“Welcome back to the living,” Zya spoke without looking. “Have you ever seen the sunset over a Tuscan village?”
YaYa didn’t respond as Zya turned toward her.
“It’s one of the most beautiful things you will ever see. I know you have a lot of questions. Join me on the veranda and I’ll tell you everything,” Zya said. She snapped her fingers and out of nowhere a large Italian man entered the room.
“Please place Ms. Morgan in the wheelchair by the door. You are her personal guard. Whatever she needs you see to it that she gets it. Until she regains her strength you are to escort her wherever she needs to go,” Zya ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” the man replied. He went to YaYa and scooped her into his large arms, then placed her into the chair. They followed Zya out to the veranda, where a beautiful vintage table was set up with two chairs and an umbrella.
YaYa was immediately taken aback by the scenery. All she saw was miles and miles of beautiful, lush mountainside with little towns tucked in between. The ocean bordered it and the sound of waves crashing could be heard as they broke against the bottom of the hilly terrain.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Italy,” Zya replied.
“This is where you live?” YaYa asked. She was clearly out of her league. She looked around at the large villa that surrounded her. “This is your house?”
Zya chuckled as she recalled a time when her own mentor had introduced her to another world, a world of power, luxury, and prestige. She had been just as easily impressed as YaYa was today.
“This is my house. One of many,” she confirmed.
“Why am I here?” YaYa questioned.
Sympathy filled Zya as she looked at YaYa. Her injuries were extensive. The scars from the burns covered the right side of her face, her ears, her neck. They were gruesome, hideous, and made YaYa feel like a monster as he heart fell into her stomach. Amazingly the left side was untouched and a hint of her beauty was still visible. She looked like two different people from two different angles. It was as if both God and the devil had a hold of her, in a battle over one lost soul.
“I was impressed by the way you came up with the money that Indie owed me. I don’t know anyone who could have flipped a profit so quickly and so efficiently. I mean, it was genius really. Instead of targeting the hustlers, you went after their women. You wooed them first and showed them what you had for sale. They became your middlemen and relayed the message back to their boyfriends, husbands, brothers . . .” Zya paused, shaking her head as she recalled how smoothly YaYa had organized her dope sales. She moved bricks better than most niggas moved ounces.
“It was so well executed that I wondered why I had never thought of it. You moved like a pro, YaYa. So I became curious. I wanted to know who you were. Where you came from. I had you followed.
“Then the fire happened. Afterward I pulled you from the rubble. I tried to get to your daughter as well, but the firemen recovered her first.”
“Was she hurt? How is she?” YaYa asked eagerly with all of the tenderness that only a mother could express.
“She’s well. God must have covered your little girl, YaYa, because she walked away from that fire with minor injuries. Burns that won’t leave scars. You, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky,” Zya said.
YaYa’s eyes went to her scarred hands. Zya’s followed.
“Your hands were burnt the worst because you had gasoline on them. The fire consumed them quickly and then spread slowly. Your face is damaged—not beyond repair, but it is different than you remember. You were covered in black ash after the fire. My people could barely recognize you under the rubble, but most of the burns on your face have healed. The scar tissue just needs to be addressed,” Zya informed. There was sympathy in her stare as YaYa touched her face. “It’s bad, but not as bad as you might think. Would you like to see yourself?” Zya asked.
YaYa nodded and Zya gestured for the guard to retrieve a mirror. The man disappeared and seconds later came back holding a mirror in his hands. He handed it to YaYa.
She took it into her hands, terrified of what she might see. Her chest heaved up and down in anticipation. When she turned it around, her heart sank and her eyes widened slightly in horror.
“I have assembled a team of the finest plastic surgeons in the world. They can help you, YaYa,” Zya assured.
YaYa was speechless as she placed the mirror face down on the table. She was ugly, damaged, and although it was superficial, it hurt to see herself that way. One side of her face was fine; only a few scars were present and would undoubtedly disappear with time. The other half, however, was marred with deep burns. Her cheekbone and ear were pink in color and covered with scabs as her body struggled to repair itself.
