by Elliott, K
She smiled. It was a corny line, she thought, but she had been hearing it all her life. “Thank you.”
“So, Dream, where are you from?”
“Earth,” she said teasingly.
He smiled. He liked a woman with a sense of humor.
“I’m from Charlotte, North Carolina,” Dream said.
“Me, too. I’ve never seen you before.”
“Well, I’ve never seen you before, either, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t from Charlotte.”
He hesitated before speaking. “I lived in Orlando for a while before returning home this year.” The Federal prison had been close to Orlando but he claimed Orlando assuming it might impress Dream. It sounded worldlier.
Her eyebrows rose. “Really?” she asked, pretending to be interested.
“So what do you do in Charlotte besides posing as an absolute beauty queen?”
She blushed. “I’m a history teacher.”
He couldn’t believe she was a teacher. He had expected her to say something like modeling or a makeup artist not teaching. She didn’t strike him as the teacher type. He knew if he were in school, he would find it hard to concentrate in a classroom with her, though he wouldn’t mind her teaching him a few things. Jamal didn’t know what else to talk about. She was the most beautiful woman he had been in contact with since he had been released from prison. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked.
“Seltzer water.”
“You don’t drink alcohol, huh?”
“I don’t drink around people that I don’t know.”
He laughed out loud before disappearing inside the club. He spotted Dawg at the bar with a bottle of Moet in his hand.
“What’s up, Soldier?” Dawg asked.
“Nothing, man, I’m just out on the patio chilling with that Dream chick. The fine-ass woman is a damn teacher.”
“Well her friend is acting like it’s all about these tall-ass NBA niggas but she don’t even know we got money like these mu’fuckas. That’s cool, though, ’cause I got these two bisexual women from Miami on my jock.”
Jamal laughed.
“Well, don’t wait up on me ’cause I’m in for a long night,” Dawg assured him.
When Jamal returned to the patio, he found Dream sitting with perfect posture. When she stood to receive her drink, he noticed how well-proportioned her body was. Her breasts were small but delicious looking. Her ass was round and firm, and when she turned to the side he could see that she was wearing a thong. He became aroused immediately. He handed her the seltzer water. “Did you miss me?” he asked.
“Yeah, I counted the seconds you were away,” she teased.
She took her position back on the bench and he sat beside her.
“So, Ms. Dream, do you have a man?”
She turned from his gaze. “Kinda.”
“How can you kinda have a man?”
She turned and faced him again. “Let’s just say we’re not exactly getting along right now.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked before taking a sip of his Corona.
“Long story.”
“I got time.”
She put her legs across his lap.
He stared at her well-defined calves and his arousal returned.
“Let’s just enjoy the moment, the mood and the moonlight,” she said.
Two hours later the crowd on the patio had grown dramatically. Dream and Jamal sat talking about everything while holding hands. The pale moonlight fell down on their faces.
*** The next morning, Jamal woke up with Dream on his mind. Though there were thousands of fine women at the beach, he wanted Dream. Her beauty went beyond the skin. She wasn’t just another pretty face. Her conversation was seasoned with substance, and he felt connected to her in a way that he could not explain. He showered, got dressed, repossessed the Jaquar from the valet, and slipped in his Tupac CD. Tupac was like religion to Jamal. He loved what the rapper had represented before passing away. Tupac was a young black man who was from the slums, a man who was not supposed to make it but did, against all odds. Jamal felt in some ways he and Tupac’s lives were parallel.
Jamal was bouncing to the music when he picked Dream up in front of her hotel. When she got in, he put the top down and her hair blew fiercely as they drove off in the direction of the Bal Harbor Area shopping mall. He drove impatiently, maneuvering his way through the jam-packed streets. He would glance down occasionally at her beautiful brown legs, and when she would catch him, they would laugh.
Bal Harbor was full of specialty shops like Gucci, Chanel, and Fendi. When they entered the mall a woman in her sixties sporting breast implants and Donna Karan sunglasses carrying many bags was leaving.
“There are a lot of rich people down here,” Jamal said. “I see,” Dream said, admiring the trendy-looking stores. For the next hour and a half, they visited at least six different
stores, and Jamal purchased at least one item out of each store. Dream noticed each time he paid with cash.
“I want to buy you something,” Jamal said as they left the Versace store.
“Why do you want to buy me something? You hardly even
know me,” Dream said.
“Because I’ve never met anybody like you. I’m feeling chemistry
here. Besides, I’ve spent so much money on myself. I’m kind of
feeling guilty for just splurging in your face.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Jamal. Honestly, I’m okay.” At Tiffany’s he noticed her looking at a diamond-encrusted gold
watch. Dream didn’t want to try the watch on but the saleslady
was so adamant, she finally agreed.
“It’s ravishing,” the saleslady said.
“It’s the bomb,” Jamal replied.
“Expensive is what it is,” Dream added.
“We’ll take it,” Jamal said, and the saleslady quickly retrieved
the watch and headed to the back room to box it up before Dream
could challenge her. Jamal pulled thirty-four $100-bills from his
pocket and placed them on the counter.
