Smoke

by Meili Cady

  Lisette stood and slipped back into her Chanel wedges. “Text Frankie. We need to run to the store.” I reached for my phone and my shoes.

  The Escalade parked at the Giant Eagle. It looked like a hardware store to me, but apparently this was the grocery store in Ohio. I walked in with Lisette, Frankie, and Henry. “Man, I’m starving,” said Frankie. Lisette and Henry flirted ahead of us. I wondered if Frankie knew that she was sleeping with him. Lisette turned back to Frankie, laughing. “You’re always starving. This is probably the longest you’ve ever gone without food in your life.” Frankie laughed.

  Frankie pushed the shopping cart as we talked about what to get. “The Giant Eagle.” It sounded so American. I noticed people staring at us, especially Lisette wearing her fur-lined coat and diamonds. Don’t worry, folks. We’re just a few of your fellow Americans here, in search of food in this great country of ours. We’re just like you. No reason to be alarmed. It’s not as if we’ve just brought a Range Rover’s worth of illegal drugs into your community. Carry on.

  The woman at the checkout offered a warm greeting as we approached the register. She scanned our items. Beep. Vodka. “So where are y’all comin’ from?” she asked. Beep. Beef jerky. “Don’t look like you’re from around here.” Beep. Mac and cheese. Henry was friendly and answered, “We’re from L.A.” Lisette was at his side and chimed in. “We’re in town visiting some friends. We just love it here.” The woman stopped scanning for a moment and raised her eyes to our group. All four of us faced her with reassuring smiles as Lisette pulled out her wallet to pay.

  We left the store with enough groceries and booze to carry us through our four-day stay in Columbus. Team LL returned to the hotel. Frankie and Henry carried the shopping bags into the room that Lisette and I would share and they took out their dinner, though Henry looked like he wanted to stay. He said to Lisette, “Are you going to bed?” Lisette said, “Yeah, sweetie, we’re pretty tired. You two go to your room and we’ll see you in the morning.” She gave him a look. He nodded with a boyish smile and said, “Good night.” Henry was sweet. I wondered how much he knew. The door shut behind them. I changed into a matching flannel sleep suit, courtesy of my parents last Christmas. They give me one every year.

  Lisette burst out, “Aha! Finally, some alone time with my girl. Time for those drinks.” She rummaged through her purse and took out a small bag of cocaine. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She set the bag on a table and left to the bathroom to change.

  I stared at the coke a minute. Out of Lisette’s presence, questions pounded in my head and tightened in my chest, followed by dread. Reality sank in like a poison. I swallowed the thoughts, then swallowed vodka to bury my nerves. If I said nothing, if I did nothing, maybe it would all just turn out okay. I leaned against a cupboard, focusing on the stitching pattern on the back of an aging couch in front of me. In my mind, I rehearsed how I was going to ask Lisette to fill me in on what the hell was going on. I was lost in thought by the time the bathroom door reopened.

  Lisette came out dressed in a pink velour tank top with matching drawstring pants. She didn’t look at me as she scanned the room to find the coke on a table, still in the bag. “Babe, give me your credit card,” she said. I breathed out. It was always my card. I hated getting coke on my card. She’d insisted that we use my blood donor card a couple of times. That might have been the reason why I stopped donating—I couldn’t face those people again without feeling the eyes of God on me. I got a debit card from my purse and handed it to her. “Thanks, Angel.” She opened the bag and poured white powder out on a table.

  I passed her a strong pour of vodka and sat down next to her as she cut the coke. She did it like a pro. She’d been doing coke for years before she met me. I only did it when I was with her, save for the occasional late-night bump at parties in Hollywood. Coke seemed to be a staple at any after-hours in L.A., and it was starting to become a staple in our trips to Ohio as well. Lisette and I routinely indulged once we were alone and had bid adieu to the boys for the night.

  She formed the drug into six small lines on the glass table, set my debit card aside, and said, “Okay. Time for a toast. To us, and to my girl. You have really stepped up your game for this. I wasn’t sure you could do it. Cheers, Angel.” She took a drink, then leaned down to snort up a line of blow with a severed plastic straw. She popped back up, inhaling through her nose and touching her nostrils to make sure she got it all.

