Indie clasped a brown leather Louis Vuitton briefcase in his hand as he made his way to the thirty-fourth floor. The average hustler would have been intimidated by the fancy degrees that hung on the walls, but Indie wasn’t fazed by corporate America. He had seen more money than most of these nine-to-fivers would ever make during their careers. They had yet to live the type of lifestyle that he had experienced. While they worked eighty-hour weeks, slaving behind desks to maintain their plush lifestyle, Indie enjoyed life. He worked smart, not hard.
He was greeted by a young blond woman who sat behind a neat desk. Her hair was swept up in a tight bun, and her plainly manicured fingers tapped the keys on her computer efficiently. She looked up at him. “You must be Mr. Needleman’s eleven o’clock?” she asked. “He’s expecting you. Right this way.”
Harry Needleman was the top-rated investment banker in the entire city, and if anyone could help Indie go legit, Needleman could. His client list was so prestigious that Indie was lucky to even get a meeting with the man. Their paths had crossed by chance years before, and Indie still remembered it like it was yesterday. He had saved Needleman from a robbery in Harlem years ago, and ever since the two had shown a mutual respect for one another. Indie had never called upon his old associate for any favors, but today it was time for Needleman to show good faith and return the favor.
Indie followed the receptionist down the long corridor that led to Needleman’s office. She entered first, announcing his arrival, and then he was ushered inside.
“Mr. Perkins,” Needleman said. “It’s good to finally have the opportunity to do business with you.”
“Likewise,” Indie replied. He took a seat and placed the briefcase on Needleman’s desk. He popped it open, spinning it toward the white man so that he could see the treasures that were hidden inside.
Needleman’s eyes widened in surprise—a good surprise, but still an unexpected shock nonetheless.
“You told me you were down to your last two hundred thousand dollars,” Needleman said. He glanced at the money, and his experience allowed him to immediately estimate the amount of money in the case. “There is at least three million sitting here. My fee goes up.”
Indie smirked. He had already known that Needleman would double, perhaps even triple, his going rate. It was one thing to balance the books for a legit company, but to cook up false documents and cleanse street money was an entirely different ballgame.
“I’ll be bringing you that amount weekly, maybe biweekly, so set your price accordingly. Whatever amount we agree to today will not increase,” Indie said sternly.
Needleman stood and closed his office door, not wanting anyone to overhear the illegal conversation that they were about to have.
“I thought this would be a one-time thing. Covering up this much drug money is not easy,” Needleman said, prepping Indie for the large number he was about to deliver.
“How much?” Indie asked.
“Fifty grand for every transaction,” Needleman said.
Indie sat back in his chair and crossed his legs as he pondered the numbers. “I tell you what. I’ll give you the fifty thousand, but I need this done right. I have a lot at stake here. I can’t have anyone asking where this money is really coming from. I want it to be so clean that we have tax returns, employees on record, whatever it takes to make this thing legit.”
“That won’t be a problem. We can incorporate you. Filter the funds you make as profit from your company. The DEA isn’t whom you should fear. The IRS is much worse. They’re the real threat. But as long as they’re getting their piece of the pie quarterly, and you maintain a level of discretion on your end regarding the questionable practices in which you make your money, then you should fly under the radar,” Needleman schooled.
“And this will work? I can’t beat another federal case. I barely walked away from the first one unscathed,” Indie admitted.
“This has been the practice of many men in your line of work,” Needleman revealed. “The biggest gangsters in the world are the ones dressed in suit and ties. They are the ones you never hear about because they pay guys like me to make sure they are never caught. It is all about making the right investments, Mr. Perkins. You grease the right palms and make the right connections, you’ll never have to worry about your freedom ever again.”
Needleman peered curiously at Indie. “You could have gotten incorporated at any half-ass accounting firm though. Come on, Indie. Shoot straight with me. Out of all of the time I’ve known you, you have never come to me about anything. Why is it that you’re really here? Because it for damn sure isn’t just to S-corp a phony company for you. You gave me the fifty K without even blinking, no negotiation or nothing, and you’re a stickler for the hard bargain. You’re the best negotiator I know. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’ve got something on your mind. This little side deal was just the Vaseline. Go ahead, bend me over, because I feel like I’m about to be fucked,” Needleman said jokingly.
Indie chuckled because Needleman knew him too well. The S-corp was important to cover their dope tracks, but that was only the tip of the iceberg for the reason why he had visited. Indie reached into his inner jacket pocket and removed a folded up page of the New York Times. He placed it on top of Needleman’s desk and pointed to the headline.
It read:
VARTEX PHARMACEUTICAL COMPANY WAITING ON PENDING FDA APPROVAL FOR THEIR NEW WONDER DRUG, DIPROXIL.
“You’re on the board,” Indie stated.
“I am,” Needleman said.
“I want on the board. I want ten percent of the stock,” he said, finally revealing the real reason why he was there.
“You can’t afford ten percent of the stock,” Needleman said.
“Try me,” Indie said. Between the money they were making from their new setup and his new deal with Zya pending, he was more than confident that he could come up with the buy in.
