It Was All A Dream et-1 Read online

  It Was All A Dream

  ( Explosive trilogy - 1 )

  Kelvin F. Jackson

  Kelvin F. Jackson

  It Was All A Dream

  “The positive thinker sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Mattie stepped back away from the platform as the eastbound Long Island Rail Road train pulled into Jamaica Station in Queens on Track 8. Her long thick black hair was pulled into a ponytail and held in place by a white scrunchie. Mattie was a looker standing 5 feet 6 inches tall, on a slim 135 pound frame with her weight distributed proportionately in all the right places. Being of Puerto Rican and Haitian descent, her complexion was light but island exotic.

  She wore a black bodysuit, baggy guess jeans and black Timberland boots. Dark sunglasses covered her slightly slanted eyes and her demeanor gave off the impression she was not to be fucked with. She was on her way to work in Commack, Long Island following an afternoon of stress relieving shopping. If there was one thing that was guaranteed to help her deal with life’s tensions, it was her love for shoe shopping.

  As the door to the train slid open, she took one last long drag off her Newport and tossed it to the platform. Mattie received various looks of disapproval due to the loud volume of her headphones as she made her way onto the train and down the aisle searching for a seat. She could care less. Life’s harsh realities had made her a rebel at a young age and played largely in her outward emanation of arrogance.

  She knew she had the potential to be the sweetest woman walking the face of the earth as well as the power to break a man or a woman through mental manipulation. She found an empty seat midway through one of the emptier cars and slid in next to the window. As the train pulled out of the station Mattie looked out the window and reflected on how life had changed so drastically for her over the past six months.

  Six months earlier she had been living happily and content in a small country town in Martinsville, Virginia with her man. A man that she’d known without the shadow of a doubt loved her unconditionally. K had shown her on numerous occasions that he would go to any lengths to assure her happiness. At first she’d had intentions of fucking him and moving on with no strings attached like she’d done with so many others, but once she got to know him better things began to change. She realized that some of the same goals and dreams that she wasn’t able to open up about in other relationships, she could actually discuss with him and he encouraged and supported her to achieve them.

  Not to mention that big black muthafucka ate pussy like no other! She shuddered at the thought and actually felt her panties get wet between her legs. K had taken her away from the fast life New York and showed her something different. The wide open areas of quiet country living and peacefulness were a welcome change and exactly what she had needed at the time. But just when she thought her life had permanently taken a turn for the better, he was arrested on I-95 for probation violation. To add insult to injury the Maryland State Trooper named officer Appleby stole the re-up money stashed in their luggage and someone had broken into the house in VA and cleaned out the safe once word of the arrest made it back to the streets.

  At that point once again she had been left out in the cold cruel world alone and broke. The first two months she’d wrote three and four letters a day to let him know that she was his ride or die chick. She would wait by the phone for him to call every day at his parents’ house until the long distance collect calls became outrageous. But without K’s physical presence and reassurance that shit got old quick.

  Being no stranger to struggle or hustle Mattie returned to what she knew was always her ticket to fast money; her beauty and her body. It didn’t take long before she reverted back to her view of how she perceived men before her relationship with K. She’d been through so much in her life that she looked at a man as a chess game in which she was the Queen and the King. She replaced men’s faces with those of dead presidents; such as franklin, Hamilton, and Jackson. She told herself she would never let herself become emotionally involved with a drug dealer again.

  “All tickets please, all tickets!” yelled the train conductor as he made his way down the aisle punching passenger’s tickets.

  Mattie removed her ticket from the side pocket of her small black leather backpack/pocketbook and handed it to the conductor. After that, she scanned the albums on her I-Pod. She was a fan of all kinds of music. From rock and hip hop, to alternative, to old school funk and disco. She’d been listening to cuts from Nas’s Illmatic album, but now her mood had changed and she pulled up the playlist for The Best of Prince. As the melodic voice of Prince flowed through the headphones she laid her head back and started to reflect on the past and living in Virginia.

