Chapter 2

Dilemma

Zya waited nervously as she sat in the waiting area. Her stomach was doing somersaults for more than one reason. Jules had only been locked up for a couple days, and her world had been turned upside down without him. She didn’t know how long he was supposed to be locked down, and she didn’t know how he would feel about her pregnancy.

she looked around the waiting room, and it seemed like every woman in there shared the same story. Everybody seemed to be carrying nine months of baby weight with them. They were all doing the same routine, visiting a baby daddy that was locked up.

Zya could feel the tears building in her eyes as she thought about her own circumstance. She loved Jules, there was no doubt about that. She had done things for him that she would not do for any other, but there was something in the back of her mind that was causing her to have doubts. She didn’t want to raise a child without a father. She knew that it would be too hard, and she didn’t know if she could do it on her own. She knew the type of man that Jules was, and he was a stand-up type of nigga, but if he did serious time, it would be out of his power. He would have no choice but to be absent from his baby’s life.

She also didn’t know if she would be able to take care of a child. Jules hadn’t been locked up a week, and she was already out on her ass. At nineteen, she had seen plenty of money go through her hands. Jules always kept her with fat pockets. It wasn’t uncommon for her to blow a couple thousand on just clothes, and she never once thought about putting any up for a rainy day. She hadn’t saved anything because she always thought that the money would come just as fast as she spent it.

I can’t even take care of myself. How am I supposed to support a baby on my own?

Zya was consumed by her thoughts of motherhood. She was in love with Jules almost since the first day she met him three years ago, but she was overwhelmed by everything that was happening. She knew that she could stick by him and ride with him during a prison sentence, but she also knew that it would be ten times harder to do with a baby to worry about. Under normal circumstances, it would have been something to celebrate, but with Jules in jail, it felt more like a burden.

“Zya Miller!” the guard yelled, interrupting her train of thought. Anxiety overcame her as she rose slowly from her seat. Her heartbeat quickened, and she had to take a deep breath to calm down.

Will he be happy? What is he going to say? she thought as she walked into the visiting room. She saw Jules sitting in a burnt orange jumpsuit, and she approached him. He smiled when he saw her, and the sight of him put her mind at ease.

I don’t even know why I was tripping, Jules is gon’ make sure me and our baby is taken care of, she told herself as she sat down.

“Are you okay?” she asked him as soon she picked up the phone.

“Yeah, I’m good now that I see you. Are you okay? Where you staying?” he replied. He knew that Zya would not be dumb enough to go back to her house. He was just glad that she had not been inside when the raid took place. Everything was in her name, though, and once the police realized it, they would be looking for her.

“I’m staying at Vita’s,” she replied skeptically, knowing that Jules wouldn’t be too fond of that idea. Vita lived with her boyfriend, Heavy, and they always had niggas running in and out of their crib. Zya didn’t really want to stay there either, but she couldn’t be choosy. She had to rest her head wherever she could . . . at least for the time being.

“Too many niggas be through her spot. You know I don’t play that shit,” Jules said. He was noticeably steamed.

“Baby, it ain’t even like that,” she argued, trying to reassure Jules.

“No! Fuck that, Zya. Call my li’l nigga, Amir. He’ll put you up for a minute,” Jules stated.

“Jules, that boy is still staying at home with his mama. He ain’t got shit, especially not a room to be offering me,” Zya stated.

“Check into a hotel then,” Jules replied adamantly.

Zya knew that Jules was hot. He had a jealous streak a mile long, and had been known to smack a couple niggas around who had looked at Zya a second too long. That was one of the reasons why she loved him so much, though. He wanted her all to himself.

“I don’t have any money, Jules. I’m broke. I’m not trying to argue with you about this. That should be the last thing on your mind. I love you and I’m wit’ you, so let’s leave it at that. It’s only temporary, anyway, so why trip? It ain’t like I love staying with Vita either, but we gon’ have to deal with it for now, at least until you get out.”

Zya looked at Jules with sincerity, deep sincerity, and saw his anger begin to fade away. The look in his eyes made her feel better about what she was about to tell him. He loved her, and she knew that he did. There was no way he would leave her and his seed on stuck.

“I love you, Jules,” she said as she placed her delicate fingers against the cold glass.

Jules put his hand on the glass and took a deep breath before saying, “I love you, too, Zya.”

Zya opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked at her hand pressed against the glass. I can’t even touch him, she thought sadly. She inhaled deeply then said, “I’m pregnant.”

Jules’s eyes shot wide open and his head dropped to his chest. He took his hand back from the glass and gripped the edge of the metal table. Zya’s heart dropped as she watched the disappointment fill his face, and a hollow feeling formed in her stomach. His actions spoke louder than any words could ever do, and she instantly felt hurt. After all they had been through, she expected more from him.

