Entangled (3 page)

Jamal awakened around 7:00 A.M. He would look for a job today. He figured he would at least try to be legitimate. He had seen many of his friends get out of prison and come right back for hustling, but he didn’t really want to get caught up in his previous lifestyle. He remembered how much he hated prison. He would often say that if he could get out, he would work two jobs. McDonald’s even. He just didn’t want to go back to a dreadful cell. If that didn’t work, he would go back to what he had been accustomed to. He had to survive. This was his rationale.

Jamal had been to at least thirty different places looking for work. They all wanted to know where he’d been for the last five years. McDonald’s wouldn’t even hire him. One man, Paul Angel, owner of Angel’s Courier Service, had actually hired Jamal before learning of his past. Jamal and Angel had chatted for twenty minutes. They’d discussed everything from current events to sports. Angel showed Jamal pictures of his son and daughter who both attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Angel even encouraged Jamal to go back to school and get an education. “Who knows? If you get the right schooling, you might end up running this business for me once I’m not able,” Angel said, smiling. “When can you start?” Angel asked as he extended his hand to Jamal.

“Today,” Jamal replied. They continued their discussion in the small office.
Angel’s jaw dropped as soon as Jamal informed him that he’d just been released from prison. “You’ve been locked up before?”
“Yeah, I did five years in prison,” Jamal said.
“For what?” Angel asked as he stood and paced.
“I was locked up for selling drugs,” Jamal said, suddenly realizing he should not have been so honest.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stewart, but we can’t use your services,” Angel said, unable to hold eye contact.
Jamal felt like an idiot for even trying to play by the rules. His plan was to be wealthy. He wanted a mansion, exotic cars, and at least a half-million dollars in cash. He chuckled to himself for having the notion that a regular-paying job would help him reach his goals. He got into his truck and decided to call Angelo, his California drug connection.
Angelo answered on the first ring. “Hello.”
“Angelo, this is Jamal.”
“Oh my God, when did you get out?” Angelo asked.
“Almost a month now,” Jamal replied.
“I knew it was about time for you to get out,” Angelo said. “What have you been up to?”
“Trying to find work, but I ain’t having no luck. Whenever I tell somebody that I just got out of prison, they don’t want to have nothing else to do with me.”
“Well, guys like me and you ain’t cut out for working for nobody else. Besides, you know the white man ain’t trying to deal with no black ex-convict, so why don’t you come on out here to see me? I’ll put you back to work.”
“I’ll be on the next flight to San Diego.”

When Jamal and Dawg stepped off the plane, they took an escalator to the first floor of the airport. Angelo was there to greet them. He was a thin man with a wavy gray ponytail. He looked to be in his mid-fifties. He hugged Jamal. “Man, it’s been a long time,” Angelo said, happy to see his old business acquaintance.

