Beating the Odds

by Sherrod Tunstall

  “Don’t forget to call me,” she said, whispering in his ear. “I have something real special for you, okay?”

  Brad definitely wanted to know what that was, but tonight he wasn’t feeling it. He just wanted to go home and lay his head on a pillow.

  By 4:30 a.m., The Cartel was damn near empty. Everybody had a good time, and Brad was feeling a little more upbeat. All he probably needed was something to eat. He sat at a table with Swag, Stan, Travis, and Tyler, eating hot wings and talking shit like they always did when they hung out.

  Swag, who had given Zaria money for cab fare an hour ago, had been rambling on and on about his vacation to Rio de Janeiro and Miami. He claimed that whenever he went to either place, he was partying every night and sleeping with some of the most exotic women he had ever seen.

  “Maaaaan, those Brazilian females are some of the baddest women out there, bruh. All different varieties to pick from—light brown, Indian, and Latina. This Indian chick I fucked was a virgin. She was so tight; the shit felt too good! It’s been a minute since ya boy had a virgin. And trust me when I say they are the best ones, for real.”

  Stan agreed. “True that, true that. You ain’t speaking nothing but the truth.”

  For whatever reason, Brad assumed Swag had been nothing but faithful to Zaria. After all, she was the total package and then some in his eyes. “Man, what about Zaria? She’s the mother of your boys, and she really loves you. If I had a chick like that, shiiiit, I would never even look at another woman.”

  “She’s good, real good, but at the end of the day, all these tricks care about is the money and the dick. The only reason I’m wit’ that gold digger is ’cause of my kids. I don’t have to pay no child support right now. And at the end of the day, I wouldn’t put a wedding ring on a thot’s finger. Not now, not ever. Sorry, cuz, but I can’t live that fairy tale life you and Nichelle got. Fairy tales always come to an end. You’d better believe that.”

  “I do believe, and I know all too well. Mine ended today when I busted Nichelle in bed with her legs wide open while getting her pussy sucked by another man.”

  “Daaaaaaamn,” said the fellas in unison.

  “Straight up,” Swag said with his head cocked back. “I’m sorry to hear that. “What happened after that? I know you beat that ass, didn’t you?”

  Brad took a breath. “I wanted to, but I didn’t. My whole day was fucked up. Got fired from my job, and when I thought I could get some loving and sympathy from my girl, that trick was hemmed up with Garrett.”

  Swag pondered for a second then snapped his fingers. “You mean Garrett, the one we used to jump for always talking shit?” He took a sip of his Heineken, waiting for Brad to reply.

  “Yep, that sucka. That’s exactly who it was.” Brad visualized what he had witnessed earlier. The vision of Nichelle squirming on the bed and hearing her moans in his head angered him.

  Tyler could see how upset his friend was. He knew Garrett as well, so he had to weigh in, “Man, I guess ol’ dude ain’t learned shit after all those ass whippings and from almost being tossed out of the window. He better be glad I stopped myself from tripping that day, but I still did a year in military school ’cause of that shit.”

  The fellas laughed as they reminisced about the incident that had everyone in the school talking.

  “So, cuz, do you want me to take care of this dude and ol’ girl for you?” Swag asked. “You know I got some contacts that will take them off the scene in a second.”

  Brad threw his hand back then picked up another wing. “Nah, I ain’t fightin’ over that slut. And as for Garrett, he can eat a dick for all I care. I’m done.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my time either,” Stan said. “But what about yo’ job? How you gon’ pay your bills?”

  Swag pulled out a big roll of hundred-dollar bills. “Don’t worry ’bout that, cuz. I got you. How much you—”

  “No,” Brad said, shaking his head. “I can handle this, and as a matter of fact, I will handle this.”

  “But, B, we fam, and fam help each other out when need be.”

  Brad tossed back a shot of vodka. “Sorry, but I learned a long time ago not to take handouts from nobody. I have plans to get through this on my own.”

  Just as Swag was about to speak up, they were interrupted by a man with a deep Portuguese accent. “Evening, or should I say good morning, gentlemen.”