“Leah. Is she dead? If she is, then these burns are worth it,” YaYa said as tears of rage pooled behind her lids.
Zya didn’t respond.
“Is . . . she . . . dead?” YaYa asked, this time more insistently, raising her voice slightly.
“No,” Zya replied with reluctance. “She is hospitalized in Houston with severe injuries. Indie has been footing the bill for her care. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that.”
YaYa’s heart felt as if it stopped beating as a sharp pain ripped through her chest. Her lips quivered. “What?”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must be to hear, YaYa. Considering your beef with this girl, I am confused as to why he is taking care of her. His loyalty is questionable, and I wasn’t sure if you even wanted him to know that you were alive. I have tried to reach out to him, to find out what is going on, but he doesn’t accept my calls.
“I’m wanted in the States, so my visits there are few and far between. Under normal circumstances it would be simple for me to reach out to Indie, but since his federal case was dismissed, the Feds have been watching his every move. He has been under heavy scrutiny. They have him covered like he is John Gotti or something. I haven’t found the opportunity to get the message to him that you are here with me. I have to be careful with this. I can’t take the risk of being associated with him right now,” Zya finished.
YaYa’s blood boiled at the thought of Indie taking care of Leah. After all that she had been through, all that they had lost at Leah’s hands, she didn’t understand it.
He wouldn’t. How could he? she thought. Her good sense told her that there was more to the story, and she knew that she had to get home as quickly as possible.
“I need to get back to him . . . to my daughter,” YaYa said.
“I understand, but I do want to offer you a proposition before you go. I’m unable to keep up with the market in the States. I’m not there, so I can’t keep my finger on the pulse of the drug game. It is expensive and difficult to keep things in order from halfway across the world. I need eyes in the US. I need a partner that can do what you did for Indie. Move weight, stay under the radar, and make money discreetly. I was going to shut down my dealings in the States completely until I met you.”
YaYa’s head felt crowded as so many different things raced through her mind at once. The last thing she was thinking about was entering the dope game. She wanted to see Skylar; she wanted to confront Indie; she wanted to murder Leah. She had a thirst for revenge that wouldn’t go away until she was standing over Leah’s grave.
“I know that you have a lot of unfinished business concerning this girl Leah. I can end that for you. With one phone call, a nurse can put a shot in her veins that will put her down like a rabid dog. No mess, no questions asked,” Zya said.
YaYa’s heartbeat sped up at the thought of Leah being taken care of. She closed her eyes as tears leaked from her eyes. It would be so easy, so quick, if she let Zya handle things. YaYa could finally feel safe. She would finally be able to live without looking over her shoulder, wondering when her past would come back for another torturous rematch.
Leah had taken so much from YaYa. She had damaged so many parts of YaYa’s soul. It should have been easy to
give Zya the green light, but she couldn’t. She wanted to beat Leah, but she wanted it to count as her own win, no matter how hard it was for her to attain. Leah’s demise wouldn’t be satisfying unless she did it herself, unless she was the one who orchestrated it. Leah versus Zya was unfairly matched, but Leah against YaYa was as equal as it came. YaYa wanted to prove to herself that she could come out on top, that she could personally deliver Leah’s fate. She wanted to taste the sweetness of revenge.
Her lip quivered as she opened her mouth to respond. “As much as I want to say yes, I can’t.” She opened her eyes, which were now red and clouded with the tears that she struggled to stop. She gasped emotionally, choked up from the thought of the strife that Leah had caused. “This is something that I need to do myself. A peaceful death is too generous for her,” YaYa admitted. “I want her to feel what I feel. I want her to hurt.”
Zya leaned back in her chair and crossed her lean legs. She was slightly surprised at how cold-blooded YaYa was. YaYa wanted to handle her problem herself in her own way, and Zya had to respect it. There were very few women who had the courage to stand up to those who had wronged them, yet YaYa seemed determined to.