“You don’t have nothing to say?” Zya asked in disbelief. Her voice was shaky from trying to conceal the many emotions she was feeling.

Jules shook his head from side to side as if he was in disbelief. He looked up at her and said, “I got five to nine years, Zya.”

Zya dropped the phone, and it collided with the metal table, causing a loud bang to echo through the room. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. It was almost as if her brain refused to process the words. I’ve got five to nine years. The words replayed over and over in her head, and she couldn’t stop the silent tears from falling down her face.

What am I going to do? she asked herself. She picked up the phone, but was speechless.

The look on Zya’s face made Jules’s heart weak. He loved Zya. She was the one woman who was down for him through whatever, and he knew that she felt deeply for him. He was happy that she was pregnant. He knew that there was not a better woman to carry his seed, but he also knew that she needed him to be with her.

“What do you mean? You haven’t even been to court yet,” Zya said when she finally found her voice. “What about the trial?”

“There’s not going to be a trial, Zy. I had an active warrant pending, and they had enough evidence to sentence me to twenty-five years. Me skipping bail only made things worse, so my options were limited. The prosecution offered me a deal to avoid all that. I had to take the five to nine,” he said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself more than Zya.

“Couldn’t you have won the trial?” Zya asked, refusing to believe that there was no other way out.

“Zya, I done already been through all that with my lawyers. There’s no way around it.”

Zya lowered her head, and the salty tears cascaded from her face onto the table.

“There’s no way I can take care of this baby by myself. I can’t even take care of me. I’m getting an abortion,” she said, almost whispering the last couple words.

“No in the hell you ain’t! You not about to kill my seed. I love you, Zya, and I’ma be there for you and my child when I get out. That would kill me, Zya. You got to give me something to come home to.”

Zya nodded her head as she listened to his words, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“What you gon’ do is get on your hustle, and you got nine months to do it,” he said sternly. Jules was insistent on getting his point across to the woman sitting across from him. There was no way he was letting her get rid of his child. Even if he wasn’t there to support them physically, he would make sure that he gave her the means to support herself. He would supply her with the knowledge she needed to get money while he was away. It would not only benefit her financially, but would keep his spot in the streets on hold while he was away.

“Zya, you gon’ have to take care of things while I’m in here. We got a baby on the way, and I need you to be strong. You got to hustle to eat . . . and I got some old debts I need to settle with my lawyers, so you got to hold me down. You understand?” he asked her.

Zya nodded and wiped her eyes. “I understand.”

“You still holding that?” he asked her.

“Yeah, I got ’em,” she replied, knowing he was referring to the ten kilos of cocaine she had picked up from Torey Snow.

“Time’s up!” the prison guard announced as he opened the door to the visiting room.

Zya looked at Jules and asked, “What do you want me to do?”

He knew he didn’t have time to explain it to her. They had wasted too much time on other things. He stood up and said, “Wait for my letter.”

Zya nodded her head and replied, “I’ll be back next Monday.”

“No!” Jules yelled out loud. Zya frowned her face, but before she could ask him why, he said, “Come every other Monday. I don’t want you to become a familiar face around here.”

Zya watched as a guard came and escorted Jules out of the room. He was pulled away so fast that she didn’t even get the chance to say “I love you.” She got up and walked out of the prison.

By the time Zya arrived at Vita’s house, it was dark outside and the street was lined with cars. There was a dice game going down on the front stoop, and Zya already knew what was up. Zya could see that Vita’s brownstone was packed on the inside, and she hesitantly made her way into the house. She didn’t feel like being around a lot of people, and she definitely didn’t want the word getting back to Jules that she was at a house party.

She made her way into the tiny room where she slept, and checked to make sure her goods were exactly where she had left them. She pulled out the duffel bag and began to pull out the bricks, counting each one to make sure that nobody in the house had been in her shit.

I can’t afford to take an L right now, she thought as she sighed a breath of relief once she realized that nothing had been touched. The door opened and a Latino girl came bursting into the room with a drink in her hand. The cocaine wrapped in clear plastic was spread out on the bed, and the girl’s mouth fell wide open when she saw it.

“Damn, bitch, can you knock?” Zya asked harshly as she got up, preparing to get in her ass. She stopped when she saw the dark-skinned dude enter the room after her. Snow stood behind her with a Heineken in his hand, and when he saw the dope on the bed, he leaned over and whispered in the girl’s ear, “Let me handle something real fast, mama.” There was an awkward silence in the room. The girl looked at Zya with venom in her eyes and rolled them hard, but didn’t attempt to leave.

