Persia & Zell: The Streets Played Us

Zell POV.

The storm raged outside as I peered down at the weight sitting on the table before me. Thunder was crackling across the sky. The Lord was on a rampage right now in Heaven. There were four kilos missing from my current shipment. I did the calculations in my head again and still came up short.

This shit was foul; not only was I late on delivery, but also out of five and a half thousand bands? That is chump change to a man of my caliber. I spent that money in a day on clothing, furniture or whatever caught my eye. The principle of the matter is my connect, Dallas, had been on the funny shit for a while now. I was tired of this fuck shit and a change was needed.

Dallas had been selling me a variety of drugs since I was a teenager slanging on the corner. I had the gift of gab and a winning smile that could sell ice to an Eskimo. I was raised by a single mother who gave me the last few dollars for lunch money. I took the money and purchased the best weed and coke on the east coast. I was at the top of the food chain now.

“Zell, this shipment is fucking short and the product is not the same quality, either. I say we just body Dallas and find a new supplier. This is unacceptable business practice and it warrants retaliation immediately.”

The voice of my right hand and best friend, Domani, rang out behind me. I could tell he was livid just by the amount of profanity flying from his mouth. Dom, the nickname he went by, was a loose cannon if our order did not add up properly.

A long time ago when we were young in this game, a rival connection, Bane, gave us some over-stepped on coke. The powder had been cut so many times there was nothing left. He charged us triple the amount Dallas would have. Domani loaded his nine-millimeter and drove over to the warehouse where Bane worked out of. I was never the type to run in guns blazing. I had his back in any situation as we were all each other had in the streets.

We gunned down the two guards at the door. Walked in to see Bane getting oral sex from some young chick who was no older than fifteen. The sight alone was enough to blow his brains out on command. A pedophile was the worst kind of man. I had no respect for them.

Domani shot him twice in the shoulder, causing the girl to scream out hysterically. I yelled for her to get the fuck on. Her dumb ass just sat there yelling out incoherent speech. I grabbed her up, pushing her toward the exit, instructing her to go home.

The wails from behind me were Bane begging for mercy. Domani was pistol whipping him while asking twenty-one questions. I had to stop and laugh at this fool while he yelled, “answer me!” Bane had no explanation for his choice, simply put, we were young and hungry. He tried to get over on us and that cost him his life.

That night, we caught our first couple of bodies and disposed of them without incident. We were sixteen and didn’t have a worry in the world about getting caught. We were never hunted down or questioned about the events. Bane must have had a lot of enemies out there who were happy to see him disappear into another black statistic of America. I knew then the street life was for me and no one was ever going to short us again.

“What are you pondering over there? You have been sitting there like a statue for the past three minutes.”

“How you know the quality is bad?” I asked, snapping out of my daze.

“I got Troy to test it. You know that snap is a drug expert.”

We both started laughing at his statement. Troy was an older guy from our neighborhood and number one customer. He had been smoking and snorting every drug since age twenty-two. He was a lifer in the game and that revelation was sad as hell.

Troy was what people call a ‘functioning drug user’. He had a regular job, kids, and a wife at one point. He got high damn near every day and everyone knew it. The man never asked for credit and to my knowledge, never overdosed. Troy had found a balance to being a junky, and still maintaining his regular life. In all my years I had never seen anyone maintain their addiction. I mean the rich white customers, sure. They could do that shit, but not a black man living in the hood.

“I was thinking back to the last time we were shorted on product and quality.” Dom looked at me and a devilish grin spread across his face. Dallas was a mentor to us. Taking his life right away wasn’t my first thought. This shit just was not sitting right with me. I pulled my Galaxy out and dialed his number. As expected, the line picked up then clicked over to a female’s voice.

“Dallas Creed’s office, how can I help you?”

I sighed loudly because this was not who I wanted to speak with. His assistant, Monae, was nosey as all hell. She wanted a detailed message down to your date of birth and even to the exact minute you would be arriving for an appointment with Dallas. “Monae, I need to speak with Dallas. It’s important.”

“Zell, is that you babe? Nun uh, you wrong to address business before a greeting. I should hang up and make you call back the right way.”

I chuckled to hide my irritation at her pet name for me. I had smashed her quite a few times. Now, she figured we were friends with benefits. Baby girl had the situation all twisted up in her head. She was the booty I called on when the real women I fucked with were preoccupied. I’m foul as hell for not correcting her, but she was a needed resource now.

