Luxe (19 page)

“Nice of you to show your face, Bleu,” Marta said as she took a moment to stop and place her hand on her hip. She was exhausted and she looked at Bleu sternly. “What is all this? You're fancy fancy now?” she asked as she motioned to Bleu's upgraded appearance. The girl in a tight-fitted Burberry button-up with Prada heels was not the same young struggling college student Marta had hired. “You hit the lottery?”

“No, it's just a few new clothes,” Bleu replied.

“And a new car?” Marta said with a raised eyebrow as she motioned to the Mercedes that Bleu had parked directly in front of the establishment.

“Did Iman buy you that?” Marta asked.

“No!” Bleu replied, louder than she intended to. “God, no! It's just … I bought it.… I—”

Marta held her hand up. “No. I don't want to know and I don't want you to lie to me, so just stop. You haven't been here but a few weeks. You were just broke and begging to get this mediocre job, now you're driving around in foreign cars and wearing five-hundred-dollar shirts,” Marta said. “I don't want any trouble in my business, Bleu. Perhaps this wasn't a good fit after all. You clearly don't need the money anymore, honey.”

Bleu nodded because she couldn't see herself working for the measly pay when all she had to do was make a run to Mexico to make racks at a time. Marta was right. Bleu's brief time at Picante had come to an end, but she didn't want to leave Marta hanging.

“I can stick around until you find someone new,” Bleu offered.

“It's okay, Bleu,” Marta said. It was as if she could see through Bleu. Marta didn't know exactly what Bleu had gotten involved in but wasn't a fool. She had seen how the city of L.A. could turn a good girl bad. “You be careful and you take care of yourself.”

Bleu nodded as she hugged Marta. “Thank you, Marta. I'll stop by from time to time to check on you. Those tacos are my favorite,” she said with a soft smile.

“You do that, honey. I'll always have a warm plate waiting for you,” Marta replied. As Bleu walked out, she felt like she had disappointed her own mother. She turned and waved as she hopped into her new Benz and pulled out into traffic. She was living large. A small taste of the good life was enough to turn her out. Now that she knew what it was like to live enormous, she could never see herself living dormant ever again.

 

15

Bleu sat in the bus terminal, her eyes dancing around the room as she made a mental note of everything around her. She didn't know why no one had figured it out before her. Cinco had girls going across the border with ten bricks, fifteen at the most, when he could have had each girl carrying ten times that much. When Bleu had retrieved the luggage from the first run she had noticed how unsecure the bus station was. There was no security checkpoint, no checking of the bags. They hadn't even checked her I.D. when she had picked up her luggage from lost and found. It was literally a smuggler's dream. She wasn't foolish enough to move anything without testing it first, so as she sat with her bus ticket to Tijuana in her hand she observed everything.

“Bus Eleven-Twenty-Eight now loading for Tijuana. All passengers please make your way to gate seven,” the voice came over the loudspeaker, and Bleu jumped to her feet and grabbed her bag. That was the one perk about bus travel. She carried her own belongings all the way to the door of the bus. It wasn't until she was ready to board did a carrier take it from her. She watched intently as they put her bag under the bus.
They don't scan it or nothing,
she thought in amazement. There were no dogs, no X-ray machines … nothing. Bleu could practically see the profit she was about to make. She had gotten twenty thousand for a light run. With the type of weight she was planning to move she would see a hundred grand easy for every trip she took. She took a deep breath as she took a window seat. The thought of so much money gave her anxiety as she leaned her head back against the headrest. Champagne dreams filled her mind as the bus rolled away from the station.

Tijuana and its dirty streets, its run-down buildings, and its corrupt government intimidated Bleu, and as she stepped off of the bus she started to second-guess herself. At least when she had come with Aysha and China she had them to back her up. Now that she was solo she felt like a sitting duck. She was trying to play a big boy's game, but she was vulnerable … she could feel it, and her senses were kicked into overdrive. She didn't want her name to be flagged by customs, so she knew that she had to at least spend one night in Tijuana. She hadn't thought of what she would do to occupy her time, and now that she was here she knew this couldn't be a dry run.
Fuck a test trip.
She had seen all she had needed to see to know that she was coming back across the border with bricks.
Why waste the opportunity?
she thought.

