A LaLa Land Addiction (7 page)

“Damn,” he whispered, kicking himself as he fell into a rhythm. This was wrong. He knew it, but the way his name fell off her tongue in the throes of their lovemaking made it too hard to stop. They were animalistic, carnal, as she dug her nails into his back in an attempt to keep up with the pace. It had been so long since he had touched her, since she had let him, but it was like riding a bike. He chased her to the finish line, letting her win before getting his second prize. Her chest heaved up and down. She was exhilarated. “Iman,” she gasped. “What does this mean?”

“I don't know, Tan,” Iman replied as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Figure it out, Iman,” Tan whispered. “And don't forget who was here for you when nobody else was. I want you back, and based off what just happened, a part of you wants that too.” Tan adjusted her dress and cleared her throat. “Go check on Sandoza. You owe me that much.”

She left just as quickly as she had come, leaving Iman with a whole new set of problems. He had betrayed Bleu, but reconnecting with Tan hadn't felt wrong. He loved them both and the thought of hurting either of them tore him right down the middle. He would eventually have a choice to make, but he knew that no matter what he decided, someone he loved would grow to hate him in the end.

*   *   *

Iman was always uneasy when he stepped foot on Mexican soil. In this country he had no muscle, no pull, no advantage. It wasn't his kingdom to reign. Mexico was run by the most ruthless drug cartels in the world. Sandoza was the head of one of them, so his word was law. As Iman walked out of the airport and stepped into the waiting black town car an uneasiness filled him. Iman wasn't big on making the trip back and forth. He didn't want Customs to flag him for visiting too frequently. Tijuana was known for its drug activity and Iman preferred to avoid suspicion. He only came when it was absolutely necessary, but his promise to Tan was something he wanted to keep. He didn't know if she was overly emotional or her concern was valid, but he felt inclined to see for himself.

He hadn't given Sandoza warning of his arrival. He only hoped that Sandoza welcomed him with open arms. Their interactions had been less frequent lately. Iman had expected Sandoza to all-out war with him over divorcing Tan, but instead he had been met with indifference. Sandoza had said he was okay with it, but the shift in the interaction between them revealed that there was conflict. Sandoza's silence meant he was brooding and plotting. Iman was prepared for anything. As his driver took him out of the city's limits he thought of the work he had put in for Sandoza over the years. Building his own L.A. empire didn't come without a price. He had sold his soul to Sandoza over the years to prove his worth. Iman didn't like to think of the wives he had turned to widows on his climb to the top or the children he had turned to crack once he got there. His thoughts wandered to Bleu.
She thinks I'm a good man, but I'm one of the bad guys,
he thought.
She can't handle me. I'm knee-deep in the game and I can't foresee the end anytime soon. She isn't built for this life. Tan can handle this, but it'll destroy Bleu. If I choose her, I'll kill her slowly.
The thought of letting her go sent a stabbing pain through his gut. He loved her so much that it ailed him … it physically haunted him to even think of being without her. She haunted his thoughts, distracting him so greatly that he didn't realize that he had arrived at Sandoza's estate. He was used to the grandness of it all. He had been a guest many times before.

He rolled down the back window. “Estoy aqui para ver Sandoza,” he said, his baritone commanding authority.

“Sí, señor, bienvenidos,” the guard greeted him. They knew him well and allowed him access without second-guessing.

“Gracias,” Iman answered before rolling up the window as his driver entered the gates. Security was never sparse at Sandoza's estate. Armed men protected the perimeter at all times. Sandoza took no shortcuts when it came to his safety. It was how he had persevered in the underworld for so long.

The car came to a stop at the top of the circular driveway and Iman emerged. He removed the jacket to his Tom Ford suit and rolled up his sleeves in an attempt to adjust to the smoldering Mexican heat.

Sandoza came out to greet him before he could even approach the door. It didn't surprise Iman. Sandoza had eyes all over his property. If his men didn't radio him to let him know he had a visitor, then the high-tech security cameras would let him know.

