Return of the Cartier Cartel (21 page)

Cartier had no idea he was riding a bike and flung her front door open in complete and utter surprise. Head parked his bike and seemed to pose on it for a few seconds, so Cartier could get the full effect. The black bike with green and yellow trim was beautiful.

“What are you doing?” Cartier asked as she walked toward him.

“I’m here to get my girl and take her out on the town.”

“On that?”

“Scared?”

Cartier grinned. “Never.”

“Good. Now show me in, so I can see your moms.” Head walked through the door.

Cartier watched his eyes scan his surroundings. He didn’t say anything, but she knew he was impressed. Her home would impress almost anyone.

Trina heard his voice and came waltzing out of her room in full diva regalia. You would have thought she was going to a nightclub. When Cartier had left this morning, Trina’s naturally brown hair, mixed with a few grays, were peeking out, leaving only a few inches of her dyed blonde hair on the tips. Now, her blonde color was fresh, clothes dipped, and her enthusiasm unmatched.

“How in the hell have you been?” she squealed, opening her arms for a full embrace.

Head gave Trina a big bear hug and swung her around. He stood back and examined her. “You still looking good.”

Trina blushed. “Come in, come in. Have a seat, and tell me what’s been going on since the last time I saw you.”

“Ma, we don’t have time for all of that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re going out to dinner.”

“I know, Cartier, damn. You can’t spare five minutes?”

“You’re asking him to recap the past twenty years, so no, I don’t have five minutes.”

Head could feel some drama coming on. “Don’t worry about it, Trina. When we get back, I’ll kick it with you.”

Trina rolled her eyes. “You getting on a bike looking like that?”

Cartier had thought of changing from out of her dress and stilettos, but just to annoy her mother, she didn’t. Looking directly at Head, she said, “You ready?”

“No doubt.” Head leaned over and gave Trina a peck on her cheek. “We’ll be back in a few.”

Cartier let Head walk out in front of her, and then she turned around and said, “Ma, when we get back remember Head is my company, not our company, so I don’t want you all up in our face all night.”

“Cartier, it ain’t that serious,” Trina said, sashaying back into her lonely compound.

Wearing an electric blue silk dress and silver stilettos, Cartier hopped on the back of Head’s bike. Head smirked as he passed her the helmet.

“What’s up?”

“You’re making my dick hard right now, and you ain’t even doing shit.”

Cartier reached down, and sure enough, his penis was brick-hard. “We could go back inside, and I could help you with that problem.”

He swatted her hand away and readjusted his tool. “Hold on tight. And don’t be screaming like a girl. You might mess up my concentration.”

Cartier tapped him playfully on his shoulder and then wrapped her arms as tight as she could around his waist.

The drive into the city was surreal. The way the bike hugged the corners as Head leaned into each turn was exhilarating. The night was clear with a slight breeze, and as they rode over the Manhattan Bridge, Cartier hugged his waist even tighter.

Head took Cartier to Little Italy for a massive pasta dinner. His favorite place was Carmine’s, adorned with outside tables, umbrellas, and opera music over their sound system. As they were being seated, he said, “Do you recognize that tune?”

Cartier grimaced. Hell no, she didn’t recognize that music. She shook her head rapidly and sat down.

“It’s Ennio Morricone. It’s the theme song from Robert De Niro’s movie, Once Upon a Time in America.”

Cartier listened more closely. “Hey, you’re right. I would have never guessed that.”

“What type of music do you like?”

“The usual. Rap, R&B, I guess, a little pop, but mostly hardcore rap. I’m into Fabolous, and Jay-Z, of course, but they got this new kid from Harlem named Chopper that’s going hard on the mixed tapes.”

“What about this tune?”

Cartier pursed her lips and shook her head rapidly. “Umm, not my cup of tea.”

“That’s because you’re not listening with your heart.”

“Why do you care? I said I don’t like it.”

Head chuckled as he picked up the menu. After his eyes briefly scanned the wine list, he put the menu back down and folded his hands. “I care because one day I’d like my wife to walk down the aisle to this.”

That information stunned Cartier. “Why would you want your wife to walk down the aisle to a gangster’s theme song? And it sounds gloomy, if you ask me.”