“Bitch, don’t get it fucked up,” Zya warned as the Latino girl sped up her step and exited the room.

Snow closed the door and said, “Chill out, li’l ma. What the fuck you doing here in this hot-ass trap house with my dope?” He stared down at her with his gray eyes and spoke with a lazy drawl. His skin was chocolate, and his eyes pierced through Zya as if he had known her all his life. Before she could even respond, he asked her, “What’s wrong? Where Jules at?”

Zya didn’t think it was smart to be broadcasting Jules’s arrest, so she replied, “He’s out of town. I’m handling his business in Harlem while he’s away.” Snow was tipsy, and she could tell by the slant of his eyes, so she didn’t doubt that he was buying the excuse.

“It don’t look like you handling it too well. You up in this mu’fucka with ten kilos of snow on you,” he said as he took another sip of his drink.

“As long as you get paid, you shouldn’t have no problems with how I conduct mines,” Zya replied smartly, with one hand planted on her hip.

He looked her up and down then licked his lips. He stepped closer to her and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “If you were my bitch, I wouldn’t have you out here making my money. I’d have you out here spending it.”

Zya looked up at him, and for a second, her eyes were stuck on his. The door opened, and the Latino girl appeared with her hand on her hip. She cleared her throat loudly. Snow turned around, and Zya mugged the girl that was standing in her doorway. Bitch, don’t nobody want your man, she thought. She smiled slyly then grabbed Snow’s hand. She pulled his tall frame down to her and whispered in his ear.

“First of all, I’m not anybody’s bitch. I’m his woman, and I ride for mines. I’ll leave the gold-diggin’ up to your little girlfriend,” she said. She kept her eyes on the girl waiting by the door, knowing that she thought the conversation was more than what it was.

“Papi!” the girl called out, growing irritated as she watched Zya work her man.

Snow backed away from Zya, and couldn’t take his eyes off her as he made his way to the door. She smiled then closed the door behind him.

Zya put the kilos away and made sure they were hidden underneath the bed. She lay down on the bed and tried to block out the music that was playing throughout the house. Vita had Yung Joc bumping extra loud, and Zya grew frustrated quickly. She couldn’t even think straight. The rowdy atmosphere was not healthy for her or her baby, and all she wanted to do was get out of the house. Knowing that she had nowhere to go, she went to sleep.

After tossing and turning all night, Zya woke up to the smell of food. She walked downstairs and went into the kitchen, where she found Vita’s boyfriend, Heavy, cooking breakfast. The house was clean and showed no signs that a party had just taken place the night before.

“What up, Zy!” Heavy yelled out, shouting for no damn reason. Zya had to laugh, though. Heavy was cool like that. He was one of them loud, rowdy Southern dudes who just didn’t give a fuck.

“What up, Heavy?” Zya said as she sat at the bar-style counter. “Where Vita at?” she asked.

“She went to get her toes wrapped or some shit,” he replied as he took the salt down from the cabinet and put way too much in the potatoes he was cooking.

“Her toes wrapped? You mean she went to get her hair wrapped?” Zya asked.

Heavy waved the spatula in the air and replied, “Yeah, she went to the salon to get her shit hooked up. Hair, toes, all that good shit.”

Zya laughed at Heavy. This nigga in here thinking he G. Garvin, she thought as she smiled to herself and shook her head.

“Yo, Zya, I hear you got them thangs on you,” Heavy said. Zya tensed up, knowing exactly what he was talking about. She knew that Snow would not have put her business out like that, so she knew the loud-mouth Latino girl had told someone what she saw.

“Nah, you know I don’t get down like that,” Zya commented nonchalantly, trying to make Heavy think he had heard wrong. Heavy was cool, but she knew that he was like every other nigga in Harlem; he had his own agenda. He was a small player in the dope game. He was still hustling rocks, but she knew that he had been trying to get his hands on weight.

He barking up the wrong mu’fucking tree, cuz I ain’t got shit for his ass. She knew that she would have to find her own place real quick because she didn’t trust Heavy as far as she could throw him, and she couldn’t throw his fat ass far at all.

“Oh, you know I’m just asking. If you are rolling like that, I know somebody that want some.” His country accent made his offer sound friendly, but country or not, Zya could see through the bullshit. Heavy didn’t know anybody worth dealing with. He was inquiring for himself.

“Nah, I don’t know what you talking about. You know I don’t get into all that. I don’t make the money, I just spend it,” she said, repeating what Snow had said to her the night before. She got up and went back into her borrowed room.