  They all turned around and saw a Brazilian man who was six foot two, in his mid-forties, fair-skinned, with black hair cut in a Caesar. His thick eyebrows and round-shaped dark eyes made him look mysterious. He was very handsome with strong features, and sometimes people mistook him for being Arabian. What they could tell right away was the man had money. His navy blue Giorgio Armani suit, white Gucci dress shirt, silk navy blue Gucci tie, black Prada leather loafers, platinum Burberry watch, and diamond wedding band confirmed his status. The suit showed off his muscular frame, telling them that the stranger worked out on a regular basis.

  The stranger was not alone, and standing to his right was a woman with flawless chocolate-colored skin, almond-shaped eyes, a cute button nose, juicy heart-shaped lips, and long, jet black curly hair that flowed to the tip of her ass. She looked ready for the runway, with firm breasts and long legs. An Aidan Mattox gold one-shoulder dress enhanced her figure, and Jimmy Choo sandals were on her feet. The fellas were in awe as they looked at her. She made Swag’s girl look like a welfare queen.

  There was a man standing behind everyone. Dark shades shielded his eyes, and his large frame made him look like he could break someone in half in an instant. His thick mustache was a bit awkward, and the black suit he wore was tailored.

  Swag stood up to address the man next to him. “Armand, what’s shaking?”

  They shook hands as everyone else looked on, a bit confused about who the man was. Swag looked at his crew. “Fellas, this is my boss, Armand Castro.” Swag looked over at the sexy model chick next to Armand. “And this is, uh, uh . . .”

  “Milena,” she said in a seductive voice.

  Swag was in a trance with how beautiful Milena was, but from the corner of his eye, Armand’s bodyguard removed his shades to shoot Swag an evil gaze.

  “Let me try this again,” Swag said jokingly. “Armand, these my boys, Tyler, Travis, Stan, and my cousin, Brad. Fellas, this is my boss and his lady, Milena. Their bodyguard is Sandino.”

  They all greeted each other. Minutes later, a waitress brought a chair for Armand, and Milena sat on his lap. He then ordered several bottles of Moët for everyone at the table. That got everyone’s attention, especially when Armand gave the waitress a hundred-dollar tip.

  “Thanks. I’ll be back wit’ y’all drinks soon,” the waitress said, giddy as ever. She walked away with a big smile on her face like she had just hit the number.

  Swag rubbed his hands together. “So, Armand, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Armand laughed. “I wanted to wish my best employee a happy birthday.”

  Brad thought, What has Swag gotten himself into now? This dude is always in some shit. Brad knew his cousin was a hustler. He did everything from selling dime bags, selling bootleg movies, being a stickup man, to gambling.

  “Thanks, Armand. I appreciate that.”

  The waitress came back with three bottles of Moët and champagne glasses. Just before she left, she poured Moët into their glasses. “Have a good evening, gentlemen.” She walked away.

  Once the giddy waitress left, Armand lifted his glass in the air. “To Swag. Happy birthday, and many more to come, just so we can continue to do business together. To Swag!”

  “To Swag,” everyone shouted before sipping from their glasses.

  Armand wasn’t done giving his praises just yet. “First off, Swag, I have to say good job that you did in Miami. I hope the money was good.”

  “My bread always be good, and thank you very much.” Swag smiled then sipped from his glass again.

  The fellas remained quiet as they l
istened in, but plenty of thoughts ran through their heads, especially Brad’s.

  What the hell is Swag into now? Brad thought. This doesn’t sound good, but I sure would like to get my hands on some of Armand’s money.

  Damn that suit, Tyler thought. I wonder how much it cost. I wish I could afford to wear something like that.

  My ass ain’t never been to Miami, Stan thought as he guzzled down the Moët. I want to go there, just to feast my eyes upon all of the beautiful women. Swag is one lucky dude.

  I would fuck the shit out of Milena, thought Tyler. Damn, she fine. I wonder if she would be interested in a brother like me. If she look over here one more time, I’ma need to see what’s up.

  The attention transferred back to Armand when he spoke up again. “I have another assignment for you. And if you’d like, your friends can help you with this task, especially since it may be too big for one person.”

  Brad almost choked on his drink, but they were all ears.

  “Tell us more about it,” Swag said. “More so, how much and when?”

