Wifey: Part 2

Mia placed her hand over her mouth in disbelief. She didn’t want to ask the obvious, but she knew Jasmine was still living at Nico’s Long Island estate. Mia couldn’t help but think about how lucky she was because she would have been dead at that very moment had Jasmine never stepped into the picture.

“Listen, just chill here. I gotta get to New York and find out what’s up. I’ll get back out here as soon as I can, and if I can’t, I’ll fly you back to New York.”

“No, baby. I want to go back to New York with you. I can’t let you just go back to New York alone by yourself like that.” Mia pressed up close to Nico and held his hand.

“Nah, I need you to stay out here. Just hold me down from out here. Trust me on this. I don’t want you in New York until I take care of this and sort everything out.”

Mia knew not to press the issue. She was perfect at playing her position, so she got on her iPad and started looking for flights for Nico. She found a flight heading out in two hours, and she booked it.

***

Nico kissed Mia and then made his way down to the lobby, so he could head to the airport.

As soon as he left the suite, Mia went on Google to see what she could find out about the shooting, and without reading the entire article from New York’s Eyewitness News Web site, she stopped and focused on where the article said that the names of the female victims at the location of the suspected drug kingpin’s residence were being withheld.

Mia wouldn’t have wished that kind of death on her worst enemy. But she couldn’t help but plaster a smile across her face. Her biggest competition had managed to eliminate herself, and that brought her joy.

She poured herself a drink of Bailey’s Irish Cream on the rocks. She sat down on the couch and smiled at the thought of her and Nico’s unimpeded future together.

Mia decided to celebrate Jasmine’s demise by treating herself to a luxurious spa treatment, so as soon as she finished her drink, she dialed the front desk and had them book an appointment for her.

With a smile that just would not leave her face, she walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out at the breathtaking view. She said out loud to herself in a sinister tone, “She should have just listened to me. I told that bitch that—‘I am wifey.’”

Seven

Nico’s red-eye flight landed at New York’s LaGuardia Airport at five thirty in the morning. He had already spoken to BJ, and he would be at the airport when the plane arrived, waiting to drive them to Nico’s Manhattan apartment.

BJ had managed to gather what the streets were saying, and one thing was crystal clear—Bebo’s name kept ringing out. He was convinced that Bebo was behind the shootings. His theory: Nico had played Bebo by not coming to the meeting Bebo had called.

Nico unbuckled his first-class seat and waited for the plane to taxi its way to the gate. What normally took no more than ten minutes was taking much longer, and he was getting extremely restless.

The pilot spoke through the intercom and apologized to the passengers, telling them they had arrived safely at the gate but, due to a mechanical issue with the plane’s door, they would be delayed in getting off the plane for another fifteen minutes or so.

Everyone on the plane was tired and groggy, and they voiced their anger and disgust before returning to their seats, where they had no choice but to sit and wait for the doors to open.

Nico called BJ and told him what was going on with the plane.

“It’s all good. I’m here,” he said to Nico.

“What’s the word?”

“That muthafucka Bebo.”

Nico gritted his teeth. “That’s what you hearing?”

“From everybody. And everybody can’t be wrong on this shit.”

Nico was quiet for a moment. “We handlin’ this shit today!”

“No doubt.”

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At that point Nico could see one of the flight attendants opening up the front door to the plane. “I’ll be out in like five minutes,” he told BJ. He looked down at his seat and on the floor to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. Then he stepped into the aisle to exit the plane.

As soon as he looked up, he saw five white uniformed Port Authority police officers. Before Nico could blink, they had him surrounded.

One of the officers said, “Mr. Carter, can you turn around and place your hands behind your back?”