Return of the Cartier Cartel (12 page)

Marisol blushed at the thought of making love to her man. They were connected mentally and sexually, and she loved it.

“I’m ready.” Jalissa stood before Marisol. “And hurry up, because Jason is coming over tonight. I still got to run home and cook, douche, you know, all that good shit.”

Marisol exhaled. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

“Marisol, you said it yourself that we gotta stick to the plan. Well, this is part of the new plan, and I’m sticking to it. That nigga said he got over two million dollars in the stash, so this is worth it. It’s just a little insurance on my part so that he’ll continue to trust me if I show him my allegiance.”

Marisol let out a little giggle. “Now we both know that if he said he got two million then he got half that. You know how niggas lie.”

“Well, however much he got, it’s more than what I got, so go ahead. Do it!”

Marisol pulled her fist way back and then let it go.

Immediately Jalissa’s hands both went up and clutched her right eye as she doubled over in pain. “Awww, shit. That fucking hurt.” She felt her eye swell up.

“Let me see it.” Marisol squinted to see the damage.

Just as both girls had hoped, Jalissa’s eye was almost swollen shut.

“It’s perfect.”

****

When Jalissa opened up her front door and Jason saw her face, he went beserk. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Immediately his mind thought crazy thoughts. He didn’t know if Cartier had found out he was cheating and whipped her ass, which wouldn’t have been a stretch for Cartier.

Jalissa put her head down and walked farther into her apartment. “I don’t want to speak.”

“Huh? So you’re saying you not going to tell me what the hell happened to your face? Was it somebody I know?”

“I no talk, no,” Jalissa said in almost a whisper and then her voice elevated into a loud shriek and said, “She no trust, Marisol. She no like me ask for Ryan.”

Jason’s heart sank. Her sister had whipped her ass because she kept asking where Ryan lived, because he kept pressuring her. He finally realized he was putting her in a precarious situation. If Ryan found out about them, he’d kill her. And from the look of her face, if her sister found out, then she’d put in work too.

Jason was overwhelmed with guilt. Ever since his crib got robbed by some unknown Hispanic men, he didn’t know who to trust. He did have thoughts of letting Jalissa hold some money in a safety deposit box, but he changed his mind. He thought it better to have his moms open up a safe deposit box for him. That way, he’d be in control. He could spoon Cartier and Jalissa an allowance and have both women on a short leash.

Now, after Jalissa received this beat-down, he needed to rethink leaving her without any security. She had proven tonight that she loved him. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. The snapshot of her face read like a love story of her loyalty and devotion to him.

Chapter 14

Bossy

Cartier, Bam, and Li’l Momma decided to drive up to Sammy’s in City Island to get some seafood on the warm, early summer day. It was three o’clock on a lazy afternoon when the ladies took the time together to plot their next move. With Cartier in the driver’s seat, Bam and Li’l Momma sat back to enjoy the ride.

“So how much we got on the street?” Cartier asked no one in particular.

Li’l Momma spoke up. She was good with numbers. “Kenny got eighteen-five for us. He said we could pick it up anytime tomorrow. He’s on his way back from Atlanta tonight. And Malik, Shawn, and Tiny all owe us forty large each. But that paper won’t be ready for another week.”

“Things are looking good,” Cartier said. “I got an appointment with the realtor on Monday morning to show me some foreclosure properties. Y’all welcome to come if y’all bitches wanna get out of bed early enough to see where your money will be going.”

“I trust you.” Bam didn’t want any parts of getting up early, nor sitting in any realtor’s office.

“This isn’t about trust, Bam. We’re Cartel, so that should come without saying. The reason you and Li’l Momma should be there is because y’all might catch something I don’t, and three sets of eyes are certainly better than one. I’m telling you, this real estate shit is gonna set us up for life. We’re going to be millionaires the legal way. Once these investments pay off, no more hustling. Ever. I promise you that.”

“I hear you, Cartier. Count me in. I’ll be there,” Li’l Momma said. “I wanna be the Donald Trump of the hood.”

“Me too,” Bam chimed in.

“Am I supposed to say, me three?” Cartier joked.

They all laughed.