“Just listen.”

“I am listening. ‘Here and Now’ by Luther Vandross is a little too common for you.”

“If you listen with your heart, you’ll see it’s not gloomy at all. The melody is filled with hope, and so was the film. Robert Deniro’s character loved one girl, and only one girl, his whole life. The flute playing throughout represents his loyalty toward that girl and his friends. And even though those closest to him betrayed him, he still remained a consummate friend. That’s what I want my wife to feel about me, an undying love, so if even if those around us betray us, the love we have for each other will never die.”

Cartier thought about the movie and what it represented to her, and then suddenly she could see his point. And the haunting melody did become a beautiful song. She closed her eyes and took in the whole experience.

“I see what you’re saying.” Cartier began to get into the next few songs as they ordered dinner.

Finally Head got down to the basics. “I found dude.”

“Who? Ryan?”

Head nodded.

“Is he dead?”

“Not yet. I’ma go and handle him tomorrow. My li’l man said every Thursday night he rolls through this gambling joint on 145th Street in Harlem. Niggas go in there around ten, eleven at night and don’t come out until daybreak. Everyone coming out that bitch is on high alert, thinking they gonna get juxed ’cause they handling bundles of dough. So I plan to follow him home and get the drop on him and his chick.”

Cartier couldn’t believe that Head was able to pull off in a couple of weeks what Jason couldn’t do in over a year.

“Who’s your li’l man?”

“This kid named Leroy.”

“Leroy? How long have you known him and are you sure you can trust him. I don’t want you walking into a trap.”

“Nah, he good peoples. We go way back.”

“Well anytime a parent names their child Hank, Earl, Bubba, Leroy or Tyrone—there’s gonna be a problem. Those mutherfuckas aren’t to be trusted,” Cartier joked.

Head laughed, “I can trust him, trust me.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this? I mean, you don’t really know me. Why would you risk your life, livelihood for me?”

“I thought you’d want to do the same for me. I thought we were on the same page here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve been talking about starting a new life together—”

“We are.”

“Then how am I going to represent to the world that you’re my girl, and you got niggas gunning for you? And even if I did decide to chill, once we make it known that you’re under my wing, niggas gonna add me to the list.”

“But what if they don’t? What if they only care about getting at me and Jason?”

All of a sudden Cartier felt uneasy with Head taking over. It was all happening so fast. She didn’t think he’d get information on Ryan so quickly, especially since Jason and nosy Bam couldn’t.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. This Ryan don’t give a fuck about no one. I told you how he came out of the club blazing.” The shootout at Club Roxy flooded Cartier’s memory. “I think I should step up to the plate and handle mines.”

“Look, Cartier, I ain’t no killer, but I’ve killed. It’s how you survive out here. I know how to handle mines, and as I’ve tried to drill into your thick skull, I don’t want you to have no parts of this. Tomorrow, I’ma come and swoop up your family and take all y’all to my crib to lay low until all scores are settled.”

What did he just say? Cartier had to fight back tears. She wasn’t a punk and wasn’t about to cry openly in public. “Well, at least give me the address, so I could give it to Jason. Let’s see what he does with the information.”

Head pushed his chair back, making a screeching sound. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Cartier’s eyes popped open like that of a child. “What now?”

“You still sweet on that nigga?”

“What? I am not!”

“You still investing in his abilities to handle Ryan, even after all he’s done. YOU told me he fucked Jalissa, instead of deading Ryan. YOU told me he forced your hand to pull the trigger. YOU told me the nigga was so grimy, he fucked your homegirl. Now you’re going to sit up in my face and tell me to trust dude with my info?”

Cartier couldn’t argue with those facts, but she did want to set one thing straight. “The last thing I could give is a fuck about Jason.”

Head peered into her eyes, challenging her to look away and show any signs of lying. “Then you won’t have a problem with me completing what you started.”

Cartier needed to choose her words carefully. “That’s only if he still has a vendetta against me, and as it seems, we’ve both decided to squash the beef.”

“You did, huh?”

“Yeah, this morning.”

