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

Jack ended the call and shook his head.

“Man, these hoes are crazy.”

But he wasn’t surprised. He knew the game—fake love, fake loyalty, everybody wanting to be close because he had money. He'd watched plenty of dealers fall before him, and when they did, the same people who laughed, smoked, and popped bottles with them disappeared. No money on books. No visits. No loyalty.

So what made him different?

Nothing. Not a muthafuckin’ thing.

That’s why Jack was focused. The streets were temporary. His mind was already shifting toward legitimacy. His businesses were already washing his money; now he just needed to fully step away.

He walked to the freezer, grabbed a Hungry Man dinner, tossed it in the microwave, and set the timer. While it heated, he dropped onto the sofa and put on the latest episode of Power.

When the microwave beeped, he grabbed his food, ate, and called it a night.

The next morning, he woke to the alarm on his iPhone 8. He stretched, got up, and turned on Good Morning Memphis while he headed into the kitchen.

Breakfast was routine: scrambled eggs and orange juice. He ate fast, showered, dried off, brushed his teeth and tongue, rinsed with Scope, then rubbed down with baby oil.

Clean. Sharp. Focused.

He put on a black three-piece suit, sprayed Sean John Unforgivable, grabbed his keys, and stepped outside.

His neighbor, Ms. Johnson, was tending to her flowers.

“Morning, Ms. Johnson.”

“Hey, baby. You alright?”

“I’m good.”

He got in his car and pulled off.

His first stop was his hair salon—one of the businesses he owned—run by his two cousins, who were sisters.

The bell over the door jingled.

“What’s going on, cuz?” Jack said.

“Oh, hey Jack,” one cousin responded. “Business looking good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“We just hired somebody new, too,” the other cousin added. “Sis, her résumé is crazy. And she can do some hair.”

“Oh, word?”

“Hell yeah. She’s in the back booth.”

“That’s what’s up.”

Jack pointed at both of them.
“I’m about to head out. Hit me if y’all need anything.”

“We will. And don’t forget—we're coming to your party this weekend.”

“Oh yeah. I’ll text y’all the details when I lock down a spot.”

Jack walked back to his car and pulled off.

---

His phone rang.

Too Low.

Jack answered. “What’s poppin’, my nigga?”

“Shit, I can’t call it. What are you on today?” Too Low asked.

“I’m heading to meet this dude about a building he's selling.”

Too Low responded with a dry, almost jealous, “Oh.”

Jack caught it but ignored it.

“Yeah, man,” he continued. “I’ll scoop you when I’m done.”

“Aight, bet. Be easy.”

Jack hung up and drove.

---

Thirty minutes later, he arrived at the location. A well-dressed older man stood outside waiting.

“Hello, sir,” the man greeted. “You must be Jack.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I heard you're interested in purchasing the building. Let me give you a tour.”

They walked through the space.

“This building has twenty-five thousand square feet. You can do whatever you want with it.”

“What’s the asking price?” Jack asked.

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“I’ll take it.”

The man blinked—surprised at how smooth the deal went.

“Fantastic. I’ll grab the paperwork.”

Jack walked to his trunk, retrieved his briefcase, and met the man inside. Papers were signed in minutes.

“Congratulations, sir,” the man said, handing over the keys. “You’re the new owner.”

Jack handed him the briefcase.

“Likewise,” he said as they shook hands.

Jack stepped outside, pulled out his phone, and texted Too Low:

Be outside. I’m coming through.