Green Eyed Monster

by Ashley Antoinette

  I’m going to lose that man if I don’t get my shit together, she thought.

  They drove to the prestigious St. Regis hotel, where they planned to stay temporarily until Indie joined them at the end of the week.

  The flight to Italy was long, but Indie emerged refreshed as soon as the Tuscan sun warmed his skin. His driver wasn’t a minute late, and he entered the black Maybach that Zya had sent for him. He rode in deep contemplation, his head spinning as he planned YaYa’s exit from the game. He had come to the conclusion that she couldn’t handle it. She was genius when it came to mapping out the game plan. She was surprisingly and disturbingly phenomenal at the hustle, but the pressure that it put on her shoulders made her fold. She was on edge, snappy, and extremely paranoid.

  YaYa had been through too much in such a short period of time. He wanted her to have the luxury to just chill. His lady deserved to sit back and enjoy life without worry, financial or otherwise. Her circumstances were always so traumatic, and although she seemed to be resilient because she always just picked up the pieces and kept it moving, YaYa’s demons were ganging up on her.

  Sometimes he couldn’t even imagine the horrible memories that played inside of her head. She needed a break, and it was his job as her man to give her one. He had every intention of making her his wife, but he wanted a woman who was able to be just that—his woman, nothing more, nothing less.

  Most men would be intimidated by a woman like YaYa. The fact that his connect had chosen to replace him with his woman would have sent most men into a bout of insecurity, but Indie felt nothing of the sort. He was proud of her. At times he felt the pedestal he placed her on was unfair because he saw so much perfection in her that her imperfections caused him disappointment at times. She was exquisite in every aspect, and her wit kept him on his toes, but the light inside of YaYa was fading. He rarely saw her smile. Indie couldn’t even remember what the melody of her laugh sounded like. He would do all that he could to spark the flame of life inside of her again.

  The car pulled up to Zya’s villa and Indie exited. He was greeted by the butler before he even had a chance to ring the doorbell.

  “Ms. Miller is expecting you, Mr. Perkins. This way,” the man said.

  Indie followed him through the opulent estate and out to the back, where Zya indulged in the cool waters of her Olympic-sized pool. Indie walked along the edge as he watched her move gracefully through the water. She was like a fish as her brown skin glistened and her arms and legs worked powerfully. Zya came up at the end of her lap and wiped her wet hair off of her face, sweeping it to the back as she came up for air, gulping it in.

  “You’re good in the water,” Indie said as he bent down and extended his hand.

  She looked up at him and smiled, then took his hand. He used his strength to pull her out of the water.

  “Yeah, well, I’m used to being wet,” she replied with a smirk. Indie blushed slightly at Zya’s flirtation, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He reached past her and bent down to pick up the towel that sat on the chair. He held it open for her.

  “You’re a true gentleman, Indie. YaYa’s a lucky girl,” she said as she stepped into the towel and took it from his hands as she secured it underneath her armpits.

  “No, I think I’m the lucky one, but so is Snow,” Indie said, referring to Zya’s husband.

  “Indeed he is,” she replied.

  “So why are you here? Something wrong with my coke?” Zya asked. “The first pickup went smoothly. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you or YaYa until she moved the work. I know it’s not gone already. She’s good, but she’s not that good.”

  “No, everything is good on our end. Product isn’t gone, but it’s moving. We’ll have that off in no time. A few weeks at most. I’m here about something else, but before I speak on it, I need your discretion,” Indie said.

  “You’ve always had that. What’s on your mind?” Zya asked as she led him to the patio table. She motioned for him to have a seat.

  “I want YaYa out of the game. She’s not built for it,” Indie said. “I need you to stop doing business with her.”

  “Why would I do that?” Zya asked seriously. “She’s the sharpest person I’ve ever come across in this business. YaYa can move a hundred kilos through international airports without blinking. Do you know the potential she has? What her hustle is worth?”

  “It’s not worth her life,” Indie replied sincerely, causing Zya to look up at him in concern. “She can’t handle it. She’s good at it, but it’s changing her. She’s been through too much to take on something like this. All it takes is one little fuck up, one little slip for everything to go bad. She’s snappy lately, distant. It’s like she withdraws inside of herself. Sometimes the look in her eyes makes me fear her thoughts. It’s like she’s obsessed with something so sinful that she can’t share it with anybody,” Indie said.

  “Wow,” Zya said sincerely. She was impressed with the way that Indie was so in tune with his lady. She could tell that he loved her dearly and missed the innocent chick she used to be before Leah tore her down and Zya bossed her back up. “You know your woman well.”

  “I know her well enough to be able to see that if she stays in this game too long she’ll get lost in it. After what she’s been through she needs to heal, and I’m not talking about the burns. She’s emotionally vacant, damaged. The only thing she speaks about with passion in her voice is killing the bitch Leah. That’s the only thing she’s living for, ma. Revenge. Our daughter isn’t even her focus anymore. She moves weight effortlessly, but it’s time consuming, it’s dangerous, and I don’t want that on her shoulders . . . the pressure.”

  “Makes diamonds,” Zya said.

  “Or bursts pipes,” Indie countered.