As night fell, Dream and Jamal strolled the beach barefooted as
the ocean waves pounded the shore vehemently. The seagulls
sounded off like a high school trumpet player. A half moon hung
low, and a few stars decorated the night sky. Lost in thought,
Dream reflected on her last visit with DeVon. Though she was
having a good time with Jamal, she couldn’t help but think of
DeVon. It was Sunday night, and it had been nearly one month
since she had seen him. She felt guilty for not visiting, while at the
same time she was having the time of her life. She decided to send
DeVon a postcard but quickly dismissed the thought. After all, it
was he who had cursed her out and left her in the visiting room
feeling like a fool.
Jamal had been quiet for most of the walk. He was just enjoying
the night and her presence. Finally he broke his silence and caught
her off guard. “Dream, do you believe in God?”
She stopped in her tracks and turned toward him. “Of course I
do. I believe in Jesus. What about you?”
He turned toward the ocean and inhaled the saltwater aroma.
“Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t know what to believe.” “Sounds like a lack of faith to me,” she said.
“Not necessarily a lack of faith but a lack of understanding. I
mean when I look at the ocean and the stars, I know there is a
creator, but when I see one group of people prosper so much more
than another group, I can’t help but wonder why God would allow
that. Why would He allow anyone to suffer? Why would He let
kids in Africa go hungry? There are just so many questions I have
that I need answers for. Honestly, to me, hel
l is being broke here
on earth.”
Jamal’s eyes were misty when he finished, and Dream could tell
he had been questioning the concept of God for a while. She didn’t
have the answers for him. Finally, she took his hand and they
continued to walk in silence.
“So, Dream, are you gonna work your little situation out with
your man, or are you gonna free up that time for me?” She laughed. “You’re definitely straightforward.”
He smiled boyishly. “That’s the only way I know to be.” “To answer your question, Mr. Jamal, it’s not that easy. There’s a
lot to the relationship. It’s more complex than you could imagine.” “So, does this guy know you’re down here in South Beach?” “He doesn’t know where I am.”
“Aren’t we wild?”
“No. It’s not what you think. He’s locked up.”
“Oh, I see why things are complicated.”
“Let’s not talk about him right now.”
“That’s fine with me,” he said, placing his arm around her waist.
*** In her hotel room, Dream lay on her stomach as Jamal massaged her back. Jamal couldn’t believe that he was actually in her room. Either women were more gullible than they used to be, or his lines were more polished. A rerun of The Cosby Show was playing on television, but his eyes were fixated on her ass.
“Lower shoulders please,” she said.
He maneuvered her shoulders gently. He felt the erection
returning, so he shifted his attention to the television. “You know, I never liked this show.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too far-fetched.”
“What’s far-fetched about it?”
“A doctor married to a lawyer? Come on. How many black
people do you know like that?”
“I know quite a few professional people married to each other.” “Oh, really?” His erection began to reduce.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, the guy who lived next door when I
was growing up is an engineer and his wife is an attorney.” There was a long silence and it seemed as though the volume on the television increased. Dr. Huxtable was confronting Theo about marijuana he had found in Theo’s schoolbook. For the first time since they had met, Jamal realized that he and Dream were from different classes. He thought about Tupac’s lyrics. Jamal’s family tree consisted of drug dealers, thugs, and killers, while Dream’s social circle was made up of attorneys, doctors, and teachers. He had expected the next question to come much sooner.
“What do you do for a living?” she asked He hesitated, thinking of an answer. “Let’s just say I have to hustle to get my money.” He wanted to lie but decided not to. He knew Dream was smart enough to realize he didn’t have a regular job because of the way he had been throwing money around. Besides, he figured, a lot of good girls liked thugs.
Dream turned over on her back and her eyes met his. “I don’t want to know what you’re involved in. I can imagine, though. I’ve dealt with your kind before.”
Jamal was relieved that she clearly wasn’t going to hold the fact that he hustled against him. He really liked Dream, and he didn’t want to have to deal with a scared little girl. He was what he was, and he didn’t want to change for anybody until he felt he had enough money to stop and live comfortably. Hustling was how he was eating, and anybody affiliated with him was going to have to accept it. “You know, you’re cool as hell,” he said.
“Where did that come from?” she asked, smiling.
“You accept me for me, and I like that because, I mean, here you are, this teacher from obviously a better background than mine, and you still ain’t judging me because I’m a hustler,” he said.
“Jamal, I have a question for you.”
Now he figured she was probably going to pry. He hadn’t anticipated another question, but whatever it was she wanted to know, he would tell her. “What do you want to know?”
“Will you cuddle me?” she asked softly.
“Cuddle you? What do you mean?” He honestly didn’t know.
“Get up under the cover, silly, and hold me.”
He kicked off his size twelve Nikes and slid underneath the cover, placing an arm around her waist. Her body was warm and soothing and his erection formed fast. His erection was pulsating against her ass. He knew she liked it. It was agonizing to have an erection and not be able to penetrate her. He liked the feeling nevertheless.
