The Cartel (8 page)

Miamor stepped in and admired the crystal chandelier that hung from the cathedral ceiling. The glass wraparound stairs stood in the middle of the room and sat on white marble floors. The all whitewalls and furniture gave the home an immaculate look. Miamor headed to the back for the sliding glass door.

Another man stood in front of it with a pistol in his holster. Unlike the other men, he didn’t wear dreads; he had a neat low cut, but was darker than all of the other guards.

Miamor looked past him, trying to spot his boss. “Where can I find Ma’tee?”

“I need to check you before you approach Ma’tee,” he said, shifting his stance.

“I left the guns in the car,” Miamor shot at him.

“Sorry, ma. I still have to search you.” He shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms.

Miamor let out a loud sigh, letting him know that she was irritated. She held out her hands and spread her legs. Her Seven skinny jeans hugged her large behind. Her stiletto heels made her assets seem even more enticing as she remained bent down and he began to search her from feet on up.

He felt her tiny ankles in search for a gun hostler. “You know I can’t fit a damn pistol in these tight-ass jeans.”

“You never know,” he said, continuing to feel her upper leg. He paused, his nose level with her crotch.

“Smells good, don’t it?” Miamor said, hip to his game.

“Yeah, smells very good actually.” He looked up at her and gave her a perfect smile.

“Too bad you’ll never see her. I wouldn’t even let you taste it. Hurry up. I ain’t got all day.” Miamor turned her eyes to the ceiling. She didn’t even give him the respect of looking at him.

The man was obviously embarrassed as he hurried up and finished searching her. Once he was done, he opened the sliding door and pointed her toward Ma’tee, who was laid out in front of the pool, accompanied by beautiful women. There were beautiful women swimming completely nude in the pool while a shirtless Ma’tee watched in enjoyment as he sat on a beach chair, his feet crossed, and his hands behind his head. His dark skin glistened in the sun, and his muscular abs seemed to poke out of his stomach.

As Miamor slowly walked over to him, the clicking of her heels against the ground gained his attention.

He slowly sat up and looked at Miamor, admiring her shape and oversized behind. He loved the way her jeans hugged her hips, and the way she switched them when she walked. Her thighs seemed to stick out more than her waist. Ma’tee’s fantasies were short-lived as he realized that Miamor was more than just a stunning woman—She was a coldhearted killer too.

His dreads were much neater than his henchmen’s, and the tips were bleached brown. He shook his head, letting them fall freely from its original ponytail. “Hello, Miamor,” he said, greeting her with a smile.

“Hi, Ma’tee,” she answered as she took a seat next to him. “Sorry I interrupted your daughter’s birthday party, but I really needed to talk to you.”

“Ey, mon, no problem. Miamor me girl, ya know,” he said as he put on his shirt.

“Yeah, I know. But, listen, I need to know more about this nigga Mecca.” Miamor stared in Ma’tee’s eyes with deep sincerity.

Ma’tee saw the desperation in her eyes and stood up. “Why don’t chu come to me office. We talk ‘bout it.”

Miamor nodded her head and got up to follow Ma’tee.

Just as they were about to reach the glass door, Ma’tee’s daughter came running out. “Dadda, Dadda, the clown made me a giraffe, see?” She handed him the balloon animal.

“Yes, me see me baby girl’s giraffe. Wonderful!” Ma’tee scooped her up in his arms.

“Dadda, when are you coming out to play with me?”

“Dadda gots to talk to me friend Miamor. Then me come back to you, okay,” he said before he kissed her on the cheek.

“Okay. I have to use the bathroom now,” his daughter said as she wiggled down and ran towards the wraparound stairs.

Ma’tee stared at his only child and smiled. He looked back at Miamor and said, “That’s me baby girl, right dere.”

Miamor smiled and continued to follow Ma’tee into his back office. She walked into the office, where Ma’tee had shelves of books. In fact with his extensive collection, the office sort of looked like a library. His shiny red oak table sat in the middle with a deluxe leather chair behind it.

Ma’tee made his way over to the chair and sat down. He waved his hand to the seat in front of him. “Sit, sit.”

Miamor accepted his offer and sat down.

