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

Too Low was already sitting on the porch when Jack pulled up. He stood up as Jack stepped out of the car.

“What’s good with you, folk?”

Jack shrugged. “Shit, I can’t call it.”

Too Low looked him up and down.
“Where you comin’ from?”

“Just bought that building I told you about. Now I gotta find somebody to renovate it.”

Too Low laughed—not playful, but like he couldn’t believe it.

“You really goin’ through with this shit, huh?”

“Hell yeah,” Jack said, looking him dead in the eye. “Come on, bro. Think about it. Look at all the dope boys we knew growing up. Where are they now?”

Too Low didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

“Dead,” Jack continued, “or in jail. And I don’t know about you, but this shit is getting old. It’s time for something real.”

Too Low kicked at a loose step on the porch. “I mean… shit… I hear you.”

“You should come into business with me,” Jack said. “We can make real money.”

That got Too Low’s attention.

“Mane… is we gon’ make money off this shit?”

Jack smirked. “Hell yeah.”

Too Low nodded slowly, like he was convincing himself. “Aight… what you need me to do?”

“All I need from you,” Jack said, “is to invest thirty thousand into this party I’m throwing. Real networking shit. Business folks. Connects. Money talks.”

Too Low shifted.

“Mane… I only got twenty bands right now.”

Jack stared at him.

“Mane… I hit you off with a key last week. What happened to that money?”

Too Low scratched the back of his head. “Shit… a nigga went shopping. You know I gotta stay fresh.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“And that’s y’all’s problem. Y’all more worried about lookin’ like money instead of keeping money. No future. No plan. Just clothes, cars, and hoes.”

Too Low didn’t respond. He just kept looking down.

Jack sighed and shook his head.

“Aight… look. I’mma loan you the ten bands. But I need my shit back.”

Too Low finally looked up.
“No doubt, nigga. I got you.”

Jack side-eyed him but didn’t argue. He drove them to an ATM, withdrew ten thousand, and handed the stack to Too Low.

Too Low grinned like a kid getting candy.

“Drop me off, man. I gotta put this up.”

Jack drove him back home and waited until Too Low disappeared through the door.

As Jack pulled off, his phone started ringing.

Jazzy.

Same number. Same drama. Same routine.

Jack watched it ring on the screen and didn’t bother answering.

He let it ring out.

No energy for unnecessary bullshit today.

He drove in silence, mind already back on the future—not the streets, not the chaos, not the temporary shit people died over.

Just progress.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, the world felt quiet again.

And for Jack?

Quiet meant danger was coming.

He just didn’t know how close.