“How are you doing sweetheart. Where is your boss?” I put a little base in my voice so she knew I was serious. The sound of teeth sucking let me know she got my drift. Monae gave me a scripted sentence about Dallas being busy and leaving a detailed message with her.

This bird brain girl is going to make me put my dick so far down her throat, gag reflexes won’t work. I gave it to her short and sweet; have him call me immediately. Dom looked at me and shook his head while sipping on his brown liquor concoction. We both had the same thought that did not need to be said.

Dallas was purposefully busy at this exact time because he knew the call was coming. He never accompanied shipments due to fear of jail or being knocked off. Dallas had enemies all over the continental U.S. and abroad.

Dom or I always called him to confirm everything went smoothly. Dallas always picked up within three rings. The short count, dismal quality, and voicemail charade with Monae, all let me know he was guilty of all our bad thoughts.

I gave the signal for the crew to hold up on unloading any more bricks from the truck. Domani shook his Denali keys in the air and unlocked it. I followed him to it and jumped in the passenger seat. Dallas was about to get an unscheduled visit to his mansion. He was going to learn I was not to be fucked with or ignored.

Money was the only thing in this world I was willing to kill for. We pulled off slow, easing up to the gate, and Domani rolled his window down to release the gate. I got an eerie feeling on the back of my neck and looked in the rearview mirror.

A loud explosion went off and the entire SUV was pushed through the gate. My ears began ringing. As I grabbed the sides of my head. The warehouse and all our employees in it were dead. I released the handle and hopped out into the pouring rain. The fires raged in what was once my place of operations.

“This officially means we are at war with Dallas. Put the word out to everyone else on the team to be on high alert for any strange activity.”

I spoke to Domani, who had come around from the driver's side to stand next to me. He had said a prayer for our fallen soldiers. In the next breath, he was vowing to bury every culprit involved in this attack. Dallas was on borrowed time from this day forth. The storm continued to rage on as the fire fought it. I could not have predicted this event when I rolled out of bed today.

Persia POV.

I sat in my hotel suite watching the sun shine down on the island. The ocean waves crashed against the shoreline. Jamaica was beautiful with its powder blue sky and rich culture. I had the nagging feeling to go enjoy the beach before the impending storm made landfall.

The local meteorologist called for light rain from a hurricane that had turned course. I didn’t believe the forecast one bit. Out here in the middle of the ocean, that storm could turn back at any time. This was the only time I had to enjoy such a beautiful view. When a contract took me to a remote location.

I preferred to do my job and be out all within twenty-four hours. Longer stays due to weather delays always left room for mistakes. The sound of Yo Gotti had me go over to my phone. I saw my employer’s name pop up. “Yes.”

“How did the meeting go, my Pet?” I hated the damn nickname, and every time I requested to be called by my government name, he laughed.

“As you predicted, the client did not have what was owed. He attempted to belittle me and jock himself off as if I was supposed to be spooked. I went with the supplemental plan. I hope their families had life insurance policies,” I said while packing up my clothes and looking at the menu. I was starving since I didn’t eat at the meeting earlier. Never could trust food offered to you by a person you were hired to kill. The laugh coming through the other end of my phone was hoarse from too many years of smoking. I shook my head and waited for the caller to finish.

“Well, I owe you that ten percent bonus then, don’t I? Really thought they would agree to my terms. Hey, another headache averted. Anyhow, the weather patterns are up in the air down there. I suggest you hang out for a while to be on the safe side.”

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to explain my twenty-four-hour rule to him. He had already known of it from past conversations. Being stuck here longer meant my pay went up. Not that it was a complaint on my end at all. I still hated staying longer in places when I didn’t have an absolute need to.

The possibility of getting caught in a foreign country always made me uneasy. I could easily dodge jail time and prosecution in America with the connections I possessed. The rest of the world was uncharted territory. The penalty for my crimes would land me in a dungeon never to be seen again.

I was too damn beautiful for some third world country prison. Before I could speak my thoughts out loud, the voice cut in. He stated a private jet was ready at the airport as soon as clearance was given to take off.

“Why the hell did you not lead with that information? You play too many games, old man. I will call you when I get back to the states. Goodbye.”

I began putting my shoes on while getting the details on the gate and plane info was filtering through my email phone app. I went into the bathroom and ran my fingers through the blonde mohawk I was currently rocking. Short hair was way more manageable in my line of work. I hated waking up and using flat irons, wands, and all those other hair care products all to get a style that lasts maybe four hours a day in original condition. I ended up in all sorts of strange places with residue I didn’t know existed. I placed a quick call to the front desk requesting for a cab to be called for my departure.

