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MidReal Story
Power Book III
Scenario:this story is in the year of 1996 era in new york city this story is about high school and parties and drug use and high school and alcohol use and sexual affair and adultery and police and drug dealing and family and murder and rape and lgbtqia and betrayal and fights and gun fights and sex and outsmarting and power struggles and territory and my name is mohamed abdi i am 15 years old and i have dark skin and my mother layla abdi has dark skin and she is 34 years old and she is a drug lord and my uncles ahmad abdi he is the smart one he is professional at drug dealer and he has dark skin and he is 32 years and my other uncle ibrahim is the less smart one he is always hungry and he is loyal but he fucks up sometimes and he is 35 years old and he was against munira being a lesbian but he later accepted her and muniras mom and ibrahims ex wife left when munira was 4 years old and he has a daughter my cousin named munira abdi she is 16 years old and she is a lesbian and she wants to become a famous professional singer and i want to become a drug lord like my mother but she says not now your time will come and we are all super close and this story is named power book iii
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Mohamed Abdi
He is a teenager in a powerful AfricanAmerican family in New York City. He is observant, mischievous, and loyal. Mohamed lives with his mother, Layla, and his uncles Ahmad and Ibrahim. He admires his uncles' authority in the drug trade. Mohamed's uncles discipline him while indulging in illicit activities. He is fascinated by Munira, his cousin and his uncle Ahmad's daughter, who has been accepted by the family despite being a lesbian. Mohamed aspires to become a drug dealer like his uncles while Munira seeks a musical career.
Ahmad Abdi
He is Mohamed's 32yearold uncle and an influential figure in the drug trade. He is authoritative, strategic, and composed. Ahmad plays a significant role in teaching Mohamed about the drug business while maintaining order at home. He disciplines Mohamed but also rewards him for good behavior. Ahmad has a steady relationship with Munira's mother, Jada, which provides stability despite their differences. His leadership within the family helps maintain respect and control over the drug operations in New York.
Ibrahim Abdi
He is Mohamed’s 35yearold uncle known as the "big guy." He is boisterous, impulsive, and affectionate. Ibrahim often gets into humorous conflicts with Mohamed and provides comic relief at home. Despite his flaws, he remains loyal to the family and supports them emotionally. His relationship with Jada shows his capacity for deep connection. Ibrahim’s presence in the household adds complexity to the family dynamics, balancing discipline with humor and generosity.
It was the year 1996 in New York City.
I was 15 years old, dark-skinned, and my mom Layla Abdi was also dark-skinned and 34 years old.
She was the head of the household and ran the drug trade operation with my two uncles, Ahmad and Ibrahim.
They were both dark-skinned as well.
Ahmad was 32 years old and known as the smart one.
He was professional at being a drug dealer and knew how to keep order in the house.
Ibrahim was known as the big guy and he was 35 years old.
He was always hungry and loyal but sometimes fucked up.
He was against my cousin Munira being a lesbian but later accepted her.
I was a freshman in high school and my cousin Munira was a junior.
We both attended John Adams High School in Queens, New York.
It was a run-down high school with broken lockers and graffiti on the walls.
The hallways were dark and the classrooms were small.
The teachers were mostly white and didn't care about the students.
The students were mostly minorities and there were a lot of fights and gangs in the school.
Munira and I had two friends, Javier Martinez and Malcolm Jackson.
Javier was a light-skinned Puerto Rican who wanted to be a rapper.
He was 17 years old, tall, and had curly hair.
He was nice but sometimes acted like he was better than everyone else.
Malcolm was 16 years old, dark-skinned, and cold-hearted.
He would do anything for me because I helped his family out when they needed it.
He was also very smart but didn't show it. We all sat together at lunch in a corner of the schoolyard that nobody else went to.
It was hidden from view by some trees and bushes, so we could do whatever we wanted there without getting caught by the teachers or security guards.
Munira and Javier talked about music while Malcolm and I talked about other things.
Malcolm's brother Jamal was locked up in prison for drug trafficking and murder, so Malcolm was angry all the time.
After school, we went to our favorite pizza and arcade place in Queens.
We played games and ate pizza while we talked about life.
Munira beat Javier at air hockey while Malcolm and I laughed at them.
Then Malcolm signaled me to the window.
I looked outside and saw Unique, the head of the drug operation in Brooklyn and Harlem.
He was my mom's rival and he was also a dark-skinned man who was 30 years old.
He was known for being ruthless and having a lot of money.
Malcolm asked me who he was, so I told him.
I told him that Unique recruits young men with money or women, and he is known for being ruthless but also charming.
As we watched, Unique laughed with his crew and gave a new recruit some money.
