Supreme Clientele

by Ashley Antoinette Snell

  “What’s up, Zya? Long time no see, huh?”

  Zya threw up her middle finger and shook her head from side to side. Heavy laughed at her sincere gesture and continued to walk toward the house. Zya blew her horn again, letting Vita know she was becoming impatient.

  I hate that country-ass nigga. He gon’ get his one day. He got the nerve to speak, like he didn’t try to rape me. What a clown.

  Zya saw Vita coming out of the house, still putting on her heels. As Vita scuffled to the car, Zya noticed that Vita had lost a tremendous amount of weight. She almost didn’t even look like herself. Damn, she’s Whitney Houston skinny, Zya thought as she stared at her friend’s physique.

  Heavy looked at Vita like she was crazy as he watched her walk down the steps. “Fuck you think you going?” he asked her loudly as he gripped her arm tightly.

  “I told you Zya was throwing a party tonight for Jules,” Vita replied.

  “What I tell you about that girl?” Heavy asked in a low voice. Vita snatched her arm away from him. “Did you think about what I said?” he asked her.

  “Heavy, yeah, I thought about it! Damn, we’ll talk about this when I get back.”

  At that moment, Zya blew her horn and smiled sarcastically at Heavy as she watched Vita walk toward her car.

  “Hey, girl!” Vita said in exasperation as she got into the car, shaking her head.

  “Hey. You ready?”

  “Hell yeah. I’m ’bout to get my party on. I can’t believe Jules is getting out.”

  “I just found out today he won’t be released for a while. He got into some shit up there and got some time added.”

  Vita looked at Zya with concern. She knew that Zya was trying to be there for Jules, even though he had played her. “Damn, girl, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. The party must go on, though. I spent too much money on this celebration to cancel it.”

  “I feel you, girl. Let’s get the fuck out of here before Heavy starts tripping.”

  Zya pulled off and they headed toward Club Arlene’s.

  The party was semi-crowded, just like Zya expected it to be. She wasn’t there to party anyway. It was strictly business for her. At the beginning of the party, she instructed Big Easy to get on the mic and tell everyone that Jules got a little bit of time tacked on for a fight. At first, the mood grew dull, but after Zya bought everyone a round of drinks, they quickly forgot about Jules.

  Zya sat at the back of the club, waiting to see some of Jules’s old coke customers. She glanced over at Vita dancing with a man. Vita was working it, and had dude against the wall, grinding her ass into his crotch. Zya looked at the man’s face and immediately recognized him.

  “Bingo. Black Ty,” she whispered to herself as she made her way over to him. Black Ty was a young hustler who used to cop from Jules a while back. Zya remembered driving Jules over to his spot a couple of times. His big-ass lips made him easy to spot.

  Zya tapped Vita, letting her know she wanted to cut in. Vita started dancing with another nigga that stood to her right, and Zya start backing that ass up. She turned around and met eyes with Ty.

  “Oh, shit! What up, Zya?”

  “What up, Ty?”

  Ty stepped back a little while dancing with Zya. He didn’t want to disrespect his man by being all up on his lady. Zya grabbed his hand and pulled him right back on her ass. She grinded on him, feeling his pipe begin to grow. Ty grabbed Zya by her waist and gently pushed her away.

  “Damn, girl, you trying to have me beefin’ with Jules, huh?” he asked as he licked his lips and looked her up and down with a lustful gaze.

  “Nah, it ain’t even like that,” she said as she stopped dancing and turned toward him. “I do have to holla at you about something for a minute,” Zya whispered in his ear seductively.

  “What’s up?”

  Zya grabbed Ty’s hand and led him to her table at the back of the club. They both sat down, and Zya had Black Ty’s full attention.

  “You still moving weight, right?”

  “Yeah, you know it. That’s why I came. Since Jules been gone, it’s been hard to get my hands on some decent shit.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s back.”

  “It’s back? I thought Jules was still locked up.”

  “Nah, nah . . . I got the same shit, but for a cheaper price,” Zya said as she pointed to herself. She continued, “I’m letting them go for fourteen a pop.”

