Supreme Clientele

by Ashley Antoinette Snell

  “Are you just now getting off of work?” Liz asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What was that all about? Why’d he keep you this late?” she asked nosily.

  Zya didn’t answer. Meechi had made it very clear that she was not to speak of it.

  “Look, I got to go. I’ll see you at work.” They said goodbye and hung up the phone. Zya’s mind was too busy to sleep. Instead, she sat up and counted the money she had made that night. She had plans for it . . . big plans.

  I won’t have to work in that restaurant for too much longer. In six months, I’ll be out.

  Chapter 4

  Grindin’

  Zya had been stashing money up ever since she started working at the restaurant. For almost a year now, she had been saving up her money. She had taken an old shoe box and stashed it in the back of her closet for safe keeping.

  Zya knew she had stumbled upon an opportunity last night. Her mind had been turning ever since she found out about the dope drought that the restaurant was experiencing. Zya had $10,000 saved up, and was seriously thinking about using it to cop some work.

  I could flip that money three times in a week. The way people run in and out of there to feed their habit, I’d be rich in six months.

  Zya went into her room and sat down in front of the closet. She pulled the money out and put it inside her Doonie & Bourke bag. She was about to get on her hustle by any means necessary. Waiting tables at the restaurant was getting old, and after what Vinnie had pulled the night before, she was ready to leave. She knew that if she hustled out of the restaurant for a couple months, she could save up enough money to get back on her feet.

  There was only one person that she knew who would supply her with the dope, and that was Torey. He had dealt with her before, and she had paid him back so quickly she was sure that he would deal with her again. She picked up her cell phone and found Torey Snow’s number in her address book. She dialed the number, and as the phone rang, she could see the dollar signs forming in her mind.

  “Hello?” Snow answered.

  “Snow, this is Zya. I used to pick up and drop off for Jules,” she began.

  “I don’t know what you talking ’bout,” Snow said with a short tone. The line went silent, and Zya didn’t know what to say.

  I know he remembers me. If he don’t remember me, I know for sure he remembers Jules.

  “Six months ago. After I paid you—”

  Snow quickly interrupted her and rudely said, “Look, shorty, I don’t know you and I don’t know shit about what you talking about. If you calling about setting up a meeting for the housekeeping position, you need to put your application in face to face. I don’t do no phone interviews.”

  Zya heard a click and the dial tone. She quickly became enraged at the fact that he had hung up in her face. No he didn’t just hang up on me. He talking about housekeeping ... I got his face to face interview. Zya quickly took a shower and dressed. She was on the first thing smoking to Jersey.

  Zya was anxious to get her hands on some dope, and the bus ride to Jersey seemed like it was taking forever. She knew that she didn’t have enough money to buy weight. In fact, she didn’t want to deal with bricks. That was federal as hell, and she wasn’t trying to risk her freedom. She only wanted to buy a couple ounces a week so that she could fill the void in the restaurant while they were going through the drought.

  If I’m careful, I can hustle out of the restaurant without Meechi ever finding out. It’s the only way that I’m gon’ make some real money. The clientele is already there, so all I have to do is let it be known that I’ve got the product without giving myself up to Mr. Castello and Meechi.

  Once Zya arrived in Newark, she caught a cab to Snow’s house. She told the cab driver to leave the meter running because she didn’t plan on staying long. She simply wanted to make the transaction, discuss future arrangements, and be on her way. She walked up to Snow’s two-story Victorian brick house and rang the bell. She tapped her foot as she waited for him to answer the door. After waiting a couple minutes, she rang the bell again and knocked lightly on the door. She grew more and more impatient as the minutes passed.

  I know I didn’t come all the way out here and he ain’t home, Zya thought. There weren’t any cars in the driveway, and the house seemed to be still on the inside. Just as Zya was getting ready to turn around to leave, the door opened. An attractive, brown-skinned woman answered the door. Zya immediately noticed the woman’s resemblance to Snow and figured that it was his sister. Her gray eyes were identical to Snow’s and her body language gave off the same confidence, as if it ran in their family.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked as her eyes slanted down in suspicion. She looked Zya up and down, sizing her up.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Snow,” Zya replied.