I grip Malcolm's sleeve as we watch Unique through the arcade's grimy window.
The new recruit pockets the cash and walks away while Unique lights a cigarette, his gold chain catching the afternoon sun.
Malcolm whispers that we should go back inside, but I've had enough of Unique pushing into our territory.
My hands shake as I push open the heavy glass door, the street noise getting louder.
Malcolm reluctantly follows me, his footsteps dragging on the concrete.
We cross the street, my heart pounding with each step.
Unique sees us approaching and takes a long drag, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes me as Layla's son.
"Well, if it isn't Layla's little legacy," Unique smirks, exhaling smoke slowly.
"You think you can just stroll into our spot like you own the place?" I challenge, trying to keep my voice steady.
Unique chuckles, flicking ash onto the sidewalk. "Kid, your mom might run Queens, but Brooklyn and Harlem are mine."
Standing on the cracked sidewalk outside the arcade, I force myself to look Unique directly in his cold eyes.
His gold chain glints in the afternoon sun, and he towers over me, flanked by two muscular guys in black leather jackets.
My voice cracks slightly when I tell him to back off our turf, but I keep my chin up like I've seen my mom do.
Malcolm shifts nervously beside me, his eyes darting between Unique's bodyguards.
Unique's laugh echoes off the brick walls as he takes a step closer, his expensive cologne mixing with the smell of cigarette smoke.
He pats my cheek condescendingly, and I jerk away from his touch.
His bodyguards tense up, hands moving toward their waistbands.
"Tell your mom she's got competition," Unique says, turning away with a dismissive wave.
I step back, my heart racing, as Unique pulls out a gun and points it at my head.
His bodyguards move closer, ready to jump in if needed.
I glance at Malcolm, who looks terrified but stays by my side.
Unique's sneer deepens as he threatens to send me home in a b###g.
I swallow hard, feeling the cold metal of the gun inches from my face.
Slowly, I raise my hands and back away, keeping my eyes locked on Unique's.
I stormed into our apartment, slamming the door behind me.
My mom, Layla, looked up from the kitchen table, her eyes narrowing as she sensed my agitation.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.
I recounted my confrontation with Unique, how he pulled a gun on me and threatened our territory in Queens.
Layla's face hardened as I spoke, her jaw clenched.
When I finished, she started to rise from her chair, but I held up a hand to stop her.
"No, Mom, I'll handle Unique," I said firmly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the lingering fear still coursing through me.
She studied me for a moment before nodding slowly.
The next day after school, I head to Unique's hangout, a tailor shop with a beaded backroom.
I slip in unnoticed, the gun I stole from my mom's collection hidden under my jacket.
Unique and his right-hand man, Worrell, are discussing business.
I creep behind them, heart pounding in my chest.
They turn, and I fire, killing them both.
Racing home, I tell Layla, Ahmad, Ibrahim, and Munira what I did.
I sit at the kitchen table, my family staring at me in silence.
Layla's eyes are hard, but I see a flicker of fear.
Ahmad and Ibrahim exchange calculating looks, Munira shifts uncomfortably.
Finally, Layla speaks.
"We need to convince Unique's crew to work for us now."
I sit in the living room, watching Ahmad and Ibrahim talk about what to do next.
They plan to absorb Unique's crew without causing a stir.
I fidget with my hands, knowing there's something I haven't told them.
Ahmad notices my unease and asks what's wrong.
I hesitate, then reveal that Unique has a brother named Ronnie Mathis.
He's violent and loves to be in charge.
Ibrahim laughs nervously, but Ahmad's face hardens.
Ronnie is known for being ruthless and unpredictable.
Ahmad decides we should keep Unique's death a secret from Ronnie for now.
Layla enters the room, sensing tension.
I quickly change the subject, asking about her day.
Layla gives me a knowing look, but she plays along.
"Just the usual," she says, sitting down beside me.
"But we need to be ready; Ronnie won't stay in the dark for long."
The next day after school, I see Ronnie Mathis walking towards me.
He's dressed all in black, his dark glasses reflecting the afternoon sun.
He introduces himself, already knowing who I am because of my family's reputation.
Ronnie offers me a job as his drug dealer, mentioning he has a warehouse full of drugs that will last for months.
He asks about Unique's death, and I confess it was me, not my mom or uncles.
I explain how Unique made reckless moves against us and threatened our lives.
Ronnie listens carefully, his expression unreadable as he processes what I've said.
We meet in a dimly lit alley behind his brother's tailor shop.
Ronnie proposes an alliance: he'll help me take down my family if I join him.
I'm only 15, but I agree.
We shake hands, and Ronnie tells me he already has ten men ready to work with us.
