by Mia Flores
Peter was so into horses that he built ten stables and filled them up. He bought a new horse every week, these gorgeous Thoroughbreds. On the weekends, we’d travel to different ranches to pick them out. A trainer exercised them every day and made their food from scratch. He’d dice up carrots perfectly and blend them with oats and vitamins to get them ready for the races.
When the horses weren’t competing, we’d ride them into the mountains. One night, Peter and I sat in front of the stables to watch them sleep. We grabbed a blanket and a bottle of tequila, sat under the stars, and stared at them for hours.
Olivia
The property was so big we had actual trails all over it, so when the horses weren’t on them, we’d hop on our four wheelers.
People used to call us the Power Rangers because when we rode around, we all wore big helmets, with dark shades covering our eyes, and each person wearing a different colored suit. Just like the Power Rangers! Junior wore black, Mia wore pink, Peter wore green, I wore red, Daniela wore blue, and Adrian wore gold, of course. We’d suit up, drive down the mountain, miles and miles away into random towns nearby, and when we’d grab lunch people would look at us like we were from another planet.
Mia
There were so few times we weren’t all together—Peter’s parents, Olivia and Junior, Adrian and Daniela, me and Peter. We were one big, happy family. There was so little to do in that town, so some nights we’d just sit with my in-laws in the plaza and talk to everyone. People were always drawn into long discussions with Peter. He’d sit for hours in the plaza and let the old men in town tell him stories. He sure loved it.
Family was always visiting, too. Their sisters would come down and stay all summer, and Xavier, Samantha, and Sasha were down every single school break, including all summer.
About a month after I got to San Juan, a relative brought down Peter’s daughter, Sophia, for a visit. She was about to turn one, and Peter had asked me to help surprise her with a big birthday party. I’d never met her before, and I was actually kind of terrified, even though I was great with kids. Being a nurturer and taking care of children had become second nature to me. Still, I remember thinking, I’ve really got to prove myself here. This little girl may be my stepdaughter someday.
I wanted everything to be perfect, so I got her dress custom made and mapped out every little detail weeks in advance. I might as well have been planning a wedding for all the stress I felt. When we picked her up, I thought she was just a perfect little girl. I smiled at her, hugged her, and said, “It’s nice to meet you!” She just stared at me and then snuggled into her papa’s arms. She came down every few months after that, and I’d drop everything for her. We’d do finger paints while Peter worked, or I’d let her toddle out to see the horses. I was always looking for her acceptance, and she became my number one priority when she was with us.
Olivia
Outside our four walls, it was a different world. San Juan wasn’t exactly the most prosperous place I’d ever been. Most people in Junior’s dad’s generation had helped their parents farm sugar cane and guayaba, but a water table shortage in the 80s and 90s caused farmers to replace these crops with agave, which brought in less money.
In Mexico, there was no middle class. That meant there was us, the rich drug lords on the mountain, and them, the poor people in town.
That didn’t cause jealousy. If anything, Peter and Junior were like royalty because they kept that town running. They had people walking their horses, cooking, cleaning, tending the grounds, waxing their cars, cleaning their pool, even taking care of the monkeys and the baby tiger. These people needed those jobs, and they were making good money. Everywhere else in Mexico you’d get paid maybe $120 a week. Junior and Peter were giving them four times that.
They had an open tab at the pharmacy for people who couldn’t afford their medications. They kept a line of credit at the local furniture store, too, in case people needed a new bed or a crib for their new baby. They gave gifts to the poor kids on Christmas, and food to the elderly. There was this beautiful little girl in town who needed surgery. They paid for her operation in the United States, as well as her family’s plane fare and hotel bills while she was in the hospital.
That generosity didn’t go unnoticed, and sometimes it was taken all the wrong way. There aren’t any factories in San Juan, so manufacturing jobs are nonexistent. Most men leave for America, looking for work, so the town is 60 percent female. Sometimes mothers and fathers would hike up to the ranch, knock on our door, and say, “Please marry my daughter.” Then they’d present their daughter to Junior and Peter, right there on our doorstep. These girls were only teenagers, all of fifteen or sixteen.
Mia
The differences were even more stark when their wholesalers and couriers would come into town.
Peter and Junior had set up their Mexico-based operations after Peter crossed the border. In San Juan, they were closer to the source of the drugs they’d been trafficking, and because of that, they were growing. But since they couldn’t be on the ground in the United States, they used Google Earth to help pick out new locations for warehouses and stash houses, then enlisted their legion of men and women on the ground in Chicago and throughout the Midwest to be their eyes and ears. They needed to see them frequently, so they’d fly them down to Mexico.
A lot of their wholesalers were black, and they’d travel down with their girlfriends. The townspeople would just stare at them, their mouths open and their eyes following them as they drove through town. Most of them had never seen a black person in their life.
