A LaLa Land Addiction

by Ashley Antoinette

  “Yeah?” Noah asked.

  “All day battle-tested, my nigga,” Messiah answered with a subtle arrogance that let Noah know it was fact.

  “Hit my line tomorrow so we can chop up the details,” Noah said. “I’ll bless you for that play you put down tonight.”

  They shook hands once more. “Real niggas don’t do it for that, but I’m looking forward to it, bruh.”

  Noah watched Messiah pull away before joining Naomi inside. His mind ran rampant with thoughts of how close he had come to death. He hadn’t even seen it coming. Messiah had proved himself loyal without even trying to and Noah would put him on because of it. Noah had the connect and Messiah had the muscle. It should have been the perfect street marriage. Noah had always believed in doing his dirt alone to avoid the inevitable betrayal among friends that came with the game. He only hoped that going into business with Messiah wouldn’t be a decision that he would later regret.

  6

  Iman sat eating alone at the head of the rectangular table as silence filled his estate. There had been a time when he appreciated the emptiness of his home. It was his solace, his retreat, his escape from the chaotic underworld he navigated in and out of every day. Today, however, he felt alone. He had become accustomed to Bleu’s laughter infiltrating his space. Her presence made the vastness seem small, giving him an intimacy that he had never known. Bleu made his house feel like a real home and her absence was driving him insane. It had only been a few days and already he wanted to drive to Malibu and bring her back. He hadn’t realized it, but he needed Bleu. Yes, he had everything that money could afford him, but she had shown him something that couldn’t be purchased. She had given him something priceless … her heart. There was something about loving a woman that renewed him. Iman had been cold before Bleu. The ups and downs of a young marriage had taken its toll on his outlook on love. He had separated himself from his emotions to avoid dealing with the aftermath of his failed marriage to Tan. He hadn’t wanted to feel the loss of it all. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by the painful hole in his chest, but when Bleu came along and began fill the void in his life he softened. He began to live again. Her vibrant love had forced him to open up to her. Before her he had been a shell of a man, ironclad in business and ironclad in life, but with her he was able to separate the two. She made him “feel” again, but with that came despair now that she was away. Iman wanted to be selfish and bring her home, but he knew that she was exactly where she needed to be. Away from him. It was best for her. She couldn’t handle his lifestyle. Being with him would lead to her demise. After seeing someone he cared for afflicted by the very drug he peddled, he began to wonder if the money was worth it anymore. He thought about all the other “Bleus” he had served over the years. From his come-up on the street corners, hustling blocks, to moving kilos, to now running the largest movement in all of California, he was a part of the problem. He was man enough to admit it, but he was too far in to just step out. He had worked too hard to just give it all up. The game didn’t work that way. There was no for-sure exit plan. Iman had come to terms with the fact that he would die as a result of his participation in this deadly game … before he met Bleu. Now everything was just so uncertain. A part of him wished she were older, wiser, more mature. She hadn’t even begun to truly live yet, and while he was ready to settle down, was she? What if I give all this up for her and this isn’t what she wants? he thought. It was that possibility that kept his feet firmly rooted in the game. While he was plotting a lifetime with Bleu, he didn’t know if she was interested in forever. He trusted her, but he knew that as she grew she would change just as Tan had done. He didn’t know if time would allow him and Bleu to grow together or if they would inevitably grow apart.

  The ringing of the doorbell interrupted his thoughts. Iman was grateful for the distraction. When he pulled open the door, much to his surprise, Tan stood on the other side.

  “You knocking now? Last time you were here you came busting in on some rah-rah-type shit,” Iman said.

  He expected her to respond with her quick wit, but when she removed her sunglasses he saw nothing but raw emotion in her eyes. Her flushed face was puffy and swollen from crying, her normally perfect hair was disheveled, and her forehead was wrinkled in worry.

  “What’s wrong, Tan?” he asked.

  “Everything,” Tan whispered.

  Iman frowned. “Tan, you’re shaking. What’s wrong? You’ve got to talk, T. I can’t read your mind,” he said.

