Supreme Clientele

by Ashley, Jaquavis

Genres: Urban Fantasy; Crime Fiction

Synopsis

Every Hustler's reign ends in one of two ways. . .prison or death. Refusing to let the prediction become a reality, Julius "Jules" Carter creates new rules to an old game. Strategically, he forms one of the most notorious drug operations Harlem has ever seen. Jules thought the game was his biggest challenge that is until he meets Tish. Young and Ambitious she is determined to escape from Harlem's allure, but her love for Jules has her rooted. She gets tangled in his web of lies and deceit. When she finds out about his past demons and connects them with her own, she soon finds out that there's a thin line between love and hate. You can't turn a bad girl good, but once a good girl turns bad she's gone forever. Julius finds out the hard way that everything done in the dark eventually comes to light. Ashley and JaQuavis narrate a fast paced, suspenseful tale of one of Harlem's biggest drug lords, his rise to power, and the woman behind him.

Release date: May 5, 2009

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Your room number is 810,” the desk clerk said as she handed the keys to King. He looked down at the beautiful lady who stood at his side. His six-foot frame loomed over her as he reached around her waist and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He handed her one of the room keys then grabbed their luggage.

“Hold up. I got to use the bathroom,” she announced.

King shook his head and replied, “You can’t wait ’til we get in the room?”

“No, I need to go now. I’ll be right back, daddy. Just hold the elevator for me.”

King waited impatiently at the elevator and glanced around occasionally, looking for Zya. He spotted her coming out of the restroom and couldn’t help but stare. He admired her perfect body as she walked toward him. Her honey-colored hair was identical to her skin tone, which gave her a unique look. Zya demanded attention every time she entered the room, and she knew it. She strutted across the floor with a model’s precision, and with every step, her plump ass shifted its weight from side to side. King’s manhood began to harden with every step she took, anticipating what was about to go down when they reached the room.

“You ready, ma?” King asked as he stared at Zya’s lips.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she said as she circled the red lollipop she was sucking. King led the way to the elevator.

Just as the elevator door closed, Zya pounced on him. She took the sucker out of her mouth and walked up to King. They were standing toe to toe. She gently grabbed his crotch in search of his dick, and when she found it, she caressed it while tongue-kissing him. King could taste the cherry flavor from the sucker, and his dick was standing tall and firm. Zya drove King crazy. He dropped his bag and tightly palmed her ass with both hands. Zya began to moan while softly stroking him through his jeans, making him grow. The sound of the bell and the door opening stopped their brief ecstasy.

“This is the floor,” King said in a husky tone that let Zya know he was horny. He picked up his bag and stepped out of the elevator. King reached their room, and Zya stood behind him with his rod in her hand, still rubbing him. This would be the first night that King got some from Zya, and he was more than ready. That was the main reason he let her tag along with him on a brief business trip to Baltimore.

King opened the door and walked into the room. He put the duffle bag full of re-up money under the bed as Zya closed the door. King rushed over to Zya and picked her up off her feet, holding her up by her ass. They passionately kissed and made their way to the bed.

King laid her down and took off his shirt. He then removed the pistol he kept on his waist and put it under the bed. He forcefully ripped off Zya’s shirt and bra, exposing her big, brown nipples. He put one of her breasts in his mouth and began playing with her nipple with his tongue.

Ooh shit, Zya thought as she palmed the back of his head, looking down at him tickling her nipple.

Zya pushed him off of her and stood up. She did a striptease for King. She slowly dropped to the floor and quickly came back up, showing how she could work her body. Then she slowly slid her panties from under her skirt. Zya, without losing eye contact with King, walked over to the chair backwards and sat down. She opened her legs, and placed one of them on the desk, exposing her neatly trimmed vagina.

“Come here, daddy,” she said as she slowly began to rub her clitoris. King quickly stepped out of his pants and walked over to her. He dropped to his knees, preparing to go to work. He was about to show her how Harlem niggas got down.

Zya sat in the desk chair with her legs spread open. She rested her hands on King’s neatly waved head and guided him as he pleased her. She slowly moved her mid-section in circles as she grinded against his face. She threw her head back in pleasure as her eyes rolled in the back of her head.

“Just like that, daddy,” she whispered, instructing him how to satisfy her.