  Those long relaxing rides in the Acura Legend on sunny days through the open county and scenic landscapes that she’d never experienced before, was something she would always miss. Mattie had thought that after the way her last relationship ended that she would forever feel out of place in this world.

  She had heard from her sister Reebie that K had come home from jail. As much as she fought with her mind and emotions trying to tell herself that she didn’t want to see him, her heart knew that she did. Then she thought to herself, fuck that. I didn’t leave him he left me just like Sam did. It doesn’t matter because I don’t fuck with drug dealers anymore anyway.

  Forty-Five minutes later the train pulled into Deer Park train station which was her stop. She exited the train and began to scan the parking lot for a taxi. Mattie checked her watch and saw that it was almost eight-o-clock. She also saw that the platform was fairly crowed with young white partygoers waiting on the next train headed into the city to start their weekend. Most of them had vehicles in the parking lot, but were planning to be either too fucked up on liquor, cocaine, or some kind of pills to attempt to drive into the city.

  Mattie had become accustomed to this scene over the past couple of months. She remembered back when Friday’s were party days for her too. But now they had turned into being a day that her boss said was mandatory for her to be at work. She didn’t mind much though, it meant more money in her pocket.

  She spotted a familiar cab driver in the parking lot and made her way over to the taxi. She continued to get the familiar stares from men and woman alike because her presence demanded attention. Mattie opened the back door and slid in across the leather seats.

  “Hi Paul. How’s business?” she asked removing her sun glasses.

  “Hey lady, I’m good. You know how Fridays are. Busy- busy- busy. I see you’ve been out doing some shopping,” Paul responded after observing all of her bags.

  “Yeah, I bounced around midtown most of the day and ended up on Jamaica Avenue. I actually found some really good deals.”

  “So I guess it’s to your house and then to work?”

  “Well, I’m already late. I think I’d better go straight to work. I was supposed to be there at 7:30,” she said starting to worry a little bit about how her boss might react.

  “We’ll, I’ll get ya there as quick as possible.”

  As he put the cab in drive and pulled out of the train station parking lot, Mattie removed a half smoked blunt from her Newport box. Lifting the blunt so Paul could see it in the rear view mirror, she asked, “Do you mind?”

  “Aw hell nah! Just roll down the window,“Paul responded.

  She knew he wouldn’t mind because he never had before. Paul was a young white kid, Italian Mattie assumed, and she figured that by the way he acted sometimes his drug of choice was something a lot more potent than weed. She knew the mannerisms of someone who smoked crack and was almost positive that Paul did. She had been in his cab on numerous occasi
ons and he had never objected when she’d asked before.

  Mattie hadn’t been a weed smoker until she’d met K. Before that she would only occasionally indulge in alcohol. But, K smoked so much that the contact she would catch from the smoke, especially in his car would have her slightly high. That feeling was what piqued her curiosity. She would never forget the first time that she smoked a blunt with him. They were still living in NY before moving to Virginia and decided to spend a nice quiet Saturday night at home. She had remembered how good food would taste after inhaling all that weed smoke in the car.

  She’d been just putting the final touches on a five course meal and K had lit some scented candles and a blunt as thick as a Cuban cigar.

  “I wanna get high with you tonight,” she said.

  “Nah ma. Please don’t start no bad habits on my watch.”

  “I’m a big girl, I can handle it. I promise I won’t do it with anybody but you,” she said lying to herself convincingly.

  Had she known that she was starting a habit that she would carry with her for years to come, she would have never taken that first puff. K gave it to her and after choking and gagging off the first two pulls, her eyelids began to get heavy and she couldn’t stop smiling. Before she knew it three quarters of the blunt was gone and they had both totally forgotten about the food.

  “I want something to drink. My mouth is dry,” said Mattie with a silly ass look on her face.