Zya flipped her hair in the wind and stared YaYa directly in the eyes. “You know what distinguishes me from you, YaYa?” she asked. She didn’t pause long enough to receive an answer as she continued to speak. “Power. You’ve been chasing this girl, seeking revenge against this one girl for years. She is hard for you to touch. Damn near impossible for you to destroy without destroying yourself. And do you want to know why?”
A lone tear escaped YaYa’s eyes. “Why is that?” she asked.
“Because you don’t have enough pull. No muscle, no respect, no legend behind your name. You’re just a girl from the hood beefing with a bitch that wants what you have,” Zya said. “If you take me up on my offer, you’ll be so much more. You’ll be able to touch this Leah and anyone else who crosses you. You’ll have access to the button, YaYa.”
“Button?” YaYa asked.
“One push is all it takes to make a woman like Leah disappear,” Zya said. “No scars, no back and forth, no risk to your family. Just a problem solved.”
Zya could tell that she had YaYa’s ear. What she was offering was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Most men would risk their lives to find a plug like the one Zya was offering to YaYa. All YaYa had to do was say yes.
“You have time to think about it. You can’t fly until my doctors clear you anyway. Before you leave we will talk about it once more. If you say yes, this will be the beginning of a new life for you, YaYa. If you say no, I trust that you’ll walk away with no memory of who I am or what we have discussed.”
YaYa nodded, still distracted by her proposition and all that she had learned. “I can’t sit here knowing that Leah is so close to my daughter. If something happens to her, I will never forgive myself,” YaYa said.
“You can try to contact Indie yourself if you like. It is my understanding that Leah’s injuries from the fire were even worse than yours, so she will be hospitalized for a while. She is nowhere near your daughter at the moment,” Zya confirmed, easing YaYa’s fears only slightly. “I’ll stay up to date on her status. The moment she is released I will let you know,” Zya assured.
“I’ll leave you here with your own staff to take care of you. You’ll have a butler, a chef, doctors, nurses, and a driver. They are at your disposal for as long as you need them. If you need me, the butler knows how to reach me. I have a family, so I can’t stay around the clock, but I’ll come anytime you call.”
YaYa nodded gratefully as the guard wheeled her back into her room. Once she was alone, YaYa broke down. She sobbed like a baby as she hugged herself tightly. She had been through so much, endured great pain. The physical burns on her body were nothing compared to the blows that her heart had absorbed. She was damaged in so many ways. YaYa needed redemption. She needed it the way that her lungs needed air, but her thirst for revenge was too strong. She couldn’t walk a straight path until she handled Leah. She was determined to settle that beef . . . even if it meant that she would self-destruct in the process .
Chapter 4
Indie knelt down in front of Skylar and saw nothing but purity in her innocent face. Even after being kidnapped and kept from her parents, her smile still radiated brightly like the morning sun. He loved his child more than his own life, and he was so grateful for her presence. She was the bond that linked him and YaYa—walking, talking proof of their connection. She symbolized everything that Indie and YaYa represented. He hoped that Skylar could be the glue that kept them together when the stresses of life tried so hard to tear them apart. He knew it was selfish. Putting that responsibility on Skylar’s shoulders wasn’t fair, but it was all he had at the moment.
As he kissed her cheeks, he saw YaYa clear as day. She was a perfect blend of the two. Every day Indie showed her pictures of her mother, to keep the image of YaYa fresh in Skylar’s mind, but enough was enough. He knew that she wanted no visitors, but maybe baby Sky would be just what YaYa needed to snap out of her secluded depression.
Indie picked up the toddler and then turned to Elaine.
“Are you sure YaYa is ready for this?” Elaine asked. “She made it clear that she didn’t want to see anyone.”
“I need to see her, Ma. Sky needs her mother. We just want to be there for her,” Indie confessed. “She wouldn’t turn her own daughter away. I know she misses Sky.”
