Filthy Rich-Part 2 (3 page)

Nessa smiled.

“Now tell me what you got going on that’s so damn important."

"I don't have time to talk about it now. But know you’re a part of the plan.  I'll hit you later."

The two hugged tightly.

Nessa hopped in her car and left the clinic. Still stressing about the pregnancy, she picked up Brandon who’d just left a Federal satellite office meeting with a few local cops . Seeing the stress on her face, he asked, "You okay?"

"I'm good," she lied.

"You sure?"

She nodded.

Unconvinced, he chose to leave it alone, but did ask about her father.

“I don’t know,” she said impatiently as she kept looking from the rearview mirror to the street ahead of her. With five hundred thousand in the trunk and a drug deal ahead of her, she couldn’t help but feeling overwhelmed.

“Well, Nessa, he only gave you seventy-two hours to get the money. Something’s gotta be done.”

“Brandon, of course I know that. The shit’s been on my damn mind constantly. But right now, first thing’s first. I’ll worry about my father after we’ve gotten this deal out the way.”

Nessa made her way through traffic. Eventually she was making her way through the affluent Potomac area. Among Benzes, BMWs, and Jaguars she made her way through the neighborhood as Brandon gave her directions. Passing mansion after mansion, she reached a Spanish styled home and pulled up to its gate. After pressing a button on an intercom, she and Brandon waited.

"Yeah?" someone finally said.

"We're here to see Chavez," Nessa returned.

The gate opened slowly.

Nessa headed up a long weaving driveway towards the main house. As soon as she reached the bottom of its steps, she and Brandon were greeted by several men in black suits. Brandon was immediately searched as he stepped out of the car. His gun was confiscated. Both he and Nessa were then escorted into the house. Moments later, they were in the den.

"Brandon," Chavez emitted, sitting behind his desk in black dress pants, a black vest and a white button down shirt. He was handsome, half black and half Dominican; resembling more of a gentleman than a thug or drug dealer.

"Chavez," Brandon returned. “My man!”

Nessa was standing beside Brandon with a Louis Vuitton duffle bag filled with five hundred thousand of the one million dollars she'd snaked Luke for.

"So you must be Nessa," Chavez stated in his strong, Mexican accent. There was arrogance in his voice, and privilege in his demeanor.

She nodded, wondering why he didn’t remember meeting her once before.

He stood from his seat, made his way around the desk, took Nessa's hand into his, and softly planted a kiss on it. "A very beautiful woman."

"Thank you."

"And very competent if Luke actually trusts you to handle his affairs."

"Of course, I’m all that and more."

He headed back around his desk to his high-back chair. Sitting down, he leaned back and crossed his legs while folding his hands into his lap. Two gunmen with evil grimaces stood at the door watching both Nessa and Brandon carefully. If they didn't like even the slightest movement or look, they would kill.

"So I'm assuming that's my money in the bag?" Chavez asked Nessa.

"Five hundred thousand."

"Great." He signaled to one of the gunmen.

The goon headed over to Nessa and grabbed the bag of money. He then went back to the door and stood without even bothering to open the bag.

"You're not going to count it?" Nessa asked Chavez.

"Should I?"

"It's all there but I'm just saying…”

"No need," he told her passively. "You look like the type who values your life."

The room grew silent as the latter part of what he'd just said set in. The tone of his voice spoke volumes. No word or syllable was stressed causing every sound to be unsettling for Nessa. She understood exactly what he meant. If every penny wasn't in that bag...she'd be dead.

"So how's life been treating you, Brandon?" Chavez asked, changing the topic of conversation.

"Can't complain."

"Every day above ground is one to be thankful for, huh?"

"Absolutely."

Chavez nodded. "My sympathies though for your family's recent misfortune."

"It's a part of the game. We'll pull through."

"I'm sure you will. I mean it’s never easy having pigs come to seize shit they never worked for. It’s thievery if you ask me."

Nessa watched Chavez as he spoke. She liked how smooth and articulate he enunciated his words. He had a demeanor similar to Luke's. But the Dominican addition to it made it even sexier. Oddly, she’d never been interested in pretty boy types.

“So, Luke will be straight…I presume?”

“Definitely,” Brandon spoke up quickly. “Just a small amount of time in jail…that’s all.”

Returning his attention back to Nessa, Chavez said, "Five hundred thousand gets you thirty bricks. That discount is my gift to you…but I’m concerned.”

“About what?” Nessa rattled her words softly.

“That seems like a lot of work for such a delicate woman." His eyes surveyed Nessa's curves.

"Trust me, Chavez. There's nothing delicate about me."

"So you can handle that much work?"

"And a whole lot more."

He chuckled as if unconvinced and said, "Cute. I guess with Luke’s army behind you anything is possible." He then grabbed a small piece of paper and wrote something down on it. Extending it to Nessa, he said, "This is an address. When you leave here, head there immediately and wait outside in your car. Shortly after you arrive, the merchandise you purchased will be delivered to you."

Both Brandon and Nessa nodded.

Standing, Chavez made his way around the desk once again. Taking Nessa's hand and kissing it again, he told her, "Any problems, let me know."

"I will."

"Looking forward to doing business with you again."

"As am I."

As Nessa turned to head for the door, Chavez hesitated to let her hand go. There was a pause between them. They looked into each other's eyes, both sets showing obvious interest. Chavez then smiled and let go of Nessa's hand. Moments later, Nessa and Brandon were back outside in the rental and headed towards the far Southeast’s Highland neighborhood, a far cry from the safe and privileged Spring Valley. Reaching it, the mansions they'd just left behind were now replaced with burned down buildings and vacant houses. Pulling to the curb in front of a store with the address on it that Chavez had sent them to, Nessa looked around at her surroundings. She saw young dope boys walking by staring at her as if they knew she didn’t belong or as if they suspected she was a cop. Crackheads and prostitutes walked by staring also.

