Chapter 6
Federali
Zya picked up her cell phone to call Vita, and heard the operator’s voice, informing her that Vita’s phone was disconnected. “That can’t be right,” Zya said as she sat at her kitchen table counting money. She hung up her phone and tried again, but got the same response.
Damn, Vita. I would have let you hold something to pay yo’ damn bill. She and Heavy must be beefing again. Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to go and holla at her a little later.
Just as Zya was about to return her cell phone back to its clip, she felt it begin to vibrate. She looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Snow calling.
“What’s up, Snow?” she answered.
“Zya, they on deck,” Snow said, informing her that he had the bricks.
“Oh, okay, so I can pick them up tonight.”
“Yeah, that’ll be good. When can I be expecting you?” he asked.
“Tonight when I get off work.”
Zya hung up the phone and smiled because she knew more money was headed in her direction. Snow had just got back from seeing his Cuban connect, and he had picked up another shipment. People had been calling her the last two days for weight, but she had to wait on Snow to return.
Zya and Snow became close in the midst of dealing with each other. Snow offered her a partnership, and they were both getting bread together. Zya loved his prices, and she was kind of feeling his style too. Even though it had been a while since she stopped messing with Jules, she still wasn’t ready to be involved with anyone. She told herself she was all about making money right now. But every time she came into contact with Snow, she thought about what it would be like to be his woman.
Zya glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly time for her to go to work. With the drug money coming from the restaurant and from the streets, Zya had accumulated a lot of money. Some weeks she got so much money, she wouldn’t be able to count it all. She just grabbed a shoe box and dumped the money into it.
She walked to her room and opened her closet. She had removed all of her clothes from her closet, and only shoeboxes filled the space, shoeboxes full of money. It was barely enough room to put the box in her hand inside. She managed to squeeze it on the top, and then she closed the door.
I need a safe, because this shit ain’t going to work, she thought as she fixed her hair, preparing go to work.
It had been three months since she got connected with Jules’s old clientele. With her low prices and good dope, she had made three times as much as Jules ever made monthly. Zya was on top of the game and making a name for herself.
Zya went under her bed and grabbed two ounces of coke and stuffed them into her purse. Earlier, she had put a gram of dope in each baggy, and they sold like penny candy. This was an everyday routine before she went to work. She usually had to run back home to get more, so she contemplated taking more to save the trip.
It ain’t worth the risk. I’ll just come back if I need more, she thought as she headed out of the door to work.
An hour later, Zya was at Stello’s, waiting tables. She had only been at work forty-five minutes, and she managed to slang an ounce and a half. Damn, I need to ask Meechi to let me take my break early so I can run home. I only have a half left, and the night crowd haven’t even came yet.
Zya went to the bar to put her food order in. Just as she pinned the receipt on the order board, Meechi stuck his head out of his office and called her.
“Zya, come here for a minute.”
Zya wanted to wait on her customer first and also put up the dope she had left before she went into Meechi’s office. “Okay, I’ll be there in a second.”
Meechi’s face expressed anger, and he raised his voice. “No, I need to see you right now. Come here,” he said as he ducked back into his office.
Zya took a deep breath and walked into Meechi’s office. She saw Meechi sitting behind his desk, staring at her. “What’s up, Meechi?” Zya said nervously.
“I have to talk about what you’ve been doing in my restaurant.”
Damn, I’m busted. He’s going to fire me, but I don’t give a fuck. I already made ten times as much in dope money in here than what he’s paying me. I don’t know, these Italians are crazy.
Meechi stood up and walked over to Zya. He reached in his inner coat pocket, and Zya’s heart skipped a beat.
“Meechi, please don’t shoot me,” she said.
Meechi looked at Zya like she was crazy as he pulled out a white envelope. “What the fuck are you talking about? I just wanted to commend you on doing a good job. All the customers rave about you, and I wanted to show you that I take care of my hardworking girls. Here.” Meechi handed Zya the envelope full of hundred-dollar bills.