  “It’s Papa,” she replied. “I think there is something wrong with him, Iman—” She couldn’t even finish speaking before she broke down. A part of him wanted to doubt her intentions. He had asked her for a divorce. Now she here with these tears, Iman thought skeptically. He felt she was trying to work him. A relationship as long as the one they shared came with strings. They would always be attached and she knew that seeing her so disturbed would bother him. Iman had taken his last name back, but there was a piece of his heart that she would always have, simply because she had been down for him since day one.

  “Calm down, T. What are you talking about? I just saw Sandoza a few days ago. He seemed fine.”

  “He’s not fine,” Tan snapped. “There is something different about him, Iman. He’s absentminded. There is worry in his eyes, Iman. I’ve never seen Papa afraid of anything. He’s distracted and evasive when I ask him what’s wrong. There is something wrong, Iman. I don’t know what is going on; Papa is in trouble.”

  “You’re jumping the gun, Tan. Sandoza is fine,” Iman replied, losing patience.

  “Please check on him for me, Iman. Please. He will talk to you. He will tell you what’s going on,” Tan said. “Please, papi.”

  Iman exhaled in exasperation because he knew that Tan wouldn’t have come to him unless she was genuinely concerned.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go down there and check on him.”

  “Promise me, Iman,” she insisted.

  “Have I ever lied to you?” he asked.

  “Yeah. You once said we would be together forever,” Tan replied. Sadness dripped from her words, crushing him. Iman had never wanted to hurt her, especially this version of her standing in front of him. Life had hardened her over the years. Tan hadn’t shown him this side of herself since the day she lost the baby he had planted in her womb. He had missed this part of her. He knew that her unraveling was a product of the divorce papers he had sent her, and knowing that he had caused her so much pain was like a blow to the chest.

  Sympathy filled him as he replied, “I don’t know what you want from me, Tan. Do you think I want to hurt you like this?”

  “You didn’t even try. You just met this girl and you slid her right into your life, in the place I used to be!” Tan cried.

  Tan’s devastation was real. Her pain was palpable and so great that Iman felt it. She wore it all over her. She was drowning in grief from love lost, and despite all the bad they had been through, he was the only one who could comfort her. Love was crazy in that way. He was to blame for her hurt but was the only one who could heal her. It was irony at its finest. Iman knew that it had taken so much out of her to even come to his house after what had gone down between them. She hated him for moving on, but she loved him for everything that he had been to her. He could feel her soul yearning for him. The long history they shared didn’t allow him to disregard her need for him. Iman knew that Tan was capable of weaving a sticky web and he felt himself being caught in it. He opened the door wider and stepped to the side, inviting her inside without saying a word. She walked in and he grabbed her arm, pulling her close. Iman knew that the lines were blurring. He shouldn’t have been holding her; she shouldn’t even be in the home he planned to build with Bleu. Or was it the other way around? Did I destroy this with Tan by having Bleu in the home I bought for her? Iman didn’t know, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to hold his wife. It felt good for her to let him hold her. Tan melted into him, sobbing into his chest as h
e caressed the back of her neck. So many emotions pulsed through him that it was hard for him to focus. Bleu crossed his mind, but when Tan placed her lips on his all guilt was erased. Iman wasn’t in the business of breaking hearts, but the way his body was reacting to Tan made it impossible for him to stop. Before he knew it he had her pinned against the wall and her thighs were wrapped around him as he slid into her.

  “Damn,” he whispered, kicking himself as he fell into a rhythm. This was wrong. He knew it, but the way his name fell off her tongue in the throes of their lovemaking made it too hard to stop. They were animalistic, carnal, as she dug her nails into his back in an attempt to keep up with the pace. It had been so long since he had touched her, since she had let him, but it was like riding a bike. He chased her to the finish line, letting her win before getting his second prize. Her chest heaved up and down. She was exhilarated. “Iman,” she gasped. “What does this mean?”

  “I don’t know, Tan,” Iman replied as he rested his forehead against hers.