  “I am sympathetic for you, Indie. I really am. I admire you as a man and I respect you as a friend, but during the time that YaYa was here in Italy, I also developed a friendship and respect for her. Even if you take the friendship part out of it, how could I possibly cut her out, Indie? The revenue that I stand to make with her is irreplaceable. It doesn’t make good business sense for me to cut ties with her. Even you can’t bring me as much money as she will. You’re good at what you do, Indie, but YaYa is a different breed. She’s me all over again,” Zya said with a chuckle.

  “You see where I am. Living here in complete luxury. The life that I’ve built for myself, for my family, is so grand, Indie. We vacation on yachts in the south of France, we eat from the spoons of the finest chefs, we want for absolutely nothing. My kids and their kids will want for nothing. She can make it this far if you don’t get in her way. Face it, Indie. She’s a queen pin in the making.”

  “I don’t want this for her,” Indie said. “You’re beautiful, Zya. You’re rich, you’re powerful. You’ve got it all. You live in the hills of the most beautiful country in the world, but to me this isn’t an option for you. It’s the only option. It’s a prison. This is nothing but a rich man’s prison. You’re wanted back home. You can’t walk down the streets of Harlem no more, ma. You can’t visit family, friends . . . to them you’re just a memory. You can’t feel the love of your legend because you’re too far away from it. Niggas in Harlem talk about you in rap songs, Zya. Everybody remember how you was selling ounces out of that Italian joint, whipping all the foreign shit through the hood. They worship you in New York, ma, but you can’t feel it. You’re disconnected from it because you can’t ever step foot back in the streets of New York. Feds want you too bad, and even if you do sneak in and out, you can’t ever stay. You can have all the power in the world, but you can’t tell me you’re not lonely . . . that you and Snow don’t miss home.”

  Zya’s eyes turned sad, and her silence was admission enough that he was right. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “What do you want from me, Indie? This seems like it’s a conversation that you should be having with YaYa. I’m her partner. I do good business with her. You know how the game goes. Once you’re in, you’re in. We
’re just as addicted to the flip as the addicts are to the product.”

  “I’ve got something big working, something legitimate. Something that makes the drug game look like it is for little niggas. I’m trying to step into the pharmaceutical business,” Indie said.

  “You’re talking pills?” Zya asked curiously as she sat up in her chair, intrigued.

  “I’m talking stocks and bonds, ownership of the drug companies,” Indie said.

  Zya raised an eyebrow as she intertwined her fingers and placed her chin on top of them. Now Indie was speaking her language. She had tried to tap into the corporate drug market numerous times before, but she always hit a glass ceiling. If Indie had a way in, she was definitely taking it.

  “They won’t let you in. That’s a white man’s game,” Zya said.

  “I know someone. A friend of mine just happens to be a minority share owner in Vartex,” he said.

  “That’s one of the biggest drug companies in the world,” Zya replied in disbelief. “I’ve been reading up on the new drug that they have. The one that they claim can reverse Alzheimer’s if taken in its early stages. They stand to make billions.” Zya’s mind was turning, and she had money schemes on the brain. “If you can get me at least ten percent of the share, I’ll cut YaYa loose. You will have my word that I won’t do business with her,” Zya assured. “If you can get us through the door, I can get us leverage. Their FDA approval will depend on them letting you buy in. You’re not the only one with valuable friends. I have a friend at the FDA that can pull the plug on Vartex’s entire little project if they refuse you,” Zya said.

  Zya couldn’t legally hold stock because she couldn’t take the risk of tipping her hand to the DEA. If her name came up as a shareholder in Vartex, it would give the feds clues in finding her whereabouts. Indie however hadn’t been convicted of anything. Although the feds wanted him badly, they hadn’t been able to make anything stick, so there was less risk for him. As long as he stayed true to his agreement with Zya and kept his word, they could split the profits.

  “I’ll make the call immediately,” she said.

  “And I have your word that you’ll cut YaYa off?” Indie asked.

  “As soon as the deal is done, I will discontinue all business with her. I’ll only deal through you,” Zya said as she stood to her feet. “But let me ask you something, Indie. Are you sure you want to do this behind her back? You’re cutting her off. You’re taking her power away. That girl Leah from the fire made YaYa feel helpless, defenseless, like she was backed into a corner. Are you sure you want to do the same thing? She’s a big girl. You should give her a choice instead of making it for her. You’re trying to save her, but after this you just might push her away.”

  Chapter 18

  Sleepless nights turned into restless days as YaYa waited impatiently for Indie to arrive in New York. She hadn’t heard from him. It had been four days and she was beginning to fear the worst. She stayed high off pills just to distract herself from his absence, but lately she had to take more and more of them just to get a decent high. Her system was getting used to the drugs, and instead of making her float, they only irritated her because she couldn’t reach the level of unawareness that she sought. YaYa was running through prescriptions so frequently that she had to switch pharmacies often just to avoid arousing suspicion. Zya’s doctors were being paid too well to concern themselves with her growing addiction, so they just kept writing more prescriptions for her.