“Thanks,” she said as she finally exhaled and tried to stop her heart from beating one hundred miles per hour.
Meechi sat on top of his desk and lit a cigar. He noticed Zya’s nervousness and laughed, “What did you think, I was going to kill you or something?” They both laughed, but Zya wasn’t laughing at Meechi’s comment. She was just happy she didn’t get caught selling her own product out of the restaurant.
Zya put the envelope inside her apron and said, “Well, I have a lot of customers waiting. I’m going to get back to work.” She started toward the door.
Meechi spoke to her just as she reached the door. “Zya, I need for you to serve the roundtable tonight. Can you do it? Marcella called in sick again.”
“Sure, Meechi.”
“Oh yeah . . . and, Zya.”
“Yeah?”
Meechi’s smirk turned into a frown before he spoke. “I want a ten percent cut on the dope you’re moving out of my fuckin’ restaurant. I know about everything that goes on around here. Remember that. You’re a hustler. I like that. We can’t supply the customers right now, so I don’t see anything wrong with you making some pocket change. Ten percent from now on. Got that?”
Zya nodded her head and left the office.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. How long has he known? I guess I wasn’t being slick after all. Well, at least now I don’t have to sneak around here with the coke. This could be a great business move.
On her break, she had made her usual trip to her house so that she could re-up, and at the end of the night, Zya had sold all of her coke. She watched as everyone at the restaurant prepared to go home for the night. She sat at the back table and began to count her earnings for the day once most of the staff was gone. She took out Meechi’s ten percent and put it to the side. She didn’t mind giving up a percentage to him because it could have been much worse.
I am glad that he only asked for a cut. I thought he was about to dead me right then and there. Them damn Italians don’t play when it comes to money.
Zya was supposed to stay back because that night was the night of the Supreme Clientele meeting and she told Meechi that she would serve them. Liz was the last staff member to leave, and she saw Zya at the back table. Liz walked over to Zya, and she was so busy counting her money, she didn’t even notice Liz approaching her.
“Oh my goodness. How did you get all of that money?” Liz asked as she stared at the stacked of hundred- and fifty-dollar bills on the table.
Zya was startled by her unexpected company, and had no time to conceal her cash. It was too late. Liz had seen all of her business. Zya, at first, was annoyed by her nosiness, and smacked her lips to let it be known. Zya quickly lightened up and tried to cover up her attitude. She searched for an excuse.
“Girl, Vinnie gave me a five thousand dollar tip tonight. I guess he felt guilty for how he’s been treating me.”
Liz grew a look of skepticism on her face, but just played along with Zya. “Yeah, I guess it was due. What are you still doing here?”
“Meechi asked me to serve another private dinner tonight. I need the extra money too.”
“You’re not the only one. I wish he would let me do a couple of them private parties. Marcella started doing some private dinners and bought herself a new car within a month. Lord knows I could use the extra cash. You know, with the kids and all.”
Zya knew that Liz had three kids, and felt sorry for her. Zya grabbed five one hundred dollar bills off of the table and handed it to Liz. “Here you go.”
Liz’s face lit up when she saw the money Zya was handing to her. “I cannot take this, Zya.”
“Take it, Liz. You know you need it. Besides, the way Vinnie acts sometimes, he should give all of us big tips.”
Liz dropped her head and humbly took the money. “Thanks, Zya. I owe you big time for this. I could really use this money.”
Before Zya could respond, Meechi stepped out of his office and yelled, “Zya, make sure you lock up once everyone leaves.”
Liz looked at Zya and said, “I guess that’s my cue. I’ll see you on Monday, and thank you again.”
“Later,” Zya said as she stuffed the money in her purse and followed Liz to the exit. Zya locked all four deadbolts and flipped over the CLOSED sign. When Zya turned around, she saw Meechi leaning against the bar.
“Got my cut?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s right here.” Zya reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She walked over Meechi and handed it to him. His eyes got big when he peeked inside the envelope.
