole day up, I have to block it out of my mind or else I will hurt some undeserving stupid mu’fucka who might come out of the mouth wrong.”
Jamal had forgotten about Dawg’s daughter. She had been born while Jamal was incarcerated.
They rode for the next twenty minutes in silence before Jamal turned onto Albert Street in his old neighborhood. His old house was made of wood, with gray paint peeling from the side. No grass was in the yard, just dirt. The house was abandoned, and the windows were boarded up. Jamal stopped in the driveway, and childhood memories flooded his mind.
Mary Stewart had worked two jobs to support Jamal. She had always made sure he had the best clothes and latest toys. She never missed a day cooking for her only son. Regardless of how tired she was, she always made sure her son was fed properly—until she met Lance. Lance was from D.C. He was a couple of years younger than Mary and a charmer. He introduced her to marijuana, and within a year, Mary started smoking crack and missing work. Eventually she was fired, and with no money coming in, Jamal was left to take care of himself. When he became old enough to work, he started at a legitimate job, but eventually began selling drugs after he met Angelo. There seemed to be such a big demand in the city.
“What’s wrong with you, nigga?” Dawg asked, interrupting Jamal’s thoughts.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with me.”
“Why are your eyes all red and puffy?”
Jamal wanted to share his thoughts with Dawg, but he decided not to. Even though he and Dawg were from the same neighborhood, Dawg couldn’t possibly understand what he was going through. Dawg was fortunate enough to have his parents. “Let’s just leave,” Jamal said.
“You’re the one driving.”
As Jamal was about to drive away, a burgundy Nissan Maxima pulled in front of him, blocking his Expedition. A slender black man with a knotty beard jumped from the car and ran up to the driver’s side of the Expedition. “Hey, Jamal?” the man said.
Jamal didn’t recognize him. “Who are you?”
Dawg recognized him instantly. “That’s that snitch-mu’fucka, Tony. You remember him from back in the day. He used to buy from us before you got locked up. Word on the street is, the nigga got busted and now he’s an informant.”
Jamal remembered him. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“I got some information you might want,” Tony said.
“Yeah, you got some information the police might want, too,” Dawg said.
“Seriously, I need to talk to you guys,” Tony pleaded.
“So talk,” Jamal said.
“Hurry up and say what you gotta say,” Dawg demanded. “I don’t want anybody to see us with you.”
Tony looked around before he spoke. “Listen, man, the DEA just got some information about you guys.”
“Yeah, right,” Jamal said. “I haven’t been out of prison two months yet.”
“I’m serious, man. They know about you. Some guy named Angelo out in California and everything, man.”
Jamal and Dawg looked at each other in disbelief. They knew there was some kind of truth to Tony’s story, because Tony had mentioned Angelo. “Where did you get this info from?” Jamal asked.
“It ain’t a secret that I work close with some of the agents,” Tony said.
“I don’t get it. Why are you telling us this information then?” Dawg asked.
“Because I can help.”
“How in the hell are you gonna help us?” Jamal asked.
“Because I know one of the agents pretty good, and he’s willing to squash the investigation for thirty G’s.”
A sudden hardness appeared on Dawg’s face. “Nigga, you trying to extort us?”
“I ain’t trying to extort nobody. I’m simply offering my help.”
“How do we know you won’t fuck us around?” Jamal asked.
“I tell you what, let’s get together tomorrow, and I’ll let you talk to the agent on the phone for yourself,” Tony said.
“How do you know he’s willing to help us?” Dawg asked.
“I’ve done this before. I ain’t new to this,” Tony said.
Tony scribbled his cell phone number down on a piece of paper and handed it to Jamal.
“Call me tomorrow around noon,” Tony said as he stepped away from the Expedition.

