Two hundred kilos, she thought in disbelief. She still couldn’t believe it. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. I need to just be easy and relax. I can’t do anything until Snow makes the call. I have to wait on him to handle things on his end before anything jumps off, she thought before drifting into a mind-numbing sleep.
“Mr. Ernesto says that you are not scheduled to contact him for another month,” a female voice explained. Her voice was thick with a Spanish accent, and her broken English was hard to understand.
“I need to speak with Ernesto now. Tell him that he doesn’t want to pass up on what I have to offer.” Snow listened to the woman as she repeated what he had just said, and waited a while before Ernesto picked up the phone.
“Snow, to what do I owe this unexpected call?” Ernesto asked, apparently agitated by Snow’s disregard toward his policy. Carlos Ernesto was one of Cuba’s biggest suppliers, and he dealt with so many different people that he put each of his buyers on a specific schedule. He knew who was calling and when. The times never varied, and he left only a small window of opportunity to get in contact with him. He was also familiar with the amount each of his buyers usually purchased. He was thorough when it came to business, and he left no stone unturned when deciding who he would and would not deal with.
“I normally wouldn’t call you out of the blue, but I came across an unexpected opportunity that is too good to miss,” Snow said. He knew that Ernesto was in love with money, and that his words would pique his interest.
“What opportunity would that be, my friend?”
“I need two hundred kilos.”
The line went silent, and Snow waited for his connect to respond. “That is a big jump up from what you usually request,” Ernesto stated.
“A special order just came in, and they need it filled ASAP,” Snow replied.
“Special?” Ernesto questioned. “Special orders can be a man’s downfall,” he said firmly. Snow could hear the hesitation in Ernesto’s voice. “For years now I have done business with you, and the quantity of your order has never changed. Always twenty kilos. Why is it changing now?”
“Things have changed within my operation. I have gained a partner who has helped me expand my clientele into New York.”
“And your partner is the one who has set up this special buy?” Ernesto asked, his voice still reflecting his suspicion.
“Yeah, but I can vouch for—”
“You can vouch for no one but yourself,” Ernesto said calmly but sternly. “If you want this deal to go down, I need to meet your partner first.” Ernesto hung up the phone.
Snow had expected Ernesto to have doubts about filling such a big order, but he hadn’t expected him to ask to meet Zya. He hadn’t told Ernesto that his partner was a woman, and he wasn’t sure how Ernesto would react once he saw her.
Snow shook his head, grabbed his keys and walked out the door. There was no turning back now. Ernesto wanted to meet Zya, and that was the only way he was going to get his hands on that many bricks.
He hopped in his car and drove the distance into Harlem to let Zya know what was going on. He parked on the curb in front of her apartment building and put his chrome nine millimeter handgun in his waistline. He looked in his rearview mirror before exiting the car. He ascended the flights of stairs that led to Zya’s door and knocked lightly.
Zya opened the door and let him into her home. As soon as Snow saw the apartment, he visualized the robbery that had happened. He instantly felt rage toward Heavy and thought, That fat nigga is dead.
“Did you make the call?” Zya asked, snapping him out of his daze.
“Yeah, you got a passport?”
She frowned her face and replied, “Yeah . . . I mean I got the fake one you gave me. For what?”
“We’re taking a trip to Cuba.”
Two weeks later, Zya was on a flight to Cuba. They flew to Canada first, since no U.S. planes are allowed to fly to Cuba. She sat next to Snow and thought for sure that he could hear her heartbeat. She was nervous and couldn’t stop fidgeting in her seat. What if the deal doesn’t go through? What will Supreme Clientele say if I can’t come through with my end of the deal?
Snow looked at Zya and said, “You all right?”
Zya nodded and replied, “Yeah, I’m good.”
He laughed lightly and asked, “Well, can I please have my arm back?”
Zya noticed that she had her arm interlaced through Snow’s, and she was holding on for dear life. Embarrassed, she released her hold on him and blushed slightly. “Sorry,” she said.
“Calm down. Everything is going to go fine. By this time next week, you’ll be a half-million dollars richer,” he assured her.
Zya leaned her seat back and opened up the book she had purchased for the plane ride. As she read Diary of a Street Diva by Ashley JaQuavis, she tried to calm her nerves. The book was so good that she got through the rest of the flight without thinking about the meeting. The plane landed, and Zya followed Snow off the plane and through the airport.
As they approached Customs, Snow leaned down and whispered, “Let me answer any questions they ask.” Zya nodded and stepped up to the Customs inspector with Snow by her side. She was nervous because she had never even seen a real passport, so she had no clue if hers looked legit.
“Passports,” the officer requested in a monotone voice. They handed over the information, and the Customs officer reviewed them. He glared down at them skeptically and asked, “What brings you to Cuba?”
“We’re vacationing,” Snow responded. The skepticism didn’t leave the officer’s face.
“Around what part?” the officer asked.
Snow grew a blank expression on his face, but Zya stepped up and said, “Havana.”
The officer looked the two of them up and down, noticing that they weren’t carrying any luggage. “Where is your luggage?”
“We don’t have any. I’m making him buy me all new things on this trip. Can you tell me the best places to shop here?”