He handed the envelope back to Zya and said, “Honey, I said ten percent, not your whole take.”
Zya handed the envelope right back to Meechi and responded, “That is ten percent.”
Meechi grinned and the stuck the envelope into his inner coat pocket. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
Zya threw her hands in the air and shrugged her shoulders. “I know, I know. What can I say?” she asked as she boasted playfully. They both laughed, and Meechi went back to his office.
“The meeting starts in about a half an hour. Grab a bottle of our best wine from the back.”
Before Zya could reply, Meechi closed his office door. Zya put her purse behind the bar and went to the back, where the wine was.
It’s dark as hell back here. Where’s the light switch? she thought as she rubbed the wall right by the room’s entrance. As she searched for a switch, she heard movement within the room and grew very tense.
“Who’s there?” she yelled as she continued to search for the light switch. After a few seconds of frantically searching for it, she found it and flicked it on. What in the hell? She saw Buggy standing in the corner, looking terrified.
“Buggy, are you okay?” she asked and she went toward him.
“I . . . I got lo-lost. Zya, I want to go . . . go home,” he stuttered as he shook timidly.
Zya walked over to Buggy and gently grabbed his arm. “Come on, Buggy. Let’s get you home.” She led Buggy to the front exit. She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked directly at him and whispered, “Buggy, you can’t be roaming around here like that, okay? You know Meechi doesn’t allow anybody in the back.”
“Okay,” Buggy said, not knowing what he had done. Zya looked back to ensure Meechi wasn’t coming, and unlocked the doors.
“Buggy, go home, okay? I will see you tomorrow.”
Buggy smiled from ear to ear and waved to Zya as he exited the restaurant. Zya watched as he walked across the street to the apartment he stayed in. Zya locked the doors once she saw he was in.
I feel sorry for him. He must have been scared back there, not knowing where he was at. I’m glad I found him when I did.
Zya quickly got back on task and returned to the back room and grabbed a bottle of Cristal from the cellar. She returned to the bar and put it on ice. That’s when she heard the back doors being opened, and then she heard the noise of the elevator going down. That must be them coming in now, she thought as she went to the kitchen and prepared some finger foods for the guests.
Zya waited a couple of minutes to let the roundtable get settled, and then she prepared to go downstairs. She grabbed the paper that had the security codes written on them for access to the room. She went to the freezer and searched for the keypad. Once she found it, she pushed in the code, 11, 28, 84. Bingo! she thought as the freezer lights came on and the elevator began to move downward.
When the elevator stopped, Zya opened the door and saw the long, narrow hallway that led to the roundtable room. She grabbed her order pad from her apron, so that she could remember all of the orders, and started toward the room. The closer she got, the clearer the conversation became. Zya heard and recognized the voice that was speaking. It was the woman she saw at the table the last time. She was speaking calmly and clearly.
“We have to do something about the cocaine drought. We have no connect, which means no product. We are losing a lot of money right now with the drought, and we just took a loss from that one-eyed bastard. We need some coke. Not that bullshit, either. We need some pure cocaine. My connect is tapped out, and he has no idea when he is going to get more.” She spoke with so much confidence that Zya knew she was the most powerful person in the room.
Damn, they killed that man with the fucked-up eye. That’s messed up—before Zya could even finish her thoughts, she heard someone coming toward the door. She quickly got out of her eavesdropping position and tried to look as normal as possible. The door cracked open, and she pretended to be just about to knock.
“Oh, there you are. The guests are ready,” Meechi said as he opened the door completely and stepped to the side so Zya could enter.
Zya walked in, and all conversation seemed to come to a screeching halt. She looked around the room and noticed that six people were sitting at the table, all of whom were looking directly at her—all of them except for the woman who sat at the head of the table. The woman gently tapped her temple with her index finger, looking as if she was in deep thought.