  But K also recognized another familiar look. He made her a rum and coke which she drank entirely too fast. He made it a little strong and she frowned from the burn when it went down.

  Then it happened.

  She slowly put her index finger between her teeth and smiled a wicked seductive smile.

  “What?” K asked

  “My pussy is tingling,” she said falling back on the couch, pulling off her thong and skirt in one swift motion.

  “What tha-?” he started but she quickly cut him off.

  “I want you to fuck me right now! “She said in a tone of voice that left no room for questions.

  And for the next two hours she asked for it and got it in every position possible. As K pounded the pussy in the scissor position, she felt sensations that she didn’t know existed.

  “Oh…oh…oooohh…shit!Why…does…it…feel…so…fuckin…goooood?!Daddy…oooh shiiit! “she moaned in ecstasy.

  Ever since then she kept a sack on standby. But smoking weed had also become a way that she was able to temporarily escape her reality. And so she puffed away as she rode and listened to her music. Ten minutes later she could see the lights of her extravagantly lit up workplace. It was only an eight dollar fare, but she always gave Paul $20 because he didn’t make passes at her and he let her smoke her weed.

  “We’re here,” Paul said as he swung the cab into the crowed parking lot.

  He knew that he would get his usual twenty bucks from Mattie and that would give him just enough to go over to Wyandanch and get him a gram for $40 from a new spot that had just recently opened up shop. Fuck it, he thought. If he had to drive a couple towns over to cop, he knew he would get more bang for his buck.

  Mattie gathered her bags and removed her wallet from her bag. She removed a twenty dollar bill and handed it to Paul.

  “You know I always look out for you,” she said to Paul.

  She returned her wallet to her bag, but didn’t realize that she’d dropped something.

  “See ya soon Paul,” she said climbing out of the cab with her bags and closing the door.

  She never looked back as she went to work in one of the biggest strip clubs on Long island.

  CHAPTER 2

  The unmarked undercover police cruiser rolled slowly past the large circle of hustlers as weed smoke hovered above the crowd. White clouds floated slowly across the parking lot and thickened the air of the mild early August evening. The crowd temporarily tensed up and a few cats removed their hoods in a weak attempt to not look suspicious. They watched out of the corners of their eyes until the cruiser bent the corner on their routine pass through and then the scene returned to normal.

  “Aight-all down is a bet!” K yelled out to the other hustlers participating in the cee-lo game.

  Numerous bets dropped to the black top parking lot in front of the other 15 players. Bets ranged from the ten dollars from those trying to make a come-up, to two-hundred dollars and better around the inside of the circle.

  “What’s the bank K?” Duke called out.

  “Bank Money! If you drop it, it’s covered,” said K shaking the dice about to roll. K’s two young gunna’s Shooky Brim aka Pookie and Billy Blass held him down wit da burners watching his back and making sure aint nobody try no slick shit.

  “I’m coming out!” K stated as the dice left his hand and bounced towards the center of the large circle.

  The dice came to a halt on three sixes.

  “3 sixes! Mark of the beast! Nobody move, you know what it is,” K said as he made his way around the circle picking up bets and handing the money to Blass who was holding the bank.

  “Dam K, you on fire tonight! You aint rolled a point under a five in the last 20 rolls, “said GS Mike Seabury.

  “This whip hand fam. Anything I touch wit it blow up! “Said K talkin big shit.

  Just then a carfull of outta town cuties pulled in the parking lot and slowly rolled past the game eyeing the Crimedanch hustlas curiously. They pulled to the rear of the parking lot and found a spot where they could enjoy the show. And a show it was. Always! As a matter of fact they were only one car of many that filled Kentucky Fried Chicken parking lot on the fast paced active Friday night.

  It was a typical payday in the hood. There were maad (a lot of) crackheads moving with motivation as money exchanged hands quicker than Wall Street. The mixed smells of the Colonel’s original recipe and the Chinese food spot with the banging house specials across MLK Boulevard aka Straight Pathmade it a constant battle of which type of grease the blunt smoker’s munchies would lead them to.

