The Prada Plan 2: Leah's Story (13 page)

He had never loved a woman the way that he loved YaYa. She was his rib, and he would do anything for her. He knew that she wouldn’t understand his logic right away. In the days to come, her heart would be broken by his decision, but in the long run, her life would be much grander without the stress of sticking by an inmate.

As the soul mates’ lips intertwined, they felt each other’s strife. They were burying their child’s memory, and with it a piece of the love they had for each other.

Their intimate kiss was interrupted by the sound of the church doors opening as Indie’s police escort entered the room. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry. It’s time to go.”

“No,” YaYa uttered. She gripped Indie’s hand desperately as her eyes pleaded with him to stay.

“I’ve got to go, ma. I love you, Disaya…YaYa…I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” Indie stated seriously, unashamed of his candid display of emotion.

“Don’t come visit me. You move on. Do something great…be someone better. Let go of all the pain and fulfill your life, ma. Don’t get stuck in the grief. That’s my job. I’ll hurt over everything that we lost. Every day I’ll feel that pain. Let that be my burden. All I want for you is happiness.”

Her tears overwhelmed her to the point where she couldn’t speak. Sobs were her only reply.

“Live, YaYa. Don’t let this break you. Don’t let me stop you. Sky would want you to be happy,” he whispered in her ear.

The officer cleared his throat. It was time. Indie kissed her wet cheek before allowing the officer to do his job.

Watching him walk away evoked tyranny within her. Misery might as well have been her name. Indie had a way of giving her the extremes of love. Nothing had ever felt so good than life with him, but the flip side was the intense feeling of loneliness when he was away. Living without him and without their daughter was an ache that couldn’t be dulled.

Leah was disgusted at the connection she witnessed between Indie and YaYa. As she sat in the pews on the second floor balcony, she fumed at the sight of them. No matter what she did to wound YaYa, someone always came to her rescue. She had tried to snatch Indie away from her before and had failed, but as she looked at the picture on her cell phone, she knew that the ball was in her court. YaYa had played herself when she kissed Khi-P. Leah had known Indie long enough to know that this would send him over the edge.

Leah pulled out the burnout that she had purchased and forwarded the picture to the untraceable phone before finally sending it to Indie. She knew that a man of Indie’s caliber would have pull in jail, and he would receive the picture of his beloved YaYa sooner or later. It was the law of the pecking order. Big-timers like Indie ran the prisons, and a cell phone was necessary to ensure they kept in constant communication with the outside.

As she smirked devilishly, Leah felt a wave of twisted satisfaction. She was pulling all the strings from behind the scenes. Indie and YaYa were simply her puppets. She was the rule maker in a cruel game called life, and she was playing them both.

Indie walked out of the church without looking back because he knew if he did, it would only break him down. He couldn’t think of YaYa where he was going. It was about survival. He had yet to stand before a judge, but he was almost sure that they would put him away for the crime that he had committed. His incarceration was inevitable.

He watched as Chase slid one of his escorts a cell phone and a handsome knot full of dead presidents as compensation. Indie nodded his head in appreciation as he passed. At least now he would be able to make calls at his leisure. He needed to be able to reach YaYa and his lawyer at will. The BlackBerry also provided him with internet access to communicate.

He powered on his phone and sifted through the messages that he had missed. Déjà vu hit him when he opened the text message from a number he didn’t recognize. The picture of YaYa and Khi-P intimately kissing set a blaze in him, reminding him of her previous indiscretions involving his brother.

Fuck is this?
he thought as he peered closer at the image. They were in the process of removing each other’s clothing, and the sight was like a bullet to the heart. It hurt much worse than any gunshot ever could.

He hid his emotions well. The only thing that gave him away was the rise and fall of his heaving chest. To say he was astounded would be an understatement, and pain didn’t do justice to the emotions he felt. It wasn’t the fact that she had cheated that hurt him. It was the betrayal that stung.

And with my nigga,
he thought as he shook his head.
They both looked me in my face today like the shit never happened.

Indie forwarded the photo to YaYa. He wanted her to know that he knew. Before she could respond, he powered off his phone and leaned his head against the backseat. He didn’t want to hear from her. He wanted to give her time to think, time to get her words together before she came out of her mouth with a lie. After all that he had done for YaYa, he felt like a fool. Reckless murder wasn’t even in Indie’s character. He had gone all out for YaYa, for his family. He had risked his freedom trying to protect her, and this was how she repaid him.

YaYa’s phone vibrated in her purse, and she removed it as she stepped into the limo. She smiled when she saw Indie’s name pop up on her screen, but when she opened the text, her heart sank. As if the oxygen was sucked out of the room, she gasped as her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief.

How did he…? Where did this…?

So many questions ran through her mind that she couldn’t think straight. As she thought about that night, she shivered.

