Zero Degrees Part 1

The Cocaine Princess

By Rio



Prologue



Brownsville, TX October 2010



“There were seven hundred kilos in the back of our eighteen-wheeler when my sister had it delivered to your men in San Antonio. I’m not understanding how two hundred of them suddenly disappeared”, said Juan “Papi” Costilla.

He lit a Cuban cigar and scowled at his captive, who he knew only as Salvador. The bloody-faced man was tied to a ladder-back chair in the garage of Papi’s five-hundred-thousand-dollar Spanish-style villa. Flanking Papi were his two younger siblings, Flako and Jenny, and Jenny’s two sons, Santiago and Savio, were sitting on the trunk of their mother’s sleek blue Rolls-Royce Phantom. The car was only a shade darker than the custom tailored Hartmarx suits that all of them were wearing.

“When that semi-trailor made it to us”, Salvador said through a mouthful of blood, “those kilos were already missing. You know I wouldn’t steal from you, Papi. Do you honestly believe I’d steal from the f*cking Costilla cartel? I’d try ripping off the Sinaloas AND the Zetas before I’d steal from the Costillas. I’ve sold thousands of kilos for your family! If it wasn’t for me, Santiago would have never rubbed shoulders with that Big Meech guy in Atlanta. He’d have never met Reesie Cup in Chicago, or those gangster rappers in—”

Salvador’s aching pleas ceased abruptly, and he gasped as Jenny pulled a gold-plated revolver from inside her suit jacket and aimed it at his blood-soaked Gucci shirt. The mask of horror he wore was illuminated by the headlights of Papi’s eighteen-year-old daughter’s ocean blue Mercedes; she was leaning forward in the driver’s seat, her chin resting atop the steering wheel, her dreamy green eyes stretched wide with shock, her dog-eared Nika Michelle novel open and left unattended on the dashboard.

In Spanish, Jenny said, “You f*cking roach! Nobody steals from the Costilla cartel!”

She squeezed the trigger, and a ribbon of fire blew from the barrel of her .44 Magnum. The bullet tore through Salvador’s chest, knocking the chair over backwards.

Papi looked back at his daughter. “Go inside and make sure Rita’s still asleep. Don’t let her come out here. Tell her I accidentally fired my gun.”

Alexus pushed open her door and stepped out of the Benz, looking like Onika Maraj from the waist up and Tahiry Jose from the waist down. She had on a fuchsia-colored Valentino dress that accentuated her enormous derrière, and her diamond-encrusted five-inch heels had been custom designed by Christian Louboutin.

“I’ll keep Momma inside”, she said, grabbing the Nika Michelle novel off the dash and a Straight Stuntin magazine that had been lying on the passenger seat.

“Let her stay and watch,” said Jenny. “Show her how we deal with thieves in Mexico. It’s about time she learned the ins and outs of this business.”

Papi briefly considered honoring his sister’s suggestion, but when he glanced at Alexus, she was already leaving the garage.

He looked at his Audemars Piguet watch: 11:58 pm. She’ll learn”, he said, picking up his 24-karat gold-plated machete from the hood of his ex-wife Rita’s Porsche SUV.

He walked over to where Salvador lay, moving rather swiftly for a man in his early sixties. Salvador was gargling up blood, and his eyes were like saucers—wide, round, and glossy.

“Why couldn’t you remain loyal?” Papi asked, raising the machete. “You would have lasted, Salv. Loyalty is everything.”

He swung the machete in a downward arc, and it’s razor-sharp blade sliced through Salvador’s neck, instantly separating his head from his shoulders.



***

“We’re moving to Indiana”, Rita said as soon as Alexus pushed open her parents’ bedroom door.

Dark and lovely-faced, Rita was the epitome of “strong black woman”. She was sitting up in bed reading the Bible. The dim light from her bedside lamp revealed her troubled expression.

“I take it you heard the gunshot”, said Alexus.

“How could I not have heard it? Sounded like a cannon going off.”

“Papi accidentally—”

“I don’t care, Alexus. I really don’t care. I’m getting us out of here. We’re leaving Texas for good. Your uncle Dennis and his kids are doing good in Indiana. I’m getting us a house up there. “

“I’m not moving to Indiana, Momma. I’d rather move to Mexico with Granny Costilla. Hell, I’ll get my own place. Or I’ll stay here with Papi.”

“Watch your mouth”, Rita said. She set her Bible aside and turned to Alexus. “Your father’s family is full of criminals. People are getting killed left and right down there in Matamoros, Mexico, and I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that those mentally unstable Costillas are responsible for most of those murders. God don’t like ugly, and neither do I. That’s why Papi and I are divorced now…”

Alexus looked down at her impeccably manicured fingernails, tuning her mother out. Papi was to Mexico what Pablo Escobar had been to Colombia, and Alexus wanted to be just like him.