Ma’tee continued, “Me sorry to hear ‘bout your sista. Me never meant for dat to happen, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Miamor dropped her head.

“Look, me still pay you, okay.” Ma’tee pulled a briefcase from under his desk.

Miamor looked at the briefcase as Ma’tee popped it open. It was fifty stacks, ten percent of the agreed amount that they were to be paid after the job was completed. She knew that they didn’t deserve the money, because they didn’t finish the job, so she declined.

“No, Ma’tee, I’m good. I just want to know how to get at the mu’fucka that killed my—”

A loud scream came from upstairs. “Aghhh!” It was the voice of a little girl.

What the fuck?
Miamor turned around and looked toward the door.

Ma’tee instantly recognized the voice to be his daughter’s and grabbed his gun from his drawer and hurried to her aid.

Armed Haitians rushed upstairs where the girl was and what they saw devastated them. There were five bodies lying in their own blood, and Ma’tee’s young daughter stood in the middle of them. She had discovered them when she went to use the restroom. The dead bodies were scattered throughout the hallway, each of them with double gunshot wounds through their heads.

Ma’tee’s heart dropped when he saw his daughter screaming in the middle of the massacre scene. He hurried over to her and scooped her in his arms.

Miamor had followed him up the stairs and was completely flabbergasted when she saw the slaughter. “Oh my God,” she whispered as she put her hand over her mouth.

Young Carter drove the van down the interstate while Jay-Z’s Reasonable Doubt pumped out of the factory speakers. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw Money and Mecca, both dressed in baggy clown suits and size 44 shoes, taking off their wigs and wiping off the clown face paint.

“Damn!” Mecca yelled as he forcefully snatched off his red wig. He was totally enraged that he didn’t get a chance to kill Ma’tee. “I didn’t see him. He was on the pool patio, and then when I snuck back in, he was gone. I should have popped him when I first saw him, but he had a guard by the door.”

“He must’ve ducked off somewhere to smash that female that came in,” Money added, noticeably discouraged also.

Carter got off on the highway and pulled into an empty parking lot, where Mecca’s Lamborghini was waiting. “We’ll get ‘em next time,” he said confidently, throwing the “clown” van in park.

Mecca peeled off the costume and jumped into his car. “If there is a next time. Because of what we just did, Ma’tee’s security is going to be extra tight. We may never get that close to him again. Fuck!”

Carter and Money jumped in with him, and they pulled off on their way back home. They had just sent a clear message—The Cartel wasn’t about to lie down.

“In the middle of a war, there’s no room for weakness.”

—Young Carter

M
iamor sat Indian-style next to her sister’s grave, her spirit broken and feeling weak without her big sister in her life to guide her. Anisa was the reason why Miamor had been put on to the street life. She had taught her everything that she knew, and now she was lost forever at the hands of the game. Miamor had always known that the possibility of death was high, because of the lifestyle that she and her crew led. The same way that she was willing to murk a mu’fucka with no ifs, ands, or buts about it, she knew that somebody, somewhere, was willing to do the same thing to them. She just never thought that it would happen to Anisa at the tender age of 25. If she could turn back the hands of time, she would have definitely done things differently that night. It wasn’t her idea to use Anisa as a pawn, but she was outvoted by the rest of the Murder Mamas, and the majority always ruled. Things are always so much clearer in hindsight, and she wished that she had convinced them to come up with a better plan to get at the notorious Cartel.

It had been weeks, and it was the first time she had been to visit Anisa’s resting place.
This is all my fault,
she thought as tears formed in her eyes. She tried to fan her face to stop her tears from falling. She hated to cry, but it was no use. The tears trickled out of her eyes and stained her cheeks as she put her face in her hands, allowing her soul to release the pain.

“I’m sorry, Nisa. If I had been on point like I was supposed to be, this never would have happened,” Miamor uttered out loud. She knew that wherever her sister was she could hear her.

She hadn’t told anyone how she felt. Not even Aries and Robyn knew the guilt that she felt over her sister’s untimely demise. She knew that the moment she lost sight of Mecca’s black Lamborghini that her sister’s life had been put on a countdown.