That nigga is asking too many questions. I should find that girl and beat the brakes off her ass for telling everybody my business. Damn! I was not trying to be out here like this. I’ma sitting duck cuz if niggas even think I got these bricks, I’m gon’ become a target. Zya knew the game. She had helped set dudes up, so she knew when a situation had the potential to become trouble, and her current situation was not good.

Zya tried to stay low-key as she waited for Jules’s letter to arrive. For three days, she anxiously awaited the letter’s arrival. She was waiting for Jules’s instructions on what to do with the dope, but her patience was wearing thin. She was dead broke and tired of depending on Vita for a place to stay.

“Jules was supposed to write me a couple days ago,” Zya said as she sat on the front stoop waiting for the mailman to arrive. She had timed his route down to the second, and knew that he should be arriving any minute.

“Why are you tripping on his letter? You’ve been running around bugging out ever since you visited him. What’s so important about it?” Vita asked suspiciously. Zya hadn’t told Vita about the dope she had been left with. Vita was her best friend, but she had seen Vita pull some grimy shit on other chicks, and Zya didn’t trust her with a big secret. Vita couldn’t hold water and would have her business all over Harlem by nightfall.

“There’s nothing important about it. He just promised he would write and he hasn’t,” Zya said in an agitated tone.

“I don’t know why you riding with this nigga anyway. If I was you, I would leave his ass stanking and move on to the next nigga. Hustlers come a dime a dozen in New York,” Vita said as she crossed her legs and hit the edge of her cigarette to dump her ashes.

“Whatever, Vita. I didn’t ask you for all that. I ain’t one of these gold-diggin’-ass bitches. You know I ain’t got it in me to be grimy. I was with him when he was out and doing good, so now that he’s down and out, I can’t be fake. I’ma do the bid with him,” Zya said defensively.

“You and every other chick,” Vita said smartly.

Zya looked at Vita like she was crazy and replied, “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, Zya . . . I’m just saying . . . Look, you know you’re my girl. I don’t want to see you out here stressing over a nigga. I’m just asking you if Jules is worth you giving up damn near ten years of your life.”

I’m carrying his baby. I’ll wait for however long it takes, Zya thought. She hadn’t told her best friend about the baby yet, which is why Vita was so quick to tell Zya to leave Jules alone.

She doesn’t understand what I’m going through. She doesn’t have a baby to think about, Zya thought, growing angry. Vita was her girl and everything, but there was a limit on the amount of time that they could spend together before Vita got on her nerves. With Zya staying there for the past three nights, she had far exceeded that limit.

They had known each other since middle school and were almost like sisters. They were bittersweet because they fought and made up all the time, just like they were really related. At the end of the day, they always had each other’s back.

Jules needs to come through like he said he would. She touched her stomach and felt the morning sickness creep up on her. She still hadn’t been to the doctor. She had been so worried about hearing from Jules that it had slipped her mind.

“You’ll be all right, Zy. That nigga will be out before you know it,” Vita said as she puffed on a Newport, trying to be supportive. The mailman came walking down the street, and he looked down at Zya with a curious look on his face. His route was an early one, and he had seen her sitting, waiting on him, for the past four days.

“Do you have anything for Zya Miller?” she asked him as he stepped up the steps to Vita’s house. Zya shifted her weight from side to side as she waited impatiently for the mailman to check. He sifted slowly through the mail until he finally handed her an envelope.

Vita put out her cigarette against the step and stood up. “I’ll give you some privacy, Zy,” she offered as she got up and walked inside.

A sense of relief washed over Zya, and her hands trembled as she ripped opened the letter.

Zya,

I hope that you are maintaining while I’m in here. I’m sorry you have to carry this on your own. You and my unborn baby mean everything to me. I am going to take care of you when I get out, but I need you to hold me down while I’m in here. I know you feeling it right now cuz all the money I had was in the house during the raid. That shit is state’s evidence now. You gotta charge that to the game and start over.

Remember the day I got caught? When I sent you to get them Bibles from that store in Jersey? That’s how you going to have to eat until I get out. Those Bibles that you were bringing back are golden right now.

Remember my man Smitty? He’s an older cat from Brooklyn. You need to get in contact with him. He’s not going to trust you because he is used to dealing with me. We have a phrase that we say. Once you say it, he’ll know you’re okay. When you call him, say “All work and no play.” He will finish the sentence.

He usually buys two Bibles from me every month. That’s a guaranteed sell. They go for 16, but I got them on consignment, so you take 12 dollars from every joint and deliver it back to Snow. That mu’fucka don’t bullshit about his money, Zya. He a mu’fuckin’ killer for real, so don’t try to pull no slick shit. You make sure his money is right every time.

You keep 4 dollars from every Bible. You’ve got ten of ’em, so that means by the time you sell them all and pay the connect back, you’ll have 40 dollars. That should hold you over for a minute. Use the money wisely, because that’s all you are going to have to get by.

