When It All Falls Down Chapter One ( Based On A True Story)

On the surface, Jack had everything he wanted. But lately, life was starting to drain him.
He wasn’t the flashy type of drug dealer—no iced-out chains, no stacks of cash posted online. Hell, the man drove a 1996 Toyota on purpose. Everything he did was calculated to stay off the police radar.

Jack had legitimate businesses—family-run spots that made real money. The streets were just extra, a way he came up. But now? It felt more like a weight than a blessing.

His main plug was Tony, a Mexican dude he went to school with. Tony had been deported years ago, but they stayed in touch through Facebook. When Tony found out Jack was hustling, he plugged him in with better products and better prices. It wasn’t personal—it was business. And tonight was supposed to be the last run.

Jack pulled out his phone and called his right-hand, Too Low. They grew up together in the Mercenary Projects. Jack’s mother never liked him.

“There’s somethin’ about that boy,” she would always say.

Jack was starting to realize she might’ve been right.

The phone rang once.

“Yo,” Too Low answered. “You ready?”

“Yeah. I’ll be outside.”

Five minutes later, Jack pulled up. Too Low hopped in, dripped in diamonds, the opposite of Jack. Jack paid him ten thousand per pickup, so he should’ve been straight. But Too Low blew everything—cars, clothes, jewelry, and women.

Jack tried on countless occasions to talk sense into him, but Too Low never listened. It always went in one ear and out the other.

“So this is really the last pickup, huh?” Too Low finally said.

Jack nodded. “Yeah. Time to level up. We can’t do this forever. Either you transition your mind… or the streets transition your ass into a grave or a cell.”

Too Low laughed and shook his head. “Man, I don’t know. I’m ridin’ till the wheels fall off.”

“And that’s exactly why niggas get killed,” Jack muttered, half-playful, half-serious.

They drove in silence until they pulled up to the mall.
Too Low grabbed a newspaper and the old black briefcase from the backseat, then walked inside like he had somewhere normal to be.

He took a seat in the food court and opened the paper.

Five seconds later, a Mexican man sat across from him.

“Is it all there?” the man asked without looking up.

Too Low smirked. “Ain’t it always?”

They exchanged briefcases, and both walked away without another word.

When Too Low got back in the car, he slammed the door.

“Man, I don’t like that muthafucka,” he muttered.

“Who?” Jack asked.

“Your boy. Every time, he got some slick shit to say. Talkin’ about ‘is it all there.’ Like I ain’t been doing this.”

“Relax,” Jack said calmly. “He just doin’ his job.”

“In this game, you can’t trust anybody,” Too Low replied, staring out the window.

On the way back, Too Low’s phone rang.

“Where are you?” a woman’s voice snapped through the speaker.

“Man, I told you I’m handling business with Jack!”

“You better not be with no bitches!”

“Keisha, don’t start this shit. Ain’t no hoes with me. Damn.”

Too Low hung up, frustrated.

Jack chuckled. “Sounds like you got some woman problems.”

“Man, that bitch is crazy,” Too Low sighed.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled up to Too Low’s house.

“Aight, I’ll catch you later,” Too Low said.

“Be easy,” Jack replied before driving off.

Jack’s home was on the other side of town—a quiet, middle-class neighborhood. When he stepped out of the car, a teenage girl across the street waved.

“Hi, Jack!”

“Hey, baby. Your mama doin’ good?”

“She's alright!”

Jack nodded and unlocked his door.
Inside, the house was quiet—just how he liked it. No kids. No woman. The only time someone else slept there was after a night club run, and even then, they never stayed past sunrise.

Most women didn’t want him—they wanted the image.

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“So you just ain’t gon’ call nobody back?” a woman snapped.

“I was handling business.”

“So when can I see you again?”

“I don’t know. Whenever I get some free time.”

“See? You stay playin’. You know how I feel about you.”

Jack smirked. “You feel it for all the wrong reasons. And one day, you gon’ have to stand on all that talk. And from where I’m lookin’—you gon’ fail horribly.”