"I'm gonna ask you one more time, where's my damn money?" screamed Lou in his angry New Yorker accent.
"Please.. You gotta believe me. It's not my fault" pleaded Jamal. He wanted more than anything to reach back and punch Lou square in the jaw, but tied to a chai(more)r in a warehouse outside of New York City, that just a fantasy.
"It's not your fault... That's bullshit! Hit him again Dwayne"
Dwayne took the aluminum Demarini baseball bat that his son had used last year in little league and clubbed Jamal in the face with it, knocking out teeth and blood. After 2 more hits to the face, Jamal was barely alive. Swinging in and out of consciousnesses, all he could think about was his family. His friends. His parents, his childhood friends and their aspirations. He was supposed to be playing safety for the New York Giants now. Not dying in some warehouse at the hands of a bunch of New York gangsters.
"Take him out" Said Lou. Jamal focused all of his remaining strength and opened his eyes. He saw a man in a suit pull a pistol out of his jacket. He closed his eyes and heard the gun cock.
A split second before the man fired, and ended Jamal's life, Jamal woke up. He lay there in his bed and looked at his girlfriend, and then realized it was a dream. He kissed her and got up for a glass of water. On his way to the fridge, he passed by his son's room and looked at his son. It was then he realized that it was not him in his dream. It was his son. That's when he realized he had to get out of this business. And go somewhere far away.(less)