  Her red eyes were puffy from crying, and despite the fact that she had every reason to celebrate, she felt numb. She wanted to see Skylar, to go and get her daughter from Indie’s parents, but she couldn’t pull herself together long enough to even pretend that she was okay. She couldn’t stop taking the pills until Indie was back by her side, and she knew that Elaine would be able to tell that something was awry.

  YaYa looked like shit. She was tired, her body begging for a break as heavy bags decorated her eyes. She was restless because she wasn’t sure if Indie would ever return.

  I need you. Where are you? YaYa thought.

  A knock at the door caused her to jump out of bed.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “It’s me, YaYa. It’s Indie. Open up.”

  His voice calmed her soul, and she quickly opened the door. Her disheveled appearance alarmed him.

  “Where were you? I called you a thousand times,” she whispered.

  Indie held her, concerned. He had never known YaYa to be so clingy. Her sloppy clothes, messy hair, and bloodshot eyes caused him to frown. It was uncharacteristic of her to be anything but flawless, so seeing her in such a state of disarray immediately let him know that something was wrong. He knew her too well not to see that she was unraveling more and more, day by day.

  At first he had felt guilty about going to Zya behind YaYa’s back. He didn’t want her to think that he was jealous of her come-up or that he wanted sole control over their budding empire. Indie was all man. He wasn’t threatened by YaYa’s new status in the game. He hoped that she could see that it had nothing to do with that. Despite the purest of intentions, his conscience had eaten at him during his travels, but as he stared into her eyes, he realized that he had made the right decision. He had her best interests at heart.

  “I’m right here. I had to handle something very important, but I’m here now,” he said while gripping her shoulders and staring her in the eyes curiously. His gut told him that YaYa was high, but he didn’t want to admit it. He attributed her strange behavior and sullen mood to stress, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

  “Everything is okay, ma. I’ma always take care of you,” he said. He kissed her forehead and nodded toward the bathroom. “Now, go get gorgeous. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  YaYa smiled, and Indie watched her disappear from sight. As soon as he heard the water begin to run, he went across the room and opened her handbag. He pulled the prescription bottle out and noticed that it was almost empty.

  YaYa’s not a pill head. I know her. She’s just going through a hard time, he thought, obviously in denial. Everything in him wanted to confiscate the rest of the medicine, but he wasn’t ready for the argument that would surely come with it. To accuse her of something that heavy would cause her to feel resentment toward him if he was wrong. It appeared as though her physical ailments had healed, but he didn’t walk in her shoes. He had no idea how it felt to be disintegrated in a fire and then put back together again. Who was he to measure her pain?

  “Where are we going? I thought you said we were going to get Sky,” YaYa said as she noticed that Indie was driving in the wrong direction. She was so anxious to see her daughter that it felt like a wall of tension had built up inside of her chest. It had been way too long, and she couldn’t wait to set her sights on her beautiful child.

  “Just ride and relax,” he said as he reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  As they exited the chaos of the city, the highway gave way to suburban living and entered the affluent neighborhood of New Rochelle. Posh and well established, the homes were built with old money. It was the neighborhood of families who had been rich for generations. Indie pulled into the driveway of a two-story 6,000-square foot home and YaYa frowned.

  “What are we doing here?” she questioned as she lowered her neck to peer out of the front window at the beautiful Victorian home. “My mother used to drive me through this neighborhood all the time and admire this exact same house,” she said, unable to take her eyes off of the exquisite piece of architecture.

  “I know,” he replied.

  YaYa frowned. “What do you mean you know? How could you possibly? Who lives here?”

  “You do,” he answered. “We do.”

  She glanced at him in shock. “What?”

  “This is our new home, YaYa. Welcome home, baby girl,” he said.

  She laughed in disbelief. Indie hadn’t just purchased any old house. He could have built her a mansion anywhere or bought he
r the entire top floor of a Manhattan sky rise, but instead he touched the core of her, purchasing a modest yet expensive piece of property that meant more to her than he could ever understand. This was the home that she and her mother had fantasized about living in when she was just a little girl. She had dreamed of her mother baking cakes while wearing flower aprons in the kitchen. In her mind she had planted a garden in the backyard. This home had been what she thought of on nights when she had lived through unspeakable pains. Through rape, through abandonment, through loneliness . . . YaYa had let her mind wander back to this very brick structure. Her imagination had kept her sane, and now Indie was presenting it to her as a gift. The emotional value that this house held for her was priceless. It was more than enough to buy her love forever.

  Her mouth fell open, but no words came out as her eyes flooded. She was speechless. She could not even attempt to put her emotions into words. There wasn’t a phrase created yet to show how appreciative she was. So instead she reached over and kissed his lips. She kissed him fully, intensely, submitting herself to him as he stroked her wet cheek with his thumb. He was such a beautiful man, inside and out. YaYa felt so lucky to have him in her life, when she herself was so flawed. His selfless love for her was so great that it filled her heart with joy.

  At times she felt guilty because she knew that she was too selfish to ever love him so purely. If she loved with the same devotion that he did, she would never have allowed herself to succumb to the temptation of drugs. She would have stayed too high off of Indie to ever chase the sweet satisfaction of the sinful bliss.