I just took it all in and never asked any questions. I didn’t think it was my business, and frankly, I didn’t care. All I knew was I was becoming a different person in San Juan. I was seeing a world I’d never known. I loved going to the food stands in town and ordering things I’d never heard of, I couldn’t wait to visit a new horse ranch on the weekend, and most of all I was totally infatuated with Peter, and he felt the same about me. I forgot about everyone and everything back home. No one can touch us here in Mexico! I thought. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
CHAPTER 7
Guadalajara
Olivia
There wasn’t a year that went by that Peter and Junior didn’t do it big for their birthday. For their twenty-third on June 12, 2004, they rented out a hundred rooms in Puerto Vallarta for a few days, and their wholesalers, couriers, workers, friends, and family from Chicago, Atlanta, LA, and New York all came in. Some brought their wives or girlfriends, and others brought their side chicks.
During the day we took over the hotel’s pool and had one big pool party, and at night we rented out Mikado, which was the Benihana of Vallarta. The actual party on the day of was at Nikki Beach Club, right on the water, and it was an all-white private event. Everyone was dressed in white linen, completely iced out. It was beautifully decorated with white roses and white candles, white flowers draped over the cabanas, and bottles of Cristal on every table. The ambiance was breathtaking. There were almost two hundred people there, and even the famous mariachi singer Alejandro Fernández was hanging out at the beach.
We were having the time of our lives, dancing and drinking, without a care in the world. It felt like we never left Chicago, yet we didn’t have to worry about the feds snapping pictures. That was the luxury of living in Mexico; you could enjoy things and blend right in. I was sprawled out in our private cabana sipping some Cristal, just taking it all in, when I heard Junior’s voice over the speaker.
“Excuse me, excuse me.” Junior was holding the mic with a big smile on his face. He loved making people feel welcome and always wanted to share his happiness with everyone. “Thank you for coming down and celebrating with me and Peter. It’s so nice to see all of you. Now if I can take a moment, I’d like to ask my beautiful girlfriend to come up with me.”
Now, I never mind having the spotlight on me, but something was different here. The DJ we’d flown in from New York had turned
the music down when Junior got up, but he suddenly cut it off entirely. I was left sitting there in my tight white dress, holding a glass of Cristal, with every single eye on me. I put my drink down and walked up on stage, not even realizing what was happening.
Junior paused. “Olivia, you’re the love of my life. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He got down on one knee, but I was still clueless, just standing there, in total shock. “Will you marry me?”
“Oh my God.” He pulled out this massive rock. It was probably ten karats, absolutely heart-stopping.
“Olivia? Baby? Is that a yes?”
Obviously, this wasn’t my first proposal, so I should have been used to this, but I wasn’t. Standing up on that stage, it was like the world had come to a screeching halt right when the DJ stopped spinning. I felt like I’d been put on a pedestal, like I was the most special woman on Earth.
“Yes! Yes!” I started crying, happy tears, as I jumped up and hugged and kissed Junior. Everyone started clapping as he squeezed me right back. I realized, I’m not dreaming. I’m finally going to have my happily ever after.
After everyone went home and things settled down, I started to think about the actual wedding. I decided that because this wasn’t my first trip down the aisle, I was going to stay engaged for at least a year to make sure we were ready. This was Junior’s first marriage, and I wanted to make sure it was what he really wanted, too. Plus, I knew Junior needed time to change his life, and we also had to figure out where we wanted to live. San Juan was nice, but we needed to be around people other than Junior’s family and find a place where we could build a future for our family.
We started looking for houses in Guadalajara pretty much immediately.
We’d been spending a lot time in Guadalajara. With over 4 million people, it’s Mexico’s second largest city, with six universities, a huge art scene, and a white-collar industrial center with companies like IBM, Intel, and GE. The culture felt European, not Latin American, and it was basically everything San Juan wasn’t. I was in awe of its architecture and beauty. It was so developed and clean, I felt like we were back in the States. You would have never known that it wasn’t all wholesome. But in the late 1970s, traffickers from Sinaloa had been pushed out by the military and decided to relocate there. They formed the Guadalajara Cartel, which was crushed in 1985. But given Guadalajara’s location—close to drug routes and Pacific ports—a lot of drug lords stayed. They regrouped, joined or formed new cartels, and flourished. Today, Guadalajara is the money laundering capital of Mexico.
Now that we were flying under the radar, we wouldn’t stick out like sore thumbs; in fact, our neighbors consisted of doctors, lawyers, and drug lords, all living side by side. In Guadalajara, a lot of people in the drug trade went to college in the States, so they’re educated, proper. They look like they just stepped out of Barneys, dressed in Armani and Gucci. It wasn’t like Chicago, where you could spot a drug dealer a mile away because of his blinding gold chains and spinning rims.
“Pick out any house you want,” Junior said, and I went to town. We decided on a nice part of town called Zapopan, and we found a house that was absolutely stunning. It had a cobblestone driveway, so even though we were in Mexico, when you drove up to the property you felt like you were in Miami. The door was freakin’ enormous, but I didn’t pay it any mind because I couldn’t keep my eyes off the staircase. It was massive, like Gone with the Wind style, but modern. The master bathroom looked like the spa where Junior and I would go on the weekend, and I remember thinking, I’ll never have to pay for a spa day again. I couldn’t find a single detail I wanted to change besides adding color to the walls, but I still had somebody drive furniture, pillows, and sheets over the border from Restoration Hardware and Neiman Marcus because I wanted to make it feel like we were still in Chicago.