  “Figure it out, Iman,” Tan whispered. “And don’t forget who was here for you when nobody else was. I want you back, and based off what just happened, a part of you wants that too.” Tan adjusted her dress and cleared her throat. “Go check on Sandoza. You owe me that much.”

  She left just as quickly as she had come, leaving Iman with a whole new set of problems. He had betrayed Bleu, but reconnecting with Tan hadn’t felt wrong. He loved them both and the thought of hurting either of them tore him right down the middle. He would eventually have a choice to make, but he knew that no matter what he decided, someone he loved would grow to hate him in the end.

  * * *

  Iman was always uneasy when he stepped foot on Mexican soil. In this country he had no muscle, no pull, no advantage. It wasn’t his kingdom to reign. Mexico was run by the most ruthless drug cartels in the world. Sandoza was the head of one of them, so his word was law. As Iman walked out of the airport and stepped into the waiting black town car an uneasiness filled him. Iman wasn’t big on making the trip back and forth. He didn’t want Customs to flag him for visiting too frequently. Tijuana was known for its drug activity and Iman preferred to avoid suspicion. He only came when it was absolutely necessary, but his promise to Tan was something he wanted to keep. He didn’t know if she was overly emotional or her concern was valid, but he felt inclined to see for himself.

  He hadn’t given Sandoza warning of his arrival. He only hoped that Sandoza welcomed him with open arms. Their interactions had been less frequent lately. Iman had expected Sandoza to all-out war with him over divorcing Tan, but instead he had been met with indifference. Sandoza had said he was okay with it, but the shift in the interaction between them revealed that there was conflict. Sandoza’s silence meant he was brooding and plotting. Iman was prepared for anything. As his driver took him out of the city’s limits he thought of the work he had put in for Sandoza over the years. Building his own L.A. empire didn’t come without a price. He had sold his soul to Sandoza over the years to prove his worth. Iman didn’t like to think of the wives he had turned to widows on his climb to the top or the children he had turned to crack once he got there. His thoughts wandered to Bleu. She thinks I’m a good man, but I’m one of the bad guys, he thought. She can’t handle me. I’m knee-deep in the game and I can’t foresee the end anytime soon. She isn’t built for this life. Tan can handle this, but it’ll destroy Bleu. If I choose her, I’ll kill her slowly. The thought of letting her go sent a stabbing pain through his gut. He loved her so much that it ailed him … it physically haunted him to even think of being without her. She haunted his thoughts, distracting him so greatly that he didn’t realize that he had arrived at Sandoza’s estate. He was used to the grandness of it all. He had been a guest many times before.

  He rolled down the back window. “Estoy aqui para ver Sandoza,” he said, his baritone commanding authority.

  “Sí, señor, bienvenidos,” the guard greeted him. They knew him well and allowed him access without second-guessing.

  “Gracias,” Iman answered before rolling up the window as his driver entered the gates. Security was never sparse at Sandoza’s estate. Armed men protected the perimeter at all times. Sandoza took no shortcuts when it came to his safety. It was how he had persevered in the underworld for so long.

  The car came to a stop at the top of the circular driveway and Iman emerged. He removed the jacket to his Tom Ford suit and rolled up his sleeves in an attempt to adjust to the smoldering Mexican heat.

  Sandoza came out to greet him before he could even approach the door. It didn’t surprise Iman. Sandoza had eyes all over his property. If his men didn’t radio him to let him know he had a visitor, then the high-tech security cameras would let him know.

  “This is unexpected,” Sandoza said as he held out his hand. Iman shook it and then hugged Sandoza, giving him a tight squeeze before letting him go.

  “I had some business across the border. I figured I’d stop in and have a drink,” Iman said.

  “Good. It’s long overdue,” Sandoza said as he welcomed Iman into his home. Iman stepped inside. He looked around, impressed. Iman was well off, but Sandoza was wealthy. He had a few million dollars in art hanging on his walls alone.

  Sandoza retrieved a bottle of scotch and two glasses from the bar before heading into his study.

  Iman sat across from Sandoza and waited patiently as he poured both drinks. Iman studied Sandoza, wondering what it was that had Tan so alarmed.