Just as Zya looked back down at King, she noticed a figure in her peripheral view. A well-built, brown-skinned man crept through the door. He carried a chrome pistol in his right hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other. Zya locked eyes with the young thug, but remained silent. As King pleased her, she stared deep into the intruder’s eyes, wishing that it was him she was with.

The sound of a gun being cocked startled King, and he immediately looked back at the man pointing a gun to his head. “What the fuck, yo?” King screamed as Zya’s juices dripped off his mustache.

“Put your clothes on and get the fuck out,” the intruder yelled to Zya. She nodded her head and ran over to the bed to get dressed. King shook his head from side to side, instantly regretting taking one of his hoes on a business trip with him. He knew the two did not mix; while his head was buried in some broad’s lap, somebody had been creeping up on him. Zya was a distraction, and he had gotten caught slipping.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he realized the seriousness of the situation. King threw both of his hands up and waited for the intruder to speak.

“Yo, where the dough at?” the intruder said calmly as he aimed his gun at King.

“I don’t know what you talking ’bout, son.”

The man laughed then struck King across the face with his pistol.

“Aghh! Fuck!” King yelled out in excruciating pain as he put his hand over his face. Blood leaked between his fingers and he rocked back and forth on the ground, waiting for the pain to subside.

Without raising his voice, the intruder calmly repeated himself. “Where the dough at?”

“It’s in my bag, under the bed,” King admitted as he threw his head in the direction of the bed.

“Grab it!”

King knew he had a chance to pop this nigga. He had put his gun underneath the bed with the cash. This was the opportunity he needed. Without even getting off his knees, he scuffled over to the bed. He reached underneath it and frantically began to search for his weapon. The only thing he felt were the money stacks. His hands scurried over the carpet, desperately searching for the pistol. It ain’t here. Just as the thought formed in his head, he heard another gun cock. He turned around and found himself looking down the barrel of his own gun. Zya stood before him with one hand on her hip, pressing the gun against King’s head.

“Looking for this?” Zya asked as a slight smirk formed on her face.

“You trick-ass bitch,” King barked as he realized he had just been set up. Zya had begged King all week to let her join him on his business trip to Baltimore. King took this trip once a month and always went alone, except for this one time. He had $60,000 in cash in his bag to cop some bricks from his connect, Poppy, in Baltimore. Little did he know that Poppy would never see that cash. Jules and Zya already had plans for it.

Zya didn’t like King’s comment, so she struck him across the face with the pistol, causing blood to fly out of his mouth and onto Jules’s shirt. Jules followed up by hitting him again in the back of his head.

“Damn, you fucked up my shirt,” Jules said as he examined the bloodstain on his white tee. Jules grabbed King’s hand and handcuffed it to the bed rails. He then grabbed the bag and headed for the door.

King looked at Zya with total hatred and whispered, “I’m going to find you, and when I do. . . .”

Zya stared King straight in the eyes and blew a kiss at him, before letting out a sexy chuckle. She walked over to him and straddled him. She brought her face close to his ear and whispered, “No, if you find me . . . I’m going to kill you.”

King’s body tensed up. He wanted so badly to hurt Zya, but he couldn’t move. She climbed off of him and looked at his naked body and then focused on his pipe.

“Wit’ yo’ little-ass dick. What were you going to do wit’ that li’l thing anyway? Huh?”

King was infuriated and watched helplessly as Zya and Jules exited the room with all his cash. King tried to get out of the handcuffs, but couldn’t. His eyes got big when he noticed Jules walk back into the room with the pistol in his hand.

The two men stared into each other’s eyes, but nothing was said. The only sound in the entire room was from King’s erratic breathing as he tried to figure out what Jules was going to do to him. Jules pictured King pleasing Zya. The picture of King on his knees with his face smashed in between Zya’s legs flashed through his mind, and jealousy overcame him. Jules slowly lifted his gun and fired two hollow tip bullets into King’s skull, putting him to sleep forever.

No witnesses, no murder, he thought just before he exited the room.

Detective Lonnie Wade had been sitting in his car, patiently waiting for two and half hours. The anticipation was building more and more as he watched the minutes pass. He was waiting for King, slouched low in his seat and parked in the hotel parking lot, positioned where he had a perfect view of the entrance.

One of Wade’s sources tipped him off and told him King usually stayed at this hotel when he went to re-up in Baltimore. Wade even had the room number King was staying in. His source told him that he always went to the same suite. Now the only thing Wade had to do was to wait for King to make the swap then nab him on his way back to Harlem with the dope.