“One hundred fifty million,” Needleman said cockily. “Ten percent is a bit ambitious. The company is made up of thousands of stock holders. Even I only own two percent. You would be one of the major share holders. Not the largest, but certainly not the least. You would have a say in what goes in. If you’re just looking for a sound investment, you can go lower.”
“I want ten percent,” Indie said. He stood to his feet. “You’ll have your money by the end of the month.”
“It’s not that simple. The majority share holders will want to meet with you,” Needleman warned.
“Then set up the meeting for the end of the month. I read the article. As long as the FDA is delaying approval of this drug, the company is losing money. Vartex is in a delicate state right now. They can’t turn down my money right now if they wanted to,” Indie said.
Needleman loosened his tie and leaned back in his seat. “No offense, Indie, but they might not want you in their arena. You’re from the streets. What do you know about business?” Needleman asked.
“I know enough to cover my bases. The sudden delay in FDA approval wasn’t a coincidence. They turn me down, I make one call and the FDA denies Vartex. Don’t underestimate my reach. I always have insurance,” Indie said with a smirk.
“I’ll be damned,” Needleman said with a chuckle. “I’ll set up the meeting.”
Chapter 21
When Indie exited the meeting and went to his car, he had three missed calls from Chase and an urgent text. He frowned, knowing that Chase wasn’t big on phone conversations. Plus, he knew the rules. Anything said over the phone was dangerous. Indie knew plenty of good men who had gotten locked up by talking too much through a filter. Anything Indie said would be said in person.
He dialed YaYa’s number to let her know that he wouldn’t be home directly as expected.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted.
“Hey, yourself,” she replied. “Where are you?”
“I just finished handling some business. I know things have been rough on you.
I’m going to make everything better though, ma. I’ve got a plan for us,” Indie said hopefully. He was so optimistic about the future. He had no idea that the moves YaYa was making had the potential to destroy everything he was trying to build.
“I love you,” she said. “And if I ever do anything to disappoint you, please know that I don’t mean it.”
“You never will, so don’t worry about it, baby girl,” he replied. “I’ll be home soon. I’ve got to swing by and see Chase.”
“Chase?” YaYa blurted out more urgently than she meant to.
“Yeah, Chase. What’s wrong with that?” he questioned.
YaYa knew that if Indie met with Chase, then he would spill the beans about her. She couldn’t let that happen. She closed her eyes and lowered her head in shame. What she was about to do was grimy, but she had warned Chase. She had told him to mind his business. Now she had to protect herself by telling lies to cloud the truth that Chase was trying to reveal.
“I didn’t want to tell you this, but I think Chase is out for self. I got a phone call from Bruno when Trina made her first run. He said Chase tried to cut a side deal. He wanted to take more coke on consignment. He was trying to cut us out and get straight to the connect himself,” YaYa lied. The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but doubt in Chase’s character had to be established. When it came down to it, all Chase had against her were empty accusations. He had no proof. It would be her word against his, and it would all boil down to who Indie trusted most. She loved Indie and hated to manipulate him the way that she was, but what was the alternative? To come clean? She already had too many flaws. She wasn’t about to give him one more reason to leave her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “I gave li’l homie a way to eat when he was starving and getting bullied on the block.”
“I didn’t want to hear the hurt in your voice that I hear now,” YaYa said. She was laying it on thick, using his love for her to cloud his judgment against someone who was like a brother to him. YaYa was reverting to her old ways. She thought she had outgrown her treacherous ways, that Indie’s love had healed her, but she was still the same ol’ girl from the hood. Maybe I am my mother’s child, she thought.
“I thought you should know. Just be careful with him. Everybody ain’t as loyal as they seem,” she said.
Yeah, bitch, because you’re a snake, she thought, knowing that she was the lowest of the low right now.
“I’ll be home soon. Let me pull up on him,” Indie replied. “Just when you think you can trust the people around you, they show you that you can’t.” He sighed and finished, “As long as I got you and Sky, that’s all I need.”
He hung up, and YaYa tossed the phone across the room in frustration. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She was spiraling down and down and down. She wanted someone to blame, so she blamed it on Leah, but now she was beginning to think that she was just a bad seed. Her thoughts haunted her as she realized she was ruining lives the same way that Leah ruined hers.
Maybe I’m just like Leah. I’m no better than her. I’m willing to hurt innocent people just to get my way too.
Disappointment filled Indie as he pulled in front of Chase’s home. It took him fifteen minutes just to get out of the car, because he didn’t quite know how to approach Chase about the subject. Chase was like a brother to Indie, and he didn’t want to believe that he had been disloyal. Indie was cutthroat, many would even call him heartless, but when he embraced someone as family, it was hard to bring them harm. His loyalty was sometimes a fault, because he seldom got the same in return.
He checked his anger, making sure that he wasn’t irrational before he went inside. He wanted to be clearheaded. He would give Chase a chance to share his side of the story, but if he lied, even once, then Indie would cut him off.
He knocked on the door and greeted Chase with a stiff handshake when he opened up.