  Armand laughed then squeezed Swag’s shoulder. “I’ll get to that soon, but how about this? I fly all of you out to Rio de Janeiro in the next few days, first class. You stay a few nights, party, shop, have sex . . . do whatever your hearts desire. But after your stay, there are some packages I need you to take from Brazil to Los Angeles. There is a man whom I know will pay you all big, big dollars. Something like . . .” He paused to light his Cuban cigar, and as everyone leaned in to hear how much, Armand whistled smoke into the air.

  “How much?” Stan said with excitement in his voice.

  Armand smiled then laughed again. “Fifty grand each.”

  All of their mouths dropped wide open. Swag was the first one to speak up. “Shit, I’m in! Count me in right now!” He reached for Armand’s hand, shaking the shit out of it.

  “We are too,” Stan, Travis, and Tyler yelled. “Let’s go now.”

  Brad was the only one mulling things over. He hadn’t said one word yet. Swag pushed his shoulder, attempting to knock him out of the trance he was in.

  “Cuz, you in or not? Tell us now. What’s it gon’ be?”

  Brad remained in deep thought. Damn, ain’t this drug trafficking? I don’t know if I should do this or not. What if we get caught and go to jail? But then again, fifty Gs would save my life right about now. I need to pay these bills. I could pay my rent up for a year or just move into a new place altogether. Get a new ride, take some classes at Flo Valley, and while I’m looking for another job, try to collect unemployment. Fuck it! What in the hell do I have to lose?

  Brad smiled as he reached out to shake Armand’s hand too. “I’m in.”

  “Great,” Armand said with his pearly white teeth on display.

  Milena got up from his lap. He stood up then snapped his fingers at her. “Oh, umm, get that for me, dear.”

  She opened her Gucci bag then pulled out a rolled-up plastic Ziploc bag, placing it on the table.

  “Happy birthday, Swag! Enjoy, fellas. See you all soon.”

  Armand gave everyone a pat on the back before he and Milena walked off, holding hands.

  Swag unrolled the Ziploc bag, noticing right away that it was cocaine. “Ahhh, damn!” He laughed and rubbed his hands together. “This is the real good shit!”

  The crew looked at Swag like he was crazy.

  “Yo, cuz, when did you start snorting that shit?” Brad asked.

  “Don’t worry ’bout it. The question is, do y’all want some? There’s plenty to go around.”

  Travis backed away from the table. “Nah, man, I can’t even mess wit’ it. They check my piss at work, and I ain’t about to lose my job.”

  “I’ma just stick to my weed,” Tyler said.

  “Me and you both,” Stan added.

  Brad was highly disappointed in his cousin. All he did was stand and reply, “I’m ready to go.”

  “Cool,” Swag said, grabbing the bag and putting it in his pocket. “More for me. Now, come on, cuz. I’ll take you home.”

  They parted ways, feeling uneasy about Swag but excited about the offer Armand had made.

  Things were quiet between Brad and Swag in his black Ford F-150 pickup truck, but the radio blasted an old Jadakiss song that had Swag bobbing his head. Brad had questions about the journey they would soon take, so he lowered the volume and looked at Swag.

  “How long have you been trafficking?”

  Swag nodded his head to the song while looking at Brad. “What?”

  “Fool, you heard me. When did you start drug trafficking?”

  Swag turned off his radio, put a Black & Mild cigar in his mouth, then lit it. Blowing out the smoke, he said, “About a few months now.”

  “Man, you gon’ get yo’ ass caught up one of these days, and I hope it won’t be soon. You got your girl and your sons to think about. You don’t want to put yourself in a situation where you have to make calls to them from jail, do you?”

  “Hell no, but I gotta do what I gotta do to support myself and my fam. Jobs ain’t exactly hiring high school dropouts, and if you got a record like me, forget it. And I ain’t flippin’ no burgers or cleaning these crackers’ dirty-ass toilets for pennies.” Swag took another puff of his cigar. “Plus, I make more money trafficking than I did being a stick-up kid or selling dimes when I was working for that Puerto Rican dude.”

  “Yeah, I remember that. You were working for one of the most powerful criminal families in the Lou. Getting paid too. How the hell did you get wit’ Armand?”

  “One of my boys hooked me up wit’ him. I saw how my boy was living in a nice condo and had three brand new cars. All I had was an old school Cadillac that was barely making it, and a shitty apartment. Armand asked if I wanted to go to Brazil to take some drugs to Paris. I did it and got my fifty Gs. From then on, I was hooked.”