It was an uncomfortable silence for a couple of seconds, so Zya quickly began to write everyone’s orders down. The only person she noticed that she knew by name at the table was Mr. Castello. She went from person to person, taking orders. The woman was her last stop.
“And what would you like to drink, ma’am?” Zya asked as she held her pen to the pad.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked as she looked up at her.
“Zya,” she responded.
“Okay, Zya, give me a glass of Dom,” she said as she looked Zya in the eyes and smiled.
There was something warm about the woman’s eyes that welcomed Zya. She wrote her order down and went toward the door, but before she exited, she heard the woman’s voice.
“Zya, I like those Manolos you rockin’. They hot!” the woman said as she looked down at the $500 pair of shoes Zya wore.
“Thanks,” Zya said as she smiled and walked out of the room. Before she closed the door, she heard the woman say, “Damn, Castello, how much do you pay your waitresses? I want a job here.” The whole room burst into laughter, and Zya headed upstairs to get the drinks for Supreme Clientele.
The next day, Zya was having a good day at the restaurant. It was a Saturday night, and she had already moved a couple ounces before the night crowd even came. Nothing could have messed up Zya’s day—nothing except what was about to happen.
“Get on the fucking ground!” a police officer yelled as he pointed his nine millimeter directly at Zya. A swarm of police officers rushed into Stello’s all at once, completely ransacking the place. There were police everywhere, telling everyone in the restaurant to get on the ground. Even the cooks and customers had guns in their faces.
Zya fumbled her plates in her hands and dropped them on the ground, causing them to shatter into little pieces. She dropped to the floor with her hands up in the air. She lay face down on the ground, right next to Buggy. She glanced at the door and watched as more police filed into the building with their guns drawn. The last man to walk in was a man that looked to be in his mid-twenties and wore braids to the back. Zya knew he was a police officer because he wore a bulletproof vest that had NYPD stamped on the chest.
He took his time walking in while smoking a cigarette. He dropped it on the ground and stepped on it as he began to look around, giving orders. “Check the back. You, check behind the bar. Tear this mu’fucka up until you find something. Let’s go!” he yelled as he walked over to the officer that was putting Meechi into cuffs.
Meechi smiled arrogantly and didn’t appear to have a worry in the world. “Where’s your search warrant, officer?” Meechi said with a smirk on his face.
“Shut yo’ bitch ass up. I’ll do all the talking. Where are they?” Wade asked calmly as he stood directly in Meechi’s face.
“Right here,” Meechi said as he gave Wade a pelvis thrust, indicating his balls.
Wade gave Meechi a shot to his mid-section and watched as Meechi fell to his knees. Wade knelt down to get on Meechi’s level and began to whisper in his ear.
“I know what’s going on here, and if you cooperate, you won’t rot in jail for the rest of your life.”
Meechi burst out into laughter without responding to Wade’s plea. “Oh, what, you don’t like the food here? Next time you visit, ask for me. I’ll make sure your plate gets my special sauce,” Meechi said, fully enjoying himself.
“Get him out of here,” Wade said as he walked away and began to scan the room.
Zya looked over at Buggy, and he had a blank expression on his face. He didn’t even realize what was happening. Zya whispered to him, “It’s all right, Buggy. Just be still, okay?”
“O-okay,” Buggy stuttered as he stared aimlessly.
Zya felt sorry for Buggy, but she really should have been thinking about her own situation. She had two ounces of cocaine in her apron. I got to get this shit off of me. I can’t move my damn hands because of these handcuffs.
Zya began to think about how she could get rid of the dope, but she was in a sticky situation. The man with the braids ordered all the people in the restaurant to be taken down to the station. The police officers took everyone down, even the cooks and customers. They weren’t going to let anything slip in between their grasp. They even loaded Buggy up in the police wagon. Lonnie Wade was about to find out something, one way or another.
