Return of the Cartier Cartel (17 page)

“Officer, I was trying to get your attention!”

“Driving one hundred twenty miles per hour would do exactly that. Step out of the car and put your hands behind your back.”

“What? Why?”

“Look, ma’am, step out of the car and put your hands behind your back. You’re being arrested for driving eighty miles over the legal speed limit.”

“Somebody just tried to kill me and I’m going to jail?”

Finally the angry trooper observed the broken window. “What happened?” The tone in his voice dropped a few octaves.

Cartier needed to lay this on thick. She still had five years on paper, and if she got arrested, they would certainly find her .25, which might be traced back to a murder and attempted murder if the police decided to do a ballistics test.

“I dropped my children off at school and went to run a few errands at the local shopping center. When I came out, I must have interrupted a shootout with some thugs because, before I knew it, I was being shot at.” More tears. “I didn’t know what to do. When I saw they were still following me, I began speeding, hoping to alert the police and scare them off.”

“Exactly where were you?”

“I was just about to get on the Belt Parkway. Oh my God! What if my kids were in the car? They could have been killed.” Cartier looked up and gave the cop full eye contact. Her eyes pleaded for him to believe her partially true story.

“You can put your hands down, ma’am. Sit tight in the car and I’ll be back.”

The trooper began to walk off but turned back around. Cartier was watching his every move in her side view mirror. Her heart plummeted.

“Are you hurt? Do you need any medical attention?”

“I’m a little shaken up, but no, I’m not shot.”

“Did you happen to get the license plate of the vehicle that shot at you?”

“It all happened too fast. There wasn’t any way I could get a license plate from my position. I was looking straight ahead, but I can give you an accurate description of the vehicle.”

The trooper pulled out his pad. “OK. Could you hand me your license and registration?”

Cartier nodded her head yes and reached for her wallet.

“What type of vehicle was it?”

“A green Nissan Pathfinder. Maybe around a 1992-1998, before they changed the body to resemble the Q-45 truck. Do you know which one I’m talking about?” There wasn’t any way Cartier was involving the police in her beef.

For some reason the trooper looked amused. He flashed a smile, softening the hard lines on his mean face.

Cartier sat perched on the shoulder of the Southern State Parkway for another thirty minutes before she was allowed to leave, but not before the trooper casually asked if she would voluntarily submit to popping her trunk, which she was more than happy to do.

Once again she decided to not go home. She needed to get with The Cartel and fill them in on what just gone down and how close she came to getting locked down. First thing on her list was to get rid of her dirty piece. The second thing would be to start burying muthafuckas.

Chapter 21

Can I Get a’ Encore

The blazing heat outside couldn’t compare to how heated Cartier was. After she dropped the car off at the Mercedes dealer to repair the window, she grabbed a loaner car and headed back to Bed-Stuy, where she asked Bam and Li’l Momma to meet her at Janet’s house.

Janet welcomed the company. Her weary eyes hadn’t been outside her apartment for weeks. She was still grappling over the finality of her daughter’s death. She embraced Cartier and led her into the living room, which had seen better days.

“You sounded hype on the phone,” Janet said. “Tell me what went down.”

“They tryin’ to get at me. Muthafuckas just shot out my back window.”

“What?” Janet replied, amazed that someone could be so brazen in broad daylight. “Did you get a chance to see who it was?”

“Nah. I only saw the make and model of the car. It was a Ford Taurus with tinted windows.”

“Well, you know it was Ryan,” Janet deduced. “Even if he wasn’t actually the one bucking shots, he was certainly the one who ordered the hit.”

Cartier shook her head as the realization sunk in. All along Jason was supposed to handle Ryan, and now that assignment had shifted to her. She was more than ready to step up to the plate, knowing if she didn’t get at Ryan quick, then there would be another funeral for yet another Cartel member.

“I just can’t believe that pussy muthafucka is running around ordering hits and murdering people. Ryan was the most bitch nigga anyone could know. Now he’s out here like a thoroughbred. He gotta be stopped.”

“Y’all fuckin’ around,” Janet said. “You know the hood says that you don’t go to war unless you got your money right. Well, y’all got your money right. Use it to get at that faggot.”