Someone was still in the house,
she concluded.
Whoever took Sky was still there. That had to be who took this picture!
She dialed Indie’s number with urgency.
I have to explain this to him. I have to make this right.

Her call went directly to voice mail, causing YaYa to burst into tears. She knew at that moment that her world was over. Losing Indie was the last straw. There was only so much that one person could take, and she had reached her breaking point.

“Mr. Perkins, you were supposed to appear in this courtroom over a week ago to be arraigned,” Judge Lawson said as he peered down at Indie sternly.

Einstein stood up on Indie’s behalf. “Your Honor, his daughter was the little girl that has been on the news. Skylar Perkins…her memorial is what held up the arraignment proceedings.”

Judge Lawson softened his tone a bit as he replied, “I see. My condolences to you, Mr. Perkins. How does the defendant plead?”

“Not guilty,” Einstein replied. “We wish to request a speedy trial. We would like to deliver opening statements as soon as possible.”

“This courtroom does not run on Mr. Perkins’ schedule. Trial will be set for December third at 9:00
A.M
.,” the judge ordered.

The trial date was six months away, but Indie was indifferent as he sat stone-faced. He was there physically, but his mind was a million miles away. He could feel YaYa sitting behind him, urging him to turn her way, but he refused. He couldn’t look at her. He was afraid of how he might feel when he did finally look her in her deceitful eyes.

He couldn’t help but wonder how she was holding up. They both had lost the greatest child in the world. He hoped that she was well, but he would never let her know that.

Once bail was denied and the court date was set, the bailiff came to escort him back to the prison van. Not once did he acknowledge Disaya. He walked out of the courtroom in handcuffs, and his head low as he ignored her voice calling his name.

YaYa stood and gripped the wooden pew in front of her as she watched Indie leave the room. “Indie,” she called helplessly, but he just kept walking. Every step he took felt like a punch to the gut. He was literally walking out of her life. She had waited by the phone day and night, hoping that he would call. All she wanted to do was explain the picture to him. She needed him to know that they had stopped before things had gone too far. She would take any form of communication from him at this point. He could yell at her, scream on her, he could call her a bitch, as long as he was talking to her. She would take anything she could get, but he gave her nothing, and the silence was deafening.

With Indie gone, YaYa’s dream quickly transformed into a nightmare. Her life was no picnic. The fairytale was over and reality was cold. Without the security of her man to hold her down, things became extremely tight. Bills were piling up, and the responsibility of taking care of herself weighed heavily upon her.

Houston wasn’t New York. She wasn’t home. She couldn’t just pick up a quick hustle to get by. She didn’t know a damn thing about the South. The little bit that she had experienced had put a bitter taste in her mouth. Niggas got down differently in Houston. They were treacherous, and nothing was off limits. A stranger to the big Southern city, she was left on stuck.

The love she had relocated for was non-existent at this point. When Indie had gotten arrested, her love had been locked down. Whatever time Indie got, she knew that her soul would do the time with him. Even if she moved on with her life, her ability to love a man would forever be stuck with Indie. The ying to her yang, he had all of her. Indie was her other half, the greatest man she had ever known, but now things were just fucked up. They had created the most magnificent form of beauty that had ever existed when they made their daughter. The guilt of her demise was enough to rip them apart. Add the stress of a jail sentence to the equation, and the end of their relationship became inevitable. The entire setup was just all bad. No matter what either of them did, there were too many roadblocks hindering them from furthering their relationship.

YaYa knew that all good things would eventually end. Indie had made things too easy for her. He had given her everything and made her earn nothing. He had made her his queen, but the feds had dethroned her, and she had fallen from grace back into the realm of the regular.

As she sat at her dining room table gripping a glass of vodka, tears fell from her eyes.
Things weren’t supposed to be like this,
she thought as she glanced out of the window and watched the tow truck pull her vehicle away. She couldn’t afford to pay her note, and frankly, she didn’t have the energy to try. They could have that shit. Everything from the furs to the luxury vehicles could go. She would give it all up to regain her family. No cost was too high to have her daughter back and to wake up to Indie every morning. It wasn’t the lifestyle that she was infatuated with; it was the man. She would have lived out of a cardboard box with Indie.

Other cats from her past had to impress her with the finer things, but Indie was the exception. He was her wreckless love, her unconditional love, but now it felt like none of it had ever really happened. It felt like a good/bad dream—good because she got to feel what it was like to love so greatly, but bad because she had lost him and the product of his seed.

Life in general overwhelmed her. She was already emotionally devastated, but now her finances were at an all-time low. She knew eventually they would come for her house. There was no way she could keep up her mortgage or even afford to maintain the utilities, and when they did, she would be out on her ass. She had nothing and no one.