Meechi sat in the interrogation room with Wade and Lieutenant Jones over his left and right shoulders, talking in his ear at the same time. They were trying to break Meechi, but he wasn’t budging. They were not getting any information out of him, and they were growing frustrated. Meechi sat there smiling, and never answered any of their questions. The only thing he would say was to joke about how bad their breath smelled. He knew they had nothing on him, and Meechi was enjoying himself. The more fun Meechi had, the more infuriated Wade became. Wade couldn’t take Meechi’s arrogance any longer, and he snapped. He grabbed Meechi by the collar and got right up in his face.
“Listen up, you ol’ pasta-eating mothafucka! I used to smack up niggas like you back in the day. You think you can hide behind yo’ daddy like you own the world, but you have another thing coming. I know about the drugs and the operation you’re involved in. It’s only a matter of time before you and Supreme Clientele go down,” Wade said as he released his grip and forcefully pushed Meechi.
Meechi’s cocky smirk never left his face. “Supreme Clientele? What the fuck is that? Oh, that old Ghost-face album Supreme Clientele. I liked that album. You niggers sure know how to do that rap music.”
Wade couldn’t control himself. He rushed for Meechi, but Jones grabbed him just before he reached him. Jones pulled Wade out of the room so he could regain his composure.
Liz sat in the interrogation room, crying, looking at the pictures of Marcella’s dead body.
“We found her body three days ago in a Dumpster,” he stated. “This could have easily been you, Elizabeth. The people you work for are animals. Help me get them. Help me bring justice for your friend.” Wade knew the pictures would make her break. Wade sat next to Liz, pretending he genuinely felt bad for her, but he was just trying to squeeze her for information about the restaurant. She cried and cried as she saw her friend’s lifeless body, and Wade knew he had her right where he wanted her.
“This is what they do to innocent people after they’re done using them. We need your full cooperation to help take these people down. They killed your friend. What do you know about the meetings that go on there?”
Liz managed to talk to Wade between her sobs. “I don’t know. They don’t tell me anything. Marcella used to serve the after hour meetings. They wouldn’t let me do them, so I don’t know what goes on. I just know that when the meetings take place, the restaurant closes down early, and they send everybody home except for the waitress serving them.”
Wade continued to grill her. “So, who started to wait on the table after Marcella stopped?”
“They had Zya doing it.”
“Zya?”
“Yeah, she’s the black waitress.”
Wade looked at Jones and nodded his head, signaling him to put the black waitress in an interrogation room for him to question.
“Don’t worry about anything, sweetheart. We are going to take the scumbags down and bring them to justice for what they did to your friend.”
Wade exited the room and entered the one next to it. He looked through the two-way mirror and saw a beautiful sister waiting at the table. She was twiddling her thumbs, and he could tell that she was nervous. He stared at her beauty, and had a feeling that he knew her from somewhere. He stared at her closely and tried to remember where he had seen her before.
She is fine as hell. How is something so beautiful into something so ugly? Where have I seen her before? She is the wifey type I would take home. I’d tear that shit up every night. She would be my queen, and I would be her ... King! That’s where I saw her. Wade smiled and rushed out of the room and headed to his office. He had just taken a big step closer to his ultimate goal—Anari.
Zya sat in the interrogation room sweating bullets. She had been arraigned and charged along with all the other workers in the restaurant. She had been sitting in the bull pens for three days, and she didn’t know what to do. They had all been stuck with a bullshit charge: conspiracy to commit an illegal activity. The police had searched her and found the cocaine stashed in her apron, so she got hit with possession as well. She nervously played with her fingers and looked at the mirror that hung on the wall in front of her. She knew that it was a strong possibility that someone was monitoring her from the other side.
What am I supposed to do? Think, Zya ... think. I need to get out of this shit. They are on some bullshit right now, for real.
Zya thought about calling Snow, but didn’t want to connect the dots for the police. She doubted that she was under any serious investigation, but if she was, she wasn’t going to lead the police straight to Snow. Why did they come busting into the restaurant anyway? she thought as she waited impatiently.
