Return of the Cartier Cartel (23 page)

“I can feel that. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want to bounce either. Jason had y’all set up nicely over there. Did you tell her I’m going to top what he did for y’all?”

Cartier shook her head. “It’s not that. I mean, my mom knows that at the end of the day she doesn’t ever have to worry about who’s going to put food on the table. Man or no man, I’ll always grind to provide for my family. Her main concern is safety. She wants to know that her family is safe.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I told her what I felt in my heart.”

“Which is?”

“That I could trust you. That I do trust you. And that with you we’re safe.”

****

Trina called, and called, but Cartier refused to answer while Head was still home. As soon as he left, her fingers couldn’t dial her mother fast enough. She needed to hear what information Jason had to offer.

“So did he have any good details about Ryan and Marisol?”

“You know, that slimy bastard never showed up.”

“What?” Cartier’s heart sank. Inwardly she was hoping Jason would redeem himself. Somehow she felt he knew more about Ryan and Marisol than he was letting on, and that if he gave them up, then it would be like she’d won—that he did love her more than he’d loved Jalissa.

“How he gonna not show up?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, did he at least call?”

“Hell no! He had all of us waiting here for hours, stuck on stupid.”

“That nigga continually disappoints me,” Cartier said. “Well, thank goodness, I still got Head. He’s out there now trying to take care of my problem.”

“OK, well, I’ve decided to stay here in Brooklyn at my apartment. With Jason out there going rogue, I’ll feel much safer here. Come through in the morning.”

“Will do.”

****

The knife being plunged into Jason’s thigh wasn’t enough for him to give them what they wanted. And even when the knife was twisted, causing him to scream out in mind-numbing pain, his heart still couldn’t give in.

“Look, Jason, me and you don’t got no beef. This could all end tonight if you tell me where I can find Cartier and that new nigga she fucking.”

“Man, fuck that! Just do you and get this over with!”

At first Jason thought Cartier had set him up. He’d left the rehabilitation center as he said he would and headed over to Trina’s. He hadn’t even put his car fully in park when the gun was jammed into his back and he was tossed into the backseat. Twenty-four hours later he was delirious, dehydrated, and certain of two things—Cartier didn’t set him up, and he wasn’t walking out of there alive.

“It don’t got to be this way,” Ryan said, circling Jason, who was duct-taped to a wooden chair. “I know you only stepped in to get at me to impress your wife. I know how women are.” He looked toward Marisol. “They can be really persuasive when they need to be. I know if it were up to you, you’d be out fucking a brand-new chick every night and concentrating on getting that paper. Look, I’m ready to wave the white flag if you give me what I need. You can get a pass, and go and raise your kids in peace, but your wife—whether you help us or not—is dead. She sealed her fate when she killed Jalissa.”

Marisol hauled off and punched Jason in his right jaw with such force, his neck almost snapped. She pushed the knife that was already lodged into his thigh farther down. Jason screamed a guttural moan, but they were confident no one would hear him. They were in the basement of a local bodega that Ryan owned in Sunset Park, Brooklyn as a front to launder his drug money.

“Shut up!” Marisol yelled. She dug her sharp nails deep into his face and pulled.

Jason, feeling like his face was split open, launched a mouthful of phlegm into her porcelain skin. The gooey liquid startled Marisol, who stepped back out of his space and blinked her eyes rapidly in horror.

Ryan shook his head. “That was a bad move, bro.”

“Man, fuck y’all muthafuckas! I ain’t giving y’all shit on my wife, so however you gotta get your hands dirty, just get it over with! All this Colombo bullshit is wack.”

After sitting in a cold, damp basement overnight without any food or water, Jason knew he was at the end of his rope. No pleading or bitching up was going to save him. He’d never thought he’d be on the receiving end of an ambush. Not on the block that he’d grown up on and trusted in broad daylight. He realized, too late, how much heart Ryan truly had. At any second, Wonderful, Blake, Cartier, or The Cartel could have pulled up, and the mere sight of Ryan would have initiated a bloodbath.