***

My flight home brought me back to normalcy after a three hour wait in the airport. I knew I was back when I realized how bland things were. The rude individuals in the airport rushing around on cell phones cussing for no reason at all, along with upper class people whining about luggage and long lines.

Men on the island are the ones we dream about here in the states. They had manners, chivalry, a lost trait and were beautiful to look at. The accents had me almost ready to drop my panties a few times. The locals in Jamaica were warm and welcoming. Their purpose was to ensure a great experience.

I would love to return to the island for pleasure only. That would have to wait a while. I had a rule: never return to the scene of a crime for at least a year. The consequences of my actions sometimes had long lasting effects. Unfortunately, I have a face that is not easily forgotten.

The weather was a warm seventy-five degrees with some clouds in the sky. As soon as I hopped off the flight, some jackass was cat calling to me, yelling out names he thought would catch my attention. How the hell women found ‘bae’, ‘boo’, and ‘babe’ as terms of endearment was beyond me. Those words was too common for a woman of my caliber. I didn’t date much with my heavy traveling. I damn sure was not settling for every Tom, Dick or Harry who looked my way.

“Persia!” I looked to my right and saw Ryann, my close friend, waiting in the pick-up zone. I dragged my suitcase toward the Toyota Prius and put it into the trunk after she popped it open. The automatic doors opened just as a group of people ran right past us and into the arms of folks waiting in the cars behind us.

I watched as another group laughed, dragging their suitcases behind them as they crossed the sidewalk. In my mind, I knew they had returned from vacations and trips of pure enjoyment. One of these days, I was going to take a trip that was pure entertainment only.

“How did it go, Boo?”

I slammed the door and turned my body toward her smart ass after I slid into the car. Ryann would call me that knowing I despised it. She was the only one to get away with that mess. “Plan B as I predicted.”

Ryann put her hand up to slap mine and flipped her hair back, while I smoothed mine down. That hand gesture had been ours since we were preteens. We jumped on to the parkway and then turned off on a dirt road about five miles out.

My candy apple Lexus and her black BMW sat prettily parked side by side. Though our whips were beaming, I hated to have to bring my baby out to this filthy roadway. This standard precautionary routine was starting to become annoyingly tedious, but it was a necessity.

I was very careful to cover my tracks when returning home. Never hurt to have an extra set of eyes and ears. Whenever I returned from a job overseas, this was the routine. I would do two laps around the airport to see if anyone was following me. Once that was completed, I headed outside to meet Ry and load up my luggage.

The vehicle we were in always had phony plates and a bogus registration. My employer was paranoid about every little detail. He never wanted me to be caught up.

Boss man had been getting careless lately regarding his employees and more concerned with himself. That bothered me because it was new and only meant trouble was brewing ahead. A conversation for another time and place.

“How’s it going, Houston? Did you miss me?” I said, getting out of the car and addressing my co-worker. He smiled, pushing off my car and gave me a welcome back hug. Houston was also my first cousin, though we were more like siblings. He greeted Ryann and she flipped him off while I laughed. He had a thing for her since we were teenagers but she never gave him the time of day.

I hopped in my car and started her up then connected my Bluetooth to play my select playlist. I watched intently as my cousin got into the Prius, peeling out in no time. He left us sitting in a cloud of dust.

At times, I swear his ass should have been driving for NASCAR. I was always anxious when he drove my baby. His minimum speed was seventy on a rainy day. Ryann pulled up next to me and rolled her window down after the dust settled.

“Plan still the same for tonight, right?”

I nodded my head in agreement. “No doubt baby, I should arrive around 10:30. My ass is beat; I need to take a nap.”

Ryann nodded at my words and I wasted no time in pulling off towards my condo after I blew her a kiss. The growls coming from my stomach let me know it was time to eat. I always made sure to stick to a strict diet while working, only allowing for me to consume light meals. I never wanted to be caught up with having to run to the bathroom or having a stomachache from over-indulging. A quick getaway was sometimes needed and running with my pants around my ankles was not a good look.

The restaurants I was passing had no appeal on my appetite until I saw the Cracker Barrel sign for the next exit. I put the turn signal on and switched lanes. A good meal before tonight’s festivities was just what I needed to deprogram and get back into my normal routine.