  Brad sat speechless while in deep thought. Why did I agree to make this trip? What if we all get caught? Damn. Is it too late to change my mind?

  Swag smiled. “Before long, you gon’ be hooked too. Fifty grand looks good in your hands, and I bet you’ll want to keep the money flowing.”

  “All I wanna do is get some shit paid off and maybe get a new place and a new car. That’s it. After that, I’m done. A second trip I will not commit to.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Swag said, pulling his car in front of Brad’s house. “Take it easy. See you soon, and get a lot of rest, a’ight, cuz.”

  “Most definitely.”

  Brad reached for the door handle, but Swag stopped him. “B, I almost forgot. Here.”

  Brad took an envelope from Swag. When he opened it, there were several hundred-dollar bills inside.

  “Swag, man, I can’t take this. I already told you—”

  “Shut up and put yo’ pride aside. We blood, and we gotta stick together. Now take it and don’t worry about paying it back.”

  They pounded.

  “Thanks,” Brad said. “I will pay you back, sooner rather than later.”

  That’s what Brad hoped. If everything went according to the plan in Rio, he would be back on track. If not, it would be a major setback for sure.

  Chapter 3

  The Ice Queen

  While looking over submissions from advertisers and photos of models to put in her magazine, CEO and Publisher Taylor Monroe appeared frustrated. Her team had given her garbage to put in Brazilian Kouture, her upscale fashion and entertainment magazine. It had been the best fashion and entertainment magazine in South America for the past nine years and was still going strong. She threw all of the photos and ads on the round glass table before getting up to address her team. Editor-in-Chief Ramon, Entertainment Editor Sabrina, and Sports Editor Braxton paid close attention.

  “This is all terrible. December’s issue is dedicated to the men of South America. Plus, Brazilian Kouture is an upscale fashion magazine, not a blog. You all have to go back to the drawing board and give me something that says Brazilian Kout
ure, ’cause this shit isn’t it.” Taylor walked over to her desk then plopped down in her chair. She narrowed her eyes and shot her team a dirty look that implied how pissed she was.

  “Bye!” She waved them off. “Go find me something I can use! Thank you!”

  Everyone left her office with frowns on their faces.

  Taylor had been in the fashion world for twenty-seven years. She had been in love with fashion ever since she was five years old, due to having the best of everything from the time she was born.

  Taylor’s real name was Selena Luis, born to Iris Cortes, whose family in Brazil was known for a gun smuggling operation. Her father, Cruz Luis, was head of the Colombian Mob known for smuggling cocaine all over the globe. When Iris and Cruz hooked up, and with both of their families’ crime backgrounds, it was a match made in heaven. When Selena was born, they spoiled her to death, and money was coming left and right. They were living a lavish life in Bogotá, Colombia.

  Selena was about nine years old when her parents sent her to London, putting her in one of the best boarding schools for girls. When her family gave her a weekly allowance, she would have the malls in the UK on lockdown. But the one thing she loved buying were fashion magazines from Vogue to Elle. Selena was determined to live the glamorous lifestyle no matter what.

  She was eleven years old when an agent from Wilhelmina Models approached her in her school uniform while she was shopping the mall with one of her friends who was tall, blond, and beautiful. The modeling agent was from New York and wanted to sign her right away. With the blessings of her parents, she changed her name to Taylor Monroe, taking the last names of her two favorite actresses, Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor. She did her first runway show for Versace in Milan. After her big fashion debut, and for the past seventeen years of her supermodel career, she walked the runways of Paris, New York, and Japan. She even worked with every top designer from Chanel to Dior and graced the covers of every magazine from Vanity Fair to Bazaar.

  She’d dated and slept with all types of men and women from black to Italian, Iranian, rappers, political figures, doctors, and corporate executives. By the time Taylor was twenty-eight, she was the richest supermodel in the world. That was also when she hooked up with Brazil’s notorious drug kingpin, who was worth billions. After two months of dating him, she married him. She wasn’t ready to have any children yet, and her husband wasn’t ready for her to ruin her perfect body. So instead of having a child, Taylor formed her own magazine back in Brazil. It was her way of giving back to her country.