We discuss our plan, and I feel a mix of excitement and guilt.
Ronnie hands me a gun, telling me to keep it hidden.
Walking away from the alley, I adjust the backpack straps on my shoulders.
The gun presses against my math textbook, a constant reminder of what I've agreed to.
Ronnie's footsteps fade behind me as I head towards the subway station on Jamaica Avenue.
The evening crowd rushes past, and I keep my movements steady, trying not to draw attention.
At the turnstile, a cop eyes me suspiciously, and I force myself to act normal, swiping my MetroCard like any other high school kid.
On the platform, I find a quiet corner and unzip my bag slightly, making sure the gun is fully concealed.
I sit on my bed, staring at the ringing landline.
It's Ronnie, inviting me to a party in Brooklyn to meet big drug dealers and gangsters.
He tells me to wear something nice and my gold chain from Mom.
I shower, then dress in a shirt, leather jacket, black boots, and jeans.
I catch the bus to Brooklyn, feeling the weight of my choices.
At the party, I enter the bustling building, spotting Ronnie amidst a crowd of dealers, suppliers, financiers, and hookers.
Ronnie takes me to a crowded bar where we meet people from the city's drug network.
We meet dealers, suppliers, and even hookers.
Amidst the chaos, Ronnie points out Kevin and Briana Johnson, a married couple in their 40s.
Kevin used to rob banks but now finances drug deals.
Briana nods in agreement, her eyes scanning the room.
They offer to mentor and finance me, just as they did for Ronnie.
I hesitate, considering how my family will react.
I sit at the bar's sticky counter, studying Kevin and Briana's faces in the dim light.
House music thumps through the speakers, and neon signs reflect off their faces.
Kevin slides a glass of Coke towards me, his gold watch catching the glow of the neon signs.
Briana leans in, her perfume mixing with the smell of cigarette smoke.
She explains how they'll front me product, connect me with their suppliers, and teach me to manage territory.
My hands feel sweaty as I think about Mom, Uncle Ahmad, and Uncle Ibrahim.
Kevin extends his hand across the counter, his wedding ring glinting under the neon lights.
After a deep breath, I reach out and grip his palm firmly.
Briana watches me closely, her voice soft but firm. "You know this means you're one of us now, right?"
I nod, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. "Yeah, I get it."
Kevin smirks, leaning back on his stool. "Good, because once you're in, there's no turning back."
I lean back against the bar stool, trying to act casual.
Briana leans in closer, her gold necklaces catching the neon light.
Her voice is low and serious.
"Listen, you gotta keep your family out of this. They can't know we're expanding into Queens."
I nod, my fingers tightening around the Coke glass.
"We don't want any trouble with them. But we need someone on the inside to make sure they don't interfere with our plans."
Kevin pulls out a map of New York City from his pocket and spreads it across the sticky counter.
He points to different blocks, explaining their system.
"We finance dealers all over the city. We front them product, and they sell it on the streets."
He circles a few areas on the map, pointing out where they already have people working for them.
"These are some of the territories we control. We've got dealers in Brooklyn, Manhattan, and the Bronx. But we need someone to take over Queens."
Briana leans in closer, her voice taking on a persuasive tone.
"You could be that person. We could help you build your own territory."
My throat feels dry as I think about what they're offering.
It's a chance to be my own boss, to make my own money.
But it also means going against Mom and my uncles. Kevin notices my hesitation and leans in closer.
"We'll give you 20 percent of whatever you sell. The rest goes back to us."
I nod along, trying to process everything they're telling me.
My mind is racing with thoughts of how I can make this work without Mom finding out.
Briana smiles at me, her gold teeth glinting under the neon lights.
"You're a smart kid. I can tell you're going to do great things."
Kevin pats me on the back, his hand heavy with reassurance.
I walk into my mom's house, still reeling from Ronnie's party.
Layla's face is stern as she tells me to sit on the couch.
She reveals that Elijah Jackson, the charming drug lord in prison, isn't my father.
Instead, Andre Simmons, an NYPD detective, is.
Layla met Andre at 16; he was 25.
She lied about my father for my safety, fearing repercussions if people knew my dad was a cop.
Anger surges through me at her deception.
I stand up, my voice shaking with disbelief. "You lied to me my whole life, Mom?"
Layla's eyes soften, but her voice remains firm. "I did what I had to do to protect you, to keep you safe from both sides."
I pace the room, trying to process everything. "So what now? Does Andre even know about me?"
I pace the living room while Layla sits quietly on the couch, her eyes following my movements.
The truth about Andre feels like a weight crushing my chest.
When I finally stop moving, I turn to face her, my fists clenched.
"Does he know what we do? What you do?"