“Word?” It was Head’s turn to pop his eyes open in surprise. “How that happen?”

“Well, I went to see him.”

Head shifted in his chair, causing Cartier to pause.

Then she continued. “I went to see him to give him back his car. I told him we were together, that I didn’t want anything of his, including his car and house. So the kids and I will be homeless.” Cartier had to throw the lie on thick. She realized Head had a jealous streak. She hated to admit it, but it made her feel secure in their relationship. It was silly, but his anger made her know, if she wasn’t the only girl he was fucking with as he’d told her, she was the one he was most feeling.

“See, that’s what I’m saying. Fuck that nigga! He ain’t shit.” Head leaned forward in his chair. “How he gonna kick out you and his kids on the streets? That’s not what real niggas do.”

“So I should stay in the house?”

“Hell no! I got you and your family. I’m saying, he shouldn’t have made you leave; that should have been your choice. Anyway, Jason got that young money. I’ma show you how a nigga with grown-man money will treat you.”

Cartier showed her pearly whites. “Really?”

“Really, ma.”

“OK, then it’s settled. I don’t want to discuss this too much more, but just so that we’re clear, I’m going to move out of Jason’s house, and you’re not going to touch him, right? For the sake of our kids, I don’t want him touched.”

Head couldn’t believe her hypocrisy. It was all right for her to fill him with bullets, but for him, Jason was off limit? “Cartier, what’s changed between you and him?”

“I just told you. Nothing. I swear on everything I love, nothing’s changed. We’re done. Now promise me you won’t do anything to him.”

“I can’t promise you, because I keep all my promises.”

“But he doesn’t have a beef with you. I told him about you, and he’s cool with us being together.”

“First off, I don’t need his permission. And, second, you won’t know a nigga got beef with you until the bullet has already left the chamber and is lodged snugly in your temple.”

“Head, I’ve seen Jason. He’s all fucked up. He can’t hurt a fly.”

The waitress came and took their orders, providing a much-needed distraction for Cartier.

“Look, let me enjoy my meal,” Head said. “We’ll kick it about this later.”

****

After dinner, Head decided to take Cartier to where he rested his head at night, a large apartment in the cut of Brighton Beach, a predominantly Russian-Jewish community.

Cartier used to think you couldn’t pay a Black person to live there, but obviously she was wrong. “How did they let you in here?” she wondered out loud.

“Money affords you everything.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. This isn’t exactly the lap of luxury. I meant, aren’t they usually racist, only letting in their own kind?”

“I know exactly what you meant. As I said, money will afford you anything. I mean”—Head kicked off his Air Nike—“I know this isn’t the Taj Mahal, but it’s a temporary joint until you go house-hunting for us.”

“I thought you’d live in some grand mansion.”

“I knew that’s what you thought. After I got out the prison, I found this little hideout, until I figured out what I wanted to do. I had lost touch with so many people and wasn’t ready to relocate until I had rubbed shoulders with all that I loved. Family, friends, you know, get all that out of my system.”

“This place is immaculate. Are you this neat, or do you have a housekeeper? Some Russian chick in a maid’s outfit dusting not only your furniture, but your dick as well?”

Head laughed. “I do like the whole maid thing. Maybe we could get you one so you could dust my dick all day. But I’m only into my sistas.”

Cartier walked farther into his apartment in her stiletto heels, dress draping over all her curves, and her butt jiggling with every step. She knew he was watching her intensely.

“After you finish taking your tour, call your moms and your kids and tell her that you’re safe with me and that you won’t be coming home tonight. No need to have her worrying.”

Cartier did a salute. “Yes, bossman.”

Cartier walked around the spacious but humble three-bedroom apartment with the old-school hardwood floors that would give you a splinter, a standard eat-in kitchen with white appliances, not to mention a king-size bed, large LED television, Wii station, and about one hundred sneaker boxes stacked from floor to ceiling.

As Cartier made herself comfortable on his plush mattress, she toyed with the idea of letting him know that she was going to meet Jason tomorrow at Trina’s, but she decided against it. Shortly thereafter, Head walked in with a pint of Häagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream and two spoons.

“You trying to get me fat?”

“Only with my baby.”