  I set my drink down. My palms were sweating already, before I’d even touched the cocaine. Okay, here we go. “Lisette,” I said, “can I ask you something?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Just let me say this first.” She went on. “I am so proud of you. You’re getting savvier. I had some reservations about hiring you, but you haven’t let me down. You’re finally growing up, babe. You should be proud of yourself.” I didn’t feel proud. I felt confused. I decided I needed more than just alcohol before I could ask my questions. I grabbed the straw from the table and held my hair back to rip through a line. Woo! Strong stuff.

  I looked into Lisette’s eyes. Purple contacts today. I thought it was cute that she wore them and never addressed it. My face melted as I felt a bubble of emotion rising. This was my best friend, after all. My mind drifted for a moment in a daze. She looked back at me, completely sober. She never got high. She was like a machine, able to consume in excess but unable to feel anything. She said, “What did you want to ask me?” The words weren’t coming. It was all blocked up. I didn’t know how to say it, especially now. Cocaine made it hard to talk.

  I don’t want to get yelled at again. What if she kicks me out of the room? What if she doesn’t let me fly home with them? I can’t afford a plane ticket! This is the first trip in over a month. I’m almost overdrawn in my account again . . .

  “Thank you for giving me this job,” I said. “It’s made my life a lot better. It was getting really rough there. It’s good to finally get to spend some time with you.”

  In the last year, Lisette had been so consumed with work that I’d barely seen her, but since she’d hired me I felt as though I had my friend back. She’d had her unpleasant moments recently and was obsessed with work, but I knew that beneath her designer sunglasses and scalding temper, there was a good person, someone I still cared about. My friendship with her had been one of the few things that I’d believed to be permanent in my life since moving to Los Angeles. We’d been together for four years, and I wasn’t ready to lose her. I wondered if saying anything that could risk my job might also be risking our friendship.

  I grabbed my debit card and moved the mound of excess coke around on the glass, making patterns, then swishing them away like waves over sand. I tried to inhale deeply. The coke made my breaths shorter.

  Just bring it up casually. Somehow . . .

  I looked up toward her, but I struggled to begin. I was distracted by what she’d said before. “You really think I’m growing up?” I asked. She’d always told me I was very “young” for my age, so saying that I was anywhere near “grown up” was high praise coming from her. She nodded as she came up from woofing through another line. “Mm-hmm,” she said, touching her nose. “Absolutely. You’re taking work seriously. You’re showing real commitment. You’ve never been late to meetings, nothing. I’m impressed. And happy that I don’t have to make excuses for you to the rest of the team. You know that no one thought you were cut out to work. No one wanted you here. They all thought you were just some dumb, idiot broad, but you’re proving them wrong. I had to fight for you to stay, and thank God I did, because you know I don’t like spending time with people, especially chicks. There aren’t many people I could stand to be with for four days in a row in bum-fuck Ohio, so I’m happy that it’s working out with you. Just keep it up.”

  So I’m a dumb, idiot broad when it looks like I might be an overcurious outsider, but I’m savvy and grown-up when I’m on time and don’t ask any questions?

  Her logic dumbfounded me, and I wasn’
t sure what made sense anymore.

  I combined two small lines of coke and leaned down to take them in. I popped back up. I undid the top button of my sleep shirt.

  “Is it hot in here?” I asked. “It feels hot to me.” Lisette gave me a once-over.

  “You do look a little sweaty,” she said.

  “I’m going to put a tank on,” I said as I got up and moved to my luggage. It was so much easier when I didn’t know. I’d felt so much safer then. Now I didn’t know what to do with this information. I felt as though I was imploding and there was nowhere for the debris to go, so I had to keep it inside me.

  I closed my eyes and pulled my tank top on.

  Just breathe. I don’t have to talk about this, not right now.

  “Was Henry okay tonight?” I asked Lisette as I returned to sit with her at the table. “He seemed like he wanted to stay up with us. Are you guys still . . . ?”

  Lisette was cutting more of the drug. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sure he’s just fine,” she said. “And yes, I am still sitting on his face every now and then. He’s so quiet, but I swear to God that boy fucks like a champion.”