In the wake of the storm, she was left with nothing but a broken heart, so to rid herself of the pain, she drank like a fish. YaYa consumed hard, liver-rotting liquor. It was the only thing that helped her get by. Pain was an understatement. She felt responsible for Skylar’s and Indie’s fate. It hurt so bad that it numbed her.

Thinking about it drove her to madness, yet at the same time, she couldn’t stop. It was all she could think of. She tried to recall from memory the beat of Skylar’s heart and the feel of Indie’s embrace, but with each day that passed, she could recall less. She knew that with time her pain would fade and her wounds would heal, but when they did, she would forget. A little bit every day would leave her, and she never wanted to leave Indie or Sky behind.

She stood from the table and walked around the home, admiring everything that Indie had purchased her. Her glass was glued to her hand as she took it all in. She couldn’t help but ask herself if it was really worth it. She would rather not have been acquainted with love at all than to have it disappear from her life. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed for the worse. She was still standing, but who wanted to survive alone? Being the sole survivor was lonely. With all of her loved ones gone, she felt as if she would be better off dead.

YaYa realized that she was wallowing in her sorrow, but she felt as if she were entitled to her moment. So, she finished off the bottle that she was working on and walked over to the liquor cabinet. She pulled out a bottle of Patrón, not even caring that she was mixing all different types of liquor. Her mission was to get fucked up to provide her with a temporary escape.

She went up to her bedroom and over to her closet. She had an entire department store inside: clothes, cash, cars, even jewels. She had it all. Indie had deprived her of nothing, but losing it all felt so bad that she wished she had never attained it in the first place.

As she sipped her liquor, she went through her jewels, packing them all away in her suitcase. She took only her most expensive pieces. With no real cash to her name, she knew that the jewels would prove valuable one day.

It was so ironic how quickly things could fall apart. Usually she could easily rebound when the game knocked her down, but this time she had no one around her to pick her back up. No Mona, no Indie, and no Sky. This time the only one she had was herself, but she was too weak to stand up alone. So instead, she gave up, and as she whisked the strong liquor down her throat, it numbed the aching pain she felt and filled the void inside of her—with misery.

Life was too hard. Everything about it hurt. It had never been easy, but now with the death of her daughter and the loss of her only love weighing her down, she had nothing left to fight for. Disaya was on stuck. In the past, her fly girl antics had always gotten her by. Everything had been about a dollar. She was always chasing cashmere dreams, trying to climb from the bottom to the top. From the ground up, the throne looked so appealing, but now that she was on top, she realized it was all an illusion. Being queen was lonely. Being the woman to a man like Indie was stressful. Expectations of beauty were impossible to meet, and although the position came with hood prestige, it also carried a risk of inherent danger. Being wifey to a hustler was over-rated because at the end of the day, the man she depended on more than anyone was always pulled away from her.

A crippling pain corrupted her soul as she lay sulking in her own sadness. She knew that she had power over her own emotions, and that it was up to her to piece her life back together, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to go on without her family. She had been through too much. The death of her mother, the rape she endured as a child, the hard-knock hustle she had used to survive on the streets, the death of Mona—it was all overwhelming, and losing Sky and Indie was the straw that broke the camel’s back. No one could survive so many hard times. Life had beaten her to the point where she could no longer conceal the bruises it left behind.

Scarred, she knew what she had to do. She ran a hot bubble bath in her porcelain claw foot tub and immersed her body. It was so hot that she could barely stand it, and steam rose into the air, but once she adjusted to the temperature, the warmth was like tiny hands rubbing her tense body, melting her worries away. It was inviting, convincing, and soothing. The feeling of euphoria it brought over her was enough to take her fears away. Suddenly, her future seemed perfectly clear—her destiny, inevitable.

She reached to the side of the tub and grabbed Indie’s old school barber’s razor. She was in a daze, as if someone else were pushing the buttons and causing her to move. She didn’t even feel the sting of the blade as she ran it vertically down her wrists, slicing her flesh in half. She submerged her entire body in the water. Only her nose and eyes peeked above the bath as her blood spilled out, tinting the water rose red.

Memories of her life flashed before her eyes. The blood flowing from her wrists felt serene, and a peaceful calm took over her. The throbbing of her wrist was an indication of redemption for her. All of the wrong she had done in her life and all of the trespasses that had been committed against her no longer mattered. This was her moment of clarity, and as she slipped away, she could feel God’s embrace. She was going to meet her maker and to be with the loved ones she had lost. She had made the choice. This world no longer had anything here for her.

As her eyelids grew heavy, she saw her mother’s smiling face and Mona’s inviting grin, and she heard Skylar’s innocent coos. She no longer feared death; she welcomed it. It was her only escape, an ugly end to a beautiful life. Too many things had led to the destruction of YaYa. She was tired of losing and having no control over her own life. Committing suicide, in an odd way, was self-empowering. If she was going to be taken out of the game, it was going to be on her own terms, in her own way.