The Prada Plan 5

by Ashley Antoinette

  “Ma!” King shouted.

  “Go back in your room, baby! I just dropped something,” Parker called out, trying to steady her quivering voice.

  “Please, please, please. Not in front of my son, Samar,” Parker whispered. She felt him enter her and she cringed. Please, God, please help, she thought. She couldn’t believe that this student, this young man whom she had seen every day for months, was violating her. She had led him on with no intention to deliver her end of the bargain, but Samar wasn’t taking any shorts. He wanted what was promised to him whether she obliged or not.

  Parker could either fight back or stop resisting. She knew the more she struggled the louder things would get, and Parker didn’t want her son walking in, witnessing this heinous act. So instead, she went limp, and she let him take what she had promised. It took him only minutes to finish, and when he was done, he hurriedly gathered himself before running out of her apartment.

  Parker slid down the wall and covered her face with her hands. She sobbed, muffling her cries as best she could. Her eyes fell onto the photos that were now spilled all over the floor of her foyer. She kicked them away and then rushed into her room. She could still smell the stench of Samar on her. Where he had kissed her neck, tingled. She felt invaded, infected, interrupted … as if she would never be able to go back to being the woman she was before this happened. She wasn’t blameless in this. Using her womanhood to influence a man was a dangerous game. It was one that she was unfamiliar with. She had never been the type to sink so low … until now. Playing with Samar’s emotions was a cheap shot. She had taken him for a ride and promised him a thrill. He had raped her, but she had put herself in this position. Parker had discounted her value and put herself up for sale for Indie’s sake. She was ashamed. She was disgusted. She had judged other women for using these same tactics. She had looked down on women who used sex as a weapon, but under the right circumstance she had done the exact same thing. She was no more noble than the next. In fact, she felt like less of a woman because of this. Who am I becoming? she thought. Competition had led to exploitation, and she didn’t even recognize herself. Was beating YaYa worth this?

  Parker tied her bathrobe tightly, pinned her wet curls into a pineapple above her head, and then climbed in bed.

  “Ma?” King called as he opened her bedroom door and peeked inside. Parker sniffed and wiped her eyes before sitting up to face him.

  “These were on the floor by the front door,” King said. He looked at the pictures in his hands. “This is my dad? Who is he with?”

  Parker took the pictures from his hand. “Just a friend, King. Go get ready for bed. You have school in the morning.”

  She waited until she heard his bedroom door close before she opened the folder. This can’t be Z, Parker thought as she looked at the beautiful woman that Indie had met on Liberty Island. There was only one way to find out—present them to Einstein. She had given up too much of herself to get these photographs. She would be damned if they didn’t go to good use.

  * * *

  It was hard to keep track of time from inside. Indie didn’t know if he had been locked up for days or weeks. It all felt the same to him. It was like the rising and setting of the sun didn’t exist. The guards kept the pale yellow lights on around the clock, making Indie feel like he was experiencing a never-ending day. He spoke to no one, he bothered no one, and he kept his head down as he waited. He didn’t know how things would shake out. He didn’t know if he should anticipate his freedom or his detainment. Things were bad, worse than they had been in a long time. Life as he knew it was over. He was losing everything. His wife, his daughter, his freedom, his money. God had stripped him of all that he held dear, but Indie wouldn’t fold. If this was a test, he was determined to pass it. He sat in the middle of the cellblock at a vacant table as he read the New York Stock Exchange figures. Vartex’s stocks were at the bare bottom, and he grit his teeth as he thought of how much money stockholders were losing. He had five hundred thousand dollars tied up in Vartex. Disguised under Skylar’s name, it was supposed to serve as back-up money, something the government couldn’t touch. He had prepared for this day, when he wouldn’t be around to provide for his family, but with Vartex plummeting daily, that money would be gone by month’s end.

  “Yo, get the fuck up.”

  Indie looked up from his paper. His heart rate increased more out of anger than fear as he stared at four members of a Hispanic gang. “This is our spot.”

