Wifey: Part 2
Three
After a good night of sleep at her parents’ house, Jasmine was in no mood to go to school. She ate breakfast and then headed out to Long Island, where she let herself inside Nico’s mansion with her spare key. Nico wasn’t home, and Jasmine still hadn’t spoken to him. She dialed his number from his home phone, but he didn’t answer.
***
“So you good?” Nico asked Mia.
Mia nodded, and Nico reminded her that he would be sitting in the rental parked right across from the only entrance to the Marriott Hotel in Hartford, Connecticut.
“Baby, I’m good.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and exited the Holiday Inn hotel the two of them had checked into an hour earlier.
Mia left the room with 32 ounces of “China white” heroin in her Louis Vuitton shoulder bag, her heart pounding as she made it to the hotel parking lot. She placed the bag in the trunk of the rented Volvo and got behind the steering wheel, pushed the ignition, and headed downtown to the Marriott, while Nico followed her in another rental.
After the ten-minute ride to the Marriott, Mia parked the car and called and reported the rental car stolen. She left three hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of pure heroin inside the trunk of the car, got out, and headed to Room 605 on the sixth floor with another Louis Vuitton bag that held inside only her makeup, wallet, and other personal items.
A buff African dude named Twist opened the door to the hotel room.
“Twist?” Mia asked.
Twist nodded and invited Mia into the room. There were two other African dudes in the room seated at a table, smoking cigarettes and drinking Jack Daniel’s.
“You drink?” one of the dudes asked her.
“I’m not here to drink and socialize,” Mia said in a no-nonsense tone. If any of these dudes were federal agents, she would be looking at football numbers behind bars, but she did her best to not let her nervousness show.
Twist started speaking in his language, and soon the other two dudes started to laugh.
“Have a seat,” Twist said to her.
Mia remembered Nico’s instructions. She told Twist she wanted them to meet at the bar downstairs, near the lobby.
Twist smiled and said something else in his language, and the other two dudes again started laughing.
“Have a drink. Just sit and relax,” Twist said to her, while his boy poured a drink for her, and his other boy got up and went to another room.
“Listen. No disrespect, but can you do me a favor and speak English? I don’t wanna hear all that African jungle voodoo language shit that I can’t understand.”
Twist looked at Mia and smiled. “African jungle voodoo shit?” Twist said with a thick Kunta Kinte-sounding accent. “You’re funny.”
Mia didn’t smile because this wasn’t a game to her.
“So where’s Nico?” Twist asked.
“Why the fuck you asking all these questions? I told you I’m not drinking, and I told you we gotta go downstairs.”
Twist’s man came back into the room with a black knapsack and tossed it to him. He unzipped it and showed it to Mia.
Without saying anything, Mia immediately turned and walked out of the hotel room. She knew there was always the possibility that the room could be wired with cameras, so she said as little as possible. She only wanted to talk business at the bar.
Twist followed her.
“Sweetie, I only talk in bars and lobbies.”
Twist nodded, and they made their way down to the bar, where Mia ordered a soda for herself and a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks for Twist. After about five minutes, one of the dudes from in the room came downstairs and placed the black knapsack near Twist’s feet and walked off. Twist sipped on his drink, and then he looked around the bar and asked Mia who she thought was five-0.
“You tell me,” she replied.
Twist motioned his head at someone seated not too far from them. “That’s one right there, and see homie that just walked in . . . that’s a cop; he’s wearing a vest.”