How did I let this happen?
She felt the coldness from the grass that was still wet from the morning dew creep into her body. She shivered as she closed her eyes and thought of her sister’s face. She bowed her head and prayed to God, feeling a closeness to Anisa that she’d never known while her sister was alive.
I’m sorry, Nis.

Young Carter pulled his black Range Rover up to the cemetery and sat in his car for a moment to gather his thoughts. He was about to face his father for the first time. His first attempt had been interrupted by the Haitians, but now he had no excuse. It was time to make peace with the man who had created him. He got out of the car and walked up to the large monument that was his father’s tombstone. He put his hand on it and leaned into the large marble, his head down. A spectrum of emotions shot through his body as he read the engraved inscription.

Carter Diamond
Beloved Husband, Leader, and Father of Four
“Diamonds are Forever”

He ran his hand over his face as he tried to contain the sorrow that took him over. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt love for his father, but there was an unexpected connection between father and son that transcended even death.

“I know that you know that I’m here. I don’t even know why I decided to stick around. For so long I wondered about you and why you left, why I never knew you. I understand now. I can’t say that I can forget the abandonment that I experienced, growing up without a father, but I do forgive you. I swear on everything that I love that the mu’fuckas that are responsible for your death will never hurt the family.” Carter began to walk away. He didn’t think that there was anything left to say.

As he made his way back to his car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw the beautiful woman leaning against the passenger door. She was dressed in black Donna Karan slacks that hugged her hips and loosened at the leg, a black Donna Karan sweater, and silver Jimmy Choo stilettos. The closer he got to her, the more he recognized her face.

“Hi,” she greeted as she stood with her silver clutch bag in hand.

“Damn, ma, I didn’t peg you as the stalking type,” he commented with a sexy smile.

A tiny dimple formed on the left side of his mouth, and that feature immediately became her favorite part of him.

“I was about to say the same thing, seeing as how I was here first,” she replied, returning his smile with one of her own. “I saw you pull up just as I was leaving, so I decided to wait here for you. Who are you here for?”

“Just a family member, no one I was real close to,” he responded. “I just wanted to pay my respects.” He noticed that her eyes were red and swollen and there were bags underneath them. She looked tired and weak. Although she was still beautiful, there was something different about her. “You all right?” he asked.

“I’m”—She paused to think of the best way to describe her current state of mind—“surviving. My sister passed away a couple weeks ago. That’s why I’m here.” The woman shuffled nervously in her stance and looked at her feet.

“I’m sorry to hear about that.”

“Yeah, me too.” She stared off into space, and the tears returned to her eyes. She willed them away and shook her head as she looked back at Carter. “I’m Miamor,” she said, offering her hand to him.

“Oh, I’m worthy of a name this time?”

Carter chuckled as he took her hand into his and shook it gently. Her name, exotic enough to complement her around-the-way features, fit her perfectly. Her brown shoulder-length layers were curled loosely and shaped her almond-colored skin. Her white teeth composed the perfect smile, and her MAC cosmetics were applied just right, not too much, but enough to make her skin glow.

“I told you, if you were worth my time, I’d see you again.” She tiptoed and peeked at the tattoo that displayed his name. “Carter,” she said aloud.

He noticed how she never let go of his hand as she intertwined her fingers with his own. The sound of his name rolling off her pouty lips was enticing, and he couldn’t help but to be intrigued by her.

“It was nice to meet you,” she stated as she walked away. She didn’t let go of his hand, until she was forced to, because of the widening distance between them.

As he watched her strut away, she waved one last time and got into a silver Nissan Maxima and pulled away. Carter shook his head from side to side, grateful for her departure. He knew that if he ever got to know Miamor, she would be his weakness. He smiled to himself as he watched her car disappear around the corner and then hopped into his own vehicle and departed.
In the middle of a war, there’s no room for weakness. Love will get you killed,
he thought as he made his way back to the Diamond mansion.

Breeze stood in the dining room over the kitchen table and argued as her mother, uncle, and twin brothers ate breakfast. “Uncle Polo, I’m not going out with this big, ugly bodyguard attached to my hip! How am I supposed to chill with my girls with him following me everywhere?”