Cartier pulled into the driveway, and as expected, it was packed. The parking lot was filled with high-end cars; Maseratis, Benz, Jaguars, BMWs, and Porsches. Cartier got out of Jason’s Benz and had only taken a few steps before she was nearly run over by a black Porsche Cayenne. The music was blaring so loudly, the driver didn’t hear Cartier’s litany of curses, so she decided to wait. She was seething.

As the unsuspecting driver jumped out the driver’s seat, he saw a shapely woman charging toward him. He adjusted his jeans, totally oblivious that the anger in her eyes were for his eyes only, and began to approach the restaurant.

“Where the fuck you get your license? The Internet? Didn’t you see me standing here?”

Head looked around, not sure what was going on. “You talkin’ to me?”

“Who the fuck you think I’m talking to? You coulda killed me!”

“Be easy, ma. I didn’t see you.” Head scanned the sexy Cartier up and down and liked what he saw, including the slick mouth all glossed up with lip gloss. “But then again, how could I miss someone as pretty as you?”

The compliment delayed Cartier’s anger. She wasn’t expecting the husky baritone voice and smooth dark chocolate skin.

“Why you driving all stupid like that anyway?” Cartier continued, not sure how to tone down her anger. “I mean, you act like you pushing a big-boy’s toy.”

Head couldn’t help but laugh. Only weeks home from federal prison, he wasn’t in any frame of mind to get into any dispute with anyone, especially a female.

“You sayin’ I need to get my grown man on, huh?”

“You lookin’ a little young in that Cayenne.”

“I got grown-man money, though.” He paused for emphasis. “My name is Head, by the way.”

“Head? What type of name is Head?”

“Ask somebody, ma.” Head walked into the restaurant.

Cartier didn’t have to ask anyone. She knew he was a local legend, and she hated to admit it, but she was intrigued. BET’s hit show, American Gangster, had profiled his life a few years back. People from his past were interviewed, including the arresting agents, their identities smudged out, detailing his rise and fall. The streets said he’d just got home, having done four years in a federal prison. He was given eighteen years to life, and on appeal his sentence was overturned, and ultimately he was acquitted, which when dealing with the feds, who everyone knows don’t play fair, is unheard of.

The girls hustled into the restaurant as well, only to be told there was a forty-five-minute waiting list.

“You wanna wait at the bar?” Li’l Momma asked.

Cartier glanced over and saw that Head and his friend were already sitting down ordering drinks. He saw Cartier looking toward him and motioned for her to come over.

“Yo, that guy who nearly killed me is motioning for us to come over.”

“He’s a cutie, Cartier. What’s his name?” Bam adjusted her clothes, hoping to catch the eye of the stranger.

“That’s Head from Brownsville.”

“Say word?” Li’l Momma said, her interest now piqued. “I heard of him.”

“Haven’t we all,” Cartier remarked. “So, shall we go over?”

“Lead the way.”

Li’l Momma and Bam followed Cartier over to the bar. Head stood up and pulled out the bar stool for Cartier, which immediately put a smile on her face.

Li’l Momma and Bam were thinking the same thing, both thinking they were the perfect candidates. The moment he glances down and realizes she has a ring on her finger, he’ll redirect his attention toward one of us.

“What y’all ladies drinking?” Head asked.

Cartier turned toward her girls and mouthed the word martinis.

Bam and Li’l Momma both nodded their heads. “Apple martinis.”

Head motioned for the bartender and ordered them their drinks. “This is my man, Clyde,” he said.

“My name’s Cartier, and this is Bam and Li’l Momma.”

Head thought he’d heard those names before. He remembered hearing about a group of young girls who’d caught a body some years back. So many names were thrown around, but the one that stuck out in the Daily News was Cartier Timmons. Head thought he knew her mother.

“Yo, do one of y’all got a mother named Trina?”

Cartier grinned. “I do. How you know my mother?” Instantly she couldn’t understand how pangs of jealousy shot through her. Did he sleep with her mother? He was at least forty years old.

“Your moms is mad cool. She used to fuck around with my man Nut back in the day. I’m talkin’ way back in the late eighties, early nineties, some shit like that. Wow! It’s a small world.”

That’s how Brooklyn was. If you put in work and made a name for yourself, it would last throughout the decades.

“Nut? Cartier, don’t your husband know him?” Li’l Momma had already tossed down the apple martini and didn’t like the way Clyde was leering at her. She’d already summed up that he was broke and that Head was the baller. If she locked him down, then she could see a bright future.