  Indie laughed and went back to reading his paper, only to have it ripped from his hands.

  He stood, visibly angered by the disrespect. His gangster hadn’t been tested in years. His reputation normally preceded him wherever he went, but inside he looked like fresh meat. Rikers Island was like a fish tank full of sharks. Everybody was a predator. “This your spot?” Indie asked. “You ready to lose your life for a table, my G?”

  Indie grabbed one of the books off the table and smashed it against the ringleader’s head, leveling him on impact. One of his comrades grabbed Indie from behind, and Indie quickly flipped him over his back. The book wasn’t much of a weapon, but it carried enough weight behind the force of his punch to break the nose of the second inmate. Indie wrapped his hand around the man’s long hair and beat him with so much force that he was sure he had broken his own hand. Still he didn’t stop. All the frustration, all the anger, the hurt from YaYa’s last visit, was worked out on the men who had accosted him. They wanted to be clowns, so Indie was going to make a circus out of them. Indie probably would have lost if the last two goons had jumped into the fight, but they wanted no part of him. Indie was finally constrained by the guards; even then, he was hard to contain. He spit on the inmate who had started the melee. “I told you. Yo’ ass ain’t want no smoke. Now every time I see you, I’mma mash you. Pussy-ass nigga,” Indie spat. He was livid and in rare form, and it took two guards to remove him from the common area.

  Niggas saw me walk in here with an expensive suit and shiny shoes and they got me fucked up, Indie thought.

  Indie was tossed into solitary. The tiny, dirty cell had no windows. It was even worse than his former cell, and as his temper simmered, he realized that this could very well be his fate. Indie sat on the concrete bed and held his hand out in front of him. He cringed as he made a fist. His knuckles were bloodied, but he could ball his hand, which meant it wasn’t broken. He was losing it in here, and he knew it was because things with YaYa were on shaky ground. He had to get his mind right if he was going to survive. He had to make things right with her. It would be the only way he would be able to control his emotions and stop himself from flying off the handle again. The last thing he needed was to catch another charge while awaiting his day in court.

  * * *

  Parker sat patiently, with her legs crossed and hands folded, the perfect example of a wife, only she wasn’t a wife at all. She had been keeping up with every aspect of Indie’s case. She called Einstein every hour on the hour for updates. She lost sleep because she couldn’t bear the thought that he was locked away. Parker was getting quite comfortable in this role, a bit too comfortable, and as she sat clasping the folder of evidence she had been given, she just knew it would be enough effort to get Indie to see how much she deserved him. Parker was relentless in her quest to break up Indie’s marriage, and she had no qualms about it. He was mine first, she thought. She was playing the role of a sweet, supportive woman who was only involved on her child’s behalf, but secretly Parker was in it for herself. She wanted him back desperately, and there wasn’t much that she wouldn’t do to bring him home. Not home to YaYa, but home to her and King, where she felt he belonged.

  If I never messed up, that’s where he would have been anyway. That ghetto, ratchet, childish bitch isn’t even his type.

  Parker had never been self-righteous or the type to put down another woman, but YaYa got under her skin. All those expensive labels she rocks still don’t inflate her value. Ol’ bottom-of-the-barrel-ass bitch,
Parker thought.

  “Ms. Banks?”

  Parker snapped out of her malicious reverie and stood as Einstein’s assistant beckoned her.

  “Right this way.”

  Parker followed the woman back to Einstein’s office.

  “Parker Banks. This is unexpected. How can I help you?” he asked.

  Parker took a seat and then extended the folder to him. “Is this enough to get Indie off?”

  Einstein reluctantly opened the file. “Help me out here. What exactly am I looking at?”

  “I think that’s the person responsible for securing Indie’s board seat at Vartex. You said they are looking to tie him to a larger organization. An illegal one? I think she may be that tie. I think her name is Z. I’m sure it’s short for something. I have a number to a burner phone she uses. Can’t the feds use it to trace her location and once they get her, can’t they let Indie go?”