Get out of that nigga Heavy’s crib ASAP, and take care of my shorty. I’ll see you next Monday.

Julius “Jules” Carter
P.S. Smitty’s # 718-886-5419

Zya folded the letter and knew that Jules was using “Bibles” as a code word for the kilos of cocaine. She knew that it was a strong possibility they were monitoring his mail, and Jules took precautions. She also knew that when he said dollars, he was talking in the thousands.

She pulled out her cell phone and felt the butterflies in her stomach as she called the number. She didn’t have any time to waste. She needed to sell the bricks so that she could have some money in her pocket.

“Hello?”

“Can I speak to Smitty?” she asked nervously.

“Speaking. Who is this?”

“My name is Zya. I’m calling to conduct the business you have with Jules,” she said.

“I don’t talk to nobody but Jules,” the voice on the other end said calmly. Zya heard a click and then the sound of the dial tone. She quickly redialed the number.

As soon as he picked up the phone, she said, “All work and no play . . .”

“Make a dull day,” the voice on the other end replied. “Meet me at Junior’s in Brooklyn in an hour,” the voice announced then hung up on her again.

Zya made her way back into Vita’s to pick up the duffel bag full of cocaine. She hoped that Smitty would take all of it off her hands, but she knew that he would only buy two. Jules had made that clear in his letter, but at least it would put a little money in her pocket.

Inside the house, she was surprised to see Heavy standing in her room, looking through her duffel bag. “What the fuck you doing in my room?” she asked as she stormed past him and grabbed the bag out of his hands.

“This is my house. I can come into any room I want to. I thought you didn’t get down like that,” he said as he eyed the black bag that Zya held in her hand.

“I don’t. I’m just holding it for a friend,” she replied. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Don’t touch my shit.”

He grabbed her by the upper arm and jerked her roughly, causing her to drop the bag and wince in pain. “Look, bitch. I’m letting you stay here because you cool with Vita, but you ain’t even paying no rent. I don’t charge you to eat the food in my refrigerator or to rest your head in my house. You can’t look out for ya boy?” he asked her in a threatening way.

Zya snatched her arm back and replied, “Look, Heavy, I appreciate that, and when I get some money, I’m gon’ hit you and Vita off, but this shit ain’t mine.”

“You full of shit, Zya. That little Latino chick told me you was holding the bricks.” His grasp tightened around her arm.

“Let me go. Nigga, I ain’t Vita. You not about to be—” Before Zya could even finish her sentence, Heavy pushed her hard against the wall.

“What!” He yelled as he cocked his hand back and brought it down hard across her face.

“Vita!” Zya called out in pain.

“Vita ain’t gon’ save you,” Heavy said. He mashed his sloppy body against hers and began to touch on her breasts. She knew that Heavy was no good, but she would never expect him to pull no shit like this. She closed her eyes as she felt the tears build up. He grinded against her as he kissed on her neck, and she felt his dick get hard. She felt the tears threatening to fall, but she refused to submit to Heavy’s trifling ass.

“You ain’t shit, Heavy. You gon’ rape me in the house that you share with my best friend? You gon’ play Vita like that?” Zya asked in disgust. Her words must have killed the mood for Heavy because he backed up off her and stormed out of the room.

Zya slid down the wall and held her stomach as she thought about what had almost just occurred. I have to get out of here, she thought as she finally wiped her tears away. I have to get this money so that I can leave. Her face hurt badly in the spot where Heavy had struck her, and she knew that it would be red. She got up and looked into the mirror. Her face was swollen slightly. If Jules wasn’t locked up, she would have gone straight to him and told him what had happened, but there was nothing he could do for her now. She fixed herself up as best she could, grabbed the black duffel bag and exited the room. As she walked past Vita’s bedroom, Heavy stood like a statue in the door, mugging Zya as she stormed past.

“Bitch, have your shit out by tomorrow!”

On her way out the door, she bumped past Vita.

“Hey, Zy, where you going?” Vita called after her.

Zya didn’t reply. She had already decided that she would not stay another night in Vita’s house. She loved her best friend, but her man was foul. She wasn’t going to tell Vita about what happened because she knew that it wouldn’t change anything. Heavy would just lie about it, and the situation would come between their friendship. Zya walked out of the house and took the subway to Brooklyn.

Zya walked into the crowded restaurant and looked around for Smitty. She had no idea what he looked like, and it was hard for her to spot anybody out of the huge crowd.

“What’s good with you, mama?”

“You looking for somebody?”

“Damn, where you going?”