The officer reluctantly put his stamp of approval on the passports and said, “No, Miss, I’m sorry. You will have to ask someone near your hotel. Enjoy your stay.”
Zya and Snow walked away from the Customs department and out of the airport as fast as they could without drawing attention to themselves.
Ernesto had arranged for a car to pick them up, and they were transported to his house. Zya tried to remember the route as they drove through the dirt streets of Havana. If anything popped off, she wanted to know how to return the exact way she had come.
When they pulled up to the 20-foot steel gate that protected the stone mansion, her mouth dropped to the floor. She hadn’t really known what to expect, but the gorgeous mansion that stood in front of her was beyond anything she could have ever imagined. The chauffeur drove them up to the front of the house, and she got out and looked around.
She took a deep breath and followed behind Snow as he approached the front entrance. She was dressed in a thin, white Donna Karan sundress that tied around her neck, and her hair blew as the wind whipped it lightly to the side.
Snow rang the bell, and a short brown woman who wore a white maid’s smock answered the door.
“Bienvenido, Señor Ernesto le está contando con,” the woman said quickly in Spanish, welcoming them to Ernesto’s home. “Perseguir me.”
Snow nodded his head and followed the woman through the house and onto a patio decorated with exotic floral arrangements and hundreds of plants. Zya sat down across from Snow, and he stared at her across the table. He smiled at how well she was handling herself. The nervous girl on the plane had transformed into a confident woman who was here to handle business, and he was amazed at how easy it was for her to change faces in a matter of minutes.
The sliding door to the patio opened, and a well-dressed Cuban man entered the room. He wore all white, and his shirt was unbuttoned some, revealing his chest hair. He had a Cuban cigar intertwined between his fingers, and as he ap
proached, he said, “Snow, mi caro amigo.”
“Good to see you, Ernesto,” Snow replied as he stood and shook hands with the man.
Zya stood and Ernesto focused his attention on her. A look of surprise took over his face as he stared at the beautiful, young black woman who stood before him.
“And you are?” Ernesto asked as he took her hand and held onto it gently.
“Zya,” she spoke softly.
“My partner,” Snow added as he stood back and watched Ernesto kiss Zya’s hand before taking a seat at the head of the table.
“So, tell me about this deal that you have arranged,” Ernesto said, looking directly at Zya.
She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs then replied. “What would you like to know?”
“Who is on the receiving end of this transaction?” Ernesto asked.
“A roundtable called Supreme Clientele,” she answered.
Ernesto looked back and forth from Snow to Zya, and his eye-brows arched in disbelief. “Tony’s Supreme Clientele? Señorita Anari?”
Zya nodded her head, and even Snow looked at her in shock. Damn, I thought she was dead. I’ve heard stories about some woman named Anari disguising herself with a man’s name and taking over Jersey a couple years back. I didn’t think that shit was true. The streets talk about her like she’s a myth. How the fuck did Zya get connected with her?
“You must be mistaken. Anari is dead,” Ernesto said with an arrogant laugh.
“No, Mr. Ernesto, you are mistaken. I guarantee you that Anari is very much alive,” Zya said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Snow watched Ernesto’s face and could tell that he was shocked about what Zya had just told him.
“If you are representing who you say you are, why can’t Anari’s roundtable get their cocaine from her original source? What happened to her connect?”
“It is my understanding that her Colombian connect is tapped out. That is why she sent us to recruit your services. Supreme Clientele would like to make you their new supplier.”
“So, Poe has finally run dry,” he stated in amusement, referring to Supreme Clientele’s former connect.
“You know him?” Zya asked.
“Everybody knows one another at this level of the game. I always keep up with my competition.”
“It seems as though our offer will put you one step ahead of him then,” Zya said confidently with a seductive smile.
Ernesto turned to Snow and began to speak in Spanish.
“Poder ella ser confidente?” Ernesto asked. It was important for him to know that he could trust the woman that was sitting before him. He didn’t want to fall victim to her enticing beauty. Her looks said that she could be trusted, but he wanted to know if Snow was willing to vouch for her.
“Me creer etas ella poder,” Snow replied as he stared at Zya. He gave Ernesto his word that she was trustworthy.
Zya smiled as she stared Snow in the eyes. The two men sitting before her didn’t know that she knew how to speak and interpret Spanish very well. Growing up in a foster home in the Bronx, she had become accustomed to the language, so what they thought was a private conversation between the two of them was in actuality one that she could comprehend.
“Me consilidar les etas me poder,” she said, finally speaking up on her own behalf. She had predicted that Ernesto would wonder if she could be trusted or not. She assured him that she could be.
Both men looked at Zya in amazement, and Ernesto leaned back in his chair and took a puff of his cigar. He laughed and said, “Never underestimate the power of a woman.” He laughed heartily as he blew his cigar smoke into the air and continued. “You, my dear, are quite the businesswoman. You two have yourselves a deal. I will have the product ready in one week. You will need to find your own pilot to fly it into the States.” He shook hands with Snow and then began to walk out of the room. He stopped at the door and said, “Zya, contact me if you ever need a job.” She smiled and Snow laughed as they prepared to leave the room.