She walked with her duffel bag slung over her arm as she made her way up the desolate street. She had no idea how to get in contact with Cinco, but she was here now. It was too late to turn back.

I have to call Bree,
she thought, knowing that he was the only person who could put her in touch with Cinco. Bree organized the runs. He was the one Cinco did business with. If she was going to dive in headfirst, she would have to go through Bree. It was only right. He was a distributor. Once the cocaine made it into the States, it went to Bree, who then played middleman to various dealers around the city. Once the dope was sold, Bree kept his cut and then sent the majority of the cash back across the border to Cinco. Bleu hadn't yet handled the money, partly because Bree didn't trust her with it. He always sent China to pay Cinco, and Bleu was good with that. They all had their parts to play, and if all went as planned, Bleu's role would be moving weight. She could feel herself becoming good at it. She was a thinker, and once she had gotten her footing in the game she would be able to come up with a better strategy. She didn't want to be responsible for the money. That was too much temptation.

She walked into a run-down hotel and she frowned at its appearance. Its once-white walls were now a pale yellow and the smell of mold reeked in the air. She traveled light, with just enough money to eat and sleep. The last thing she needed was to be robbed in Mexico. She wanted to be discreet as possible. She already stuck out like a sore thumb; being flashy would only get her into trouble. She walked up to the front desk.

“Hola, señorita.
¿Puedo ayudarte en algo?
” the clerk said.

Bleu didn't know a lick of Spanish, and the confused expression on her face gave her away. “I just need a room … one night?” she said as she held up a finger as she frowned, hoping that he understood.

“Si, si,”
he replied.
“Cincuenta dólares.”

She was lost, but she heard something that sounded like “dollars” and figured it was time to pay. She pulled out a hundred dollars, figuring that the run-down establishment wouldn't charge more than that. Placing it on the front desk, she said, “Keep the change.”

She walked up to her room, and when she arrived at her door she saw a girl smoking a cigarette sitting on the hallway floor.

“The fuck chu looking at,
puta
?” the girl asked.

Bleu didn't respond. She simply put her key card in her door and walked inside. She set her bag on the raggedy furniture and cringed when she saw a cockroach crawling up the wall. She didn't even know what she was doing here exactly. She had an idea of how to expand her hustle in her head, but she wanted to scope out the scene first. To her, China and Aysha's operation was too elementary. They had almost been caught, and Bleu wasn't with risking her freedom. She was more into paying people to do the hard work for her. The sound of sex filled the air as the headboard from the next room began to hit the wall. Bleu peeked her head out into the hall, looking left, then right. The girl was gone, so Bleu could only assume that she was the one making sex sounds. She was clearly a prostitute; in fact, Bleu had passed a couple of them on the way in. A smile spread across her face, and she walked next door. She knocked on the room door.

The girl with the shitty attitude answered. “What the fuck do chu want?” she said with a heavy accent.

“To help you make some money,” Bleu responded with a smirk. “And you ain't got to lay on your back for it either.”

*   *   *

Bleu recruited ten women, all prostitutes with nothing to lose but everything to gain, and she waited patiently for them to get their paperwork together so that they could cross the border. She spent her first twenty thousand, investing in them. She cleaned them up, fed them, housed them, and when the time was right, she put each of them on a bus with a bag full of dope as her luggage. Bleu paid them $2,000 each on the back end of the deal. The women were so used to making 40 bucks at a time that the quick lick was enticing for them. Bleu hired her own mules, and with the lack of security on the bus systems she moved hundreds of bricks at a time. So while Aysha and China were making $20,000 a trip, Bleu was clearing $150,000. She didn't go too often. She limited her trips to once a month, but when she did it, she did it big, and it didn't go unnoticed. She was moving so much weight that she became Cinco's breadwinner. Everyone had underestimated Bleu, but she was in the business of working smart, not hard, and it was paying off.

 

16

It didn't take long for Bleu to acclimate to the world of the rich and infamous. She was young and getting it. “New money” was an understatement.

