Supreme Clientele

by Ashley Antoinette Snell

  “We did it.”

  “This is crazy,” Zya answered as she leaned over to kiss Snow. Just as her lips was about to touch his, she jerked back and reached out her hand. She smiled and said, “I forgot. Keep business and personal completely separated.”

  Snow laughed. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” They shook hands and then they both stared out of the window as they reached the ground.

  Zya removed the neck pillow Ernesto had given her and tossed it to the side. That pillow was comfortable as hell, she thought as she rubbed the back of her neck.

  Once the plane was on the ground safely, Zya handed Sammy an envelope. It contained fifty thousand dollars, plus a ten thousand dollar tip. It seemed like Sammy jumped out of the plane as soon as the wheels stopped rolling. He wasn’t going to wait around for small talk. His job was done, and he knew that Zya and Snow were involved in some illegal activity that could get him thrown in jail for life.

  Snow and Zya exited the plane, and Snow immediately instructed his workers to start unloading the crates and place them in the three different vans. Once the crates were all loaded, Zya and Snow followed the dope in a separate car until they reached one of Snow’s stash houses.

  Once they arrived at the house, Snow helped the men move the crates into the abandoned building, and Zya began to think about what she would do with her half of the money. Zya followed the men in, and couldn’t wait to take the goods to Anari so that she could get the rest of their money.

  Once the men put all the crates in the house, Snow told them that he would meet with them later, and they left. Zya grabbed the duffle bags that they brought specifically for the dope, and carried them over to the crates. She examined one of the crates, trying to figure out how she would open it. How do you open this thing? she thought as she looked for a method.

  Snow saw her trying to open it, and insisted that he would grab a crow bar from the basement. He left the room to go and get it, but Zya was eager to see what 200 kilos of pure cocaine looked like, and couldn’t help herself. She grabbed her gun and shot off the four corners of the box, making it easy to remove the top. She took off the top and her heart dropped. She wasn’t looking at two hundred kilos of dope; the crates were full of neck pillows.

  “Fuck!” Zya yelled as she picked up one of the pillows and tossed it against the wall. Zya began to kick the crate repeatedly, letting out her frustration. She yelled for her partner to inform him they just got hit.

  “Snow!”

  Snow pulled out his gun and bolted upstairs to see what was going on. To his surprise, he saw Zya standing over the crates unharmed.

  “Are you okay, Zya?” he asked.

  “No, I am not. Your sheisty-ass friend just double-crossed us. He didn’t supply us with any dope. He stuffed this mu’fucka full of pillows. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Anari is expecting 200 kilos before the day ends,” Zya said as she slumped to the ground with one of the neck pillows in her hand, “and the only thing we have is some fuckin’ pillows.” Zya threw the pillow against the wall forcefully and dropped her head on her knees.

  Snow looked at Zya and smiled lightly. He knew Ernesto kept many tricks up his sleeve. He walked over to the pillow and picked it up. He began to smile as he discovered his ingenious Cuban friend’s idea. He ripped open the pillow and found pure Cuban cocaine wrapped in plastic.

  “Yo, Zya, look what I found,” Snow said as he held up the ripped pillow.

  Zya took her head off her knees and looked up. She instantly went to the crate and began to rip every neck pillow, finding more and more dope. There were two hundred pillows, all containing one kilo of product.

  “Two hundred kilos of Cuba’s finest,” she said as she felt a sense of relief. They wasted no time loading the goods into three different duffle bags. Once all of the dope was in the bags, they headed toward Stello’s to meet Anari.

  They reached Stello’s two hours later, and Snow pulled his car to the back as Zya directed him where to park. Snow parked his car about ten feet away from the back door, and they both hopped out to deliver the goods. Just as they grabbed the duffle bags out of the trunk, Meechi opened the back door.

  “Are those it?” Meechi said as he began to look around suspiciously.

  “Yeah, all two hundred of them,” Zya boasted as she looked down at the bag she was carrying.

  Out of nowhere, Meechi placed two fingers to his mouth and whistled. The sound of tires screeching echoed through the alley, and a black-tinted SUV emerged out of the dark alley. Before Zya and Snow could even react, four men jumped out and grabbed the bags.