Indie stepped out of his town home and secured Skylar in the back seat of his car. The Dolce tailored pants he wore were accented well with a smoky-gray collared shirt and Italian made shoes. Indie cleaned up nicely. He was in tune with the streets and saved his 501s, fitted caps, and Gucci kicks for his days of block spinning. He was on his grown man shit, rocking his big boy fits and exuding nothing but strength and authority as he ducked into his Range and pulled away from his home.
As soon as the black rims on his car started spinning he checked his rearview. Sure enough, an unmarked federal vehicle was tailing him. “These predictable mu’fuckas,” Indie mumbled. He hit the OnStar button in his car and waited as his call was connected.
“What up, doe?”
The voice of his young soldier Chase filled his speakers.
“Yo, baby boy, where you at?” Indie asked, his cool baritone level and in control.
“At the wash waiting to get my shit detailed. What’s the move?” Chase responded.
“I can’t do much right now. The spotlight is shining too bright on me, nah mean?” Indie replied.
“Uh-huh. Let’s get ’em off you then, big homie. Swing through. I’ll be here,” Chase answered.
Indie disconnected the call and headed Chase’s way. The sorry pigs behind him bent every corner right along with him, all the way to the fifth ward. The closer Indie got to the notorious neighborhood, the more the scenery scrolling by outside his window changed. Suburban turned to the hood before his very eyes. He hated to even bring his daughter to this part of the city, but he knew that where he was headed he had love. Indie had quickly established respect in the South, and no intentional harm would come his way.
He pulled up to the detail shop and into one of the bays. The workers quickly closed the garage door as if his car was being serviced. He saw Chase waiting, sitting in his matching Range Rover with a genuine smile on his face.
His young lieutenant was extremely loyal, and Indie appreciated that fact. Through it all, Chase had remained true to form. He didn’t switch teams just because Indie had fallen off. Despite the fact that Indie had not been in touch in weeks, Chase was still ready to jump to action whenever Indie called. Indie knew he couldn’t pay for that type of loyalty. Real niggas were born not bred, and there was a shortage nowadays. Indie appreciated that he had such a thorough soldier on his team.
“Let me take it from here. Let’s switch the plates and I’ll take these coppers for a personal tour around the hood,” Chase said with a smirk. “Thes
e niggas around here don’t give a fuck about no badge, bro. It’s only two of them too. They can smell pork around here from a mile away. They’ll be lucky if they leave out of this mu’fucka,” Chase said seriously.
“Good looking out, fam,” Indie replied.
“How’s wifey?” Chase asked.
“Not good. I’m headed that way now. Meet me back at my spot in a couple hours. Pull straight into the garage. Moms is there. She’ll let you in,” Indie instructed. “We’ve got to talk about some things.”
Chase nodded. After they switched the plates, he threw up two fingers then honked his horn to let the workers know to lift his gate. He pulled out, and sure enough the feds were there waiting. They couldn’t see the driver behind the dark tint, but they took the bait and were led away by Chase.
Minutes later, Indie rolled out inconspicuously and headed in the opposite direction, eager to get to YaYa.
The hospital was bustling with action as he carried Skylar down its halls, bobbing and weaving to avoid being run down by the scrambling people in doctors’ coats and scrubs. When he arrived at YaYa’s room, he peeked inside the glass square at the top of the door. The room was extremely dim, and only the light from the bathroom created a small glow. He saw that her bandages had been removed, and he didn’t flinch at the sight of her. To him, she was the epitome of beauty. He didn’t care how disfigured she was. His heart yearned for her in more than a physical way. He opened the door and stepped inside the room.
“Hey, YaYa, we’re here. It’s only Skylar and me, baby girl. We miss you. We just want to see you,” Indie said. “You’re never going to feel better sitting in here in the dark. You need the light, ma, to remind you that you’re alive. The curtains are closed, the lights off . . .”
His voice caused Leah’s breath to catch in her throat as fear overwhelmed her. Grateful for the darkness in the room, she immediately turned her back to him as he came closer to the bed. He sat in the chair next to the bed. “I prefer the dark,” she said, her voice quivering nervously.
Green Eyed Monster Page 3