The Cartel Deluxe Edition Page 37

  “Anisa!” I yelled as I crawled over to her. Her neck was raw from being choked, and she was covered in blood. “Anisa . . . where are you hit?” I asked as my hands roamed her body.

  She coughed and gulped in air. “It’s not mine, Miamor . . . I’m good.”

  I helped her to her feet and retrieved our guns.

  The girl who had saved me was cutting the ties from her friends’ hands.

  “Thanks,” I said as I looked her in the eye. I had every intention of killing them when I came into the room, but after what she had done, I knew that I couldn’t go through with it.

  “I hope you bitches don’t think that y’all are getting what’s in they pockets. This was our lick in the first place,” the girl I had smacked spoke up. “I tried to tell your ass there was a nigga in the bathroom,” she said as she rubbed the side of her face and ice-grilled me. “Now you mu’fuckas done fucked up our money. We won’t be able to get back to the nigga house to hit the safe. It was a hundred thousand in that bitch.”

  “One-hundred-thousand dollars?” Anisa asked.

  “Yeah, bitch, a hunnid stacks,” the girl shot back.

  “If we can take you to the safe, we split the money five ways,” Anisa said.

  “Bitch, you killed everybody who knew the combo! Crazy ass bitches!” the same girl yelled.

  “Bitch, I ain’t gone be too many more of your bitches,” I said seriously. “Now, can we discuss this somewhere else, before the police come in here and arrest all of us?”

  I took a pillowcase off of the bed and tossed my gun inside. I then held it out for the three girls. I knew they were strapped, because the one who had helped me had pulled her gun from nowhere. “We don’t know y’all like that. As long as we talking about getting this money, ain’t nobody carrying burners,” I said. Each of the three girls put their guns inside, and then Anisa followed suit. They reluctantly followed us to our car.

  The guy in the trunk kicked and screamed when he heard us start the car. The three girls were in the backseat.

  “What the fuck type of shit is y’all into? Y’all got niggas in the trunk?” one of them asked. I looked at them in the rearview, but didn’t respond. We were all silent as we drove to a twenty-four-hour diner, where we came to some type of agreement regarding the money in the safe. Anisa and I didn’t say anything about what we had been paid to do. They didn’t need to know all of that. We just wanted our piece of their pie.

  Robyn was the leader of their clique it seemed, and also the one I had smacked. Beatrice was a dark-skinned, weave wearing ghetto chick. I couldn’t read the two of them very well at first, but I was instantly endeared to the third girl, Aries. She was the one who had saved my life that night.

  After getting to know one another, we led the girls back out to the deserted parking lot. It was the middle of the night and there was no one around, so we popped the trunk. We all burst out laughing when we saw the dude curled up like a bitch. He was so scared that he had pissed on himself.

  “Damn! Me can’t believe me was actually going to give chu some,” Aries stated.

  We all pulled our guns back out of the pillowcase since a low level of trust had been established. Aries pointed her gun at the dude. “Get chu bitch ass out de trunk,” she said. The dude climbed out and stared at the five of us standing around him with pistols in our hand. “Chu going to lead us to Benny Dough’s house, and chu going to help us crack de safe,” Aries instructed.

  The guy didn’t respond, so Anisa cocked her gun, putting one in the chamber and pointed it at him. “Get in the car.”

  Twenty minutes later, we were pulling up to a two story suburban home. “Who else lives here?” I asked.

  “Nobody,” the dude responded wearily.

  I turned around to look him in the eye. I knew he was afraid. I could hear the fear in his voice. “Remember that daughter you were talking about earlier. Don’t be stupid. We just want the money,” I explained.

  He nodded his head and then led us into the house. The guy reached under a flowerpot and grabbed the spare key, then opened the door. He had five bitches with attitudes on his ass, so he knew not to make a bad move. He led the way up the stairs to one of the bedrooms, then removed a painting from the wall.

  “What’s the combo?” Beatrice asked.