All types of dudes tried to spit game at her as she walked through the restaurant. Even with her face red and swollen, niggas were still trying to get at her. Zya ignored the lines as she spotted an older man in a turtleneck and jeans sitting in the back. She made her way over to him with the duffel bag hanging off her arm.

“Sit down,” he said to her calmly once she finally reached his table. She sat down and looked around nervously. She didn’t know what to expect, and she kept fidgeting. She looked hot, and Smitty sat back and watched.

“Calm down,” he finally instructed. “Are you hungry?” Zya nodded her head and they ordered something to eat.

“I have your stuff,” Zya said.

“Where is Jules?” he asked her. She gave him the same answer that she had given Snow, and he seemed to buy it because he didn’t ask any more questions.

“What is your name?”

“Zya,” she replied.

“How much do you have on you?” he asked her.

“Ten,” she replied.

“I’ll take them all,” he said. Zya hadn’t been expecting this because she thought that he only purchased two at a time. She wasn’t about to argue, though. She had just come into $40,000.

“Okay, Zya, this is how this is going to go. You are going to leave the bag in your seat when you get up and leave the restaurant. It’s simple and easy. Don’t look back, and don’t be nervous. This is just a simple meal between two friends, okay?”

Zya nodded her head in understanding. She liked Smitty. He could tell it was her first time, and he made it easy for her. They ate their food casually, and when it was over, they both got up to leave. Zya did as she was told and left the bag in the seat, and he simply picked it up and followed behind her as they exited the restaurant.

“Follow me to my car,” he said. She did as she was told. He popped his trunk and pulled out a present box that was wrapped in birthday paper and had a huge bow tied around it. Zya’s eyes got big. She didn’t have a clue what was going on, but she took the box from him.

“Open it,” he said nicely.

She untied the bow and ripped off the paper. When she opened the box, she found a multi-colored Doonie & Bourke bag. She smiled at the designer shoulder bag and looked up at Smitty in confusion. He smiled back and said, “Happy birthday.” His voice was loud and he stepped closer to her and embraced her in a hug.

Once his mouth was near her ear, he whispered, “This little show is just in case somebody is watching. The money is inside plus a little extra. Tell Jules if he lowers his prices then there’s a lot more where that came from.”

Zya decided to make the trip to Jersey that same night. She was walking around New York with over $150,000 in her bag, and she wasn’t trying to get robbed. She made her way to the Port Authority and got on the departing route to Jersey. It was 11:30 at night, and she was tired, but she wanted to tie up the loose ends. She arrived in Newark an hour and a half later. She picked up her phone and dialed Snow’s number.

“Hello?” he answered on the first ring.

“This is Zya,” she said as she stood in front of the bus station, clutching the designer bag.

“Who?” he asked.

“I work for Jules. I got your money,” she said. “I’m in Jersey.”

“Come through,” he replied.

Snow hung up the phone in confusion. He looked at his diamond bezel Cellini Rolex and saw that it was close to 1:00 A.M. What the fuck is she doing making a trip to Jersey this late? He began to get suspicious because Zya’s visit was not planned. He had just given Jules the bricks a week earlier. It usually took him a month to move ten kilos. It had only taken Zya seven days. The situation seemed odd to Snow, and he hoped that he wasn’t being set up.

He remembered Zya from the party he had attended a couple days ago. She still had all of the bricks four nights ago. How the hell she get rid of ten kilos in four days? he thought. He knew that something had to be up. He had done business with Jules for two years, and he had never switched up his operation. His pattern was always the same. He always sent the girl to pick up the package and deliver the money. The times, the places, the locations . . . everything was always predictable with Jules. Now things had changed. He hadn’t heard from Jules, and Zya was telling him that she was handling things for a while. Snow didn’t know what was going on, but he hoped that he wasn’t getting himself into some bullshit.

He waited for Zya to arrive, and when he heard the cab pull up to his house, he grabbed his pistol and tucked it safely in between his couch cushions for easy access. Most niggas don’t feel the need to be strapped in the presence of a woman, but Snow wasn’t a sucker for a pretty face. He knew that women could be just as deadly. The biggest drug lord New Jersey had ever seen had been a woman, and he wasn’t going to underestimate the one who was getting ready to step foot inside his house.

Zya rang the doorbell and waited for Snow to open the door. He answered in a pair of baggy plaid pajama pants and a white wifebeater. His tattooed arms were chiseled almost perfectly, and he stood tall in the doorway, looking down at Zya.

“Come in,” he said as he stepped out of her way and watched her walk into the house. He looked at her ass as she walked by and admired her perfect proportions.

“Here’s your cash. I haven’t taken my cut out yet,” she said. She pulled the stacks of money out of the Dooney & Bourke and watched as he put the cash through a money machine and counted it.