“Angelo, you remember my friend, Dawg, don’t you?” Jamal asked.
Angelo and Dawg shook hands.
The three men hurried to baggage claims and grabbed the luggage from the conveyer belt before heading to the parking lot where a blue Chevrolet Suburban transported them to Northern San Diego County. Angelo pulled into the driveway of a beautiful ranch-style, stucco house, nestled among eucalyptus trees. The inside of the home was richly decorated, and furnished with beautiful, green, Italian leather furniture. The floors were made of marble tile and a huge aquarium was built into the wall. A small octopus swam wildly as Jamal and Dawg looked on, very impressed. Angelo led them into a room in the back of the house, set up with a huge round table in the center. The three men took a seat. Shortly afterward, two women joined them.
“Fellas, I want you to meet my girls,” Angelo said.
“Hey, guys, I’m Connie,” one of the girls said. She was tall with skin the color of coffee. Her hair was short and stylish. “This is my friend Jennifer,” she said.
Jennifer was tall and looked biracial. The girls shook hands with the guys, and the meeting began.
“Well, I think everybody in this room knows what we’re here to discuss, so I’m gonna get right down to business,” Angelo said. “My man, Jamal here just got out of prison, and he wants to make some money. I’m gonna help him as much as I can because I know he is a stand-up guy. I feel like I owe him because when he went to prison, he could have been a bitch and brought me down. I would have died in prison, so I appreciate this man. Besides he’s like a son to me,” Angelo said.
Jamal was surprised Angelo had such strong feelings for him. Angelo was right. Jamal could have given the Feds information and never served a day in prison. The two men had met while Jamal was in high school, at a downtown hotel where Jamal worked. One day Jamal overheard the hotel manager saying that he believed Angelo was into some type of illegal activity. Shortly thereafter Jamal told Angelo what he’d overheard, and the two had been friends ever since. “Yeah, I definitely need to make some money, but I don’t want you to think you owe me anything,” Jamal said.
“Then let’s just say I feel obligated. Plus I feel like I should make your transition back into the game as smooth as possible. So, I got a proposition for you. I think you might want to hear what I’ve got to say,” Angelo said.
“I’m game for anything that’s gonna put some money in my pockets,” Jamal said, placing his forearms on the table.
“Okay, this is the plan: I got a friend living in Charlotte. I’ve known this man for years. He’s willing to pay $25,000 for a kilo of cocaine.”
“Where do I come in at?” Jamal asked.
“I’m getting the kilos for $13,500. I’m going to give them to you for $18,500, and you can pass them on to Ruff and make $6,500 off the top.”
“Your man is okay, ain’t he? I would hate to see my boy get caught up in some more bullshit,” Dawg said.
Angelo stared at Dawg coldly. “I understand you, but this guy is cool. Trust me. Nothing is going to happen,” Angelo said before a smile materialized on his face. “Besides, he gets rid of dope faster than anybody I know.”
“So, basically, my job is to be a runner for you?” Jamal asked.
“If that’s all you want to be, that’s fine, but I’ll give you your own product on consignment, I mean, however you want to do it. That’s on you.”
Jamal smiled broadly. “That’s what I want to hear. I need to make some money. I ain’t accustomed to being without it. When will the plan go into effect?”
“As soon as you leave, the girls will make the delivery the next day.”
“Well, hell, I’m leaving tomorrow. I like California and all, but I need to get this money.”

T
WO DAYS LATER
, with four kilos attached to their girdles, the girls had gone through the airports undetected. The plan to get the product across the country had been successful. As soon as Jamal and Dawg got the product in their possession, Jamal called Ruff and got the directions to his home. It took thirty-five minutes to get to Ruff’s house from Jamal’s downtown condo.

Ruff lived near the Piedmont Courts housing projects, a neighborhood notorious for drug dealing and murder. Young boys were huddled on street corners, drinking and rolling dice, while prostitutes and drug addicts paraded up and down the street. Ruff’s place was an enormous one-level home that stood out prominently in such a poverty-stricken neighborhood. A Lincoln Navigator and a Mercedes Benz were in the driveway. As soon as Jamal and Dawg reached the porch, a man opened the door. “I’m Ruff,” he said, his smile revealing gold teeth. “Come on in. Have a seat.”

Dawg sat beside Ruff on the sofa, and Jamal sat on an ottoman on the other side of the room. Ruff’s home was simply decorated with earth-tone furniture and plush beige carpeting. Prison photos on the coffee table taken while he was locked up made it obvious that Ruff was no stranger to law enforcement.

“Angelo said you were gonna have something for me,” Ruff said. “We do,” Dawg said
“Where is it?” Ruff asked.
“Now you wouldn’t expect us to come over here with it on us

Ruff smiled again. “Yeah, I see what you mean, but if you trusted Angelo and he sent you to me, he evidently feels that I’m okay, wouldn’t you say?”

“He told us that you were cool but, you know, I still like to feel people out myself,” Jamal said.
“I understand. So how long is the feeling-out process gon’ take?” Ruff asked.
“As long as I need it to take,” Jamal said.
“Well, I ain’t got all year to be fuckin’ with you cats. The fuckin’ police just took $85,000 from me. I need to get back to work quickly. You know what I mean?”
Jamal and Dawg rose at the same time. “Have your money counted. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes,” Jamal said.
“I guess that means you boys trust me,” Ruff said.
“Naw, this means we trust Angelo,” Jamal said.

Three days later, TGI Friday’s parking lot on Independence Boulevard was empty, except for the black pickup truck in the back of the restaurant. Jamal and Dawg waited in the front with two kilos underneath the seat. A 9mm handgun rested at Dawg’s waist.

Jamal glanced at his watch. It was 3:15 P.M. and already his prospective customer was late. “Do you think we ought to get the hell out of here?” he asked.