  “He’s not here right now. I don’t think he’ll be back for a while, either. Was he expecting you?”

  Zya knew that he hadn’t known she was coming. When she had called him he acted as if he barely remembered her.

  “No, he wasn’t. Thank you. Sorry for interrupting you.” Zya turned to walk back down the walkway.

  “Hey, wait a minute. What’s your name? I’ll tell him you came by,” the woman said with a smile.

  “Zya,” she replied. “Please tell him Zya came by.”

  “Zya . . . you his girlfriend or something?” she asked with a curious grin.

  “Nah, nothing like that. This is just a business visit.”

  “All right, Zya. I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

  Zya smiled softly and replied, “Thanks. It was nice meeting you.” She walked back to the cab and headed back for Harlem. She was pissed that she had made the trip for nothing. She hated the fact that she was going home empty-handed, and she was reluctant to try to call him again.

  It is going to be harder than I thought to get my foot in the game. I thought Snow would be down to deal with me, but he’s acting like he doesn’t even know who I am. It hasn’t been that long. I know he has to remember me. I need to get in contact with him face to face. I know when he sees me, he’ll know who I am.

  Zya was disappointed, but she knew that she would find her way back into the game. She was a hustler at heart and would eventually get her foot in the door.

  Zya made her way home, and as soon as she stepped inside the door, her cell rang.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Hey, Zya. Do you gotta work tonight?” Vita asked. Her loud voice blared through the phone.

  “No, I finally got a night off. Why, what you got up?”

  “It’s a party at the 40/40 club tonight. Big Easy throwing it, so you know it’s about to be jumping. Every nigga on the East Coast probably gon’ be there. You know we got to fall up in there,” Vita said excitedly.

  Zya had heard about the party weeks ago. Big Easy was a promoter in Brooklyn and was known for his hype parties. His street team had been passing out flyers for weeks. They had gotten word to all the major cities from Baltimore to D.C. Nearly everybody on the East Coast knew about it. Zya was reluctant to go. Her mind was too focused on making money.

  “Come on, Zya. You ain’t been out in forever. Your ass is always working. Let’s go have fun tonight,” Vita said, convincing Zya to go.

  “Okay, Vita. Pick me up at eleven.”

  Vita agreed, and Zya hung up the phone. It was only 3 o’clock, so Zya had more than enough time to get ready. She knew that Big Easy was going to do it up big, and she didn’t want to be half-stepping when she walked into the club. Zya took $800 from her purse and put the rest of the money back in the shoe box. She didn’t really want to spend the money, but she had never stepped into any club without being the best looking chick there, and she didn’t intend on starting tonight. When she was with Jules, she could have easily spent $5,000 on a designer hook-up, but she couldn’t afford to do that anymore. She was about to get fresh with $600, and use $200 for spending money.

  Zya took the subw
ay to Manhattan and wound up browsing through every store between 5th and Madison Ave. She was shopping at high end stores, but was on a low budget, so she went straight for the clearance racks. She knew that every other chick in the club couldn’t even afford to do that, so she was still ahead of the game. Girls in the club would be wearing cheap clothes while they walked the ho stroll for ballers, and Zya wanted to stand out from the crowd. She wasn’t a sac chaser or a gold-digger. She never had been and never would be. She was simply going to have a good time. She wanted to make her own money, which is why getting in contact with Snow was so important to her.

  Zya tried to keep her mind off of her financial goals and focus on picking out an outfit for the night. She was a professional shopper and could piece together hook-ups better than any of New York’s top stylists. She shopped for hours, trying to find deals in the expensive stores, and at the end of the day, she came out with a short, champagne-colored, spaghetti-strapped dress from Christian Dior. The dress was beaded all over, which gave it a sparkle that was sure to stand out in the dark club. It fit her body perfectly, and she knew that she would turn heads. She wasn’t looking for a man. A relationship was the last thing on her mind. She still hadn’t fully gotten over Jules, but the attention, she figured, couldn’t hurt.