  “Well, I’m glad that he’s taking good care of you,” I said, pleased that I’d successfully changed the subject. “What about David?”

  She rolled her eyes and said, “Ergh. He’s pissing me off lately. He thinks this is supposed to be some vacation out here, and he’s using street mentality for bigger business, which doesn’t work. He expects me to swoon when he’s acting like some thug.”

  “Do you think he knows about Henry?” I asked.

  “Ha, no, he’d lose his shit if he found out,” she said. “Thank God for you. Can you imagine me being stuck out here with everyone, by myself? Jesus.” I let out a nervous laugh.

  That last line of coke hit me hard. Good.

  “Your hair looks so pretty,” I said, admiring it.

  “Aw, thank you,” Lisette said.

  “I’m so grateful to have you,” I told her.

  Lisette smiled. “You’ll probably never know how much you mean to me,” she said. “No guy has ever meant as much to me as you do. Guys come and go, but we’re forever. You’re fucking priceless, and I’m keeping you.”

  We stayed up talking for hours. Before the sun rose over Columbus, Lisette gave me a Valium and a kiss good night on the cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “Sleep in tomorrow. Frankie is going to drive me to a few meetings, but I’ll be back in the afternoon. Get some rest, Angel.”

  I never asked her about the pot. I knew she was looking out for me and everything would be okay. I told myself this as I tried to lie still in bed, trembling and waiting for the Valium to kick in.

  10

  #008

  After that trip to Columbus, I wondered if Lisette would sit me down and say something like, “Well, now you know, so let’s be open about what we’re doing.” But she didn’t address it. She never came out and admitted that her plan all along was to smuggle drugs. This was not in my job description. But there was no job description. I’d foolishly thought little of it when Lisette told me not to ask any questions about her business. She’d always reveled in unnecessary mystery and preferred practically everything she did to be “cloak and dagger.” Perhaps I was twice the fool for saying nothing after I’d found out the truth, but I saw no way of backing out. I didn’t imagine that I’d have the team’s blessing if I’d tried to politely excuse myself from the operation and assure them that their secret would be safe with me. Lisette told me that everyone was uneasy about my working with them in the first place, and that she’d had to vouch for me. She knew that I wasn’t going to look like a smuggler to the team or to anyone, including pilots on chartered flights and tellers at banks. I’m sure it helped that I didn’t know that I was a drug mule. No need to even pretend! Perfect. So many things made more sense now. That was why she wanted me on the plane. No one would think that I was traveling with a quarter ton of pot in my carry-ons.

  Long after our arrest, I would come to have a much greater understanding of the plan I’d been a part of. At the outset, David told Lisette he knew a supplier who could provide tons of weed on a regular basis, and that he could get buyers in Ohio. I met his supplier twice, before each of the first two trips, though I didn’t know who he was at the time. He was Jose, the eerily quiet Mexican man with the new white sneakers on at David’s apartment. Jose lived in Arizona and had connections to a Mexican cartel. David could buy pot from him at $500 a pound and then sell it in Ohio for at least $1,000 a pound, making a 100 percent profit margin. David wanted to move on the opportunity, but the missing piece was transportation. Finding a discreet way to move thousands of pounds of pot across the country is a tall order, even for experienced drug dealers. Lisette was their answer.

  Lisette flew only on private jets; she said she’d never flown on a commercial airline, save for a trip to Cabo with me a few years back. Her showy appearance and entitled demeanor on a private flight were unlikely to raise questions. And “divas” like her were expected to have too much luggage, which would explain the hoard of suitcases.

  For Lisette’s part, she was intrigued by the cloak-and-dagger nature of such an operation. She’d always said that her gangster father ran casinos in Japan, and perhaps getting into business with David seemed like a fitting venture for a “Mafia princess.” I don’t think she ever really considered the potential consequences. She and David agreed to be partners, with Lisette responsible for travel logistics and David responsible for buying and selling the weed. I was the first “staff” member Lisette recruited.

