The Prada Plan 5 Page 3
“I can’t take sides here, Indie,” she said. “It’s not like you two have to be in the same room—”
“The nigga can’t eat with me,” Indie stated harshly. Even speaking about Ethic pushed his buttons. “I know my issues with him ain’t your issues, and I know you rock with the dude. I can’t fuck with it, though.”
Zya sighed. “You understand that by changing the distributor, you’re assuming responsibility for the shipment,” she said. “If something happens to it—”
“I know,” Indie replied.
Zya shook her head. “Shit like this…” She paused as she ran her hands through her hair. “Unexpected changes are what make things messy. I like you, Indie. I feel like we have a certain level of respect for one another, but I don’t take losses gracefully.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Indie replied with charm. “But it’s a good thing that we winning over here.”
Zya backpedaled as she smiled at him. “Cute. Real cute,” she replied. She turned on her stiletto boots and walked back toward the helicopter. She whirled one finger in the air, and the blades of the flying machine came alive, sending a loud hum into the air. Her hair whipped wildly from the force of the wind. “I’ll make things right with Ethic and let him know things are off. Hope things go as planned!” she shouted over her shoulder as she climbed up into the helicopter and took off into the sky.
* * *
Indie stood in the mirror, gripping the edges of the sink as he stared at his reflection. He had driven around the city for hours to avoid going home. His conversation with Parker played in his head on a loop. He loved her, yes, but at this point he just wanted her to pack up her shit and go back to where she came from. Then he could live his life drama-free with YaYa. He wanted to tell her about Parker’s pop-up, but he knew that Parker was a sore spot for YaYa. The idea of Parker and King immediately made YaYa feel insecure. Indie didn’t want to stir the pot. He just wanted his marriage to work. So to avoid facing her, he stayed out until he could be certain that she and Skylar were sound asleep. He picked up the box to the DNA kit and removed the cotton swab. He ran it along his cheek and along his gum line before placing it inside the plastic zip-lock bag. He made a mental note to send it out first thing in the morning.
* * *
YaYa felt Indie climb into the bed beside her, and she looked at the clock to see that it was almost four o’clock in the morning. The knot in her stomach was growing by the day. He wrapped his arms around her, and she held her tongue. YaYa didn’t want to confront him. She didn’t want to blow up her life with Indie. Unless her suspicions slapped her in the face she would try to calm her intuition, despite the fact that it was pleading with her to pay attention.
3
Ethic. Strong. Dark. Powerful. Brooding. He was everything a woman wanted her man to be, and as Zya approached him, she suddenly understood why YaYa had slipped up. Damn, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, Zya thought. It amazed Zya how Ethic was able to transition from the streets into retirement. He had given up the game early. It was a shame too, because no one in the Midwest knew how to move cocaine with such expertise.
“What brings the infamous Zya Miller to my city?” Ethic asked as he sat sipping a glass of cognac. To the average eye he was just a man in a bar. Nothing about him was flashy, except the hundred-thousand-dollar Rolex that rested on his tattooed arm. She took a seat beside him as a barkeep came over to greet her.
“What can I get you?” the man asked.
“Lemon-drop martini, please,” Zya responded with a polite smile. She was one of the most powerful women in the world, but she hid it well. She wasn’t even supposed to be anywhere near the United States, but the team she’d built was falling apart. There was too much money on the line to let anything fall through the cracks.
“How are you, Ethic?” Zya asked.
“I’m living. Can’t complain,” he answered.
“It looks to me like you’re drowning your heartache in a thousand-dollar bottle,” Zya said.
“Ain’t no heartache. I dealt with the past a long time ago. Raven can’t rest in peace if I’m living in hell,” he said.
“I wasn’t talking about Raven,” Zya replied knowingly.
Ethic wasn’t a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He didn’t even flinch at her suggestion. He didn’t acknowledge or deny it. What was between him and YaYa was reserved for the two of them. He couldn’t lie to himself, however. Seeing YaYa in that white dress and watching her leave with the next man had done something to him.