Brandon, who had been given back his gun after leaving the mansion, now pulled it out and kept it in close reach. He didn't trust the neighborhood or the people in it at all.

"You sure he's not playing us, Brandon?” Nessa asked.

Glancing in the overhead mirror, searching for anything he didn't like, Brandon said, "I'm sure. He's been doing business with the family too long to do some snake shit."

The two sat quiet.

Ten minutes passed.

A Black Tahoe pulled to the curb across the street. A moment later, its driver's side window rolled down. A young boy who looked to be no older than sixteen appeared sitting in the driver's seat. He was looking directly across the passing traffic at Nessa.

Seeing the boy, Nessa tapped Brandon. "Look."

Brandon was now looking across the street at the truck.

The young boy rolled up his window. Seconds later, the driver's side back door opened. Another young boy with tons of gold chains hopped out with two plain looking, large black book bags in his hand. Looking up and down the street, he jogged through the traffic towards the rental. Reaching it, he spat, "Roll the fuckin’ window down, nigga."

Unsure if she should, Nessa looked at Brandon.

"Go 'head," Brandon told her.

She rolled it down.

Without another word said, the boy tossed the bags on Nessa's lap and jogged back across the street to the truck. He then hopped back inside. Seconds later, the truck sped off.

Nessa opened the bag. Just like Chavez had promised, there were thirty bricks of Cocaine inside.

"Alright, let’s get out of here," Brandon said.

The rental rapidly pulled away from the curb. But Nessa was so nervous that when she pulled out, she failed to use a signal and was suddenly stopped by a cop looking to meet his quota. Walking up on the car with a vengeance, he frowned.

           “Roll your window down,” the cop spat, peering over his cheap looking shades. “License and registration.”

              Nessa’s hand shook nervously as she cautiously reached for the glove compartment. She hoped a routine traffic stop wouldn’t land her in prison for life. As she fumbled around her registration, she became increasingly more edgy.

             “Why you so nervous, pretty young lady? You sweating like a pig.”

                Noticing his badge she began. “Officer Lucas, I don’t know what I did to make you pull me over, but I’m sorry.”

                Nessa concocted a story about heading to see her terminally ill grandma in the hospital. The tale was so good and creatively crafted she began to believe it herself. While her lies rolled easily off her tongue, Brandon appeared to be in a daze and wearing a smirk. 

                “You’re lying,” the officer blasted. “I need you to step out of this car.”

                Bile rose up in Nessa’s gut. “Step out for what?”

               “Because I need to search this car,” he said firmly. “Especially those nice duffle bags in the backseat.”

               “Officer, what did I do? Can you just write the ticket so we can go?” Nessa’s voice cracked. “I mean this is harassment.”

                Her heart raced even more.

               “I don’t think so. The only place you’re going is to the penitentiary. Riding around with drugs could get you life, Lady Heroine.”

                 Nessa had to think quickly since Brandon had zoned out. While her chest heaved up and down, her first thought was to negotiate, offering a payoff. Then she thought of speeding off. More ideas scattered through her brain until Brandon finally spoke up.   

                 “Lucas, that’s enough,” he blurted. “You did your job and watched my back like you were supposed to. Take this and go,” he said, reaching over Nessa to hand the officer the stack of money.

                  “Nice doing business with you,” Officer Lucas said, blowing kisses at Nessa. “She’s hot, Brandon,” he added, patting the inside of the window.

                  Immediately, Nessa reached over and punched Brandon in the chest. “If you wanna be a clown, join the fuckin’ circus,” she scolded skidding away from the curb.

Chapter 3

The garage door leading to the bottom of the county jail lifted. When it was completely raised, a white van with tinted windows exited the garage. Behind the van were two Ford Five Hundreds with tinted windows and government plates. Making their way through downtown during the wee hours of the morning, the small convoy hit the highway and within moments, began to place the Metropolitan area further and further behind them.

Inside the van staring at its inner walls, Luke sat in shackles and a jumpsuit. As he stared at nothing more than steel and chipped paint, he couldn’t help but feel nervous and on guard. He’d awakened from his sleep shortly after 5 a.m by guards he’d never seen before, told to get dressed and then ushered out of the jail with no word of where he was going. The entire situation had him seriously suspecting the worse.

He was being carried off to slaughter, a slaughter ordered by Chetti.

The game was full of betrayal. Luke knew that. He'd never doubted it. It was one of those parts of the game that no matter how much you wished it didn't exist, there was no way around it. He'd accepted it a long time ago. Still though, he’d  wished it hadn't come at this point in time. He had enough damn problems, but knew his mother was ruthless.

“Where am I going?” Luke shouted to the guards.

No answer.

“What’s going on?”

The driver looked at the passenger. Both men smiled at each other and chuckled. One then told the other, “It’s amazing how they’re man enough to snitch, but want to get nervous when it’s time to take this ride.”

“You won’t get away with this!” he told them.

More chuckling.

The sliding window between them and Luke then slid shut.

Frustrated and worried, Luke thought about his mother and Darien. There was so much hatred in his heart for them. There was no doubt in his mind that Chetti had killed Trinity and Cedrick. And knowing how blindly and loyally Darien followed Chetti, Luke had no doubt that his brother was involved. He'd probably been the one who squeezed the trigger. Now they’d probably used their contacts on the inside to reach out and touch him for agreeing to testify against them.