A LaLa Land Addiction

by Ashley Antoinette

  She looked at Cinco and sniffed as she wiped the tear away. “After I get the money from this safe I’m done. We’re done with this,” she said, pointing between them. “I’ll buy my shit like everybody else.” She stormed out of the living room, letting him know that the night was over. “And leave a couple bags on the countertop before you leave!”

  13

  Bleu stood staring at herself in the mirror. Black gloves, black mask. She hardly recognized herself.

  “What are you doing?” she said aloud, hoping that the good angel sitting on her right shoulder could outweigh the devil sitting on her left. The only thing that could be seen was her eyes and even she didn’t recognize the look of desperation reflecting back.

  She pulled the ski mask off her face and stuffed it into the front of her black hoodie and she hurriedly walked outside. Cinco waited curbside for her. She paused when she saw him, even turned to go back inside, but he flashed his headlights directly on her, halting her midstep.

  Bleu sighed and joined him in the car, knowing that he could make life hell for her if she did anything other than cooperate.

  “Get your mind right,” Cinco said as he passed her a crack-laced blunt. It wasn’t her preference, but she didn’t turn it down. She hadn’t smoked all day. Bleu had been trying to clear her mind long enough to talk herself out of this insane dilemma. She knew her involvement was wrong, but the thought of Cinco telling Iman who she really was made her feel as if she didn’t have a choice.

  “Whose car is this?” Bleu asked.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s stolen,” Cinco said.

  The long ride from L.A. to Calabasas was silent. Bleu was lost in thought. Her gut instinct told her to turn around, but she was in it now, she had agreed, and Cinco was taking her whether she wanted to go or not.

  When they pulled up to Iman’s mansion Bleu felt sick. Iman had welcomed her here, and now she had come to bring terror into his home.

  “I can’t do this. You can tell Iman whatever you want. I’m not going in there,” Bleu whispered as she grappled with the notion of her betrayal.

  Cinco was on her before she could even reach for the door handle. He smashed her head against the window.

  “Agh!” she screamed. She saw stars as she tried to fight Cinco off.

  “Calm your ass down!” Cinco growled as he forced her head down between her legs. She clawed at his hands, trying to loosen his grip on her, but the car was too small for her to put up much of a fight.

  Cinco pulled his pistol and placed it point-blank against her head. “Get out of the car. Let’s handle this business. You do what we discussed or I’ll leave you leaking out this, bitch,” Cinco threatened. “Now put on your mask.”

  They climbed out of the car and Cinco pushed her forward, keeping the gun on her back so that she couldn’t turn back.

  He walked her up to the door. “We’ll use the extra key that’s hidden in the flower bed to get in. You know the security code. As soon as we step inside, turn the system off,” Cinco instructed. “We’ll put the key back and make it look like a break-in on the way out.”

  Bleu nodded and fought the urge to cry as she retrieved the key. Ain’t no point in crying now. I did this to myself, she thought, ashamed. Not even the effects of the laced blunt made this easier. She wished she could turn back the hands of time. She would have rather not ever met Iman than cross him in this way.

  Bleu used the key and then slid into the home. To both of their surprise, the alarm hadn’t been set. Bleu heard the sound of music coming from the second floor and Cinco pushed her forward in that direction.

  She paused when she came to the master bedroom door. She opened the door. The sound of the shower running could be heard as they crept inside.

  Cinco walked into the bathroom calmly, barely making any noise. Bleu couldn’t see this part. She couldn’t make her feet move to join Cinco, so instead she sat on the edge of the bed and covered her ears. She squeezed her eyes closed. She couldn’t bear witness to Tan’s murder. It was cruel. Bleu felt like she would be sick.

  Cinco stood watching Tan as she hummed a melody while holding her head under the stream of water. Her eyes were closed and Cinco was glad that she didn’t see it coming. He lifted his arm and didn’t hesitate.

  Psst!

  He sent an almost silent bullet crashing through Tan’s forehead before she ever had a chance to react. Her body crashed through the glass shower and Bleu rushed into the bathroom. Bleu’s hands flew to her mouth as she saw Tan’s body hanging halfway out of the basin of the tub. Blood and water spilled everywhere and the steam from the shower seemed to suffocate Bleu. She couldn’t breathe. It felt like there was a ball in her throat, stopping air from getting in. Bleu couldn’t stop the bile from rising from the back of her throat. She rushed to the sink, pulling off her mask before she vomited on herself. “This isn’t going to work. We aren’t going to get away with this!” Bleu cried as she paced back and forth in a worried frenzy as she watched Cinco bend over Tan’s body to make sure she was dead. “Why did I do this? What the hell was I thinking?” She gripped the sides of the sink as she shook her head in disgrace. This was the single most terrifying moment of her life. She had wanted Tan out of the way, but to contribute to her murder? Bleu couldn’t believe this had ever sounded sane to her. The mixture of jealousy and the drugs had clouded her judgment. She wanted Tan’s life and now she had done the unthinkable to get it.

  “What about your father? He’s going to find us and kill us.” Bleu was hyperventilating as thoughts of the repercussions flooded her. Everything done in the dark eventually came to light. This sin would not be a secret for long. Tan was too connected, too important, for her death to be swept under the rug.