  K had been home from a short stint in county jail for a few weeks and was already hugging the block like he never left. At 290 pounds he was to hustling what Barry White had been to R and B. But to the niggahs in his hood he was $K-Money$; known for his car and hustle game.

  “Yo Pook. Let me hit that,” K stated reaching for the 40 ounce of St. Ides malt liquor he was holding.

  Pookie handed K the bottle and whispered,“Yo, my cousin from Central Islip just pulled up. He called earlier and said he needed a big 8 if I could find it for him.”

  “ I gotta check and see what I got left, but I should have at least that. He know the numbers (price) is the same as last time, right?

  “$ 2,750.”

  “No doubt. Go holla at em’ and find out what’s up.”

  After a couple more rolls of the dice, K lost the bank to a ten dollar bettor that rolled 4-5-6. That meant automatic surrender of the bank and the timing was perfect. He counted his winnings as him and Billy Blass were walking away from the game. Minus the $1500 K had in his pocket before the game, he had a total of $4,200 in profit. Not bad for a couple hours killing time. K took out $1200 and gave it to Pook and Blass to split for holding him down.

  After Pook talked to his cousin, he met up with K and Blass as they were headed to the rental car.

  “He said he want a bigs(125 grams) and another half a big (62? grams) if you got it. He said it’s poppin in his hood and the block is dry.”

  “I got the big 8 fa-sho, but its Friday and I got 3 spots to supply. I only brought 840 grams uptown yesterday and I’m still in grind mode trying to get back on top,” said K putting the rental in drive.

  “I know K. And I know you been lookin out cause that’s my fam. Do what you can and he just gotta understand it is what it is.”

  It was true K wanted to get all the money from the sale, but the risk and profit margin didn’t add up to it being worth it.

  “He’s gonna meet us at my mom’s crib. I told
him to give us around 15 minutes,” said Pook.

  They pulled away from the parking space and headed to K’s stash house.

  “Yo K man, I’m glad you back in the tha hood. Shit been fucked up since you bounced down to Virginia on the run last year. Me and Pook just barely been keepin our heads above water,” said Blass.

  “You know this hustling shit aint really our thing no way K. I’d ratha let a monkey mafucka make it, so I can come thru and take it,” said Pook.

  Pook was about 5’8 tall, medium build and brown skin. Blass was 5’5 with a medium dark complexion and sported a low cut with waves.

  “ Yall already know what it is when I’m in town. Yall two niggahs and 40 ounce Rich is the closest I’m gonna get to blood brothers in this lifetime,” said K.

  As Method Man and Redman came knocking through the speakers in the rental playing How High, they cruised up Straight Path headed towards the Southern State Parkway. As they were passing the 5 Corners Market traffic lights, they noticed two police cars in pursuit of CBR 1100 coming in their direction on the opposite side of the street. K immediately recognized the bandit doing 80 mph on his back tire as Ill Will aka Joker and he was nice enough to ride with the best of the Ruff Ryder’s, but rode with the INFAMOUS 36.

  “Go — Go — Go!” they shouted as he shot past in a blur. They all knew that cops wouldn’t catch him. They never did. They all watched until the strobes of the cruiser disappeared in the distance behind them. K turned off the main road onto Commander Avenue. This was a slightly more upscale neighborhood known as West Babylon that bordered the suburban ghetto hood known as Wyandanch. They drove about midway down the half-mile long street and K turned into the driveway of a low ranch single family home. From the street the residence appeared to be well kept.

  The perfectly manicured lawn gave off the perception of quiet suburbia living, combined with the trimmed shrubbery that defined the property line. The home sat back well off the street, with a driveway that extended around to the rear of the house. As they pulled into the backyard, the vehicles of the homes occupants came into view. There were six new vehicles and K made his way to the rear entrance to which he had his own personal key.