“I’m coming here as a friend,” Zya said. “We need to press PAUSE on the dealings between you and Indie. If I can’t put the two of you in a room together, then this will never work. I know you were doing this as a favor to me, but things have changed.”
“It’s all good, Zya. I don’t need the bread. I’ve put in enough work. I don’t need to put my hand in the streets another day of my life, and my children will still be set for the rest of their lives. Indie got the girl, he got the plug, I’m out of it. The nigga shouldn’t want no smoke, but if he do I’m about that too.”
“The last thing we need is a black man warring with another black man. Out of respect you’ll still get your cut. That’s my word to you,” she said. Her heart completely broke for Ethic. He was too good of a man to be alone. He was the perfect balance of intellectual and street. He didn’t speak too much, but when he did, profound wisdom flowed from him. He wasn’t the caricature of gangster. He lived and breathed it without clowning himself. It was effortless. He was as well versed on Gandhi as he was on gunplay, and it was incredibly sexy. Ethic thrived on knowledge; the streets actually detracted from that, but he knew it was necessary to check the pulse of the underworld every once in a while. It was what kept new niggas from blowing his head off and taking the piece of the pie he had carved for himself. Ethic moved in silence, and Zya respected him. She reached toward him and placed a hand on top of his folded ones. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Ethic.”
“Finding it has never been my problem; it’s keeping it that’s the issue,” he responded as he finished his drink. He stood from the table, placing a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “Safe travels. Good luck with the lick, and give my regards to Snow.” He left her there feeling like she had just been in the presence of royalty. Zya definitely didn’t envy YaYa. She could only imagine how hard it had been choosing between Indie and Ethic. Now Zya had to hope that YaYa’s love life hadn’t fucked up the opportunity of a lifetime.
* * *
“Ma, where is my dad?” King asked. “Can I call him?”
The question cut through her like a sharp knife and caused her to draw in a sharp breath as she closed her eyes. She was leaning over the sink washing dishes the old-fashioned way. She was that type of girl. Old-fashioned with high standards, or at least that was who she had been before making the mistake of her life and sleeping with Indie’s brother years ago.
“Ma?” King repeated.
“Umm.” Parker continued to scrub the pot to avoid turning around and facing her son. She didn’t want him to see the tears that were burning her eyes.
“No, baby. I think Indie is busy with work. He will call you soon. I promise, okay?” she responded. It took everything in her to keep her voice from cracking.
“He told me I could call him anytime. I just want to talk to him!” King shouted. “Why are you trying to stop me?”
Parker turned to her son. There was panic in his voice, and in that moment she hated that she had ever brought him back to New York at all. He couldn’t miss what he never had. Now that King had experienced the bond between father and son, he wanted more. It was something that Parker couldn’t deliver.
“Baby, I’m not trying to stop you. I’ll call him, okay? Tomorrow,” Parker said, trying to buy herself a little time.
“If you can call him tomorrow, why can’t I call him tonight? You just don’t want me to talk to him! What did you do to him? He was
here every day before! You did something to make him mad, and now he don’t want me anymore!” King screamed. Parker had never seen her son so devastated. She wanted to be upset with him for his tone. She wanted to chastise him for raising his voice, but she couldn’t. Seeing her son that hurt made her hate herself.
“Go to your room, King,” she said.
“But—”
“Go to your room!” she shouted. It came out louder and harsher than she intended, but if he didn’t disappear from her presence right now he would witness a black woman’s breakdown. She would rather he deem her as mean than weak.
King stormed off, and Parker cried so hard that she had to cover her mouth to stifle her sobs.
