That weekend, Kareem and Toi took their first visit to Philadelphia. After they visited both of their parents, they headed over to Dre and Tasha’s place to see what they had been up to. Kareem could tell by the décor of the pad and Tasha’s new Audi that, Dre was heavy in the drug game.
BG had Dre cop kilograms of cocaine and heroine for him. Dre had also been making his own sales, covering a wider range of drugs (pills and syrup). His reputation as a drug dealer had spread around the suburbs. Dre was the main supplier of the types of drugs that attracted young, white kids, and the man fronting BG money did not like that.
Dre also dealt with some personal worries. He had begun to question his genuine love for Tasha and oftentimes thought about leaving her. She picked arguments with him for no reason, and Dre could no longer take it. He hung in there for his son’s sake, but it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to leave her.
“Dre, can you change Amare’s diaper?” Tasha asked, as she prepared to go to the gym in an effort to attack the baby fat. She was anxious to get her figure back, after she delivered, Amare Bezel and his six pounds, eight ounces, three weeks earlier.
“Of course, I can’t.” Dre joked, showing off in front of his little brother.
“Come on, I’m trying to get dressed. You’re such a showoff,” Tasha said. She was tired of his shit, too.
“You two are hilarious. That’s why I know that I am not having a baby anytime soon.” Toi blurted out.
“Calm that shit down. I was joking,” Dre said, looking directly at Toi’s stuck up ass. “And virgins can’t get pregnant. I thought that you were the hell smart.”
“Boy, you were about to get knocked out by your girl, so don’t talk shit to me,” Toi said jokingly, and gave Tasha a high five.
“I’ll be glad when you heal up, so I can knock you out. Then my son will grow up and do the same to his women: knock them up and down.”
“Your son will not be like you,” Kareem said.
Be like me! What the fuck that was supposed to mean? Dre thought, but he already knew. “With these brown eyes like his dad, he’ll be pulling grown ass women in the pee-wee leagues.”
Dre put Amare in his crib with a pacifier in his mouth, and then looked into a Timberland box where he kept his current stash of $47,000. He also had a safe in the event that someone dared to be foolish enough to break into the apartment. He planned to show them the dummy safe and then make every effort to kill them. Dre was reckless and had become a monster. At the post office, he had poked a co-worker in the head three times for bumping into him without saying anything along the lines of an apology. Luckily, Dre was not the flashy type, or he would either be broke or hustling harder, putting himself further into the danger zone of arrest and kissing Tasha and his son goodbye.
Dre heard a knock at the door, and yelled, “I’ll get it,” before anyone else attempted to answer it. At the door, he asked who was there, and to his surprise the visitor claimed to be a Drug Enforcement Administration Agent.
“May, I help you,” Dre asked cautiously. He opened the door and stepped out.
“Yes, I am Drug Enforcement Agent Lucas McKenzey. I’d like to have a chat with you.”
“I don’t chat with agents.”
“Oh! We can chat at my office, which would be better for me. Your choice, though,” the agent said, wearing an expression of amusement on his face.
Dre knew that the man was in charge, so he decided to step outside to keep everybody out of his business, especially Kareem. He had no desire to give Kareem any more ammunition.
“So, how can I help you mister, huh...?”
“You have not missed anything,” McKenzey said, contemptuously. “It’s Agent McKenzey. At any rate, what’s your involvement with Brent Gower? Your boy BG.”
“There is no involvement.”
“Sure there is, or was.”
“Right. He was a former teammate that I won the state
championship with,” Dre said matter-of-factly. It was as if, he did not have a care in the world.
The agent knew better, though.
“What’s your current involvement with his drug sales?” “Funny dude you are.”
“There is an involvement, I know that. And I want to know
who continues to supply BG with the cash to operate?” the agent asked. He pulled out a portable DVD player and showed Dre make his first pick-up at the mall parking lot. And his later phone call from the bank parking lot pay phone.
Dre hid his amazement. “Arrest me, then. I ain’t talking.”
“Don’t need to, I know. Just tell me who gives the kid money to stay afloat.”
“I ain’t talking. Did you hear me?”
“Somehow, I knew that you would not want to be interested in beating BG to the grand jury. He will be there, because he hates your kind, and won’t hesitate to fry you.”
“Good. Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Have a nice one,” Dre said and spun back into the
apartment.
“Who was that?” Kareem asked.
“It was a college scout,” Dre replied, and wished that
Kareem was not there. He grabbed Tasha and told her, “I told 165 him that I have a wife and a son, and I don’t plan on going away.”
Dre had to get up much earlier to fool Kareem, though. He did not know what the man was there for then, but he vowed to find out.
***
Agent McKenzey hopped into his vehicle and smiled. He knew exactly who was providing BG with the cash to buy drugs. He just wanted to make sure that Dre had not known that it was him, Agent McKenzey all along McKenzey was pissed that Dre was no longer dealing with BG, which slowed down his corrupt profits. And for that, Andre Bezel would pay. That day was a warning shot.