  Meechi quickly let Zya and Snow know it was cool. “Don’t worry. They’re with us. We don’t touch the dope,” he said as the men pulled away. Everything happened so fast, before they even realized what had happened, the men were gone.

  Meechi stood in the doorway. “Anari wants to see you and only you,” he said as he looked at Zya. Zya turned to Snow and then back to Meechi.

  “He goes wherever I go. He’s my partner,” Zya said as she stood her ground.

  “Anari is very picky on who sees her face. You will have to come alone or not at all.” Meechi turned to Snow and said, “No disrespect to you, homeboy, but that is the rules.” Meechi played with the toothpick hanging out of his mouth as he waited for them to make a decision.

  Snow turned Zya toward him and quietly told her, “Go in there and handle it. I’m right out here if you need me. You got that thang on you, right?” Snow said, referring to Zya’s gun. Zya nodded her head up and down and then turned around to walk into Stello’s.

  Zya entered the restaurant and followed Meechi as he led her to the freezer. Meechi began to explain to Zya how the transaction would work.

  “Everyone is waiting for you downstairs. This is how it works. They have their men take the coke to another location, to make sure it’s the whole order and test the quality. If they call back and tell them it’s all good, they will hand you your money. Simple as one, two, three,” Meechi said. He dreaded telling Zya the procedures. Meechi was slightly jealous that Zya had been able to do business with Supreme Clientele. His father was a part of the table, but even then, he couldn’t join. He hated to see a young black girl become affiliated before him. Nevertheless, he kind of liked Zya, and didn’t show his envy.

  Zya stepped into the freezer, and a chill ran up her spine; not because of the cold air, but because of the colder room she was about to enter, the Supreme Clientele’s roundtable room.

  Meechi opened the door, and Zya walked into the meeting room. After Zya entered, Meechi left the room. All eyes were on Zya as she stood before the roundtable. Nobody said a word, and Zya grew uncomfortable as she waited for someone to speak. She looked at Anari, sitting at the head of the table, calmly tapping her perfectly manicured nails against the red oak wood.

  What the fuck is going on? They are just staring at me like I’m a painting or something. I hope all the dope was there. Oh shit, what if Ernesto was short on the dope? They will kill me for coming short. Fuck it, I’m about to ask them what are they looking at.

  Zya opened her mouth to speak, but Anari quickly ceased that action by putting her finger over her lip, signaling Zya to remain quiet. Zya just looked at the whole table and looked at Mr. Castello sitting to the right of Anari. He looked like he was waiting on something too. He gently rubbed his temples with his right index fingers while staring directly at Zya. Zya’s chest felt like a baboon was on the inside, trying to pound its way out.

  I knew I shouldn’t have got involved with these crazy mu’fuckas. I’m about to get out of here. No, I can’t. They already have the dope, and they haven’t paid me my money yet.

  Just as Zya completed her thought, Anari’s phone rang. She picked it up and was getting information on the other end. Without saying a single word or revealing any emotion, Anari hung up the phone and looked at Zya. It was complete silence as the two women intensely stared at each other. Anari was the first to speak.

  “Zy
a, we were doubtful that you would be able to deliver such a vast quantity of cocaine, but you have proved us wrong. After much discussion, we have come to realize that you would be a great asset to this table. Your cocaine is superb, and we need that connect. Please have a seat,” Anari said.

  Zya sat down and continued to listen.

  “We would like to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime. We would like to continue our business with you, if you are willing to join our roundtable.”

  Zya’s mouth dropped from astonishment.

  “What do you say?” Mr. Castello asked.

  Zya smiled and nodded her head in disbelief. “Yes. I say yes.”

  Anari laughed and began to clap as she welcomed Zya to the roundtable. Everyone at the table joined in with the applause, and then Anari went around the roundtable, introducing each member.

  “Meet Khadafi Langston. He is our Midwest supplier, and also one of the most brilliant business minds in the country.” Khadafi was a well-built, attractive man who wore a bald head. His salt-and-pepper beard displayed his maturity. Zya studied his neatly tailored suit and blinging cufflinks as he extended his hand toward her. He was the only black man in the room.