“This is unexpected,” Sandoza said as he held out his hand. Iman shook it and then hugged Sandoza, giving him a tight squeeze before letting him go.

“I had some business across the border. I figured I'd stop in and have a drink,” Iman said.

“Good. It's long overdue,” Sandoza said as he welcomed Iman into his home. Iman stepped inside. He looked around, impressed. Iman was well off, but Sandoza was wealthy. He had a few million dollars in art hanging on his walls alone.

Sandoza retrieved a bottle of scotch and two glasses from the bar before heading into his study.

Iman sat across from Sandoza and waited patiently as he poured both drinks. Iman studied Sandoza, wondering what it was that had Tan so alarmed.

“So are you going to tell me what really brings you here or are you going to bullshit me all day?” Sandoza asked while holding out the glass.

Iman chuckled as he accepted the drink. “You've always been able to call my bluff,” Iman said.

“I raised you. We may not share blood, but you're still my son,” Sandoza said.

“I just wanted to make sure everything between us is square,” Iman said as he took a swig of his drink, allowing the burn to roll down his throat slowly. He didn't want to expose Tan's worry by telling the truth and he couldn't lie to Sandoza, so instead Iman spoke of one of his personal concerns.

“I've never minced words with you before and I'm not going to begin now. There comes a time in a man's life when he knows the end is near. I don't have a lot of days left, Iman. I can feel it, and before anything happens to me I want to be clear on what I want. You're like a son to me. I've known you since you were a teenage kid chasing after my daughter's skirt. I trust you and I have seen how you run your business in L.A. I want you to fill my seat with the Five Families if something happens to me,” Sandoza said. “All of this, my entire operation, is yours if you want it.”

Iman didn't know how to respond to this. They were clearly having two different conversations. Iman thought Sandoza would take issue with him over Tan, but here he was offering him an entire empire. “What about Cinco?” Iman asked.

“I expect him to be upset. He is like a spoiled child with his temper tantrums and his entitlement. By blood everything should go to him, and I wish I could give it to him, but he isn't ready. Every player doesn't make a good coach,” Sandoza said. “I want him involved of course, but I can't hand over my life's work to him. He isn't diplomatic. He would have us warring with the other families before the dirt covers my casket. He can't do this job. It has to be
you,
” Sandoza stressed. He was so passionate that the veins in his forehead bulged as he spoke.

“Why are we having this conversation now? Why the urgency, Sandoza? Ain't no funerals happening anytime soon. We have time to iron out the details,” Iman said.

Sandoza reached over the table and gripped Iman's wrist. “The time for the details is now,” he said seriously. It was then that Iman noticed it: the fear that Tan had told him about. He saw a foreboding in Sandoza's stare. Sandoza was indirectly telling Iman something heavy. There was deeper meaning behind this generous offer. A lump formed in his throat. Something was up. He didn't know why and he respected Sandoza too much to dig deeper, but he heard him loud and clear. If, or, inevitably, when, something happened to Sandoza, Iman was next in line.
Is he telling me he's about to die?
Iman asked.
Is he sick? Is he beefing with one of the other familes? Is there paper on his head?

“I'm ready whenever you need me. Just say the word,” Iman said, nodding.

“An introduction to the other heads of the Five Families is necessary. They won't like you sitting among them. The seat is supposed to go to the first blood-born son. You will meet much resistance, but my word will bond your position. Once you're in, you're in for life. This part of the game isn't optional. Once you accept, the only way out is when the last breath leaves your body. You'll have more power than you've ever dreamed, more money than you can spend in two lifetimes. Right now you're selling drugs, but when you get to my level it goes beyond that. You'll own a piece of the world. Mexico is mine, and when I'm gone it will be yours.”

The offer was enticing. It was what young hustlers aspired to and what you heard about in rap songs. Iman thought he was at the top of the game. He had developed a network of some of the most notorious criminal organizations in the country. He had no idea there was another level and he never imagined being inducted into it.

“Why me?” Iman asked. “I know Cinco isn't ready, but what about Miguel? He's been your right hand for over thirty years.”