Cartier decided to ignore Li’l Momma.

Head glanced down at her ring.

“I cannot wait to tell Trina how you nearly killed her daughter.”

“Nah, don’t do that. Tell her I said whaddup. It would be good to see her. Why don’t we exchange numbers, and you can call me when you’re with her.”

Everyone sitting there knew Head didn’t give a fuck about no Trina. Bam and Li’l Momma sat on edge waiting to see Cartier’s next move. Cartier could almost feel the energy being sucked out of the room.

“I’m in between cell phones right now, but give me your number, and I’ll call you when I’m with Mom Duke.”

Bam’s and Li’l Momma’s aspirations about pulling the legendary hustler went up in a mushroom cloud, but they were slightly happy that Cartier wouldn’t be getting with him either. They both decided to make the best of the rest of the evening.

Head took charge and had the maître d’ seat them at a table for five. There wasn’t any way he was letting the spunky, convicted murderess out of his sight. He didn’t give a fuck if she did have on ring on her finger.

****

“So whatchu gonna do about Jason? You know if he find out, he gonna flip.”

“And thank you for blowing me up in there,” Cartier stated. “And find out what? That I got a telephone number for Trina? And what?”

“Don’t bullshit me with that lame story. Just admit you checking for dude.”

“I think checking for is too strong of a term. I mean, he’s cute and funny.”

“And dangerous. Don’t forget, he got a rep. And you know you like a bad boy.”

“Bitch, I’m married,” Cartier joked.

“So? Jason ain’t exactly the faithful husband.” Bam had always had a deep-seated hatred toward Jason for pulling the trigger on Big Mike, and sometimes when the grief assassin crept in her dreams at night, making her relive the moment, the anger transferred to Cartier as well. But, so far, she was usually able to temper that and concentrate only on Jason.

Li’l Momma could never stand Bam’s ability to ride Cartier’s coattail. She was nothing but Cartier’s cheerleader, if you let her tell it.

“Right now, you saying, because Jason cheats, Cartier should as well? If that’s the case, then why get married? I know my marriage won’t be like that.”

Cartier wasn’t in the mood. She hated that she and her friends found it hard to communicate without yelling and screaming, or taking shots at each other.

“I don’t think it’s realistic to say how your marriage will be, when you can’t even keep a relationship,” Carter retorted, “let alone get someone to take you seriously enough to marry you. And I know you’re not dumb enough to think that a piece of paper will really keep a nigga faithful.”

“I’m smart enough not to marry a hood nigga. I know that much. It’s like they say: ‘You get what you pay for.’”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bam asked before Cartier could lose it on Li’l Momma.

“It means that there are plenty of corporate men out here that are marriage material. If I want a nigga to lace me with Gucci boots or keep my neck icy, I go to the local hustler. If I want a husband and father to my kids, I most certainly don’t go to the local hustler. You feel me? Cartier set herself up for everything she’s getting.”

“I guess I could swallow that pill, if only hood niggas cheated. A cheater’s a cheater, no matter what race or occupation. But until you are walking in my shoes”— Cartier cut her eyes at Li’l Momma—“then all you’re doing is talking noise.”

“Cartier, I’m not trying to get your pressure up.”

“And you’re not!”

“But I just think you deserve better. Since y’all hooked up, he’s been publicly disrespecting you. I think you could do better. I mean, I know he blesses you with paper, but you can make your own paper. You had a rep way before y’all hooked up, and it’s like he’s taking your ‘cool’ points.”

The more Cartier sat listening to Li’l Momma, the more her pressure rose. She wasn’t angry with her friend for speaking the truth. Her anger began to fester and grow for her husband.

“I know you’re probably thinking that I can’t talk about this subject because I ain’t married,” Li’l Momma added, “but I feel there should be a level of respect. You can’t even go to get your hair washed without wondering if the chick sitting across from you is on the down low with not just your baby daddy but your husband. Honestly, you’re better than me, because there’s no way I would have taken him back after he got my best friend pregnant. I could live a hundred years and will never swallow that bitter pill.”

Bam was tired of listening to Li’l Momma preach. “Damn, Li’l Momma! Where’s all of this coming from? You act like you’re married to Jason. You know how these street niggas do. You’ve never really had a relationship where a dude wifed you, so you’re really—”