She had never had anything, so when she acquired everything she didn't know how to act. Clothes, shoes, a brand-new C-class Benz that she had leased without thinking twice, she had it all, and within the blink of an eye she had run through the money. It was crazy how quickly the money had gone. It had burned a hole in her pocket. When you spent it by the thousands, twenty grand truly didn't go far. She was no longer on a beer budget, she had upgraded to champagne, and all of her purchases reflected her new tastes. Now she was playing on the same level as China and Aysha. There was no hierarchy. Bleu was no longer the poor little Flint chick on scholarship. Now they were peers and the material possessions on her back made her feel like they were equals. They defined her worth, and if the price tags that she popped were any indication of her value … she was quite expensive.

The three girls sat in the VIP booth of one of the city's most exclusive clubs, popping bottle after bottle in celebration. “To being young and reckless!!!!” China screamed as she held up an entire bottle of Rose champagne.
Fuck glasses.
They didn't need them. They were balling out as Aysha added, “And beat and unbothered!” She raised her own bottle. “And faded and upgraded bitches!” Bleu shouted over the music as she put her bottle in the air. The girls took the champagne to the head as if it were water, and Bleu swayed to the Kendrick Lamar lyrics that were blaring through the speakers. With her hands in the air she two-stepped coolly.

“You're a new bitch, with a new whip, and some new shit!” Aysha screamed drunkenly. “Might as well stunt. Get your pretty ass up here!” Bleu laughed as she watched Aysha climb atop the table and put her hands in the air as if she owned the club. Bleu looked around, waiting for security to tell her to chill, but no one ever came. Pretty women ran the world, or at least L.A., and Aysha did what she pleased. As Bleu looked down at her new appearance, a confidence she had never known bubbled over. She climbed up onto the table with China right behind her and the three women danced the night away. The evil eyes from the broke chicks in the club only added fuel to their fire. The threesome sparked every man's curiosity because not only were they beautiful, but they also were ordering bottles of champagne nonstop, and at $500 a pop they were letting it be known that they were paid. They were burning through more paper than people saw on their paychecks and it didn't go unnoticed. Every dope boy, jack boy, and fly girl in the building was looking, whether they wanted to or not. The attention fed Bleu's ego like no other. She had never been a part of the elite or considered to be a part of the inner circle. Even in high school she hadn't been a part of the popular crowd, but this feeling … this bad bitch, center of the universe, do whatever, whenever feeling … it was the shit. It was definitely something that she could get used to. She had lived dormant for so long. Walking a straight line had led her to boredom, and she had known nothing but struggle. As soon as she took a risk, she had begun to live, and the enormity of it all was intoxicating … wait … or was that the liquor? Either way, she was feeling it and didn't plan on giving up this new hustle anytime soon.

The smile faded from Bleu's face when she noticed Cinco and his yes-men entering the club. Her ears went deaf to everything around her, her feet came to a stop, as she stared at him from across the room. The fear that crept into her chest was crippling. Their eyes locked and Bleu felt as if he was a predator … she, his prey. It was like he could smell her fear. An arrogant smirk crossed his lips, and he nodded, causing her to climb swiftly down from the table. “I've got to go!” she yelled to her friends.

“What?! Now? But we're celebrating!” Aysha protested.

Bleu's hands fumbled as she reached into her new Chanel bag and pulled out a wad of money. She unrolled a thousand dollars and placed it in China's palm to cover her tab.

“Hey, what up? Why you leaving? We're just getting started,” China said as she held up a small vial of cocaine between her fingers. A mischievous grin accompanied the sparkle in her eye. “There's nothing like catching this high and then riding the wave. You have to stay!”

Bleu was stunned momentarily. It wasn't like she hadn't been around drugs. Her mother battled an addiction to crack cocaine, so it wasn't foreign to Bleu; she was just surprised that China freely admitted that she used it. Back home that shit was not the business, but in L.A. it was the drug of choice. Everyone who was someone floated high on “something.” A weekend thing … a party favor … whether it be Ecstasy or molly, hitting lines or popping pills, syrup or a little weed … everyone enjoyed the rush. There wasn't anything taboo about it among the stars and socialites. She had just been inducted into the “famous for no reason at all” club. She was young, gorgeous, and now paid. She was expected to partake and the temptation was real. Maybe it would numb the disgust she felt from allowing Cinco to play her. She still hadn't told anyone. A good high would erase her shame, even if only for the night.