She wasn’t only fighting for herself. It wasn’t just about her love for a man. It was about her son’s love for a father. She had already introduced Indie as King’s father. Telling King the truth would change his perception of her and would forever change their relationship. Parker didn’t care if Indie had married YaYa. She was determined to get her family back. Love was about forgiveness. They went together like ice cream and cake. If only Indie could see how badly King was hurting. I have to get him back, she thought. Parker picked up the phone and called Indie. The sound of his voicemail infuriated her. She went up to King’s room and saw him curled up in his bed, his back toward the door. She didn’t disturb him. She knew that his feelings were justified. It was then and there that Parker vowed to do everything in her power to reunite with Indie. She had to make things right.
* * *
It was another one of those nights, the restless kind, the kind that made her head spin. She hadn’t slept in days. The bags beneath her eyes were evidence of her insomnia. Indie had been distant. It felt like he was dodging her, and she needed to know why he was so distracted.
“Mommy?” Skylar called from her bedroom. YaYa planted her feet on the plush carpet and wrapped herself in a silk kimono before going to check on her daughter.
“Yes, baby?” YaYa responded as she peeked into the pink and white room.
“I’m lonely,” Skylar answered.
“You’re lonely?” YaYa said, shocked. “Well, you’re supposed to be sleeping. It’s pretty late for such a little girl. Why are you still up?”
“Because it’s not fair. You get to sleep with Daddy every night, and I just have to sleep by myself,” Skylar answered.
“Well, how about you and I sleep together tonight, instead?” YaYa proposed.
Skylar nodded eagerly, and YaYa came into the room. She climbed in beside Skylar and snuggled close.
“Mommy? I had a dream I was an astronaut princess,” Skylar said sleepily.
YaYa laughed. “Oh yeah? Is that what you want to be when you grow up?”
“Uh huh,” Skylar said. “And a doctor like on Disney Junior and a ballerina.”
“You can be all of those things, baby. You can do whatever you put your mind to. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t. You’re a very special girl,” YaYa said as she kissed Skylar on her head. She rested her chin on top of her daughter’s messy hair as they both looked at the night-light, which reflected stars on the wall.
“What did you want to be when you were a little girl, Mommy?” Skylar asked.
It was the simplest question from the most innocent person she knew, but it triggered something she had buried deep inside long ago. YaYa hadn’t been lucky enough to ever enjoy her youth. She never had dreams of being a princess. She had been taught to chase paper at such an early age that it had corrupted her. It had robbed her of her youth.
“Mommy didn’t have dreams when she was a little girl,” YaYa replied sadly.
“Well, what do you dream about now?” she asked. “Mommies dream too, right? What do you want to be?”
“Your mommy,” YaYa replied.
“That’s not all you are, Mommy. What else?” Skylar asked with a giggle. The little girl had no idea that she was planting seeds inside of her mother’s head. It was YaYa’s job to teach Skylar, but in this moment she was learning so much from her child.
YaYa didn’t know what she wanted to do or who she wanted to be. There was a time when all she wanted to do was run the streets, chasing the next dollar, scheming and plotting as she chased a Prada Plan. Her mind-set had been skewed from an early age. She hadn’t been much older than Skylar when her mother had planted those seeds in her head, and they had shaped whom YaYa had become. She wanted more for her daughter. Now that YaYa had outgrown the old mentality, she didn’t know what was next for her life. She felt unfulfilled, especially with the state of her relationship. Being Indie’s wife wasn’t enough. Being Skylar’s mom was rewarding, but outside of those things, what did she have? YaYa hadn’t yet figured out who she was before she got married, so now that she was Disaya Perkins, she felt completely lost. It was one of the reasons why she depended on Indie so much. He gave her purpose. She knew exactly what type of woman he wanted her to be. At least she thought she did, before Parker came into the picture.
“Mommy may not know what she wants to do, sweetheart, but that’s only because I never had someone to tell me that I could do anything. You can do anything, Skylar. You can be anything you want. You will be a beautiful woman, but you are so much more than that,” YaYa said as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You have so much more to offer than your looks. You aren’t for sale, baby girl, so never let anyone buy you.” YaYa knew that she was speaking over her daughter’s head. In fact, Skylar had slipped back into dreamland, but YaYa still whispered the lesson in her ear. It was what she wished someone had told her when she was a little girl. She laid there, stroking her daughter’s hair and crying tears that had built up over the years. YaYa realized that she couldn’t just tell Skylar what she could be, she had to show her. YaYa had to be an example to her daughter. She just had to figure out how to start.
