It took another hour of patiently waiting until Soraya and Volkan arrived at the second floor of a cafe in Hydra, the same neighborhood Zayn had bought his house in. He sat in the left corner of the second floor, by the light brown wall and floor to ceiling windows, the view of Hydra's clean streets, mediterranean villas and restaurants in sight. Zayn drank his medium latte with four packets of sugar. What a perfect Sunday, he thought. And it would get better as the minutes passed and ideas on how to use his millions of dollars flooded his mind.
Life would never be the same. Life would be his playground. He wouldn't be like those idiots who had won the lottery and then lost all of their money within a few years. No. Zayn sat in his seat with his black patterned to-go coffee cup and swore that he'd multiply his money until there would be no reason to keep multiplying it. Wealth upon wealth. Power upon power.
Money does not equal strength, Omayra whispered. It is only a means to access power.
"And I need that access," Zayn answered, sipping his warm latte.
The TV across, which hung on the wall switched to the news station. A cafe staff member must've unmuted the TV. Reports of mass deaths of gang members in the neighborhood of El Biar.
"Ramzi . . ." Zayn muttered. Flashbacks of the entire floor of dead gang members hit Zayn. He watched as the news reporter, a long brown-haired woman with two gold earrings, tanned skin and amber eyes continued the report. She wore a black blazer with a gray shirt beneath in front of a white backdrop.
"Police are currently investigating the building after reports of a bad odor from people walking the streets. You might recognize this area if you visit El Biar often. What has been confirmed is the deceased are on the third floor, they are gang members who reportedly have a history of selling drugs and police have been investigating and searching for their headquarters and their leader, who is also dead. There are no reported signs of a gun fight or stab wounds. It's reported that the deceased have no visible wounds, baffling police at this time."
Zayn exhaled tried to distract himself from all those deaths he deemed himself responsible for. He thought about who would want to kill his father. Who would order to plant drugs in his father's clothes? And finally, why would his father jump out of a window to his death after reuniting with his daughter and son?
Then from the left, by the stairs of the second floor, Soraya and Volkan appeared. Soraya wore black sneakers, black jeans, a dark blue shirt with a light gray jacket. She smiled and waved. Volkan pushed himself up the final step of the stairs. Zayn noticed Volkan's fresh haircut. He had short hair, wore a slim brown V-neck shirt and blue jeans with white sneakers. His friends strolled over.
"Can't believe you ditched us like that yesterday," Volkan said, shaking Zayn's hand but then tightening his grip.
Zayn returned the tight grip and laughed. "Had to, man. Had to."
Volkan sat to the right of Zayn and Soraya to his left. "Your aunt looked a bit pissed about last night."
"Yeah, not sure if it's because you didn't show up or if you buried your father on your own." Soraya cleared her throat. "Either way, we stayed for the free dinner then went home." She laughed.
"Free dinner is always appreciated. Couscous is the best," Volkan said.
"Well, before we focus on investigating who killed my father, I've got a something for you two." Zayn watched his friends glance at each other before staring at him. "You should be excited for this."
"Really?" Soraya asked.
"Close your eyes. Both of you," Zayn ordered. He eyed the security camera in the left corner of the second floor. With where Volkan sat, it wouldn't be able to see the money that Zayn would pull out and place on the table.
He reached under the table beside his foot then slightly opened his briefcase to pull out about four bundles of cash. He placed two stacks in front of Volkan and two in front of Soraya. He shut his briefcase, sat straight in his seat, and took in the sight of his friends silently waiting, both of them somewhat smiling as they waited for Zayn's surprise. Zayn felt, in that moment, that he was finally able to pay them back for risking their lives in the drug deals he accepted. He had never forced his friends to tag along. But friends didn't leave their friends out to dry. Soraya and Volkan had always accompanied him despite the danger.
"Open," Zayn ordered.
They both instantly saw the money on the table. They turned to each other then to Zayn, eyes wide open, eyebrows raised, upper lip raised.
"What is—how'd you get—all this money?" Volkan asked.
"Is this your savings, Zayn?" Soraya asked.
"No." Zayn leaned forward on the table. "I was given money from my late grandfather who passed away. The money was given to me as a condition when my father would pass away." He lied. He lied but knew there was no way he could tell them some ominous spirit Zayn made a pact with delivered two million dollars in a briefcase to him.
"How much even is this?" Volkan asked, touching the stack of money, poking it as if he had a stick in hand.
"Two hundred fifty thousand each." Zayn pointed at both of them.
Soraya gasped. "How mich money did your grandfather give you?" She shook her head. "Actually, that's none of my business."
"More than a million," Zayn answered.
Volkan leaned back in his seat. "Damn. Your grandfather was a businessman?"
Zayn shook his shoulders then nodded. "I guess . . . you could say that."
"Zayn, I can't accept this much money. We didn't even do anything—" Soraya said.
"You and Volkan have risked your lives every time we had a drug deal go down. Even at the gang headquarters yesterday, where we almost died and got surrounded by Ramzi. You two never ran away or left me to dry." Zayn nodded and held eye contact with them. "It's the least I can do. Open a businesses, help your families, put a downpayment on a house. Whatever you want." He gave them a serious nod before smiling. "By the way, I've already bought a house for Imane." Zayn swung the keys in front of him with a sly grin.
"I'm happy for you, bro," Volkan said. "And thank you. Thank you, bro."
"Thank you, Zayn. But this doesn't change anything," Soraya said. "We'll still insult each other, tell you the truth and always be there."
"But what about you? You always put your sister first," Volkan said. "What about your life? What do you want to do with the money?"
Zayn shrugged his shoulders. "What I want doesn't matter. I don't need anything except seeing her happy. I can't really explain it . . . but even more now that my father is gone, I've got to make sure she has everything and more." He tapped his finger on the table and stared at it. "She's not like me who couldn't make it into college. Imane will go far. She'll go far . . ."
"Whatever makes you happy, bro," Volkan changed the mood of the conversations. "I'll be buying a truckload of cookies, though. A full truck."
Soraya and Zayn laughed.
"And it's just getting started, guys," Zayn said. He nodded and watched both of his friends take the money and hide it in their pockets or inside their shirts. "I need to find out who ordered that girl to plant drugs on my father."
"You have any idea for a first move?" Volkan asked.
"Someone from the military."
"Military?" Soraya asked, brushing her brown hair. "Like a commanding officer?"
Zayn nodded. "We'll need to get into one of their parties."
"How we going to do that?" Volkan asked.
Zayn grinned. "Someone I know goes to every one . . ."