Wade put his hand on the doorknob of the room Zya was being held in and was about to go in before he heard Felix’s Latino accent. “Yo, Wade! Are you ready to go in with the next waitress?” Wade threw his hand up, signaling Felix to yield. Felix stopped dead in his tracks and watched as Wade entered the room alone.
Wade watched as Zya played with her fingers, and she was noticeably shaken up. Without saying a word, he walked to Zya and tossed some photographs on the table in front of her. Zya looked down at the photos and her heart dropped at the sight. She couldn’t believe it. There it was in front of her, pictures of her entering the Baltimore Hotel with King, and another one was with her exiting with Jules on the night of King’s murder. Zya knew that she had to remain calm.
“What’s this supposed to mean?” she asked as she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at Wade.
How in the fuck did he get those pictures? I have to play it cool. Those pictures don’t mean shit. If they do, he wouldn’t be showing them to me. I would already be in jail. Something’s got to be up, Zya thought as she confidently stared at Wade.
Wade looked at the two-way mirror and said aloud, “Let me get some privacy.” He leaned against the table, standing right next to Zya.
I knew someone was watching on the other side of that mirror, she thought.
Wade stared at Zya for a second and then spoke. “Yeah, you’re right. Those pictures don’t mean anything right now. But when you add these ones, they mean a lifetime sentence behind bars.” Wade tossed pictures of King lying dead on the hotel’s bed. Zya grimaced at the sight and turned her head, trying not to look at them. Zya felt the burden of King’s death on her heart, and knew that she had played a part in that brutal set-up. She flipped over the pictures and screamed, “Fuck!” She knew she was in a bad predicament.
Zya quickly tried to defend herself. “He gave me a ride to the hotel to meet my boyfriend. I didn’t have anything to do with that murder.”
Wade slammed his hand on the table, scaring Zya and making her jump. He was ready to cut the bullshit and expose his hidden motive.
“Stop fucking playin’ with me, shorty. There were two sets of fingerprints found in that room. Now, I can run your prints and compare them to the ones found in the room. You and I both know what little discovery I will find. But I don’t want you. I could care less about the little hustle you got going on. I want Supreme Clientele. I want Anari Simpson.” Wade lowered his voice and continued. “Now, you have a decision to make. Do you want me to run your prints or do you want to cooperate?”
Zya knew she was in an unfavorable position, and she couldn’t think of any possible way out of it, so she responded, “No, I don’t want you to run my prints.”
“What do you know about Supreme Clientele?”
“I don’t know anything. I just take their orders and serve a couple of drinks, that’s all.”
“Where are the meetings held?”
Zya wasn’t willing to tell Wade any good information, so she just played a part. I’m no snitch, but I guess I can just feed him some bullshit to keep him off my back.
“They have the meetings in the front dining area.”
“Well, I need to know everything. I want you to tell me what they say, what they do, and what they look like. Listen for names, dates, places, everything! Do you fucking hear me?”
Just when Wade was about to speak, someone walked in the room. What Zya saw confused her. It was Buggy—not the Buggy she knew, but he was walking upright and did not have that dumb look on his face that he always had.
Zya spoke. “Buggy?” What the hell is going on? I thought he was retarded. He’s a fuckin federali! I can’t believe this shit.
Wade smiled and looked at Zya. “Meet Agent Matthews. He is with the FBI and is an inside informant currently working undercover. He is going to be working closely with you and—” Wade didn’t even finish his sentence before Lieutenant Jones came in.
“Wade, let her go. Castello’s lawyer just came in and dropped nine hundred thousand, posting every single person’s bail. Ain’t that ’bout a bitch? The fucker just dropped nine hundred thousand in cold cash on the front desk,” Jones said as he shook his head side to side and placed his hands on his hips.
“Fuck!” Wade yelled as he hit the desk. He bent over and whispered in Zya’s ear. “You have a week to tell me what you’re going to do. If you don’t cooperate, I’m going to put you away, just like I did your little boyfriend.”