Wade had been on King for months, and he had a pure hatred for drug dealers. He looked at the empty coffee cups and the ashtray full of roaches from the weed that he had smoked over the hours. He believed that he did everything better when he was high. As he puffed on a newly lit blunt, the detective kept his eyes on the entrance, waiting for his target.

Where this nigga at? I hope I got some good information. Wade had been following King for two days, and King finally shook him earlier that morning. That night seemed to be just as futile, and when he didn’t see any sign of him, he felt himself drifting into a light sleep. He grew tired and decided to call it a night.

“That’s it for the night,” he said to himself, as he reached for the keys and turned over the ignition. Just as he was about to pull off, a pearl-colored Porsche pulled up to the front entrance. Wade immediately hit his lights and grabbed his camera from the back seat. He zoomed in on the license plates and began to snap away. He noticed a beautiful woman step out of the passenger side of the car, followed by the driver, King. King tossed his keys to a valet and they entered the building. Wade took pictures of both of them entering the hotel. He zoomed in close on the woman and thought that she looked familiar.

“Damn, she’s nice,” he whispered to himself. Wade used the camera to zoom in on the woman’s curves, and he took a couple of pictures of her ass for personal viewing later.

He quickly focused back on King. He decided to stay for a while longer to see if King was going to leave later that night. Wade wasn’t sure if King would make the transaction that night or the next morning. He sat back and opened his glove compartment, pulling out a voice recorder. He pressed the RECORD button and started to talk into the mic.

“King entered the Marriott at 10:15 with a lady with sandy brown hair, five feet seven, and looks to be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.”

Thirty minutes had passed, and Wade patiently waited for King to leave, or at least turn off his lights. At that moment, he noticed that a car had crept up behind his car, and parked about 20 yards behind him. The driver hit the lights, but no one got out.

Wade stared out his window to see who it was, but he couldn’t see through the tinted windows. Who the fuck is this? he thought as he lit another blunt and began to puff it.

He saw a man walk past his car, seemingly in a hurry. The man was so close to Wade’s car, it nearly startled him. “What the hell?” he said suspiciously as he picked up his camera so that he could zoom in on the window to King’s room.

Wade felt the effects of the marijuana and knew that he was too high to function. He decided he wasn’t about to wait any longer for King, and started up his car. Five more minutes, Wade thought as he stared at King’s window.

Wade noticed that the girl who had originally gone in the hotel with King was now walking out with another man. They were walking briskly and seemed to be arguing about something.

They must’ve made the switch already. But why is she leaving with him? I guess she was a part of the deal too, he thought as he chuckled to himself.

The man and the woman walked past Wade’s car and didn’t notice that he was snapping pictures of them. They seemed like they were in a hurry, and the man was carrying that same bag, but now you could tell it had something in it.

Wade couldn’t make out the man’s face. He had a hat pulled down real low, so he could barely make out what he looked like. They jumped in the car and pulled off. Wade stared at the car in his rearview mirror until they were no longer in sight. Wade let the small fish go to catch the big one—King.

Wade was high as a kite, and while waiting on King to come out, he nodded off.



“Jules, I kind of feel bad. I mean . . . we could have just robbed him like we planned. You didn’t have to shoot him,” Zya said, staring at Jules as he swerved in and out of the freeway traffic.

“Zya, it’s all in the game. You don’t come across capers like this one every day. King was getting money in the streets, and you know money means power. He would have come back for us full force. I wasn’t really trying to take that chance. We did what we had to do. You have to trust me on this one, ma. You trust me, right?”

“Yeah, you know I do, Jules, but we could have just left town . . . relocated. I just feel fucked up.”

“And go where, Zya? Harlem is home. He would have eventually caught up with us, and that would be another problem. This way, we are scot free. I already have a warrant out for my arrest. With King on us, there would’ve been nowhere to hide. Just trust me on this one, okay. This is the payday we needed. Now I can cop a couple bricks from Snow and get back on my feet.”

“Okay,” Zya said as she closed her eyes, trying to forget what had just occurred. She had been playing King from the beginning, and she gained his trust just to set him up. Jules was the mastermind behind the plan and told her, “It’s a chance for us to come up.” Zya was down for her man, so she did it for him. But now, she not only carried a burden of guilt for deception, but for taking a man’s life.