“This had to be handled tonight?” he asked her. He looked at the side of her face and noticed that it was swollen.

“Yeah . . . I didn’t want to carry around this much money until morning,” she said.

He continued to stare at her. He couldn’t help himself. Her beauty was almost hypnotizing.

They sat in silence as the money machine did its job, counting stack after stack of bills. Zya looked around Snow’s crib and noticed how nice it was. It wasn’t a mansion or anything, but the nigga was definitely living good.

“What’s your name?” Snow asked her out of the blue.

“Zya,” she responded. She had been picking up dope and dropping off money to him on behalf of Jules for a while, and she couldn’t believe he didn’t even know her name.

“Zya, about the other night . . . I didn’t mean no disrespect. I was feeling it, and—”

Zya waved her hand and said, “It’s not a big deal. I wasn’t offended or nothing. Your little girlfriend did more damage than you did.”

“That ain’t my girlfriend. What damage?”

“Nothing. It ain’t your problem. She just ran her mouth about what she saw. A nigga saw an opportunity and tried to take advantage,” she explained.

“That’s what happened to your face?” he asked her in a sincere tone. She nodded her head. Snow got up from the kitchen table and put some ice in a Ziploc bag. He then handed it to Zya. “Put that on your face.”

She took the ice and smiled. “Thanks.”

“Can I ask you something?” Snow inquired as he loaded another stack of bills in the machine.

Zya nodded and he continued. “Why your man got you out here risking your freedom doing his dirty work?”

Zya shot him a look that told him not to go there. “I do what I have to do,” she said as she stood up.

Snow stared at the feisty woman that stood before him. He was mesmerized by her swagger. She was feminine, but in so many ways, she was a gangster.

The money machine stopped, and Zya took her cut then made her way to the door. He watched as her sexy walk commanded his attention. She was fine as hell, almost perfect in every way. She was gorgeous, classy, and loyal to her nigga. He wanted her on his team. Before she walked out the door, Snow said, “It’s late. You need a ride?”

“If I were a man, would you be asking me that?”

Snow smiled and shook his head. Her attitude was intriguing.

Zya stared at his gray eyes and dropped her defenses. She looked at her phone. It’s almost three in the morning, and I don’t feel like waiting for a cab.

She looked at him and said, “Yeah, I would appreciate that.”

He grabbed the keys to his silver Aston Martin and drove her back to New York.

“Just to let you know, I’m fucking your girl up when I see her,” Zya said as they drove across the Manhattan Bridge.

“Go for what you know. That ain’t my bitch,” he replied as he did 95 miles per hour, enjoying the feel of his sports car. “Just make sure she don’t leave you lumped up like ol’ boy did you,” he said in a joking way.

Zya hit him hard on the arm and replied, “That shit ain’t funny.”

“Where am I taking you?” he asked.

“You can just drop me off at the same house the party was at the other night. I got to pick up my things. I’ll take a cab to a hotel.”

“That’s where you staying at? A hotel?” Snow quizzed.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Zya said, trying to avoid answering them.

“I’ll take you to get your clothes and drop you off wherever you need to go. I think I need a room for the night too. You got me out here at five in the morning.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Zya leaned back and went to sleep, and Snow couldn’t help but to glance at her every once in a while.

They arrived at Vita’s house, and Zya used the key that Vita had given her to enter the house. Snow waited at the front door while Zya went upstairs to get her things. She packed up all her belongings then made her way down the stairs. She tried her best to be quiet, but her movement still woke Vita.

Vita came down the stairs. “Zya!” she whispered. Vita turned on the living room light and saw Snow standing behind Zya. She looked at Zya’s bags and said, “You leaving?”

Zya figured that Heavy hadn’t told her what happened. She replied, “Yeah, girl, I’m out.”

“What happened to your face?” Vita asked.

Zya smacked her lips and stated, “Ask Heavy.”

Vita acted as if she didn’t hear Zya’s last statement, and she focused her attention on Snow.

“Wasn’t you over here the other night? At the party?” Vita inquired.

Snow nodded his head. “Yeah, ma, I was here.”

Vita smiled devilishly at her friend and said, “You must have taken my advice and dumped that chump nigga. I’m glad, girl, cuz his ass got a baby on the way anyway.”

Zya frowned. “What?”

“Remember when I went to get my hair done the other day? Some pregnant bitch was in there talking ’bout how Jules takes care of her. She was going on and on about how he be hitting her up with cash, and how he got money put up for her baby. She had to be about nine months. She looked like she was getting ready to pop.”

Zya shook her head in disbelief and shock. “No, she was lying. She had to be lying.”