  Part of me was glad that Lisette didn’t talk about the fact that we were smuggling drugs, and that no one did. I didn’t want to hear it. If I didn’t say it out loud and if no one else did, then it didn’t feel entirely real to me. After I heard the conversation between Lisette and Frankie, it became an open secret, the pink elephant in the room. A big, smelly elephant that got stuffed into suitcases before every outbound trip to Ohio.

  Ben still had no idea about the nature of my work for Lisette. I couldn’t tell him. Thankfully, his curiosity took a backseat to studying during his final semester of UCLA. He asked me fewer questions about work when he was busy. Between trips to Columbus, I spent as much time with him as possible.

  More of my friends and family were asking what it was exactly that I did for work. My parents didn’t understand why I couldn’t at least tell them which state I traveled to. “We worry about you,” my mother said. “We just wish we knew where you go. I don’t like all these secrets.” I told them all that it was Lisette’s private business, and I stuck to the story about having signed a confidentiality agreement. I hated lying to everyone, especially my parents, but it was the only way to prevent further questions. It wasn’t just for my own good; it was for the good of the people I cared about. Things had changed, and my secrecy was no longer just out of respect for Lisette’s privacy. My loyalty for her blurred with self-preservation, and I could no longer tell the difference. I had potentially dangerous information now, and if people in my life knew what I was doing, they would almost certainly interfere. I couldn’t be sure of anyone’s safety if that were to happen. I’d gotten myself into this rabbit hole, and I refused to pull anyone else into it with me, no matter how far down I was spiraling.

  LISETTE WASTED NO TIME IN beginning to plan for our next trip. She sent me to the bank with another bushel of cash, and she arranged for our flight through Carol at JetSetter Charter.

  Since I’d first become close with Lisette, she’d had a habit of asking me to answer her cell phone for her when we were together. When it rang, she’d often pass it to me and say something like, “Sweetie, answer this and say, ‘Ms. Lee’s phone, this is Alice.’” She wanted me to pretend to be one of her “many” assistants who were assigned to her through Samsung. I would answer to “see who was calling,” then tell them to wait “one moment please” before I pressed the mute button and passed the phone to Lisette. She especiall
y loved whenever I used a fake British accent to answer. She would egg me on as her phone rang, saying, “Babe, do the accent. Oh, come on, you’re so good at it!” The first couple of times she asked me to answer her phone, I was uneasy because I didn’t want to lie to whoever was on the other end of the line. But after she reminded me that we were just playing a harmless joke on people who were calling her, I decided to play along whenever she handed me her phone as it rang. Lisette always found it amusing, and I liked being able to make her laugh.

  A month or so after she hired me, I was with Lisette when Carol from JetSetter Charter called her. “Answer it and say you’re Stephanie,” she said. “That’s the name of my assistant in New York. Carol knows her. No accent.” With no time to ask for a further explanation, I answered the phone with “Miss Lee’s phone, this is Stephanie.” Carol was very friendly and certainly seemed familiar with Stephanie. She said things like, “What a pleasant surprise! It’s so good to talk with you.” I was instantly uncomfortable and passed the phone off to Lisette after sidestepping the conversation. It had been one thing in the past to pretend to be a made-up assistant during a four-second greeting, but the idea of actively impersonating a real assistant and deceiving someone who knew her was far outside of my comfort zone.

  “Carol will never know,” Lisette said. “She’s never even met Stephanie in person. They just talk on the phone because Stephanie takes care of the details for our flights.” I’d spoken with Carol only one time since, and the conversation was equally brief and uncomfortable on my end.

  Two days before we were scheduled to fly east again, Lisette texted me saying that I needed to come to her condo after sunset. LEAVE YOUR CAR WITH THE VALET, she wrote. YOU’LL RIDE WITH ME.

  Lisette drove us to meet the rest of Team LL at the edge of a park in Beverly Hills. The coast was clear and the neighborhood was dark. Lisette bumped gangster rap as she pulled Diablo to a spot at the curb. We shared a Djarum cigarette while we waited on the sidewalk of the park. She hadn’t told me why we were here, just that we “needed to meet.” I didn’t ask questions as I took drags from the clove cigarette and stared through the darkness looking for headlights.