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

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

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

What’s the deal?” Jamal asked.
“You boys are in some serious shit. We’ve received a lot of
information about you and your California connection. It’s just a
matter of time before we take you down.”
Jamal cracked his knuckles before saying, “Tony said something
about you being willing to work something out so we can get this
matter resolved.”
“Yeah, we can resolve this matter one of two ways: You guys can
give me a piece of the pie and I’ll turn my head, or you can wait
and see what happens. I strongly suggest that you don’t choose the
latter. If my memory serves me correctly, you just got out of
prison.”
“Is this shit about a payoff or my background? Spit your price
and let’s get this over,” Jamal said.
“Didn’t Tony tell you what it was going to cost?”
“I want to hear it from you. Tony might be trying to tax me extra
and how can I be sure you’re not running game.”
“Well, Jamal, that’s where you’re just going to have to believe
me, because at this point you have nothing to lose and everything
to gain. My price is $25,000.”
Jamal looked at Tony. “You tried to make an extra five grand.” “Do we have a deal?” the agent asked.
“Tony will have the money in ten minutes.” Jamal paid for the
coffee and walked out to the car with Tony following. He removed
five thousand dollars from the black leather bag then gave the bag
to Tony. He felt empty when the money left his possession, but he
knew it didn’t compare to the emptiness of a lonely jail cell.

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

“So you want to see me?”
“What do you think?”
“What do you want to do in the middle of the day?” he asked. “Come cuddle me,” she said.
“I’m not coming over there lying around in the middle of the

day.”
“Just come over. I‘m sure we’ll find something to do. We can
cuddle later. I just want to see you. Is there a problem with me
wanting to see you? I actually miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Jamal said. “I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?”
“Why do you think I brought it?”
Reluctantly, he stood from the blanket, and she walked across

the field with the Frisbee in her hand.
When she had reached the other side, Dream threw him the
Frisbee. Jamal caught it and tossed it back. They went back and
forth across the field. Surprisingly, he was actually enjoying her
dashing across the grass. Her tiny athletic frame was revealed in
her fitted gym shorts. After about ten minutes, he yelled, “Let’s
take a rest.”
She approached him. “What’s wrong?”
“I just ain’t feeling this. Are you trying to make me soft?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”
“I just feel like I could be doing a lot of other things with my
time.”
“Oh, am I wasting your time?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“What are you trying to say, Jamal?”
“This ain’t my thang, that’s all.”
She put the Frisbee under her arms and placed her hands on
her hips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you just get out of
prison?”
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” “You need to try different things, Jamal.”
Before he could respond, a white couple with two children
walked past. The little girl sat on the man’s shoulder while the
woman held the hand of the little boy.
“Jamal, that’s what life is all about,” Dream said, pointing at the
couple.
“What? Trying to act white?”
“No, dammit. I am talking about family and children and
watching them grow up. There is more to life than going back and
forth to jail.”
Jamal was silent. He couldn’t bring himself to disagree because
she was right. He had always wanted children. He felt alone since
he didn’t know where his mother was. It was obvious that Dream
wanted to do more than date. She had clearly thought about a
future with him—one that included kids. She offered him a new
perspective. He didn’t want to argue; he couldn’t, she was right.
There
was
more to life than going back and forth to jail and selling
drugs, but that was the only life to which he had been exposed. He tried walking away but she stepped in front of him. “Where do you think you are going?”
“I was just thinking. You made some good points, but please try
to understand that I’m used to having to watch my back and sleep
with shanks under my pillow. All this Frisbee and picnic shit is
something I’m going to have to get used to.”
“I understand, but you’re gonna have to talk to me if we are
going to be together,” she said with serious eyes.
He turned from her glance. “That’s another thing I ain’t used to,
opening up to people.”
“Jamal, you can be yourself around me. I know you just got out
of prison, and I accept you for you. I know you’re kind of
hardcore, that’s what attracted me to you. But what you have to
understand is, you are not in prison anymore. There is nothing
sissified about going to the park with your girl.”
He stared at the sky. “I understand what you’re saying, and you
are so right,” he said as he turned and faced her. “Let me see the
Frisbee.”
She handed him the disk and sprinted across the grass. He flung
the Frisbee in her direction.