  Cinco pulled Bleu by the hair. He was regretless as he forced Bleu to gather herself. “Get your ass up! Put your ski mask back on and get your shit together. Where’s the safe?” Cinco asked urgently. Aggression fueled him. Hatred. Jealousy. Those were his motives, but pure fear was the only thing that made Bleu move her feet toward Iman’s study. She just wanted to get out of there. One foot in front of the other, she rushed in a daze. It was like she was running through a matrix. She was high and afraid and anxious all at the same time. It was a Molotov cocktail of emotions. Please just let this be a bad dream. This isn’t real. Please don’t let this be real. How could I be a part of this? she thought. Now none of the reasons she had come up with before seemed to make sense. How had she ever convinced herself that she should do this?

  “Where’s the fucking safe?” Cinco barked. He pointed the gun at her. “I’m not playing with your ass. This shit has to look legit. Snap out of it.”

  “It’s under the f-f-f-loor,” she stammered. Bleu bent over and pulled up four wooden boards from the floor to reveal a large steel fireproof safe.

  “Hurry up and open it,” Cinco said. He walked over to Iman’s desk and turned on the computer as Bleu punched in the numbers to the safe. She had only seen Iman open it one time, but that was all it took for her to commit the numbers to memory. She had never imagined that she would come back to rob it later. Her hands shook as she pressed each button. There was no undoing this. She had crossed the ultimate line.

  “What are you doing? Come help me!” she shouted.

  “I’m erasing the security footage from tonight and shutting down the cameras. It’ll be like we were never even here,” Cinco said.

  She opened the safe and discovered bills in different denominations all banded neatly. It was more money than she had ever seen, even during her hustling days, and still she didn’t even want it. It was dirty money. This entire setup was wrong. No amount of money could buy her a new soul.

  I’ve taken this too far, she thought.

  “Fuck is you doing? Where is your head, shorty? Stuff the fucking bag and let’s get out of here,” Cinco snapped.

  Bleu began stuffing money into a black duffel bag.

  The sound of a car door slamming caused Bleu to freeze
in terror. “Who is that?” Bleu whispered in panic as she rushed to the window. As soon as she saw Iman getting out of the car tears filled her eyes. “It’s Iman!”

  Cinco rushed to the window. “Fuck!” he exclaimed.

  “I thought you said he would be in Mexico?” Bleu said.

  “He was supposed to be,” Cinco said. “I’ll pop that nigga too. Fuck it.”

  “No!” Bleu said as she lunged at Cinco. His gun flew across the room as he stumbled into Iman’s desk. Bleu scrambled to pick it up and Cinco froze.

  “Tan! I’m home!” Iman’s voice carried throughout the entire home as Bleu stood there, shaking, aiming the gun at Cinco.

  Cinco gritted his teeth as he climbed out of the second-story window, leaving Bleu to face the music alone. She ran over to the window and looked down to find Cinco half-running, half-limping away from the crime scene. There was no way she was going out the window. She turned around and headed toward the door only to be halted when Iman stepped into the doorframe.

  Shock revealed itself in his eyes as he looked at Bleu, then at his open safe on the floor. She was so grateful for the mask in that moment, but the way he stared at her, almost heartbroken, it was like he knew exactly who she was just by looking in her eyes. Bleu was frozen in fear as she waited for his reaction. She could barely breathe, her chest was so heavy. Her entire body was tense as she stared at him desperately. His eyes lowered to the gun in her hand. She aimed it at him. She wouldn’t pull the trigger, but she needed him to think she would.

  “Shoot your shot,” Iman said.

  Bleu wanted to tell him to move, but she couldn’t speak. He would recognize her voice. Instead she nodded her head, motioning for him to walk down the hall. He did, and she pressed her gun point-blank to the back of his head.

  “You might as well kill me, because if you let me live I’m going to murder you,” Iman stated.

  She pushed him forward up the stairs and into the master bedroom. As soon as he saw Tan, he raced over to her body.

  “Tan!” he shouted. “Tan, baby, wake up!” He picked her up in his arms as he cried over her.

  He was distraught, like a man should be after finding his wife murdered in cold blood, but the hurt in his voice made Bleu weak in the knees. He loves her, Bleu thought. She didn’t know why she was surprised. Tan was his wife. Tears soaked the ski mask Bleu wore.

  I can’t watch this, she thought. She ran full speed out of the house and didn’t stop running until she felt like she would collapse. She keeled over, gripping her knees as she sucked in air. Vomit spewed everywhere and Bleu pulled off the mask as she sobbed. The things she had seen tonight were too much. The things she had done tonight were the devil’s work. She had completely lost herself in this world and she wanted nothing more than to just pack it up and go home.

  Bleu started the long walk home as sirens filled the air. She knew where they were headed and she put pep in her step, finding the wind to run again until she found a convenience store where she could clean herself up.

  The clerk looked at her skeptically as she walked in, sweating. “You’ve got to buy something,” he said.