  “I don’t know the combination to that man’s safe,” the guy protested.

  I knew he was lying when he said it, so I shot him without hesitation. I was tired of playing games.

  “Aghh!” he screamed in agony as he dropped to the floor and held onto his bleeding foot.

  “If you want to keep the other one, start talking,” I instructed.

  “Ha! Bitch, you really are crazy as hell!” Beatrice laughed out in amusement as she watched the dude hold his foot and cry in excruciation. “I’d fuck with her all day! That bitch ain’t scared to do shit!” she said, meaning it as a compliment.

  “Thirty-four, twenty-three, ten!” he yelled. “Fuck!” His screams of pain echoed throughout the house.

  Anisa tried the set of numbers and smiled as she opened the safe. “Oh shit!” she exclaimed. “This looks like more than a hundred thou.”

  As soon as I saw the money stacks sitting in the safe, I pulled the trigger on that nigga. He had seen my face, and there was no way I could send him home to his daughter in any other way except for in a box. To my surprise, he got hit with three more bullets as well, because as soon as I withdrew, so did Aries, Beatrice, and Robyn. We filled him with lead, filled our pockets with paper, and disappeared into the night.

  We all headed back to my apartment, where we decided we wouldn’t spend any money until we heard what the streets would say about the murders. Since we didn’t know one another, we all wanted to be in each other’s presence to make sure nobody fucked up and got loose lips.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Miamor

  I woke up early the next day and maneuvered silently throughout the apartment. I didn’t want to wake Anisa or the new tagalong bitches we had picked up the night before. I didn’t know Robyn, Aries, and Beatrice, but I was grateful that they were there. Things could have gone real bad for us last night, I thought as I shuddered at the thought of how close I had come to death. If it had not been for them, Anisa and I would have both been taking dirt naps, despite that fact I still did not trust them. Respect them, yes . . . trust them, hell no!

  I thought that my heart would be full of dread, but strangely, my conscience wasn’t phased by what I had done the night before. It was like the higher my body count rose, the less it affected me. I was choosing to become a killer. I had made the decision to pick up where Murder left off, all in the pursuit of the American dream, and there was no turning back. It’s just business, I told myself as I made my way to my car.

  My black skinny jeans looked as if they were painted on, and the white Marc Jacobs blouse revealed my cleavage and jewels. The white peep-toe Prada heels I wore completed my outfit as I climbed into my car and peeled out of the parking lot. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, not even Anisa. I knew she’d hit the roof if I told her I was going to see Murder, but I had to check on him. Plus, I thought he deserved a cut of the money we’d made last night. I promised myself that I would keep money on his commissary and put the rest of his cut aside until he got out.

  I couldn’t understand how it was so easy for Anisa to move on and just forget about all that Murder had done for her, because in the short year that I had known him, he would always be a part of me. I had feelings for him. If it wasn’t for him, I would have been locked up. Instead, he took the heat, and I felt fucked up because I was just getting around to visiting him. My bone-straight wrap and Chinese bangs ruffled as the wind whipped through my hair. I hoped I wasn’t making the trip for nothing. I didn’t even know if I was listed on his visitor’s log, but it was a chance I was willing to take.

  I hit a department store first and picked up items that I thought Murder might need; a small care package tha
t could hold him over for a while. Then taking the BQE toward Queens, I exited at Astoria Boulevard, then followed the city blocks until I hit Hazen Street. When I arrived at Riker’s parking lot, I stepped out of the car with the box of personal items in my hands as I made my way to the bus that was traveling over the bridge to the facility.

  As soon as I stepped foot on the bus, I knew it was going to be a miserable trip. There were babies crying, ghetto baby mamas arguing and talking cash shit, and tired wives who had done this routine time and time again. I shook my head, knowing that I could never be one of the chicks waiting on the outside. I had done years of lockup on my own as a child. I wasn’t trying to do five more waiting on Murder or anybody else. It was then that I knew that I could not ride out Murder’s sentence with him. When a loved one is locked up, that time affects the inmate and everyone around him.