They walked out, and Zya was expecting the driver to take them back to the airport, but instead they pulled up to an oceanside villa.
“Where are we?” Zya asked.
“This is one of Ernesto’s villas. It is where I stay when I come here to do business,” Snow said as he stepped out of the car and began to walk up the long gravel driveway.
“Okay. Why are we here?” she asked as she got out and ran up the driveway after him.
“We’re staying for a couple days,” he said.
“I didn’t bring any clothes, Snow. Why can’t we just fly back tonight?”
“It looks hot for us to cross Customs too soon. We don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves. If we fly back the same day we arrived, they are going to ask a lot of questions. We don’t need that right now.”
Zya nodded and followed him inside. As soon as she walked inside, her breath was taken away by how luxurious the villa was.
“Oh my God, Snow, look at this!” Zya exclaimed in amazement as she walked to the back of the house and saw the waves from the ocean washing up on the backyard shore. “This is crazy!” she said excitedly. The night had fallen, and the water looked pitch black against the light sand.
She slid open the screen door and stepped outside. She walked onto the beach, sat down near the edge of the water, and enjoyed the feel of the ocean water as it washed up onto her feet. She felt Snow’s presence as he walked up behind her. There was something about him that sent chills up her spine whenever he was around. Snow had an essence about himself, a certain swagger that was very attractive.
He sat down next to her with a bottle of Cristal in one hand and two champagne flutes in the other.
“I can’t believe I pulled that off with Ernesto. I was so nervous,” she admitted.
Snow shook his head. “Zya, I ain’t never met a chick like you in my life. I been getting money for a minute, but I have never seen anything like this. You flip ounces faster than any nigga I know. Fucking around with you, I went from copping twenty bricks to two hundred bricks overnight.”
“I don’t know. It’s just in me, I guess. Getting money is what I do best. It’s just like breathing to me. You know how they say a shark will die if it stops swimming?” she asked. Snow nodded his head, and she continued. “I will die if I stop hustling. I gotta do it to survive, at least until my money gets long. I’m not trying to be in it for the long haul. I want to get enough money so that I can get out of New York and away from the bullshit.”
He handed her a glass full of champagne and she said, “To a great partnership.” They touched glasses and took a sip.
They sat beachside, talking and laughing with one another as they enjoyed the compliments from Ernesto’s full bar. Zya drank three glasses of champagne, and the alcohol had her feeling good.
Damn, I wish I had known we were staying here for a couple days. I would have brought clothes and something to swim in, she thought as she stared at the dark, enticing water. She stood up and slipped out of her dress, revealing her black Victoria’s Secret thong and bra.
“What you doing, ma? You feeling good and shit. Put your clothes back on,” he said, his speech slow and sexy from the champagne.
“Let’s swim,” she said as she grabbed his hand and led him toward the water.
“I don’t swim,” he said as he pulled her close to his body.
She looked up at him and began to unbutton his Sean John shirt. “Please,” she begged cutely as she removed the fabric from his broad shoulders, enjoying the feel of her hands against his skin. His shirt dropped to the sand, and Zya rested her hands on his chest. He took another sip of the Cristal and shook his head no.
“Snow, look at that water. Look at this beach. We have it all to ourselves. We might as well take advantage of it. We will never get another chance like this.” Her hands moved down to his jeans, and she slowly unbuttoned his pants. They fell around his ankles. She looked down, and a slight smile spread across her fa
ce as she noticed how well he was hung. He stepped out of his jeans as she pulled him into the water with nothing but his boxers on.
“Shit,” he said as the cold waves washed over his rock-hard abdomen. His six-pack glistened as the water hit his body, and she admired his perfectly chiseled body.
“Come here,” she said as she splashed water in his direction.
“You playing,” he said as he put his hands up to stop the water from hitting his face. She splashed the water in his direction until he was forced to splash her back. She laughed and screamed loudly as he picked her up and threatened to toss her into the water.
“Okay, okay, Snow, I swear, I quit. I don’t wanna get my hair wet,” she yelled in between the laughter. He dropped her into the water, and she popped back up instantly, the water running down her body. He grabbed her again, and she flailed her arms, trying to get out of his tight grasp.
“Aww, shit!” he yelled when he felt her elbow him in the jaw. He grabbed his face in pain.
“Oh my God! Snow, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” she said as she got close to him and placed her hands on his face.
“I’m good, ma. I’m good,” he said as he headed up to the shore.
Zya grabbed their clothes off the beach and followed behind him as he walked back into the villa. “Here, sit down,” she said. She walked into the kitchen and got some ice out of the freezer. She wrapped it in a towel and got on her knees in front of him to apply it to his face. “I’m so sorry.” He stared at her as she carefully held the ice against his broken jaw. Her hair was wet, and her ass devoured the thong she was wearing.
She noticed him staring at her. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked softly with a half-smile.
“Because you’re beautiful,” he replied.
Zya took the ice from his face and stared back at Snow. He was wearing her down, and no matter how hard she tried to resist him, she couldn’t. He put his hand on her chest, feeling her heart beat. “You’re nervous,” he said in a low and raspy tone.
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