Jason knew Cartier always doubted whether or not he truly loved her, but facing death, there wasn’t any doubt in his heart that he loved her more than his actions could have ever shown, or words could have ever conveyed. Jalissa was just one of many phases he’d gone through. No different than Monya or Mari. He would have tired of her eventually, but he never got the chance. He would have accepted her as one of his baby mommas and moved on.

Cartier was where his heart lay. She was his one true love. He knew he wasn’t capable of being faithful and could do some downright grimy things. Foolishly he thought his good actions, holding Cartier down and marrying her while she was locked up, buying her a house, whip, things like that, proved his loved and would outweigh the dumb shit he did. He had that archaic way of thinking, which was that all men cheated, married or not. And he was just fucking those side chicks but would ultimately get right back to making Cartier happy after he got his cheating ways out of his system.

Being tortured couldn’t break his loyalty to Cartier, not even after she’d tried to kill him, because he understood her actions. She loved him so much, she couldn’t bear sharing him with anybody else. He realized that when Wonderful told him about Cartier and Head. A part of him broke inside, and he was filled with a blind rage, where it was his mission to kill Head.

Jason truly believed Cartier was a good wife, that she loved him. He knew he would never get to tell her how he really felt and could only hope she would keep his memory alive for their kids. And at this moment, he even hoped that she and Head truly had something because, although Cartier got busy, anyone could get caught slipping. And Cartier would need all the soldiers she could get on her team because, as it stood now, Ryan and Marisol were definitely not going to rest until she was dead.

Marisol walked over to the flimsy foldaway table that was littered with torture tools—a wrench, knives, pliers, an extension cord, flex cuffs, and a taser gun. The five thousand volts being blasted into his body felt like bolts of lightning. Jason’s body began to convulse, and then it stiffened. Then his head lolled to one side, and he whimpered softly.

With spit drooling from his mouth, and hot urine dripping down his left leg, Jason could feel his body shutting down.

“Damn, man!” Ryan jeered. “I should make your ass clean this shit up!”

“R-R-Ryan, promise me that you won’t hurt Cartier. She’s been through enough. You ain’t gotta take it that far. We street, nigga.” Jason paused to gather strength. “Once I’m gone, she’ll fold. I promise you that.”

Ryan was hoping that all this torture would get the need to seek blood out of Marisol’s system. He needed her to feel he was doing everything he could in his power to get at Cartier. One part of him knew Jason was a street dude and there wasn’t any way he’d give up Cartier. If niggas got you tied up in a room, they ain’t letting you go. So Ryan was confident that Jason wouldn’t fall for his proposition. But even if Jason did give up the location on Cartier, Ryan new that Head had pulled her out of that crib, so either way, he had covered all the bases. If Jason gave up an address before they killed him, he’d take Marisol there in his final attempt to pretend to be looking to catch Cartier.

Jason pleading for Ryan to spare Cartier set Marisol off. Who the fuck was this bitch that these niggas kept protecting? Deep down inside she felt that Ryan could have deaded Cartier. Why did he keep hesitating? Did he still love her? Was there something special about her that had these men pledging their allegiance?

“Ryan don’t give a fuck about your whore, bitch-wife! And Jalissa never gave a fuck about you! She was using your gullible ass, and look where it got you!”

Jason’s voice was barely a whisper. “No, look where it got her.” He was perspiring heavily, and the room was now drenched with urine, sweat, and fear.

Marisol decided that there wasn’t any way she’d be kind and put a bullet in his dome. That would be too nice. She picked up the Anderson all-metal baseball bat and held it snugly in between her manicured fingertips.

“Ryan, before I end this, you want to tell him who set him up and let us know about the meeting tonight?” Marisol asked.

“Nah, let him go out wondering.”

“W-W-Wait,” Jason began. This news had piqued his interest. The words set up caught him off guard. “T-T-Tell me what you know.”

****

Cartier awoke the next morning without Head in bed lying next to her. Immediately, she began to worry. Her heart was fluttering as she dialed his cell phone, which just rang out.

He’s OK, she thought to herself. Nothing’s happened.

All morning she continually hit redial. She couldn’t count the number of messages she’d left. Not one to be too emotional, Cartier found herself crying her eyes out, which she thought silly, because she hadn’t heard any news, good or bad.