Junior and I had sex in every single room in that house, multiple times a day. I didn’t care if we spent every second alone. He was all that I needed.
Junior and Peter’s good fortune must have rubbed off on me, too, because my producing career took off. Being married to K had opened up a lot of doors in the hip hop world for me, and Junior helped me maintain those relationships. Soon, I got a million-dollar deal with Universal Records, back when the labels weren’t paying out like that. This is my own million, I thought, like real, legit money. This is our winning ticket. If it all falls apart, this is my and Junior’s way out.
That first year in our new house, we built good relationships with Cool & Dre, and Scott Storch, and started recording an album. I began spending more time in LA, Miami, and New York working with A-list producers like Kanye West, Swizz Beatz, and Trackmasters. I always stopped off in Chicago to see Xavier, who was doing so well in high school that we’d all decided he’d be happier staying in the States. If he wasn’t in class, I’d take him with me because he thought it was exciting to meet rappers like Rick Ross, Akon, and Pusha T; he’d get totally starstruck.
I was traveling nonstop, and Junior and I missed each other deeply, but I felt like I was doing my part to build a great future for our family. We talked day and night on Skype and had phone sex to stay close. I loved him even more because he was so supportive of my work and my dreams; he built me up, and he believed in me. He always told me, “I’m so turned on by how strong, smart, and wise you are. I’m with a real woman. It’s why I fell so hard for you.”
At home, I was still taking care of my man. I adored serving him food, color coordinating his closet, and laying out his underwear, socks, clothes, and jewelry on the bed. I was determined to be a good wife, and I couldn’t wait for the wedding to make it even more real.
He was building a life, and I was, too. More than that, being in a new place, away from everyone, I felt like Junior was starting to change. He seemed to be seeing things my way about wanting something different, not continuing in the drug trade. Still, it would take time. Until then, we’d enjoy our life together in Guadalajara.
But, man, we sure did miss Mia and Peter.
Mia
I totally understood when Olivia and Junior said they wanted to move. Every day in San Juan felt like a romantic date, and being there helped my relationship blossom, but it was a small town. You had to leave to feel like you were anywhere. Peter and I were pouring every minute of our free time and money into our horses, and it was our whole world, but after a while, even that got lonely.
We visited Junior and Olivia right after they moved into their house in Guadalajara, and we loved it. It was so comfortable, so homey. Olivia and I would sit inside and gossip for hours while Junior and Peter went into another room and had meetings or talked about business.
I didn’t know it, but that part of their lives was taking root in Mexico.
Olivia
Being in Guadalajara was going to take Peter and Junior’s business to a whole new level. Junior was such a likable guy; he was always laughing, joking, and so positive that people warmed up to him quickly. In Mexico, men didn’t really bring their wives around, but because I was always with him, they just got used to me being there. As Junior started networking, he’d meet new people every single day. And when he’d make one connection, it would lead to another. I’m telling you, the connections he formed there made Junior and Peter millions.
In the city, it’s normal for people in the drug trade to mesh with legitimate businesspeople. Narcos are well educated and respectable, so it’s just not a big thing for a regular guy to hang out with a drug dealer. Happens all the time. In fact, when we were buying our house, the architect who was helping us out pulled Junior aside one day.
“Hey, I want to introduce you to someone. His name is Wedo, and you have a ton in common. He’s here from LA, so I’ll hook you up.”
There was no winking or nodding; it was just understood that Wedo was in the business, and so was Junior. My husband met Wedo a few days later, and sure enough, he was instrumental in helping Junior
and Peter set up their trafficking route through LA.
Then Junior met a man named Cuate, who had a huge mansion like in Scarface. Everything was draped in red velvet and gold trim, and when we were invited over for dinner, he served us on Versace china. There were so many angels, I swore I was in church. I thought I was loud, but this guy was over the top.
On another occasion, Junior and I were eating ribs at Tony Roma’s. Junior left to use the restroom, was gone for what felt like forever, and came back with some random guy next to him. He introduced me to him, saying his name was Sobrino, and after some small talk this new friend went back to his own table.
“You just picked up some strange guy in the bathroom?” I joked. “What the hell was that all about?”
“He was wearing a Cubs hat, so we started talking. We have a lot in common. I picked up his tab.”
I started thinking. A lot in common. I’ve heard that before. Man, this whole city is connected. It was such a small world in the drug trade; you meet someone in the bathroom, and sooner rather than later you’re trafficking millions of dollars of drugs together.
Mia
Peter was in Guadalajara all the time, or on the phone, but actually being with his brother was something he really needed, personally and professionally.
I really missed Junior and Olivia, and I started to wonder whether we should move to Guadalajara, too.
“Peter, please,” I said. “I need to be in a city again. We’re both homesick here.”
“Absolutely. Anything for you.” True to form, he just wanted to make me happy, and even though he enjoyed the peaceful life, we started looking for houses that winter.