* * *
Indie held the paper in his hands as his heart ached. There was no longer a lingering question in the air. He was King’s father. Indie stood from his desk suddenly and swept everything off it as frustration overtook him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want King, but accepting his son would surely cause him to lose his wife. It was like he and YaYa took a step forward to take two steps back. His life was a complicated web.
Emma rushed into his office. “Mr. Perkins? Is everything okay?” she asked, shocked at the mess.
“You can go home,” Indie said. “It’s late. Go home to your family. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I haven’t finished the purchase orders for tomorrow’s shipment.”
“It’s okay. It can be done tomorrow.” Indie stood at his window overlooking the lights of the city. His back was turned to Emma, but the authority of his voice overrode her reluctance to leave. Indie exhaled as he held a glass in front of him in one hand and reached inside his pants pocket to retrieve his phone with the other. He didn’t know what this meant for his marriage, but he feared the worst. He was a man and couldn’t see himself flaking on his son. He had a responsibility to two women, women who hated one another, two different children who were foreign to one another. What was the remedy for that? He had never wanted to be the nigga spreading his seed all over town. One woman, one family, is what he wanted, but life had detoured off course, and everything was out of control.
He went to dial YaYa but knew that this was a conversation to be had face-to-face. Indie took his time getting home. He had faced the deadliest of obstacles during his tenure in the streets, but none of them seemed as hard as bringing YaYa this news. He wasn’t sure if they would make it through this, not twice. Parker would be a part of his life forever now. They shared a blood connection through King. It was the thing that had ripped him and YaYa apart before. It would inevitably happen again. Indie clenched his jaw, his temple throbbing as the stress of it all took a toll on him. He should have been driving home, but instead he was headed toward his parents’ place, instinct pushing him toward comfort. It was one of those rare times when Indie d
idn’t know what to do.
He let himself in, not wanting to ring the bell because he knew his mother would be asleep. He found his father in the den, sitting in a La-Z-Boy as a basketball game played on the television screen before him.
“Indie, what are you doing here, son? It’s late,” Bill asked as he sat up and pressed MUTE to silence the TV.
“How did you do it, Pops? How did you make it twenty-five years married to the same woman? I just got into this, and it doesn’t feel like we’re going to make it to the next day. I can’t even envision me and YaYa decades from now. It’s like sand filtering through my fingertips. Eventually it will all be gone,” Indie said as he took a seat on the sofa adjacent from his old man.
“It’s about protecting your wife, son. Your every decision should be about what’s best for her. You give a woman loyalty, and she’ll give you every piece of her. She’ll trust you, even when you’re leading her astray. She’ll follow you, even when you’re lost. But she’s got to be your partner, son. She’s got to know that you’re taking her to a place where no one else has been. Now if you got this one, that one, and Susie up the street all following behind you, she’s going to feel like a fool. You can’t be community property. Your wife is supposed to be exclusive. That bond is irreplaceable. If it’s you and her making sense out of this crazy world together, nobody else has to understand. It’s hard. You will argue and there will be days when you don’t like one another, but you will always love one another. She is your first priority. You don’t let the weight of the world even touch her shoulders. You carry it for her.”
“King’s my son,” Indie revealed. “I got the DNA results back today. She’s going to leave me, Pops.”
Bill grimaced and nodded his head. “Yeah, she’s going to make you pay for that for a long time, son. That’s a big pill to swallow, but I’ve seen the way YaYa looks at you, Indie. It will take a while for her to accept it, but I don’t know if there is anything you could do to make her give up on you. Give her some credit. Sit her down and tell her the truth. You let her decide if it’s too much to handle.”