“Cartier, as long as Ryan is alive, we’re all marked for death. I’m with you on whatever decision you make. A lot is at stake here. Not only did he kill Shanine and Monya, but if he gets at you, then it’s only a matter of days before me and Bam are next. He ain’t God. He can be stopped too. I can’t sit around while this punk decides my date of death,” Li’l Momma stated. “Right now, if I’m talking real talk, I’m scared to go home most nights. I’m leery as hell and always looking over my shoulders, waiting for a gun to be tossed in my face.”

“I feel you,” Cartier retorted as she took in everyone’s worries.

“Put that paper up,” Janet said. “Flush him out. Money talks and bullshit walks. Find out where he gets his hair cut, grocery-shops, goes to the gym. Shit, if y’all need me and Trina to beat the block with y’all, you know we’re down for whatever. ‘Ain’t no shook hands in Brook-land’ has always been our motto. And I’m telling you girls now, I can’t go to another funeral. God forbid something happens to any of you girls, I won’t be there. I just can’t.” Janet looked off out the window as her heart broke into a million pieces.

“There won’t be any more funerals for The Cartel,” Bam finally spoke up. “We’re gonna get that bastard. Right, Cartier?”

Cartier nodded her head. “And Marisol, she’s gotta get it too.”

“Marisol?” Janet wasn’t sure where she’d heard the name before. “Is that Ryan’s chick?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well, then I agree, especially after what went down with her sister. Leaving her alive will be a problem.”

Cartier was shocked that Janet knew what went down with Jalissa, which meant she knew Cartier was behind what happened to Jason. She’d almost forgotten that Trina and Janet were the best of friends, almost sisters, and didn’t keep anything from each other.

“We need to get at Ryan and Marisol together. I got a strong feeling that I can’t shake that her need for revenge will be stronger than Ryan’s. Sure, Ryan killed our friends, but he had an agenda, and that was to make money. Greed is what will motivate any hustler. Coming at me today was more personal. I don’t think I’m high on Ryan’s hit list, especially now that Jason is out the way. I’m not saying—and, Bam, please don’t chime in—that Ryan isn’t a threat and that because we had a fling that he wouldn’t dead me. I’m not saying that. I’m saying that there isn’t any money involved in murking me. What Ryan did to the Cartel members was business. The attempted hit on me today was personal, and it has Marisol’s name written all over it. She’s a problem. I know she is. I can feel it in my bones. I saw it in her eyes that she knew I was behind her sister’s murder.”

“So whatchu saying?” Li’l Momma asked. “That Marisol could have been the one in the Taurus?”

“Maybe, yes. Maybe, no. I’m not sure. But I’m sure that she’s the one who will keep the fire lit under our asses. She will stay in Ryan’s ear to dead us, just as I stayed in Jason’s ear to dead Ryan. We gotta remember that Shanine and Monya were like our sisters. Jalissa was her sister.”

“Damn, Cartier,” Bam began. “You done got us all in some more stupid shit.”

Cartier jerked her head back, befuddled. “What are you talking about?” She turned to look at the others. “What is she talking about?”

“She’s talking stupid as usual,” Li’l Momma exclaimed. “You’s one dumb ass, Bam. Now I usually ride with you on certain points, but this isn’t Cartier’s fault in any way. They chose this beef, and we’re gonna finish it. The players are still the same. Ryan’s gotta go, and once he is deaded, there would always be the chance that Marisol could be a problem. If not for Jalissa, then she might have come at us for Ryan.”

Bam remained silent and the people in the room couldn’t read her so they continued with the meeting without her making any further comments.

Janet decided to end the meeting with her parting words of wisdom. “OK, y’all gotta find people, trustworthy people, who work for the telephone company, DMV, collection agencies—anywhere that if you gave them a first and last name you could get an address. Any address that could get you closer to Ryan and Marisol. Once they’re gone, the beef will be gone. Y’all won’t have to worry about his goons. You know what they say. Hit the biggest nigga in the crew and everyone else will fall. Ryan is that big nigga. Once he falls, his crew will dismantle.”

****

When Cartier finally made it home, she had a nagging feeling to call Head. She told herself that she was only calling to curse him out for playing her. He had called her out of her house then left her looking silly, causing her to almost get killed.

“You owe me an apology!” Her voice was stern yet her heart pumped fearfully. She had no idea how the disrespectful bad boy would react to her ill temper.