Indie looked around Chase’s plush brownstone and couldn’t understand why Chase would go behind his back. Indie was fair and loyal. He made sure that his team was comfortable and well fed.
Every nigga want to be the chief. Nobody wants to put in they time as an Indian, Indie thought. He was feeling a type of way about the information YaYa had told him. He was almost sick to his stomach, because Chase had become dear to his heart. Chase had shown so much good faith. He had remained loyal to Indie when others like Khi-P had jumped ship. Just as Indie was planning to take them all legit and establish them as business minds, Chase had shown his hand. Or so he thought. He trusted YaYa too much to ever question her or figure out her agenda. If she said it, it was law, so he had already marked Chase as guilty. The fact that Chase couldn’t look Indie in the eyes only added confirmation to YaYa’s claims.
Chase’s heart was heavy. He could barely stand to look at Indie as he tried to think of a gentle way to deliver the news that YaYa was stumbling down a slippery slope of addiction. He wanted to come right out with it and give it to him square, but he knew what it was like to have someone poisoned by drugs. He knew the hurt that Indie was about to feel. His own mother had put the burden on his heart.
He took a deep breath and began. “You know I’ve got nothing but love and respect for you, but I’ve got something to tell you.”
Indie’s jaw tensed.
“I already know what you’re about to say, Chase. I want to know to why. After everything that I’ve placed in your lap, you betray me? That’s how it’s laying between brothers now?”
Confusion crossed Chase’s face. The conversation had gone bad before it even begin. “What? What are you talking about?”
“You saying you didn’t try to back-door me when you snuck off to Italy with Trina? You didn’t try to take more bricks than you were supposed to? Huh? You wasn’t trying to steal the connect for yourself?” Indie asked.
Chase chuckled in disbelief before anger sparked ablaze in his chest. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” Chase spat.
“Fuck you was doing in Italy in the first place? Your position is here. You move the work through the streets. How come no one knew about this mysterious trip?” Indie grilled.
Chase could see Indie growing cold. Just the look in his eyes warned Chase to tread lightly on the subject. “Look, fam, you got the shit all wrong. I went there because Trina was going. That’s my sister. I’m not gon’ send her into the fire solo on her first run.”
“Yeah, that ain’t what I heard. I heard something different,” Indie stated.
“Yeah, from who?” Chase asked defensively. “From YaYa?” Chase smirked as he put two and two together. YaYa was trying to burn him so that he couldn’t rat her out.
“Might want to check with your source, bro. She got an agenda like a mu’fucka,” Chase said.
“You lie to my face after everything I’ve done for you?” Indie barked. His bark was low, but it still hurt all the same.
“Only person who’s lying to you is your bitch,” Chase responded.
“Watch your mouth, li’l nigga. Don’t make me body you in this bitch,” Indie spat. “Only reason you’re not floating in the East River is because I had love for you, but from this point on you’re done. You’re cut off. I’ve never kept anybody in the shadows. If you wanted to shine, all you had to do was say so.”
Chase was floored that YaYa had poisoned Indie against him. He never pegged her to be that type. She was tearing down a friendship and a prosperous business relationship just to keep her dirty secret.
“Yeah, a’ight, Indie. You let YaYa plant that seed all you want to, but don’t assassinate my character, homie. Don’t speak ill on me. I’ve earned every stripe on my vest. You need to go home and ask wifey why the fuck she bring that ass to the trap today trying to cop! Ask her that! A young nigga put in work for you, and when it’s time for you to judge me, you go in without proof? YaYa behavior been shady ever since she came back from the dead. You just blinded, bro. The love got you feeling instead of thinking.”
Indie had no mo
re words for Chase. “You’re lucky that you were loyal to me for as long as you were,” Indie said in a low tone. The implied threat that lay beneath the surface of his words was like a punch to the gut. Never in a million years did Chase think he would see the day when his mentor would become his adversary.
“I guess there’s nothing left to say then, homie,” Chase stated. “When you find out the truth, though, you can keep the apology. I don’t want it. Loyalty goes both ways.”
Indie turned solemnly and walked ou the door. He didn’t even have the itch to murder Chase. It felt as if he were walking out of a funeral. He had just lost a brother.
YaYa heard the snow crunch as Indie pulled into their driveway. She looked at the bag of cocaine in her hand. She hadn’t touched it. Not yet. After lying on Chase, she knew that she had taken things too far. She fought the urge and told herself that she could create her own solace, without any help from a narcotic.
I threw shade on a real nigga today, she thought sadly. All because of this.
She placed the bag of cocaine in her panty drawer, telling herself that she would do better, but if she really wanted to walk a straight line, she would have flushed it. Her downfall was inevitable, because she was her own worst enemy.
She met Indie at the door and saw the inner turmoil that he was going through. As soon as he greeted her, he stared deeply into her eyes. She knew what he was looking for—clues, any indication that she was high—but she wasn’t stupid. She knew the accusations that Chase would defend himself with, and that was the real reason why she hadn’t put the cocaine to use.
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