“Let’s wait another fifteen minutes,” Dawg said, looking over his shoulder, scanning the parking lot.
“I don’t like waiting in no empty parking lot,” Jamal said. “If it wasn’t Rico we were waiting on, I would have gotten the hell out of here a long time ago.” Rico was a former associate whom Jamal had dealt with before going to prison.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Dawg said.
Jamal turned to Dawg. “Is Rico still cool? I mean, you haven’t heard anything about him robbing anybody, have you?”
“Naw, Rico is cool, as far as I know.” A blue Lexus with chrome rims pulled into the parking lot. Jamal and Dawg recognized Rico immediately.
Rico pulled up beside the Expedition and asked Jamal to follow him.
Nervously, Jamal and Dawg both looked the parking lot over before following the Lexus. About a half-mile later they reached an apartment complex. Rico sprang out of the Lexus and signaled for Jamal and Dawg to come in behind him. Dawg moved the gun from his waist to his pocket.
Once they were inside the apartment, they felt there was no immediate danger. A short Hispanic woman with a round ass was inside.
“Rosa, these are my friends, Dawg and Jamal,” Rico said.
The woman nodded and smiled.
“Now get the hell out of here and let me and my friends do business.”
After Rosa left, Rico hugged Jamal. “I’m glad you’re home, man, that’s real.”
“You ain’t the only one. Hell, I’m glad to
be
home,” Jamal said.
“So what do you have for me?” Rico asked.
“I got what you want. It’s some good shit.”
“Cool, because it’s been kind of hard to get the good shit lately, and I need to serve my people in the ’hood,” Rico said.
“Well it’s here. I got two bricks, and I’m going to need $50,000.”
“I got forty. I can pay you the rest in a couple of days.”
“Okay. I’ll let you deal with Dawg from now on because I got to make sure we keep getting what we need.”
“I see you’re playing the big-man role already,” Rico said, laughing.
“I don’t want to be the big man. The big man is the one who gets all the prison time. I want to be the one who gets all the money.”
Jamal showed Rico two brick-like packages. They reminisced for a few minutes before counting the $40,000.

Dream was still upset by the way DeVon had treated her in the visiting room. He’d acted like an adolescent about some pictures she’d taken years ago. She blamed society for the double standard between men and women. It was acceptable for a man to engage in any kind of undesirable act, and society would forgive him. Bill Clinton, Jesse Jackson, and Jimmy Swaggart had all been involved in sex-related scandals. Initially the media was in a frenzy, but after a couple of months, the hype died down; the country forgave them, but the poor women involved were scorned.

She wondered why men always dwelt on the past. She had never tried to investigate DeVon’s previous relationships. She was certain that she could easily dig into his past and come up with some skeletons, but she had no desire to. She wasn’t concerned about his past love life. She didn’t know whether she still loved DeVon. She missed him terribly though, and she needed to talk to someone. She decided to call her best friend, Keisha Ferguson.

Keisha picked up the phone on the first ring. “What’s up, girl?” she screamed, which meant she must have looked at the Caller ID.
“Nothing much here. Just needed someone to talk to,” Dream said.
“You sound down. What happened?”
For the next twenty minutes, Dream told her all the details of her visit with DeVon. Keisha listened without interruption, and when Dream finished talking, Keisha commented, “He’s so damn childish.”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Dream replied, but she wasn’t exactly surprised that Keisha had taken her side, after all, they were best friends, and they did think alike.
“You know what? You need a vacation, girl. You haven’t been anywhere but to that damn prison, to work, and to your parents’ house. Why don’t you come with me to South Beach this Fourth of July weekend?”
“A vacation like that must be expensive,” Dream said.
“Well, I already have a room reserved. All you need to do is get an airline ticket.”
Keisha was right. Dream hadn’t been anywhere all summer, and a trip could be soothing. Dream thought about it for a couple of minutes before deciding she would go. “I’ll search the Internet for a deal.”
“Call me back and let me know what you come up with,” Keisha said.

Jamal had dealt with Ruff for about three weeks, and had made nearly $50,000 in profits. Not bad money for less than a month of work. When he was in prison, he had heard that high-tech was the wave of the future, with some jobs making as much as $150,000 a year. He preferred pharmaceutical sales.
There was no money like drug money
, he thought. He had made enough to get the new E-Class Benz if he wanted. He had enough to buy some cheap real estate. He could even buy into a fast-food franchise. He decided to wait before he spent his money foolishly.