Closer to My Dreams: Chapter 1

Atlanta, Georgia

The fist hit him so hard he felt his teeth rattle inside his mouth. Before he could get up, someone kicked him in his gut. It was hard to figure out which pain was worse as all the contents of his stomach landed on the ground.

“Don’t hurt him too bad. He needs to be able to work so he can make my money.”

Thankful for the sensible voice, the man knew enough to stay on the ground. The hell with pride or trying to fight his way out of this situation. Pride wasn’t going to do him no good if he was dead.

“I’ll get your money, man,” he said.

“Naw, man, take your time. Every day you are late the interest is going up twenty-five percent and that’s a discount,” the body man stated.

“That you were supposed to pay back five days ago. You’re at twenty-two grand as of today. I suggest you hurry up and figure out how you are going to pay my money back.”

The man sat back against the wall of the alley they cornered him in. “I’m good for it, man…I promise you. I got people who will handle it for me.” He tried hard to catch his breath.

“Yeah, who you know is just going to fork over twenty grand to you?”

“I know people.”

“If you know people with that kind of bread, why you have to come to me?”

“He’s on the road, man. I couldn’t get to him before the foreclosure. I told you that, man. This wasn’t about spending money in my pocket. I was desperate.”

“So, you got to keep your house. Let’s see if you are lucky enough to keep your life.”

“Just let me end this sucker’s life right now. That job he got will never pay him enough to clear his book,” the voice of the muscle said.

Another booted foot kicked him in the jaw. He slumped over to the ground. “I got it man, I got it.”

“Make me believe you,” the man ordered. “Or I’ll let my man end it right here…right now.”

“Jason…man…Jason Whitfield. He’s, my boy. He’ll hook me up.” “The NBA player?”

“Yeah, man.” He eased up from the ground. “He’ll be home this week. I can get it then.”

There was silence for a long moment.

“A’ight…you can live for now. You have one week to get me my money. If you don’t, I’m taking out you and Whitfield.”

His head was slammed against the brick wall and darkness descended upon him.

Baltimore, MD

“I hired an attorney, he thinks we may have a claim on her estate.” “He sees a paycheck for a foolish claim that has no merit. We didn’t

even know the woman.” “We are still her family.”

“No, we are not. She was an uppity cousin who never had anything to do with us. I don’t know why you are so obsessed with her anyway.”

“It’s our way out of this dump. Unless you have a better idea.” “Nope but I ain’t stupid enough to spend the little money I have trying to get money from rich people who don’t know we even exist.” “She did it. She fooled that rich guy into marrying her. Why can’t we do the same?”

“Their last name is Brooks. They are all lawyers. They have been there and done that. None of them are going to fall for the I spread my legs and got pregnant from you.”

“The daughter isn’t a lawyer. She’s a singer. Even if her daddy gets the case thrown out of court, she may pay us to keep us from going on social media about her mother.”

“Girl, everybody already knows about her crazy ass mother. It was all on the news during the trial. You don’t have nothing newsworthy that will make them people look at you twice.”

“We can be the poor relatives that they left behind in the hood in Baltimore. Some news people might pay us to tell our story, even if they don’t pay us off to be quiet. Whatever we are able to get will be more than what we have now. All we need is enough money to get away from the filth and move out of these dismal walls.”

“It’s the only home we have ever known. When Momma died, we said we would keep this house. It’s the only thing she left us.”

“Yeah, and we owe taxes out of the ying yang that neither of us can afford to pay. We should have sold it when those people came around before. Now we are stuck with no way out. Going to a 9-5 everyday making minimum wage ain’t working no more. One of us has to do something to change our situation.”

“And you think trying to con people out of their hard-earned money is the way to go?”

‘“It worked for Connie and Aunt Bernice. Those rich people bought her that house she was living in.”

“Then they rented it out when she died.”

“Connie rented it out to strangers. Wouldn’t even let us move in.” “I don’t know why you always expected her to do anything, different.”

“Because she’s family.”

“Yes, family who was always selfish and never wanted to have anything to do with us.”

“Well, maybe her daughter is different. Maybe her daughter will want to know more about us now that Connie is dead.”

“Well, you go ahead with your plans to shame rich people into your scheme. Both of us have to get to work and try to earn enough money to eventually pay the taxes on these “dismal walls,” as you call it. Grab your coat.”

The two women walked out of the two-bedroom house with the small front yard, closing the gate behind them.

“I hate this place. After work, I’m going back to that lawyer’s office to see what he comes up with. Do you want me to let you know what he says?”

“No, this is one time you are on your own.”