  “Slow down,” Einstein said. “You’re throwing a lot of information at me right now. Indie has never indicated that there is anyone to give to the authorities in exchange for a deal. At this point it is just speculation. These pictures could be of him meeting with a friend or a romantic acquaintance.”

  “It’s not,” Parker said knowingly. “She’s the key to Indie’s freedom, and if you don’t bring it to the prosecution’s attention, I most certainly will.”

  “I’m not saying that, Ms. Banks. I’m just presenting the dissenting argument. Evidence is not always helpful; some evidence can be damaging. I promise you, I will look into this,” Einstein replied. He stood. “I’m sorry. I have another client coming in shortly. I don’t mean to cut this short…”

  Parker stood. “I’ll leave, but I mean what I say. Don’t dismiss these photos, or I will go around you.”

  Einstein watched her walk out of his office, and he blew out a breath of exasperation as he flopped down into his executive chair. She has no idea what she is getting herself into, Einstein thought.

  The lawyer didn’t know how Parker had gotten ahold of the photos, but he instantly recognized the face of New York’s most wanted woman. She had been the star witness in a federal drug indictment. Her testimony had helped to convict a dirty cop and freed a drug queen pin. Zya Miller, Einstein thought. He pressed the button for his intercom.

  “Can you come in here, Alyssa?”

  Within seconds, the leggy blonde was standing before him.

  “I need you to get me all the information you can find on a Ms. Zya Miller.”

  “Absolutely, sir, right after I—”

  “Right away. Drop everything else you’re doing on other cases,” Einstein instructed.

  Einstein dismissed her from the room and then sat back, slightly perplexed by the information that had fallen into his lap. Zya Miller was a wanted woman. If this were evidence, Einstein could use it to turn her in, to have favor with the judicial branch of the city, for the remainder of his career. On top of that, Indie would be free. It was a dangerous play to make, and Einstein was reluctant to do so out of fear of the consequences that would undoubtedly follow.

  12

  It was a sad day when friends became enemies, and as Zya sat on the bench in the middle of Central Park, she dreaded what she was about to do. She hated this game sometimes, when her femininity worked against her, when her feelings were involved. Over the years she had come to root for YaYa and Indie. Until now, she had never fathomed bringing harm to them. Yet here she was, in an awkward circumstance. She had to prove why she was the one who wore the crown. Being queen wasn’t always easy, and today would prove most difficult. She wished she could go back and be a regular girl, taking a stroll through the park on an ordinary day. She was so far removed from that life that she couldn’t even fully appreciate the beauty that was around her. Her head was on a swivel. Despite the fact that she had armed men discreetly positioned throughout the park, she still worried about her well-being. She was a wanted woman on these New York streets, and she could never be too careful.

  When she saw Ethic approaching in the distance, she stood and got in line to purchase a ticket for the merry-go-round. She walked onto the ride and climbed up on one of the horses. Moments later he was at her side, choosing to stand on the platform of the ride.

  “Thank you for coming,” Zya said as they began to spin.

  “Have I ever not come when you called?” he asked. “I’m curious, though, Zya. Why am I here?”

  “I take it you know about the Vartex shipment being hit?” Zya asked.

  “I knew about it before it happened,” Ethic answered.

  “And you couldn’t give me a heads-up?” Zya asked.

  “You chose the man you wanted for the job. It wasn’t on me to cover his ass,” Ethic answered. “I-80 is my territory, but I can’t insure a nigga package that I don’t rock with.”

  Zya nodded. “Fair enough, but now I need something taken care of, and I can’t trust just anyone to do it.”

  “You need me to lay a nigga down?” Ethic asked. He looked around. “I counted ten men ready to rock a nigga to sleep for you just on the walk up. You have shooters. You don’t need me for this.”

  “I have a mole at Einstein and Fredrickson, and she tells me that my name is coming up in Indie’s investigation. I need someone that I can trust to make this go away for me,” Zya said.

  “A mole? Is this person’s word legit?” Ethic inquired.

  “She’s Einstein’s executive assistant. He asked her to dig up information on me,” Zya replied.