“I don’t know. All I know is that she was up in there talking big shit about how Jules always make sure his family is tight. Some light-skinned chick with short red hair. Her haircut was bad as hell, but she wasn’t all that cute. She wasn’t cuter than you.”

Zya didn’t believe Vita. She is lying. She has to be lying. She found out what happened today with Heavy and now she trying to have me stressing.

“Why you tripping anyway? You look good on his arm,” Vita said, pointing to Snow.

Snow could see the look on Zya’s face and could tell that she needed to get out of there. He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the house.

Zya remained silent as they made their way to Manhattan. She didn’t say a word. She had already decided she was going to see Jules the next day. It was not the Monday she was supposed to visit, but she didn’t care. She had to ask him if what she heard was true. Her heart was beating so hard that she could hear it through her chest. She wanted to scream.

They pulled up to the Marriott hotel and purchased two rooms. As they made their way up to the 22^nd floor, Snow could see the pain on her face. That nigga is a fool, he thought. He didn’t see how any man would want to play Zya. She was everything that he wanted in a woman.

They got off the elevator and made their way to their rooms. He helped her take her stuff into her room. She was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically and couldn’t help but plop down on the bed as soon as she entered the room.

“You okay?” he asked her.

She nodded her head. “Thank you for everything,” she said. She got up and followed him to the door.

“I’m right next door . . . if you need anything . . .” he began.

“I’m good. Thanks,” she said, almost in a cold way. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but the only thing she could think about was Jules.

That nigga better not be playing me, she thought.

Snow walked into the hall, and before she closed the door, he said, “Zya, I meant what I said the other night. If you were mine, you wouldn’t want for anything.”

She looked up at him and said, “I’m not yours. I have a man.”

The next morning, Zya made her way to Riker’s Island. She had calmed down a lot. She had been upset the night before, but after thinking things over, she knew that Jules would never hurt her. She was his and he was hers. She still wanted to go see him, though. She wanted to let him know that she had sold all of the dope and was going to pay his lawyers that very day.

She made the long trip to Riker’s, and after going through endless security checks, she was about to sign up to see Jules. She made her way to the visitor’s room, where the sign-in log was located. When she was about to sign in, she noticed that somebody else had also signed up to see Jules.

Who the fuck is Tisha Moretti?

Zya looked around the room and her heart dropped when she saw the light-skinned girl with the bad-ass short hairstyle. The girl looked exactly the way Vita had described, and Zya could tell that she was late in her pregnancy. Zya looked at the diamonds that cluttered her wrists and fingers and saw the Mercedes Benz key that the girl was holding, and she instantly grew angry.

Here I am moving dope for this nigga, and she sitting over there carefree, spending up the money that I probably earned.

Zya was hurt. She was struggling, and Jules was taking good care of another bitch. She had thought they were so much better than that, but it was obvious to her now that she was a fool.

I’m Jules’s girl on the side. He isn’t cheating on me ... he’s cheating on her. She’s wifey, and I’m the girl he uses to make runs and do dirt. He’s breaking bread with her and buying me a damn outfit every two weeks to keep me satisfied.

Zya realized that she had never actually seen any of Jules’s money. He always just bought her things, but he never physically set her up so that she would be straight. Zya’s heart was breaking. The girl sitting across the room was glowing. She definitely wasn’t more attractive than Zya, but she had something that Zya wanted, and that was Jules. She could feel the tears coming, and there was no stopping them. She got up and rushed out of the room.

Fuck him. It is over for us. He ain’t shit. I’m sitting up here pregnant and stressing over him and this baby. He’s the one who convinced me to keep this child, and his ass is cheating. I am too through. I don’t want shit from him. I’m gon’ drop off the money that I owe to his lawyers, fill up his commissary and be done.

Zya was feeling so many different emotions, she thought she was going crazy. She was mad, sad, hurt, betrayed, confused . . . the whole nine. Her heart felt like it had a hole in it. She felt like she was dying. Why did he have to do this to me? I would have done anything for him.

Zya dropped off $35,000 to Jules’s lawyers and put $500 in his prison commissary. I’m done with him. She felt so betrayed that she couldn’t stop crying. Her tears were endless as she made her way to her destination. She walked into the building and signed in with the receptionist.

“Would you like counseling before making such a drastic decision?” the receptionist asked.

Zya wiped her eyes and replied, “No, and I would like it done today.”

She pulled out the $4,500 she had left and threw $500 on the counter. The receptionist picked up the money and handed her a clipboard. “Fill out these forms and we can get you started.”

Zya took the forms to her seat, and the first question brought the tears back to her eyes.

Have you ever had an abortion before? Yes or No.

If Yes, how many?________