“Trina, Head didn’t come home last night,” she said, her voice laced with concern.

“Oh, dear God! Do you think they got the drop on him?”

“I don’t know what to think. I’m so confused.”

“And you’ve tried his cell phone?”

“Of course. I keep leaving messages, but he’s not returning any of my calls.”

“OK. I want you to get out of there now and come over here until he calls you. You don’t know what’s up.”

“Do you think he’s dead?”

“Cartier, don’t ask questions I can’t answer. Just scoop up the kids and get over here. I’m not going to feel at ease until you’re in my sight. And, Cartier?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure you’re strapped, and be careful loading the kids into the cars. Any sign of danger, start bucking shots first. No questions need to be asked.”

“OK, I hear you.”

They hung up the phone, and two seconds later Trina called her back.

“You know what? Give me the address to Head’s house. Janet and I will come and get you. I can’t risk you bringing four kids alone. I don’t like the way this is going down. First, no Jason last night, and then no Head. Jason could have something to do with Head not coming home, and if that’s true, then he’ll be gunning for you next.”

****

Cartier sat tight until Trina and Janet arrived. Both ladies were strapped as they squeezed everyone into Janet’s car.

“Damn, this is getting way out of control. This beef thing keeps expanding, Cartier. I sure hope and pray that Head is all right.”

Once again Cartier began to cry, her heavy tears almost blinding her until they arrived into Brooklyn.

“Isn’t that Jason’s wheels?” Janet remarked dryly.

Everyone in the car peered out the window to see the distinctive white Benz with h8ter plates parked a few houses away from Trina’s apartment.

“Yeah, Cartier gave it back to him a couple days ago, but what’s it doing parked on this block? He must have just arrived. Do you think he thought the meeting was today?” Trina replied.

Cartier remained quiet. Head’s absence weighing heavy on her.

“Why you did that? That nigga wouldn’t have gotten shit back from me. I’d burn it to the ground before he’d ever see that car again.” Janet was in rare form.

Finally, Cartier broke her silence. “I gave it back because it’s his.”

“All he gonna do is have some bitch riding shotgun,” Trina said.

“I don’t care, Ma. I’m with Head now.”

“Sometimes I think, when it comes to a nigga, you go soft. Let that had been a chick who disrespected you, you would have ripped that car to pieces with your bare hands.”

“Ain’t nobody going soft over no nigga. It’s his car, Ma. That’s the only thing he’s getting. He also wanted the house, and I told him to beat it.”

Trina remained silent, so Cartier could grasp how stupid she sounded, a tactic that worked.

Cartier began to doubt her decision. “So I shouldn’t have given him the car?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Pull over,” Cartier demanded. “Let’s lay low on him to see who he’s fucking with.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“You still on that nigga dick!” Trina said, disgusted. “Why the hell do you care? Didn’t he already show you what’s really good?”

Trina’s harsh words knocked Cartier upside her head. She was playing herself. “Well, still pull over. I got a trick for his ass.”

Reluctantly Janet pulled over and hopped out.

With the spare set of keys, Cartier stole Jason’s car. “Follow me,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Trina and Janet weren’t amused. Both women felt she should have never given back the car; destroying it would have been better.

“Jason is gonna flip when he comes out and see his ride gone. He gonna swear someone stole his shit,” Janet stated.

“You know you better park that ride because within a few hours the cops will be looking for it.”

“So let them look. Ma, it’s in your name.”

“But you’re not me, Cartier. Also, you ride dirty all the time. Do you really want to take the chance that they take you into custody for this bullshit Benz and find out you got a gun on you? That’s mandatory three years for you, with your record. Cartier, it’s just not worth it.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll park it for now. If he gives up some information, then he could have it back. If he doesn’t, then I’m gonna pay a crackhead to burn it to the ground. Follow me on Miller Avenue, and then let’s head back to Trina’s to see if he’s waiting around for us to tell us some information that we need to hear. I told him that this shit needs to come to a head.”

As Janet pulled over, her mouth was going a mile a minute. “Speaking of Head, how does he feel about this? And since when you and Jason on speaking terms? And when did his cripple ass get out of the clinic?”