  Zya headed to the salon and got her hair pulled back with a champagne-colored pin. Loose spirals fell down the nape of her neck, and the natural-colored M.A.C cosmetics that the makeup artist applied had her skin glowing as if she had been kissed personally by the sun. At the end of the day, she looked like she had spent $5,000, but in actuality she had only spent $600 as she had planned. She definitely wouldn’t blend in with the broke hoes. She looked like a V.I.P.

  By the time Zya finally finished getting ready, it was almost time to go. Vita knocked on her door at ten o’clock, arriving an hour early. When Zya opened the door, Vita stood with her mouth hanging wide open.

  “Damn, Zy, you making me look bad,” she said with a smack of her lips as she walked into the room wearing next to nothing.

  “You look cute,” Zya said, knowing that her friend was becoming uneasy about what she was wearing. Vita did that every time they went out. She would see what Zya had on then decide at the last minute that what she was wearing didn’t look right. Zya wasn’t trying to wait on Vita to find something new to wear, so she added, “For real, girl . . . you look good.”

  “I thought so too until I saw your supermodel-looking ass,” she said, half pouting and half smiling. “Can I look through your closet? I don’t think I wanna wear this no more. Please, Zya. I swear I’ll be done like that!” Vita said with a snap of her fingers.

  “Go ahead,” Zya said as she plopped down on the couch. This girl is about to take all damn day, she thought.

  Vita made her way into the bedroom and immediately plunged into Zya’s wardrobe. Zya had so many expensive clothes that it wasn’t hard to choose a new outfit. She put on a pair of Zya’s short black Prada shorts with the matching cropped Prada Jacket. She left the jacket unbuttoned to reveal her gold lace Victoria’s Secret bra. She looked in Zya’s full-length mirror and liked the change in apparel.

  “Zya, where is your gold Manolo’s?” she yelled into the living room.

  “In the bottom of my closet, in the gold and black box!” Zya yelled back. “And hurry up!”

  Vita bent down and crawled into the closet. All these damn shoes. How am I supposed to know which ones are which? I don’t even see a gold box, Vita complained silently as she started opening shoe boxes. Vita’s eyes bugged as she stumbled across a shoe box full of money. She looked back toward the bedroom door to make sure Zya hadn’t come in the room.

  Damn, Zya, I know they ain’t paying you like this at that restaurant. She began to spark up a conversation with Zya so that she couldn’t sneak up on her.

  “Zya, what shoes you think I should wear?” Vita said as she took a rubber band off of one roll.

  “Girl, I don’t know. The party gon’ be over by the time you get dressed,” Zya yelled back.

  Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty ... two thousand. Vita counted in her head. It took her a minute to respond to Zya because she was counting. Her fingers flipped through the bills quickly as she nosily counted Zya’s pockets.

  “You hear me?” Zya asked.

  “Yeah, I’m almost done! You think its gon’ be a lot of niggas there tonight?” Vita asked, not really giving a damn about the answer. All she was concerned about was finding out exactly how much money Zya was working with.

  “I don’t really care. I’m just going to have a good time.”

  Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty ... five thousand. Vita tried to count the money as fast as she could, but she heard Zya get up and head toward her bedroom. Vita threw all of the money back in the shoe box and placed it back in the closet.

  “Did you find the shoes?” Zya said, standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip and an annoyed look on her face.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got ’em. We can go.” Vita’s hands were shaking and her voice revealed her nervousness.

  Damn, I couldn’t finish counting it, but it got to be like $20,000 in that box, she thought, overestimating the actual amount. If Zya getting money, why she ain’t put me up on it? I’m tryna to get paid too, she thought as they walked to the car. Vita couldn’t help herself. She had to ask Zya about the money she had discovered in her closet.

  “Zy, don’t get mad, but I went through some other boxes in your closet.”

  “You counted my money, didn’t you?” Zya asked, her anger showing in her tone of voice.

  “No . . . no, I didn’t count it. But how did you get all that money?”

  “It’s nothing, Vita. I’ve been saving up my cash from the restaurant. The people in there are big tippers. That’s all, okay?”

