The next night, Kareem’s much needed lunch break could not have arrived sooner. He walked to the employees lounge, punched out, and then walked through the lower level of the mall until he reached the corridor that led to the public bus depot.
He walked down the corridor until he reached a door labeled: MALL SECURITY. He knocked on the door and awaited a response. He stood against the wall and watched mall patrons pass him. He wondered if any of them were shoplifters. Mall security was strategically placed in the bus depot hallway to catch thieves trying to make it to a SEPTA bus. The buses offered a convenient vehicle from the city to the upscale mall.
The office door opened, and Kareem was signaled in by his friend, Joel. Joel had graduated from Upper Merion the previous year and was a member of Kareem’s record-setting 4x100 relay team at the previous year Penn Relays. Joel made the video screening available without question. There had been a string of car thefts and purse snatchings in the mall parking lot, and Joel welcomed Kareem’s assistance to nab the knaves.
Kareem sat in a small room filled with seven-inch television monitors. Each camera recorded the activity in any area of the mall and all points outside. After a twenty minute search, Kareem watched as Joel worked his walkie-talkie to assist two patrol cars with finding a thief who hid between cars to avoid capture. Kareem was amazed at the episode and had a heightened desire for the perpetrator to escape. Kareem, too, was a criminal and felt the man’s pain.
Kareem turned back to the video. He watched and had become ill. He took his finger off the fast forward button, pressed rewind, and could not believe what he saw. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose in disbelief. Jaws dropped at the unnerving sight.
He turned to be sure Joel was occupied before he slid the tape into his shirt. He secured it and buttoned his blazer to conceal the bulge. He walked over to Joel to say that he was leaving, but Joel waved him off, occupied, looking for the thief.
“I’ll let myself out.”
“The door code is 9-8-4-4-1,” Joel responded, sure that he could trust the seasoned thief that he let into mall security headquarters.
***
By nine that night, the night air was glacial as Kareem walked to his car after work. His mind raced with the analytic flair of a lifer on a shrink’s couch making a case for parole. The contents of the tape had him vexed. He started the car and drove off, mapping how best to approach the situation.
Knowing Dre all his life did not make approaching him any easier, especially when the proposed conversational topic involved Dre’s personal affairs. Kareem was well aware of Dre’s desire for privacy, having watched him fight for it their entire lives with their mother. Family meant everything to Kareem, a force that propelled him to move back with his father’s mother, Jean-Mary. No matter how he felt, Dre would be confronted when he got home, and not a minute later.
When Kareem walked into the kitchen and observed the red IN-USE light lit on the base of the cordless, he knew that it was Dre on the phone. Perfect because he had a lot to talk about.
Without a knock, Kareem barged into Dre’s room and said, “I need to holla at you in a minute.” He was stern and slammed the door as he left for dramatic chide.
Kareem went into his room and changed out of a fine Gucci suit and into Versace pajamas, both appropriately stolen. He brushed his teeth, and then returned to Dre.
Surprisingly, Dre was off the phone. Kareem sat in the desk chair and swiveled until his back was to Dre.
“Dawg, I do not know what’s got you barging in my hut, but this better be worth me hanging up with Tasha,” he said to Kareem’s back.
“Oh, it’s urgent,” Kareem assured him, then spun around in the chair, clasping each arm of the chair with his hands using strangling force. “Look, I’ve been hearing some stupid shit about you selling drugs.”
“Do not come in here on any he-said, she-said bullshit, because a nigga ain’t tryinna hear that shit.”
“At any rate,” Kareem said to him. “What’s this I hear you’re out hustling with BG. Or is it for him?”
“What!” How dis nigga know that? Dre thought.
“You lied to me about Tasha taking you home last night, so that you could—”
“Mind my own fucking business,” Dre said, cutting him off. “Who da fuck you think you talkin’ too?”
“You!”
“Nigga, you got me fucked up. Who the fuck got they eye on me, running and telling you like you my fuckin’ dad? Tell those bitches you fuckin’ to mind they fucking business, for I pop one of them hoes,” Dre said and pulled out a Desert Eagle.
“You carry guns now, and have that shit in the house. You got the game fucked up. This person does not lie. So, Tasha drove you home last night?” Kareem couldn’t believe it.
“Get out my room, nigga.”
“You’re a dumb-ass-clown. If Tasha was asked by the cops, would she confirm that she drove you home? Better yet, would Talibah and Sasha, considering they all left the mall together, and without you?”
Dre was numb, but he snapped, “Mind your fucking business, Kareem. Real rap! I’m a grown ass man. When I saw you hopping in that limo, did I run back questioning you? No! So, how ‘bout you fall back, homey?”
Kareem thought that his hearing had failed to convey Dre’s last statement. Suppose Delores had seen him? “You’re right. My whole approach was wrong.” Kareem confessed balming the atmosphere. “Lemme just say this: mall security records all activity.”
“So does banks!”
Get the fuck outta here. “And mom or dad won’t like you getting locked up, again,” Kareem said, ignoring that reality.
“Investigated, not arrested.” “Same thing.”
“And fuck your dad. Had he been out of jail, being a real father, maybe, I wouldn’t be involved in this shit...”
“Hold the fuck up.” Kareem growled and stepped into Dre’s face. “Don’t blame my father for your fucking stupidity. You should be learning from his mistakes, dumb-ass-nigga!”
“You’re right. Your dad.”
“Nobody put a fucking revolver to your dome and forced you to do shit.”
“Nobody is the same person that moved you with grand mom Jean-Mary, and left her a Lexus, that somehow landed in your hands. You’re his favorite son.”
“You sound like a real bitch. You’re the one who was bought off by Eli. Your step-dad. You liked his fresh kicks, and new gear. His money had you cooped up in Andorra, and now out here. You didn’t want to struggle in the hood, just hang there. I begged to get away from that lame. You stayed and had it good, and your still a fuck up. And here’s my stupid ass right here on your team. Fuck you, nigga!”
“You swear you’re a genius. Get the fuck outta my room, before I shut your lights off.
Kareem cocked his head to the side, and raised his eyebrow. “Pussy, you can’t beat me.”
***
Kareem lay in his bed, not the least bit concerned about the fight that he had with Dre. He couldn’t believe that Dre underestimated his smooth aura as cowardly. Dre, equally, could not believe the over-hand-right that landed over his eye, very unexpectedly. It was shameful that Dre had to have his lesson of the night beat into him: never do a drug deal in a mall parking lot.