She tried desperately to make sense of the situation and justify what she had helped to do, but all she could visualize was King’s lifeless body sprawled across the hotel’s bed. It’s all in the game, she thought as she leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves. She distantly heard her favorite song coming out of the speakers. It was Biggie Smalls’s song, “Me and My Bitch.” It was also Zya’s and Jules’s theme song.

Zya looked over at Jules, and he glanced at her with a slight grin. “Turn that shit up,” Zya said as she bobbed her head slowly to the sounds. Jules turned up the volume, and they bobbed their heads in unison.

Just as the song was ending, Jules remembered he had to make use of the money he just took from King.

“Oh yeah, I need you to take that trip to Jersey and get them bricks from Snow this weekend. You got me?”

“Don’t I always? The world is ours, Jules.”

“The world is ours.”



Wade sat at his desk and prepared for his day at work. He opened his blinds to let the sun in, and strapped his gun in his holster. He sat at his desk, took a sip of his coffee, and picked up his newspaper. He flipped to the front page and read: METS WIN PENNANT. He wasn’t a big baseball fan, so he flipped the page and began to look through the paper. He didn’t see anything interesting, so he folded the newspaper and prepared to make his rounds through the city.

He stood up, preparing to leave his office when a man walked into the door. He was a black male who looked to be in his mid-fifties. His receding hairline made him look like a taller George Jefferson.

“Lieutenant Jefferson—I mean Lieutenant Jones,” Wade said, acknowledging his boss.

The Lieutenant responded, “Good morning, Wade. Did you happen to see the paper this morning?”

Wade smiled and answered, “Yeah, the Mets won.”

The Lieutenant did not smile back. He reached for Wade’s newspaper and said, “I think you better look a little closer.” He pointed to the photo in the bottom right corner and Wade read the caption: HARLEM MAN FOUND SHOT DEAD IN A BALTIMORE HOTEL. SEE PAGE 5.

“King’s dead?” he asked.

Lieutenant Jones answered, “Yep. They found his body last night. He had been dead for two days. We have no leads, and since it was in Baltimore, it’s on the Baltimore police to handle that. Less work for us.” Wade grew a dumb look on his face as the Lieutenant continued to talk. “Wade, weren’t you on King’s case?”

Wade hesitated to answer. He was too busy thinking about King’s murder. Damn, I was just tailing this mu’fucka a couple nights ago.

“Wade!” The Lieutenant barked, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Weren’t you on the King case?”

“Yeah, but I guess I don’t have to worry about him anymore, right?”

Lieutenant Jones looked at Wade and replied, “I guess not. I guess that’s one less killer on the streets. It makes our job easier. But I would have loved to see his face after a conviction. Too bad it ended like this.”

Wade was in deep thought and quickly snapped out to agree with Lieutenant Jones. “Yeah, too bad.”

On that note, the Lieutenant left the room and Wade walked over to his file cabinet and took out the pictures he had snapped of King the night he died. He took a close look at the woman in the pictures, and knew he saw her before somewhere, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

So, that’s what the rush to get out the hotel was for. Y’all killed him and robbed his ass. Bitches are sheisty.

Wade wanted to tell his Lieutenant what he had witnessed the night of the murder, but he knew he needed a warrant, which he did not have, to put King under surveillance. Since the whole police station was already at odds with him, he kept quiet. In a way, Wade was kind of relieved King was dead. It was one less criminal on his list to take down.

The Lieutenant walked back into the room and Wade instantly put the pictures behind his back and looked at Lieutenant Jones.

“Want to go for doughnuts and coffee?” Jones asked.

“Nah, I’m cool. I’m going to catch up on some stuff.”

Lieutenant Jones frowned his face and asked, “Wade, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“All right,” the Lieutenant responded and exited the room. Wade took a deep breath and exhaled. He stuck the pictures in his pocket and left his office.

As Wade made his rounds around the city in his unmarked car, he could not get his mind off of King’s death. Lonnie Wade rode down the streets of New York and stopped on Trinity Avenue to talk to some of the old friends he had grown up with. Wade rolled down his car window and immediately received love from his childhood friends who stood on the corner trying to make their pay. He didn’t agree with what they did, but they were trying to survive, and he understood that. He and his old friends had a mutual agreement. They let Wade know what was happening in the streets. In return, Wade let them know when they were getting hot and needed to lay low. He overlooked their wrongdoings to stay in tune with the streets. This helped Wade find out about incoming shipments and new faces on the scene that were making major moves.