  “Fourteen?” Ty said with raised eyebrows.

  “Fourteen!” she confirmed.

  “And it’s the same coke Jules had?” Black Ty asked, trying to make sure he wasn’t falling for the okey-doke.

  She could see Black Ty becoming more interested, so she continued to hustle. “Yeah, and I’m getting down to my last couple bricks, so if you going to jump on it, you better do it quick,” Zya lied, trying to get a sell.

  Ty sat there in silence for a minute. It seemed like he was thinking hard about what he was about to say. He did the math in his head and knew that he couldn’t beat it. “You can’t beat fourteen a brick. Fuck it, I want four. How quick can you get them to me?”

  Zya wanted to jump up and down right there, but she kept her composure. She reached into her purse and grabbed a pen. She wrote her number on a napkin and slid it to Ty. “Call me tomorrow night,” she said as she got up and walked away from the table. She had just made her first connection of the night, but it wasn’t her last.

  “Like I said, I’m down to my last ones, so you better jump on it,” Zya said, kicking the same game she had used all night.

  “I’ll go and get the money now. I need them, Zya, badly,” Roc said. He knew that he was getting a deal, and he didn’t want to let the opportunity slip out of his hands.

  “Nah, it’s cool. Just use the number I gave you and call me tomorrow night.”

  Zya walked away from the bar, leaving Roc with his nose wide open, hoping that he could get down. Throughout the night, Zya discussed business with at least ten different niggas about the coke, and they all wanted in. Each one was Jules’s old customer. Everybody was a bit hesitant to deal with her at first, but after they heard the offer she was making, they knew it was too good to refuse. Her sales pitch got better and better with each conversation. By the end of the night, Zya had become a certified hustler.

  At around 2 A.M., the party began to wind down and people started to leave the club. Vita and Zya sat at the back table and watched as the club’s light switched on and the dance floor became vacant. Everyone was going toward the exit, but one man was entering the club.

  Zya looked closer and noticed that it was Smitty. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He was twice the age of most people in the club, and he wore a black silk shirt with gators to match. Smitty was an old school, fresh-ass player who was well respected. A toothpick hung out of his mouth as he smoothly walked across the room, looking for his old friend. Zya watched as Smitty scanned the room.

  “I’ll be right back,” Zya said to Vita as she slid out of the booth and headed toward Smitty. Smitty spotted Zya coming toward him, and he flashed his pearly whites at her.

  “Hey, lovely. Where’s the man of the hour?”

  “Oh, you didn’t hear? They on some bullshit and trying to keep Jules in on some bad behavior shit. He got into a little scuffle a couple days ago,” Zya lied.

  “That’s just like a nigga to hate on someone before he gets free.”

  “I know,” Zya agreed.

  “I was really looking forward to seeing my man too. He’s missing a lot of money right now. Know what I mean?”

  “Really? He told me to holla at you. I lost your number, but you know what they say.”

  “What’s that?”

  “All work and no play . . .”

  Smitty paused for a minute, trying to figure out what Zya was trying to say. He got the picture and then smiled while finishing Zya’s sentence. “Makes a dull day.”

  From that night on, Zya suppl
ied Smitty his bricks.

  Snow drove through the streets of Jersey in his snow white Benz, the same color of the product that enabled him to buy the luxury car. He inhaled the weed smoke as he banged 2pac’s “Hailmary” out of his sub woofers.

  “I ain’t a killa, but don’t push me. Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to getting pussy.” Snow rapped along to the lyrics and watched as all eyes were on him as he cruised the city streets. At 27, he supplied the suppliers with the best cocaine from his overseas connect. He was in a comfortable situation and was getting a lot of money out of the streets. The last couple of months he noticed an increase in his income, and knew the main reason behind it: Zya.

  I don’t know how she does it. She re-ups every three days. I have never seen anyone move weight so quick. She’s moving weight like a nigga out here. Maybe I need to relocate and get some of that Brooklyn money. If Zya is moving them bricks like she is, I know I can get crazy money there. Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I need to give Zya a call and see what’s up. I’m glad she’s on my team, Snow thought.