  “So are you going to tell me what really brings you here or are you going to bullshit me all day?” Sandoza asked while holding out the glass.

  Iman chuckled as he accepted the drink. “You’ve always been able to call my bluff,” Iman said.

  “I raised you. We may not share blood, but you’re still my son,” Sandoza said.

  “I just wanted to make sure everything between us is square,” Iman said as he took a swig of his drink, allowing the burn to roll down his throat slowly. He didn’t want to expose Tan’s worry by telling the truth and he couldn’t lie to Sandoza, so instead Iman spoke of one of his personal concerns.

  “I’ve never minced words with you before and I’m not going to begin now. There comes a time in a man’s life when he knows the end is near. I don’t have a lot of days left, Iman. I can feel it, and before anything happens to me I want to be clear on what I want. You’re like a son to me. I’ve known you since you were a teenage kid chasing after my daughter’s skirt. I trust you and I have seen how you run your business in L.A. I want you to fill my seat with the Five Families if something happens to me,” Sandoza said. “All of this, my entire operation, is yours if you want it.”

  Iman didn’t know how to respond to this. They were clearly having two different conversations. Iman thought Sandoza would take issue with him over Tan, but here he was offering him an entire empire. “What about Cinco?” Iman asked.

  “I expect him to be upset. He is like a spoiled child with his temper tantrums and his entitlement. By blood everything should go to him, and I wish I could give it to him, but he isn’t ready. Every player doesn’t make a good coach,” Sandoza said. “I want him involved of course, but I can’t hand over my life’s work to him. He isn’t diplomatic. He would have us warring with the other families before the dirt covers my casket. He can’t do this job. It has to be you,” Sandoza stressed. He was so passionate that the veins in his forehead bulged as he spoke.

  “Why are we having this conversation now? Why the urgency, Sandoza? Ain’t no funerals happening anytime soon. We have time to iron out the details,” Iman said.

  Sandoza reached over the table and gripped Iman’s wrist. “The time for the details is now,” he said seriously. It was then that Iman noticed it: the fear that Tan had told him about. He saw a foreboding in Sandoza’s stare. Sandoza was indirectly telling Iman something heavy. There was deeper meaning behind this generous offer. A lump formed in his throat. Something was up. He didn’t know why and he respected Sand
oza too much to dig deeper, but he heard him loud and clear. If, or, inevitably, when, something happened to Sandoza, Iman was next in line. Is he telling me he’s about to die? Iman asked. Is he sick? Is he beefing with one of the other familes? Is there paper on his head?

  “I’m ready whenever you need me. Just say the word,” Iman said, nodding.

  “An introduction to the other heads of the Five Families is necessary. They won’t like you sitting among them. The seat is supposed to go to the first blood-born son. You will meet much resistance, but my word will bond your position. Once you’re in, you’re in for life. This part of the game isn’t optional. Once you accept, the only way out is when the last breath leaves your body. You’ll have more power than you’ve ever dreamed, more money than you can spend in two lifetimes. Right now you’re selling drugs, but when you get to my level it goes beyond that. You’ll own a piece of the world. Mexico is mine, and when I’m gone it will be yours.”

  The offer was enticing. It was what young hustlers aspired to and what you heard about in rap songs. Iman thought he was at the top of the game. He had developed a network of some of the most notorious criminal organizations in the country. He had no idea there was another level and he never imagined being inducted into it.

  “Why me?” Iman asked. “I know Cinco isn’t ready, but what about Miguel? He’s been your right hand for over thirty years.”

  “Sometimes it’s best to not let your right hand know what the left is doing. Miguel has been a good confidant, but he did something twenty years ago to disrespect me that he has yet to be punished for.”

  “What’s that?” Iman asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “He fucked my wife,” Sandoza responded.

  Iman smirked and Sandoza shrugged. “No need to lose a good shooter over pussy. I never said one thing. When I bypass him for you, he’ll know why. Besides, I taught you everything you know,” Sandoza replied. “So even when I’m gone I will still influence the decisions you make in my seat.” Sandoza paused and Iman could see that he was choosing his next words wisely.