“Yo, what up, kid?” one of the men on the corner yelled out as he and Wade showed each other love.

“What’s good, Dill?” Wade replied. Dill looked inside the car, saw Lonnie’s face, and threw his hand up to let them know it was cool.

Dill walked over to the car and said, “Jules left town and is coming back on Friday with a major shipment. I don’t know how he getting them here. I just know it’s coming on Friday. He talking big shit, like he’s about to take over the streets with some new shit from Jersey. He fuckin’ with Li’l Shay from around the way, and she can’t keep her mouth closed. She said he got a spot over there on Lennox in some other chick’s name.”

Lonnie shook his head and replied, “Good, Good. I’ve been looking for Jules. He skipped bail a couple of months back. There is going to be a sweep today at four. I advise you to take a break today and lay low.”

They both slapped hands and Lonnie Wade pulled off. Damn, Harlem don’t sleep. As soon as one drug dealer’s gone, another one wants to takes his spot. Everybody wants to be king of New York. Now this nigga Jules is trying to flood the streets. It’s not happening.



Zya sat on the Greyhound, listening to her Mary J. Blige CD, not paying attention to any particular thing. She was on her way back home from picking up some bricks of cocaine from Torey Snow, Jules’s coke connect. She closed her eyes and slowly bobbed her head back and forth until she heard a distant voice addressing her and someone tapping her arm.

“Excuse me, miss . . . Excuse me!” a middle-aged white lady said with an aggravated tone. Zya slowly pulled down her headphones and looked at the lady like she was crazy.

“May I help you?” she said.

“Your music is extremely loud. Do you mind turning it down a bit?”

No, this bitch didn’t, she thought as she plastered a forced grin on her face. It took all of Zya’s willpower not to tell that old-ass lady about herself.

“Sorry about that. I’ll turn it down a little,” she said as she rolled her eyes and put back on the headphones. Zya was boiling, and knew the lady was uncomfortable sitting by her, because when she first boarded the bus and sat down, she turned up her nose. If this were any other time, Zya would have told her off, but the fact that she had ten kilos of cocaine in her duffle bag humbled her. She didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to herself. She turned down the music and looked out the window.

Zya noticed that the bus had reached New York’s Port Authority bus station, and she was home safely. She took a deep breath and waited for the bus to stop. Zya had been taking these trips for Jules once a month, every first Saturday. She went to meet Jules’s connect, Torey Snow, from Newark. He would be waiting for her in front of the station, where they would make the switch. He would drive around the block a couple of times then let her back out. It was always a quick procedure. Amir, who couldn’t be any older than eighteen, usually picked her up once she got back to New York. He was a little nigga that Jules hired to transport Zya on occasions like this.

Zya was glad to be in New York, safe and sound. She stepped off the bus with a Bible in one hand and the bag in the other. Jules always made her wear “church lady” clothes and tote a Bible when making her runs to Jersey. He said she would be less likely to be selected for random searches. Zya hated her attire, but she knew Jules was right.

Zya entered the station and noticed it was emptier than usual. The bus had arrived a little earlier than expected, so she would have to wait a little before her ride would be there. She couldn’t call Jules and tell him to send the whip, because Jules didn’t allow her to call him while traveling. He was very paranoid and remained cautious of everything. He was wanted on a two-year-old drug trafficking charge, and was on the run. He avoided using cell phones. He said all cell phones were tapped.

Zya spotted a bench and walked over to it to have a seat. She took off her big church hat and wiped the sweat that had formed on her forehead. She looked around the station and noticed a uniformed police officer walking a hound dog through the station. She immediately grew nervous, and her first thought was to leave the bag and relocate, but they were headed in her direction. She didn’t want to look suspicious, so she stayed put. She tried to look as casual as possible, but she had the shakes. She cracked open her Bible and pretended to read as the officer and the dog approached her.

Oh shit, oh shit. I’m caught. Okay, okay, stay calm, Zya. Damn, they’re coming my way. Fuck it! I’m about to take off. A bitch ran track in high school. I got a chance.

The dog had his nose buried on the floor and was slowly approaching her duffle bag. “What you got boy?” the chubby redneck said as the dog led the police officer over to her. Just as Zya was about to take off, a loud voice came from a few feet behind her.

“Fuck that shit, man! This is some bullshit!” the man said as he banged on the glass where you purchased ti. . .