“Sometimes it's best to not let your right hand know what the left is doing. Miguel has been a good confidant, but he did something twenty years ago to disrespect me that he has yet to be punished for.”

“What's that?” Iman asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He fucked my wife,” Sandoza responded.

Iman smirked and Sandoza shrugged. “No need to lose a good shooter over pussy. I never said one thing. When I bypass him for you, he'll know why. Besides, I taught you everything you know,” Sandoza replied. “So even when I'm gone I will still influence the decisions you make in my seat.” Sandoza paused and Iman could see that he was choosing his next words wisely.

“What is it?” Iman asked.

“This comes with a condition,” Sandoza said. “You have to stay with my daughter. I am offering you generational power, but I have to know that the generations I am providing for are my own. Tan is your wife, and as long as she remains your wife you will maintain your seat among the Five Families.”

There it was, the other shoe that Iman was waiting for. It had dropped and with it came a heavy blow to his chest.

“She's my daughter. I've discovered some things recently that have me getting my affairs in order. I may not always be around to take care of her. This is my way of making sure that you do. You loved her once; this shouldn't be too much of a sacrifice, considering what you are gaining in exchange,” Sandoza said. “Do we have a deal?” Sandoza was forcing Iman's hand, letting him choose his own fate in the game. He was stuck between love and money, and as the burden rested on his shoulder he was visibly undecided.

Bleu crashed into his thoughts like a hurricane hitting land, drowning him in visions of her. The things he felt for Bleu made him feel like a new man. Life had been black-and-white before her, but the moment he met her she had colored in the darkness, adding vibrant shades to his drab existence. Bleu made a masterpiece of his life like Picasso. Iman's love for her was new, but it ran deep and he didn't want to cut it off.
She's so young,
he thought wearily. He thought of her, strung out and addicted. He knew that staying with her would be a challenge, one that he would be willing to commit to for life.
But is she?
Again, his thoughts ran wild. He was older. He had lived. He had loved. He had experienced different facets of life that were unexplored by her. He wanted a couple of forevers with her, but was it fair for him to rob her of her youth? She hadn't seen anything, hadn't been anywhere. She still had all of her ho years ahead of her. Now was a time for her to be wild, to be free, to date, to find out what she liked and what she didn't prefer.
Maybe she only wants me because I'm all she knows.
Suddenly the option of turning Sandoza down seemed ludicrous. Bleu was just beginning her life. Iman was one of many lessons she would learn along the way on her path to self-discovery. She didn't know herself yet and that was evident. If he declined Sandoza's offer for Bleu, life would eventually take her away from Iman. She would grow and time would change her, the same way it had done to Tan. He couldn't take the risk. Betting on Bleu to hold him down would be foolish. He knew it; he just didn't want to admit it. He couldn't take a chance on Bleu. Not when there was so much at stake. It pained him to speak his next words.

“We have a deal,” Iman agreed.

“I don't need to remind you that discretion is important. My daughter doesn't need to know about business between men,” Sandoza reminded Iman.

Iman nodded. “I'm just a man trying to make his marriage work,” Iman agreed.

“I'll have a talk with Marcincio,” Sandoza said.

“He won't be happy,” Iman said.

“No, but it is not his decision to make,” Sandoza replied.

Iman stood and Sandoza did as well. He looked at his mentor, his father-in-law, sympathetically. He seemed to have aged overnight. Iman didn't know exactly what ailed Sandoza. He knew Sandoza wasn't preparing for his own demise for nothing. Iman wasn't eager to bury his mentor, but should the unspeakable occur … he would be ready to take the throne.

 

7

Iman stared out of the window of his private plane as it descended over the City of Angels. These were his streets, his territory. He had muscled his way to the top of L.A.'s cocaine trade, and as he sat overlooking it he felt godlike. Sandoza had placed so much power in his hands that most men never attained. He should have been ecstatic. He should have been plotting moves to expand toward the East Coast and even areas of the South, but he couldn't think clearly. He had sold a piece of his soul to secure his place on the throne. He would be Sandoza's successor, but it had come at a hefty price.