  “Welcome to the table,” he said politely as he kissed her hand.

  Anari looked to the left of Khadafi and introduced the next member. “This is Emilio Estes. He controls the Clientele on the West Coast.” Zya looked at the man and could tell he was of Dominican descent. He wore a flowered shirt with a wife beater underneath. He kind of reminded Zya of Scarface the way he slumped over in the chair like he owned the place.

  He looks just like Tony Montana, Zya thought, almost laughing at the resemblance.

  “The next member is Anderson Wallace. He is our legal consultant, and has political connections out of this world. He has seven of the nine Supreme Court Justices in his back pocket. He is what keeps Supreme Clientele untouchable.”

  Anderson Wallace slightly blushed and spoke. “You make me sound so good, Anari. I just do my job. Hello, beautiful. Welcome to the table.”

  “Of course you know Mister Castello, the advisor of the Council and owner of this place. He is a seasoned veteran in distribution, and I’m still learning from him after seven years.

  “Over to your right is Jimmy Ross from Miami. He is half crazy, but he sure knows how to move blow. He supplies the South with the product.” Jimmy Ross was a husky Italian with a cigar hanging from his lip. He nodded his head, acknowledging Zya.

  “You already know who I am,” Anari said as she grabbed a Cuban cigar out of the ashtray, lit it, and leaned back cockily in her chair, displaying her beautiful smile. “The baddest bitch who ever did it,” she said jokingly, causing the room to explode into laughter. Although Anari was just joking, everyone in the room knew she was telling the honest truth.

  Chapter 12

  Bossy

  Zya became a permanent member of the roundtable, and she was amazed at exactly how powerful they were. Everybody sitting at the table was connected. From federal judges to nickel-and-dime corner hustlers, Supreme Clientele had a hand in almost every drug transaction going on in the United States. Each member possessed a different asset that was brought to the table. Zya’s asset was her connection to Snow and her ability to get her hands on large quantities of coke.

  The original order of two hundred kilos quickly increased to five hundred kilos, and it was a transaction that took place twice every month. Zya and Snow made the flight overseas on the same days each month, and their profits proved exactly how big-time they were. What they were making from their business arrangement with the roundtable, combined with what they were earning from the streets, they were certainly “gettin’ it.” Zya and Snow became a powerhouse in the drug game, and built an empire that was untouchable. She hit Smitty and Black Ty off with more bricks, and she controlled the Harlem drug trade. Supreme Clientele took her to another level.

  Supreme Clientele consisted of seven people, including Zya, from different regions of the country. There was no city that their dope didn’t reach. They were connected and powerful, and now that Zya had been initiated into the table, she was connected too. With Snow’s connection to Ernesto and Zya’s connection to Supreme Clientele, together they became responsible for six percent of the drugs being brought into the United States. If you were smoking, snorting, or selling dope in 2007, there was a good chance that you were getting it from them. They were big and everybody knew it.

  Zya quickly learned the order of the table and knew that the most powerful person of the bunch was Anari. Her story had been told and retold so many times in the street that she had become a ghetto legend. Nobody knew if a woman named Anari Simpson aka Tony even existed. Zya was one of the lucky few who actually saw Anari, and she made it a point to get close to her.

  Mostly everybody in the game gets killed or sent Upstate. She been in it for a minute and is still breathing and on top. Whatever she did, that’s what I’m trying to do, Zya thought. She knew that Anari was a good friend to have. She looked up to her. She was one of few women in the drug game, and she was the one calling the shots. She conducted business with a no bullshit policy, and Zya took notes whenever she was in her presence.

  Zya knew the order of things. She was sitting at a table of mostly men, so most of the time, she sat back and listened. She didn’t do too much talking. She observed everything around her because although she was getting money, she didn’t have power or respect yet, and that’s what she was seeking. She knew that the members of the roundtable were veterans in the game. They had been around a while, and she wasn’t trying to step on anybody’s toes with her inexperience. She wanted to earn their respect, and she knew once that happened, she would be just as powerful, if not more powerful, than them.