  As I looked at an older woman with a wedding band on her finger, I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you here to see your husband?”

  My question caught her off guard, but she shook her head and answered, “No, baby. I’m here for that knucklehead son of mine. He grew up watching me make this same trip to come and see his father, and now he’s landed himself in the same predicament . . . behind the white man’s walls. Like father like son, I guess.”

  The sadness in her eyes scared me, and I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat as I noticed the lifelessness in the woman. She had no hope, no light in her eye. That’ll never be me, I thought as uneasiness filled my stomach. As much as I cared for Murder, I knew that after today I would not come back. The best I can do is letters and make sure his money is right, I thought. I knew it was selfish, but it was real. The truth of the matter was, Murder was not my man, even though somewhere deep inside I wished that he had been.

  After practically being molested by the guards and storing my personal items in a locker, I was finally escorted into a waiting room. I sat at the small table, growing more nervous as each minute ticked by. My manicured hand tapped impatiently, as butterflies filled my stomach. I was in the middle of a prison, but I felt as if I was going on a blind date. I rubbed my sweaty hands on my jeans, and then finally Murder came waltzing into view. His swagger was still so on point. Even in the jail hookup he had on he possessed an aura of respect. I smiled as he came near me.

  “Hey, Murder!” I greeted as I stood to hug him.

  He held me extra tight and extra close.

  “My li’l mama!” he whispered, “Thanks for coming.”

  “I’m sorry it took me so long. It’s been rough. I had to let things die down, you know?”

  Murder nodded his head, then motioned for me to take a seat. “I know,” he answered. “Where’s your sister?” His eyebrows dipped low when he mentioned Anisa, as if he already knew the answer to his own question.

  “Um, she couldn’t make it, Murder. She told me to tell you—” I was about to make up an excuse on her behalf, but Murder waved his hand in dismissal.

  “Don’t do that, ma. You’ve never lied to me before. Don’t start now because of your sister. I know Anisa. A nigga can’t keep her when he’s down; only when he at the top. I don’t want to talk about her,” he said with a hint of sadness in his voice. He touched my chin, making me smile. “You’re here. Let’s talk about that. Why did you come?”

  His question had me stuck. Why did I come? I asked myself. I looked him directly in the eyes. The chemistry between our gaze was magnetic. “I owe you,” I said.

  “That’s it?” he countered with a boyish charm.

  “I was worried about you.”

  “Uh-huh,” he responded. “You sure that’s it?”

  I hesitated before I continued, but knew that I wasn’t being honest with myself. “I care about you, Murder.”

  “It’s a little bit deeper than that, li’l mama, but I’ll play by your rules. I care about you too, ma. Always have . . . always will,” he said as he grabbed my hand.

  My heart was beating out of my chest. “I’m sorry. I feel like it’s my fault you’re in here.”

  “This ain’t on you. These walls ain’t shit to me. In five years, I’ma walk out the same mu’fucka,” he said as he kissed the inside of my wrist.

  Seeing him in good spirits felt good. The interaction between us felt so natural . . . so right. He was my nigga, first and foremost. Murder and I were friends, but the fact that my attraction to him was growing by the second had me thinking about waiting for him; had me wanting to be there for him for those long five years.

  “Murder, Anisa will never understand this. She’s my sister, and I can’t pick you over her, no matter how much I’m feeling you,” I told him.

  He nodded his head in understanding. “I know, Miamor. I would never ask you to. I know the type of woman you are. You’re loyal, and that’s one of the reasons why I feel the way I do about you. Like I told you before, it’s not meant to be for us, but it don’t stop me from wanting you. In five years, I’ma look you up, believe that, ma. You’re my li’l mama always. Life moves on, and I would never ask you to wait or to hurt your sister. I’ma come check for you when I’m free though.”