I demand.
She takes a deep breath before answering.
"Andre has been keeping tabs on you from afar all these years."
My stomach turns at the thought of a cop watching our family.
Before I can process this, Layla's phone rings.
She answers, her voice tense as she listens to the caller.
After a brief exchange, she hangs up and turns to me.
"That was Andre," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
"He wants to meet you, says it's important."
I stare at her, the room spinning around me. "What does he want from me now?"
I sit in the back booth of Sal's Diner, a greasy spoon joint in Queens where Mom arranged for me to meet Andre.
The vinyl seat squeaks as I shift, watching steam rise from my untouched coffee.
Through the window, I see a tall Black man in a brown leather jacket walking towards the diner.
He has a strong jawline and broad shoulders.
My heart pounds as he opens the door and steps inside.
His eyes scan the diner until they land on me.
There's no mistaking it - we have the same sharp jawline, the same way of carrying ourselves.
He slides into the booth across from me, and I feel the weight of fifteen years of absence between us.
Andre studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You look just like your mother," he finally says, his voice deep and steady.
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. "Why now? Why did you want to meet after all this time?"
Andre sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"I've been watching you from afar for years. I know what your mother does, and I've been keeping tabs on you."
I feel a surge of anger at the thought of being watched, but Andre continues before I can speak.
"I want to get to know you, to be a part of your life. I know I missed out on a lot, but I'm here now."
I study Andre's face, searching for any sign of deception.
But all I see is sincerity in his eyes.
"So, tell me about yourself," Andre says, leaning back in the booth.
"What do you like to do? What are your plans for the future?"
I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal.
But something about Andre's kind eyes puts me at ease.
"I like hanging out with my friends," I say slowly.
"We go to the arcade and play video games. And I'm thinking about joining the basketball team at school."
Andre nods, a small smile on his face.
"That sounds great. Do you have any hobbies? Anything you're passionate about?"
I shrug, feeling a little self-conscious.
"I don't really have any hobbies. But I like listening to music and playing around with my friends."
Andre nods again, his expression thoughtful.
"Well, it sounds like you're a normal teenager. That's good." The waitress comes over to take our order, and we both ask for burgers and fries.
As she walks away, Andre leans forward again.
"So, tell me more about your friends," he says.
"What are they like?"
I think for a moment before answering.
"They're all different," I say.
"There's Javier; he's into music and wants to be a rapper. And then there's Malcolm; he's quiet but really smart. And Munira; she's my cousin and she's really into fashion."
Andre nods, his eyes lighting up with interest.
"That sounds great," he says.
"It's good that you have such a diverse group of friends."
The waitress returns with our food, and we both dig in hungrily.
As we eat, Andre asks more questions about my life and my plans for the future.
I answer as honestly as I can, feeling more and more comfortable around him with each passing minute.
After we finish eating, Andre glances at his watch and stands up from the booth.
"I have to go," he says regretfully.
"But it was great meeting you. Let's do it again sometime soon."
I nod, feeling a strange mix of relief and uncertainty. "Yeah, I'd like that."
Andre smiles, reaching into his pocket to pull out a business card. "Here's my number. Call me anytime, okay?"
I take the card, our fingers brushing briefly. "Thanks... Dad."
I pull up to Ronnie's warehouse in Queens, the headlights illuminating the dimly lit parking lot.
Ronnie and his team are already waiting, their faces lit by the glow of a cigarette.
Kevin and Briana Johnson are there too, standing off to the side with twenty of Ronnie's dealers.
I park and step out, my boots echoing on the concrete as I walk towards them.
Ronnie greets me with a nod, his voice low as he asks if I'm ready to get started.
I nod back, feeling the weight of my 9mm pressed against my waist.
We walk into the warehouse, the smell of damp concrete and decay filling my nostrils.
Rows of wooden crates line the walls, and in the center of the room is a metal table covered in bags of cocaine and heroin.
Ronnie gestures for me to take a seat at the table, then opens a duffel bag filled with bricks of cocaine and heroin.
He hands me a package wrapped in plastic, telling me it's worth $50,000 in street value.
I take it from him, feeling the weight of it in my hands as I examine it. Kevin pulls out a map of Queens, pointing out different street corners where they want me to sell.
I study it closely, noticing that some of the corners overlap with Mom's territory.
I glance up at Ronnie, my voice steady. "You know these spots are close to my mom's turf, right?"
Ronnie smirks, leaning back against a crate. "That's the point, kid. We need to expand, and you're the one who's gonna make it happen."
Kevin nods in agreement, his eyes sharp. "Think of it as a test. If you can handle this, you'll prove you're ready for bigger things."