  “Damn, Zya, okay, okay. I was just asking.”

  “No, you were just being nosy. Let’s forget about it and have a good time.”

  Both girls dropped the subject and made their way to the club. When they arrived, it was 11:30, and the street was flooded with people. It looked like everybody was dressed to impress. The line to the club was long, and they waited for nearly another thirty minutes before entering the club.

  The inside of the 40/40 was decorated in purples and different shades of grey. Zya had never set foot inside the Manhattan club, but was impressed by its sophisticated atmosphere and its expensive decor. The club had various levels, and each part of the club had its own vibe. It was so crowded in the club that Zya literally had to squeeze her way through the crowd. As Zya walked in between a group of dudes, one of them grabbed her arm to get her attention. She looked back and saw Amir, one of Jules’s old associates. He was looking her up and down, and seemed to be surprised at what he saw. Zya pulled her arm back then smiled and waved, but kept it moving.

  “Yo, Zya!” Amir called after her with his arms in the air. Zya wasn’t trying to make friendly conversation with Amir. She had stopped fucking with Jules, and she wasn’t trying to associate herself with anybody he knew.

  “Hey, Zy, somebody calling you,” Vita said in her ear, yelling over the loud music as she looked back at Amir.

  “He ain’t nobody important,” Zya replied casually as she continued to make her way toward the stairs. When they finally broke through the crowd, they moved to the second floor. Damn, it’s crowded up here too, she thought as she looked around for a seat. All of the tables were taken, but there were open seats at the bar, so she led Vita over there.

  “Yo, can I get a strawberry daiquiri with a double shot of rum?” Vita asked the bartender. The bartender prepared her drink, and as soon as it was done, Vita excused herself. “I’ll be back. I have to go to the ladies room. Will you watch my drink?” she asked Zya. Zya nodded and continued to nod her head to the Biggie lyrics that the D.J. was playing. Zya sat with her back to the bar as she watched the Pistons versus the Heat on the 60-inch plasma TV.

  “You got money on that game?” a voice a
sked as he sat in Vita’s seat.

  Zya didn’t even look up. She simply replied, “That seat’s taken.”

  “Yo, my man . . . let me get a shot of Remy V.S.O.P and a Long Island for the lady,” he said.

  Zya turned and said, “Excuse me, but my friend is sitting—” She stopped talking mid-sentence. When she saw Torey Snow sitting next to her, she was at a loss for words.

  This must be my lucky night, she thought. I was just looking for his ass earlier, and here he is. Her hand began to itch, and she knew that it meant money was getting ready to come her way.

  “You didn’t know me earlier when I called. Now you buying me drinks?” she asked sarcastically.

  “It wasn’t like that, shorty. I know who you are. You just broke the rules. I never talk business over the phone,” he said. “Cell phones get you nabbed.”

  Zya nodded her head in agreement. She finally understood why he had acted so funny. “My fault,” she said, apologizing for her carelessness.

  Snow looked at Zya. She looked even better than the last time he’d seen her. It had been almost a year, and she was still sexy as hell. From her perfectly manicured toes to her flawless features, she had Torey Snow’s full attention.

  “How’ve you been?” he asked. Zya turned around in her chair and sipped at the drink that he ordered her. She wasn’t trying to spark a personal relationship with Snow. She was strictly seeking out his business services.

  “I’m good,” she answered. “I’m looking to spend a little bit of money with you, though. That’s why I called you earlier.” It was her turn to evaluate him as she quickly looked him up and down. She had to admit, the nigga was fresh as hell. He had on Sean John jeans with a tan Sean John jacket resting on top of a crisp white tee. He also wore crisp tan Timberlands with a huge diamond hanging from his left ear. A diamond bezel Rolex rested on his wrist, and he rocked a Jesus piece so blinged-out that the diamonds glistened even in the darkened room. He even had on a diamond pinky ring. His chocolate complexion and grey eyes didn’t match, but somehow it worked for him because he definitely looked good. Snow was getting money, and she was trying to get down.