  She had one thing that everybody else sitting at the table had lost, and that was her hunger. She was hungry for the game, and that is what made her hustle so different from everybody else’s. She went after the money like no other, because no matter how much she made, it was never enough. Zya took to the streets like a duck took to water. The streets were her habitat, and she knew how to milk them for everything that they were worth.

  Anari could see Zya’s potential, and made it a point to keep her around. She knew that Zya was a queen pen in the making. All she needed was to be groomed.

  She is smart and uses what she has to get what she wants. She reminds me a lot of myself. Her hustle is crazy. She doesn’t even realize that she is the one keeping this roundtable on its feet. Without her dope, we’d be stuck, still seeking another connect.

  Anari was impressed by Zya and pulled her under her wings to teach her everything she needed to know about the game. She knew that Zya had to be careful because she was playing in a deadly game that was not meant for women. Emotions had to be thrown out of the window when it came to the dope game.

  The only person she can trust is herself. Anari had lived by that rule since the first day she stepped foot in the game. She had given up so much and almost killed the only person she could count on because of it, but she knew that if she wanted to be a part of the streets, she would have to sacrifice, and she did. Anari knew that a hustler’s reign usually ended in one of two ways: prison or death. She was trying to be the first one to change that. She didn’t want to go out in a blaze of gunfire or be locked behind a cage. That don’t make you a gangsta. That just proves that you did something wrong and wasn’t even around long enough to enjoy the money you made, she thought.

  So far, Anari had been careful and precise. She was always on top of everything, and her perfection had saved her life more than once. The more time she spent with Zya and the more she observed her, the more she saw the potential that the young girl had. Zya was only twenty-four, and if she played her cards right, she would be on top of the world before she hit thirty.

  Zya and Snow had personally taken over the drug markets in the states of New Jersey and New York. Zya was the brains behind the operation, and Snow
was the muscle. With his notorious tactics, they took over any and all operations that were not affiliated with them. They established the perfect drug ring, and nobody made money on those streets except for them. Anybody who tried to infiltrate was quickly forced out, either by gun play or by competition.

  Zya made sure that their operation ran like a business. They made sure that other hustlers in Jersey and New York couldn’t compete. Ernesto’s product was too good. The dope was so good that the fiends had nicknamed it Supreme because it was above the rest. Their highs lasted longer and felt better when they purchased their rock from Supreme Clientele.

  Supreme reigned in the streets, and everybody wanted a piece of the pie. But Snow’s army only consisted of a select few. He didn’t trust too many people, and made sure that he only kept thorough people around him. Zya and Snow were getting money, and everybody knew it.

  During Anari’s reign in Jersey, she was forced to stay low-key because of the fact that she was a woman. Zya, on the other hand, was flashy and also fearless because she knew that Snow’s reputation protected her. Everybody knew that she was his woman and therefore was off limits. Niggas didn’t even look at Zya for too long, let alone plot to rob her. She was safe in the hood, and was loved because she made sure that everybody ate, as long as they were loyal. She walked around the city like she owned it, and her Acura was quickly traded in for a silver, two-seat, Z-24 BMW, and that was just her weekend car. Zya switched whips like she switched panties, and the fleet of cars from her collection lined up and down the driveway to the 10,000-square-foot mansion Snow had purchased.

  The only thing she hadn’t changed was where she rested her head. She still lived in the tiny Harlem apartment. She had been so busy making money that she hadn’t found the time to shop for a new place to live, and she didn’t want to move in with Snow too quickly. Their relationship was good just how it was, and she didn’t want things to change if they decided to live together. She didn’t mind the cramped space in her apartment, though, because it was filled with cash. The only thing that was in her apartment was her bed and her clothes. There wasn’t enough room for anything else. Her apartment was filled to the ceiling with moving boxes full of cash, all hundred-dollar bills. She didn’t have room for any other denominations. The boxes occupied every single inch of the apartment, from top to bottom. She was literally swimming in money. She and Snow each had two Swiss bank accounts and money stashed away in the Cayman Islands. They were living good.