  “Is there a bathroom I can use?” she asked, fidgeting and antsy. She was paranoid and terrified. She needed a moment to gather herself.

  “It’s for customers only,” the clerk mouthed off.

  Bleu ignored him as she went to the back of the store and locked herself inside the dirty closet-sized bathroom. She completely broke down. She covered her mouth, stifling her cries as she tore up the bathroom. She beat her hands against the wall, kicking herself with regret. She tore off the black hoodie and dumped it in the garbage, along with the ski mask.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “Lady! I said the bathroom is for customers only! Buy something or get out!”

  Bleu rolled her eyes as she screamed back, “Just give me a minute! Damn!”

  She looked in the mirror and for the first time she noticed how bad she looked. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were red and dilated, and she was soaking wet with sweat. She was doing bad. She had thought she was managing herself, smoking dope low-key, and that no one would notice. She was wrong. She was down bad, and just because she was living off of Iman’s dime and hidden away in his expensive condo didn’t mean that she was better off. Without him she would be on the streets, because she was strung out on crack cocaine and tonight proved just how far gone she was.

  Bang! Bang!

  “I said give me a fucking minute!” she shouted as she snatched open the door.

  She toned down instantly when she saw the uniformed police officer looming over her.

  “Ma’am, is everything okay in there?” he asked. He frowned skeptically as he took in her appearance. “Can you step out of the restroom, ma’am?”

  Bleu tried to squeeze by him. “I was just leaving.”

  The officer grabbed her wrist and turned her around until he had her in the assumed position. “Do you have any weapons on you? Any drugs in your pockets?” the officer asked.

  “No!” Bleu exclaimed as she felt him handcuff her. He clenched them a little too tightly, pinching her skin as she grimaced. “Ow!”

  “What did you smoke tonight?” the officer asked. “What are you high on? Coke? PCP? Heroin?”

  Bleu lowered her head in shame as she was walked out of the store. He put her in the back of his squad car and she rested her head against the glass. She had no idea what would happen to her next. Her life had taken one too many turns for the worst and she wasn’t sure if she would ever get back on track. She had come to L.A. with dreams of conquering the world, but it had conquered her. Now nothing seemed more comforting than going back to her tiny town.

  14

  Iman stood stoically, brooding silently as he watched the coroner roll his Tan’s body out of his home. The white sheet that covered her hid the gruesome sight, but it was an image that he would never get out of his mind. A numbness took over him. He had grown up with Tan. She had watched him grow from a boy to a man. Divorcing her had been one thing, but having someone snatch her out of his life infuriated him. She was his wife. He didn’t know if her murder was directly connected to him or if it was repercussions from a beef that Sandoza had acquired, but either way, somebody owed Iman a debt. It was one that had to be paid in blood. He had moved in and out of the game for years without drawing attention to himself. Now within the blink of an eye there were cops crawling all over every inch of his home. He had already covered up his floor safe, but just the fact that he was young and black and now a murder had been committed in the posh, upscale neighborhood put the police on high alert.

  As he watched the police move in and out of his house the image of the intruder haunted him. It had been a woman and her eyes had been so familiar. She reminded me of Bleu—

  “I’m tripping,” he said as he shook his head and headed to his car. There was no way he would ever feel right sleeping in the house again. Someone had violated him and until he figured out who he would have to adjust how he moved. What if it was Bleu? he thought. He shook the thought from his head almost as quickly as it had formed. It had been a long night and his mind was playing tricks on him. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Bleu in weeks, so he was manufacturing her wherever he went. She had been constantly on his mind. Depriving himself of her had proved challenging. Even now at the most inappropriate time he thought of her. He wanted to go to her because he knew he would find comfort in her arms. She was the one person he could show his vulnerability to, but it would be cruel to mourn over one woman on the bosom of another.

  As he pulled away from his home he picked up his phone. He had to deliver the news to Sandoza. He knew it wouldn’t be received well.

  * * *

  “What’s going to happen to me? I’ve been in here for three days,” Bleu said. The waiting had been torture.

  “There is a warrant out for your arrest in Flint, Michigan. The LAPD called it in and Flint P.D. wants you. They are sending someone all t
he way here to escort you back to Michigan. You will be turned over to them first thing in the morning,” the court-appointed lawyer said.

  “Warrant?” Bleu asked. “Warrant for what?” Bleu was terrified. She kept waiting for the officers to come in and tell her they knew she had been at Iman’s house that night. She bit her nails, a nervous habit that she did when she was coming down from a good high.

  “Felonious assault,” the lawyer said. “Once the chain of custody is transferred back to Michigan, I will have the charges here dropped against you. Good luck, Ms. Montclair.”

  An officer came and handcuffed her as they escorted her back to a holding cell. As she sat trapped behind the metal bars of the county jail she felt disgraced. Felonious assault? She had no idea what she was wanted for, but she would rather be back in Michigan than out here waiting for the police to catch wind of her involvement in Tan’s murder.

  Morning came so slowly and she was tortured by the overwhelming urge to get high. She was irritable, her stomach was upset, and she had sunk into a deep depression as her body begged for more. She hadn’t realized that she had been using so much that even a day without it was driving her insane.