  “And you think Indie is going to give you up in exchange for leniency?” Ethic was shocked. There were a lot of things he didn’t like about Indie, but he had never pegged him as a snitch.

  “Not Indie,” Zya replied. “His bitch will, though. She’s the one who went to Einstein with it,” Zya replied.

  “Nah, not YaYa. She’s not built like that.”

  “No, she isn’t, but his side bitch is. Parker Banks has my picture and has given it to Einstein. So I have two problems on my hands,” Zya said. “You’re the only person that I can trust to handle this problem selectively. You can say no, but if you do, I’m wiping the entire slate clean. Anyone who can identify me is a liability to me. YaYa included.”

  Ethic tensed.

  “I know,” Zya said before he could respond. “You take care of Parker and the lawyer, and YaYa lives. If not, then I have to cut my losses.”

  Ethic’s temperature rose, not at Zya for her ultimatum, but at Indie for putting YaYa in the predicament in the first place. “You wouldn’t kill her,” Ethic said. “You know what that would mean.”

  “I would make an enemy of you,” Zya concluded. “I’m prepared for that as well, if that’s how things shake out. You’re a smart man, though. You’ll take the path of least resistance. Death to the side chick, death to the lawyer, and I’ll sleep better at night.”

  The ride stopped, and Zya climbed off her horse then walked away. The ultimatum had been set; there was nothing more for them to discuss. They would either emerge on the other side of this as allies or adversaries. Zya didn’t get to her position on the chessboard by making friends anyway. She sacrificed the pawns. It was all in the art of war.

  * * *

  The urge to be near YaYa was strong, especially while he was in New York. Back home in Flint it was easy to stay away; the distance was too great to make loving her seem possible. But having her within his reach was trying for him.

  Ethic’s life was incomplete. He wanted a family. He had retired from the game to take care of his children, but he hadn’t allowed one woman to get close enough to complete the picture. When he saw YaYa hop into his car in her white wedding dress playing runaway bride, he knew there was a reason for their chance meeting. She was his final chance at love. The third time had to be the charm, but instead of exploring things with YaYa, he had let her go. It was a decision he regretted. He had thought about swinging through her place but knew that the timing was not right to pop back into her life. She had t
oo much going on.

  Ethic knew YaYa well enough to know that she would ride with Indie until they put him under the jail. Indie was on fire, and Ethic wanted to be as far away from the feds as possible. She didn’t fit his lifestyle at the moment. She was used to dealing with a kingpin, and Ethic had given up the life long ago. He just wanted to be a regular man, raise his family, and contribute more good than bad to the world. He knew that what he had been tasked to do by Zya would significantly alter his state of being. The world would pay him back one day. That’s just how life played out. What goes around ultimately would come right back around, but it was worth it. Keeping YaYa safe was all that mattered. He could pay the consequences for it later.

  * * *

  Ethic sat in the rented SUV and waited patiently. There were only two other cars in the underground parking garage. It was late and there wasn’t another soul in sight. The only potential witness to his impending crime was the security guard, who came around every forty-five minutes. His window of opportunity was perfect. He could handle his business and disappear into the night before the rent-a-cop swept back through. Ethic had no nerves, no anxiety; he was just ready to pull the trigger.

  The elevator opened, and Ethic watched Einstein emerge alongside a redheaded woman. Ethic screwed the silencer on the nine-millimeter pistol and watched through the rearview mirror as Einstein walked the woman to her car. As she got inside and pulled away, Ethic rolled a ski mask down over his face and then swiftly pulled up behind Einstein, blocking him in. Ethic hopped out of the car.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Einstein said as he put his hands up. “Listen, buddy, I’m a lawyer and I have about a hundred dollars in my wallet—”

  “Shut up,” Ethic stated calmly. “You know Zya Miller?”

  “She’s—she’s—” Einstein stammered nervously. “Her name came up in a federal investigation for one of my clients.”

  “You have two choices. You can take these bullets or you can take this retainer,” Ethic said.