  Zya had been buying bricks left and right. The way Zya was moving coke, everyone was happy, because everyone was getting money. Snow even lowered his prices for Zya. She was his number one customer, and he wanted to keep her happy.

  Actually, Snow wanted to do more than supply Zya with bricks. He wanted to supply her in the bedroom. He grew more and more attracted to her over the past few months. Having a beautiful woman around him was nothing new, but Zya’s demeanor set her apart from the rest. She was so gangster, and that’s what turned Snow on the most about her. She matched his wits, and he had never seen anybody hustle like her. It was like she was born to move coke. Every time she cashed Snow out for his product, her flipping through the money got him aroused. Snow told himself that he would never mix business with pleasure, but with Zya, he was willing to make an exception.

  “Damn, girl, go easy on that blow,” Heavy said as he laughed at the sight of Vita indulging herself. He sat on the couch with a blunt in his mouth, making smoke circles.

  “Shut the fuck up, Heavy,” Vita said as she hit another line of what she thought was cocaine.

  He had been giving her powder heroin, telling her that it was blow. Heavy had discovered Vita was cheating on him with more than one person. He felt like she was on the verge of leaving him for someone else, and his insecurities emerged. The mind control that he once had over Vita was fading, and he wanted it back. Now she yearned for what Heavy had, and he finally regained control.

  If Vita didn’t have her “coke,” she would get physically sick, but she never knew why. She was experiencing withdrawal from the heroin and didn’t even know it. She just knew that Heavy’s product was the only blow that got her where she needed to be. Heavy had total control over her, and she was helpless. Heavy was done with Vita, but he wanted her to suffer before he quit her.

  “I’m serious, Vita. You need to slow down. You just did five lines in under an hour.”

  Vita hit the last little bit of heroin on the table and looked at Heavy with a runny nose. “Heavy, let me get a li’l more, baby,” she begged.

  “What you going to do for me?” Heavy asked as he puffed his blunt.

  Vita stood to her feet and almost fell back down. She gathered herself and walked over to Heavy. She dropped to her knees and knelt directly in front of Heavy. “I’ll suck and fuck your dick so good, you’ll never forget it.”

  Heavy grabbed Vita by the arms and shoved her aggressively. “I don’t want any of that dope-head pussy.”

  Vita began to cry and rub her arms frantically. “Please, Heavy, let me get a little bit,” she pleaded, folding her hands, trying to sway him.

  Heavy enjoyed torturing her, and he pulled out a bag of heroin and waved it from side to side, teasing her. “Remember what you were telling me a couple of weeks ago? About how much money did you see in Zya’s closet?”

  Chapter 6

  Federali

  Zya picked up her cell phone to call Vita, and heard the operator’s voice, informing her that Vita’s phone was disconnected. “That can’t be right,” Zya said as she sat at her kitchen table counting money. She hung up her phone and tried again, but got the same response.

  Damn, Vita. I would have let you hold something to pay yo’ damn bill. She and Heavy must be beefing again. Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to go and holla at her a little later.

  Just as Zya was about to return her cell phone back to its clip, she felt it begin to vibrate. She looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Snow calling.

  “What’s up, Snow?” she answered.

  “Zya, they on deck,” Snow said, informing her that he had the bricks.

  “Oh, okay, so I can pick them up tonight.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be good. When can I be expecting you?” he asked.

  “Tonight when I get off work.”

  Zya hung up the phone and smiled because she knew more money was headed in her direction. Snow had just got back from seeing his Cuban connect, and he had picked up another shipment. People had been calling her the last two days for weight, but she had to wait on Snow to return.

  Zya and Snow became close in the midst of dealing with each other. Snow offered her a partnership, and they were both getting bread together. Zya loved his prices, and she was kind of feeling his style too. Even though it had been a while since she stopped messing with Jules, she still wasn’t ready to be involved with anyone. She told herself she was all about making money right now. But every time she came into contact with Snow, she thought about what it would be like to be his woman.