  I smiled and pulled my hand away from Murder’s. “I have one more thing to tell you,” I said. He was silent as he waited for me to continue. “I answered your phone,” I said. My words hit him like a ton of bricks, and his face collapsed into a mixture of sorrow and anger. “I’m on that now. Every time, I’ll have your paper put aside for you and I’ll keep your books on full in here. When you get out, you’ll have money waiting on you.”

  Murder put his face in his hands and shook his head from side to side. “I didn’t want that for you, Miamor. That’s not for you. You deserve better than that.”

  I stood to my feet and wiped the tears from my eyes. “I don’t think a better life is in the cards for me,” I whispered.

  Murder stood and pulled me close, putting his hands in my back jean pockets as we hugged. He pulled a picture out of my pocket. “What’s this?” he asked.

  I had meant to give it to him when I first arrived. It was a picture of us together on my birthday, holding up bottles of champagne.

  He pulled me near him one more time and whispered in my ear. “Be careful. Never think twice about pulling a trigger. Turn your heart cold, Miamor. Think like a nigga, because acting like a bitch will get you killed. It’s the only way you’ll make it. Slump a nigga before he can slump you. No body, no weapon—”

  “No murder,” I whispered, finishing his sentence, our lips so close together that they touched when I spoke the words.

  He pulled back and looked me in the eye. “You’ve already done your first job,” he said in surprise.

  I nodded my head, stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek. “Good bye, Murder.”

  He held onto my hand as I walked away, until the distance finally separated us. “Holla at me, Miamor . . . at least once a month to let me know you’re okay!” he yelled after me.

  I nodded my head in agreement, and then walked out of his life.

  When I returned to the apartment, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone was silent and staring at me in suspicion as soon as I set foot inside the door.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Robyn asked.

  I looked at her like she was crazy, and bypassed her without responding as I went into my room. The silly bitch obviously didn’t know about me, because if she did, she would have known that I would smack fire from her ass for talking to me out the side of her neck.

  She followed behind me. “Look, you’re the one who said we should lay low and let the streets cool down before we get to spending money, then when we wake, up you’re ghost,” she said. “What are we supposed to think?”

  “I don’t really give a damn what you think. I had to handle something, that’s all you need to know,” I replied.

  The girls made their way into my room, and Anisa stood by the door. I could feel her staring at me. I knew she wanted to know where I had disappeared to so early in the mor
ning, but I wasn’t telling. Nobody needed to know. Where I went was my business. Fuck all them hoes!

  “Well, I’ve been thinking,” Beatrice stated as she sat on my bed and looked around at everyone in the room. “Y’all didn’t even know about the money in the safe before we told you, so that means y’all were there for something else. We want in.”

  “Want in?” Anisa repeated.

  “Yeah, whatever y’all got going on, we want in. There is only two of y’all. Without us, things could have turned out different for y’all last night. I don’t know what exactly y’all do, but I know this plush condo and that Benzo you driving don’t come cheap. We want in,” Beatrice asserted.

  Anisa and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and as if on cue, the phone began to ring.

  Ring! Ring!

  I was skeptical at first, but I knew that having more chicks on our team could be a good thing. Our chances of being caught slipping would decrease drastically if we hooked up with Robyn, Aries, and Beatrice.

  Ring! Ring!

  “A’ight,” I said. “We’re not into the petty robbery game though.”

  “We don’t give a fuck what you into it. If it’s about money, then we’re with it,” Robyn spoke up confidently.

  Ring! Ring!

  “We’ll see,” I replied as I stood up and rushed to pick up the phone, with them hot on my trail. I took down the details of the call and turned around to face the group.

  “You want in?” I asked.

  “We want in,” Aries reiterated impatiently.

  I handed her a piece of paper that had the name of our next hit on it. “Murder that nigga. It needs to be done quickly and quietly,” I instructed, and then walked away, leaving them to their thoughts.

  Anisa followed behind me, and once we were in my room alone, she closed the door. “Are you crazy!” she asked.

  “They want in, so let them prove that they can handle it. If they fuck up, we will handle them,” I responded. “Just relax.”