*** On the flight back to Charlotte, Jamal tallied up the cost of his trip. From airline tickets and rental cars to the mini-shopping spree he and Dream had at Bal Harbor, the total came to around $10,000. He called Angelo as soon as he got off the plane.
CHAPTER 5
M ARK WAS STAKED OUT across the street from Ruff’s house posing as a BellSouth telephone repairman. He had been there about a half hour when a white BMW drove up with a young black man behind the wheel. Mark noticed the man using a cell phone. A minute later, Ruff came out of the house and walked up to the vehicle. Ruff handed the man a black leather bag in exchange for a small brown box, after which the man drove off. Mark’s surveillance experience told him that Ruffin had just scored, and the young guy in the BMW was his supplier. Mark immediately called the office and asked for help.
Forty-five minutes later, Jeremiah Tolliver pulled up beside Mark in a BellSouth telephone truck. Mark wasn’t particularly fond of Jeremiah, but he was the only one available to come out and help.
“What’s up, Mark?” Jeremiah asked, extending his hand. “Nothing much, just needing a little help with this surveillance.”
“Which house are you watching?” Jeremiah asked as he looked across the street.
“The one with the lavender siding.”
“So, he’s a doper, huh?”
“I’m pretty sure he is,” Mark replied. He then told Jeremiah about the money that had been seized, Ruffin’s drug history, and the exchange between Ruffin and the guy in the white BMW.
“Did you get the guy’s license plate number?”
“Yeah, I ran it already. The car belongs to Steven Davis. He lives on Lake Norman.”
“Lake Norman? This guy must have some serious money,” Jeremiah said.
“He has an apartment.”
“Even so, apartments ain’t cheap on the lake. He’s probably pushing some heavy dope.”
“We’ll have to check him out later.”
“Do you think he has drugs in the house?” Jeremiah asked. His blue eyes were intense.
“I’m pretty sure of it,” Mark said, nodding.
“Let’s get an informant to go in and make a buy from Ruff, get a search warrant and bust his ass.”
“It’s not that simple. Ruff is from the old school. He ain’t gonna go for it unless . . . ”
“Unless what?”
“Unless we get a woman to go along with the informant.”
“Why do we need a woman?” Jeremiah asked.
“I’ve been watching this man for a while now, and he likes beautiful women.”
“Well that’s what we’ll do then. We’ll get a woman and come back tomorrow. Hopefully he won’t sell out before then. In the meantime, let’s get some info on this Steven Davis character.”
*** Steven Davis had never gotten into much, according to his record—a few simple possessions of marijuana and a charge for assaulting a female, which was dismissed. He had one brief stay at the county jail for child support, about four years ago. But according to his record, he was far from a hardened criminal. Mark and Jeremiah examined his mug shot. “I’ll tell you what, he definitely is an ugly S.O.B.,” Jeremiah said, chuckling.
“No, he ain’t gonna win no beauty contest no time soon.” Jeremiah looked at a printout of Steven’s arrest record. “Are you sure this is the guy that was in the BMW? I mean, he’s a petty criminal according to his rap sheet.”
Mark shrugged. “Honestly, I couldn’t see him from where my truc
k was parked, but I think this is the guy.”
“Let’s ride up to Lake Norman and see if we see the BMW.”
Lakeside Condominiums was a luxurious gated community. Jeremiah presented his BellSouth ID to the security officer and the man promptly opened the gate. Mark spotted the BMW as soon as they entered the parking lot. Steven Davis lived in Apartment 4, overlooking the marina. “Let’s ask one of the neighbors about Davis,” Jeremiah suggested.
“Not yet. The purpose of the visit is to see if Davis lives here. Let’s wait a few minutes to see if he comes out and leads us to something concrete.” Mark stared at Jeremiah. “This is my show. I don’t need you to mess nothing up. We’re gonna do it my way or no way at all. You got that?”
“Well you’re not the only one out here. I thought we were working together.”
“Shhh. Not now, listen up.”
Jeremiah had just parked the truck in the corner of the parking lot when Steven came out on the balcony, shirtless, pants sagging. His oversized blue and white striped boxer shorts were exposed. He held a cordless to his ear and shouted obscenities into the phone.
“I ain’t paying no child support. I don’t give a damn how far it gets behind. You won’t let me see my daughter and you got some other mu’fucka raising her; do the best you can,” Steven said, looking over at the BellSouth truck. He quickly ducked inside his house and slammed the door. He emerged fifteen minutes later and jumped in the BMW.
Mark and Jeremiah followed him to a high-rise apartment building downtown.
“I wonder who lives here,” Jeremiah said.
“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see. Let’s hope when we bust Ruffin he tells us who lives here.”
After not hearing from DeVon for nearly five weeks, Dream finally received a letter from him.
July 8, 2002
Dream, Baby, I’m sorry for the way I acted in the visiting room. Please try to find it in your heart to forgive me for the embarrassment that I caused. I’m under a lot of pressure in here. I’ve been locked up for the past year for some bullshit, and it’s starting to get to me. Imagine for a second having your freedom taken away, and in my case I have to live with the fact that my carelessness killed someone. Baby, I’m not asking for sympathy, just understanding. I will always love you, and I miss you dearly.