  Zya glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly time for her to go to work. With the drug money coming from the restaurant and from the streets, Zya had accumulated a lot of money. Some weeks she got so much money, she wouldn’t be able to count it all. She just grabbed a shoe box and dumped the money into it.

  She walked to her room and opened her closet. She had removed all of her clothes from her closet, and only shoeboxes filled the space, shoeboxes full of money. It was barely enough room to put the box in her hand inside. She managed to squeeze it on the top, and then she closed the door.

  I need a safe, because this shit ain’t going to work, she thought as she fixed her hair, preparing go to work.

  It had been three months since she got connected with Jules’s old clientele. With her low prices and good dope, she had made three times as much as Jules ever made monthly. Zya was on top of the game and making a name for herself.

  Zya went under her bed and grabbed two ounces of coke and stuffed them into her purse. Earlier, she had put a gram of dope in each baggy, and they sold like penny candy. This was an everyday routine before she went to work. She usually had to run back home to get more, so she contemplated taking more to save the trip.

  It ain’t worth the risk. I’ll just come back if I need more, she thought as she headed out of the door to work.

  An hour later, Zya was at Stello’s, waiting tables. She had only been at work forty-five minutes, and she managed to slang an ounce and a half. Damn, I need to ask Meechi to let me take my break early so I can run home. I only have a half left, and the night crowd haven’t even came yet.

  Zya went to the bar to put her food order in. Just as she pinned the receipt on the order board, Meechi stuck his head out of his office and called her.

  “Zya, come here for a minute.”

  Zya wanted to wait on her customer first and also put up the dope she had left before she went into Meechi’s office. “Okay, I’ll be there in a second.”

  Meechi’s face expressed anger, and he raised his voice. “No, I need to see you right now. Come here,” he said as he ducked back into his office.

  Zya took a deep breath and walked into Meechi’s office. She saw Meechi sitting behind his desk, staring at her. “What’s up, Meechi?” Zya said nervously.

  “I have to talk about what you’ve been doing in my restaurant.”

  Damn, I’
m busted. He’s going to fire me, but I don’t give a fuck. I already made ten times as much in dope money in here than what he’s paying me. I don’t know, these Italians are crazy.

  Meechi stood up and walked over to Zya. He reached in his inner coat pocket, and Zya’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Meechi, please don’t shoot me,” she said.

  Meechi looked at Zya like she was crazy as he pulled out a white envelope. “What the fuck are you talking about? I just wanted to commend you on doing a good job. All the customers rave about you, and I wanted to show you that I take care of my hardworking girls. Here.” Meechi handed Zya the envelope full of hundred-dollar bills.

  “Thanks,” she said as she finally exhaled and tried to stop her heart from beating one hundred miles per hour.

  Meechi sat on top of his desk and lit a cigar. He noticed Zya’s nervousness and laughed, “What did you think, I was going to kill you or something?” They both laughed, but Zya wasn’t laughing at Meechi’s comment. She was just happy she didn’t get caught selling her own product out of the restaurant.

  Zya put the envelope inside her apron and said, “Well, I have a lot of customers waiting. I’m going to get back to work.” She started toward the door.

  Meechi spoke to her just as she reached the door. “Zya, I need for you to serve the roundtable tonight. Can you do it? Marcella called in sick again.”

  “Sure, Meechi.”

  “Oh yeah . . . and, Zya.”

  “Yeah?”

  Meechi’s smirk turned into a frown before he spoke. “I want a ten percent cut on the dope you’re moving out of my fuckin’ restaurant. I know about everything that goes on around here. Remember that. You’re a hustler. I like that. We can’t supply the customers right now, so I don’t see anything wrong with you making some pocket change. Ten percent from now on. Got that?”

  Zya nodded her head and left the office.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. How long has he known? I guess I wasn’t being slick after all. Well, at least now I don’t have to sneak around here with the coke. This could be a great business move.