“Nah, ma. I see it the other way around.”

“How the fuck do I owe you an apology when you walked out on me after I got out of my bed to come and see you?”

“So you were asleep?”

“Huh?” Cartier realized she’d just played herself. Twice.

“Look, shorty, I love the sassy, gangster-bitch thing you got going on. All that bass in your husky voice is sexy as hell. But, as I told you earlier, I don’t tolerate a liar. Now you’re hitting me on my jack for a reason, as I hit you on yours for a reason. All these antics aren’t necessary. Now apologize for lying and we could get up. If not, then peace.”

His voice was smooth like butter. He had a swagger that Cartier wanted to get to know better. There was such an excitement building with each second they remained on the phone. Was it because she was still married? The scandalous element to the situation had Cartier wanting more. Briefly she wondered, was this the allure of it all? Cheating? Was this the feeling that Jason couldn’t resist?

“OK, I lied,” Cartier lowered her voice. “I didn’t want you to know that I was asleep. It was stupid, I know, but it wasn’t as disrespectful as you walking out on me this morning.”

“Disrespect is disrespect. An act you can’t measure. And I’m not going to apologize for anything on my end. I’m a man with boundaries. But I forgive you. Now, what’s up? You wanna go out tonight? Because I know you didn’t really call thinking you were going to get me to say sorry. And before you reply, think about your answer. So tell me, you called because you wanna see me. True?”

Slick mouth, check. Cocky, check. Huge ego, double check. Cartier hesitated briefly. “True.”

Chapter 22

If This Isn’t Love

Cartier came downstairs looking like a movie star, all clad in red—dress, heels, clutch, and lipstick. She felt very trampy, which fit her mood.

“Ma, can you watch the kids for me tonight?”

Trina looked up to see Cartier already dressed, which annoyed her. “Look, Cartier, how do you know I ain’t got my own plans?”

“What are you talking about? I’m asking you, not telling you, to watch the kids.”

“Don’t give me that. You’re already dressed and walking out the door. When was you gonna let me know that you were heading out? Just because you put a roof over my head don’t mean that I’m your live-in slave. How ’bout all the years I kept a roof over your head?”

“You’re my mother. You were supposed to keep a roof over my head! And food on the table.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Because, if you got a problem with me staying here, I can go back to where I came from. I got my own place, you know. I don’t got to be treated like this, all cooped up in here day and night watching all these damn kids, like this is a daycare center. And I’m not getting paid.”

“Getting paid? Oh, so now I’m supposed to pay you?”

“Just go, go.” Trina swatted Cartier out of her face.

“Anyway, they won’t give you a problem. Cee Cee and Jr. will be asleep in a few minutes and should sleep throughout the night.”

“Now you know that’s a damn lie. Cee Cee wakes up every night hollering for her strawberry milk.”

Cartier wondered what was really annoying her mother. “I gave them both a tablespoon of Dimetapp, so as I said, they’ll sleep through the night.”

Trina exploded. “What did I tell you ’bout drugging those damn kids? Ain’t near one of them got a cold. You keep it up, Cartier, and you gonna have two retards on your hands.”

“I’ll be back before the sun comes up. If you want to go back to Brooklyn tomorrow, feel free. And thanks for asking about how my day went.” Cartier stormed out of the house, hoping to leave Trina on a guilt trip.

“Kiss my ass!”

Trina climbed in her bed and lit up a cigarette. “I will go back to Brooklyn and get the hell out of this here prison. Can’t have no company,” she said to herself. “Always gotta go through all this drama with this ungrateful spoiled brat. Got me living in the middle of a war zone. Shiittt!” Trina rolled her eyes. “I ain’t had no dick in months. She must have bumped her fuckin’ head, trying to threaten me.”

****

Cartier met Head in Brooklyn and parked her car. From there they drove to Nobu restaurant on Houston Street, where just a few feet from their table sat actress Sandra Bullock. Cartier wasn’t a dick-rider, but she was amused to see the actress in person, being somewhat a fan of her work.

As far as the food went, she was disappointed. Years ago, when you couldn’t even score a table at the high-priced establishment, the food was scrumptious. Now, her black cod with tempura was too salty, the sake was bitter, and the salad was soggy.