Cartier Cartel--Part 4

by Nisa Santiago

  It didn’t take long for the two of them to become sexually entangled in Caesar’s giant bed, both of them naked and still hungrily kissing each other. Cartier was on her back, her legs spread for him. She wanted this, and he wanted it too. He had wanted Cartier since their first sit-down. With her pussy throbbing and wet, he penetrated her nice and slow. She moaned and wrapped her arms around him as his hard dick began to thrust in and out of her, and she straddled her legs around him as they fucked in the missionary position.

  Several passionate positions and several orgasms later, Cartier found herself nestled against Caesar in his bed. Her face was against his chest and his hold around her was comforting. He wanted her to stay the night, and she decided to do so. She wasn’t in any rush to go back home. She wanted to be comforted and continue their pillow talk. They talked and talked until she fell asleep in his arms.

  The next morning, the bright sunrays shining through the large floor-to-ceiling windows kindly woke Cartier up. When she fully opened her eyes, she saw Caesar was already dressed. She figured that was her cue to get up and leave too. She removed herself from his large, comfortable bed and went searching for her scattered clothing.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her.

  “I’m about to leave. I assume you have a busy day today,” she replied.

  “No. You don’t need to rush to leave. Lay back down and relax. I’ll make us breakfast,” he said.

  Cartier was taken aback—Breakfast?

  “What would you like to eat this morning?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. I trust your judgment,” she said.

  “Good.”

  He left the bedroom, giving Cartier time to enjoy the comfort, coziness, and luxuriousness of the penthouse bedroom. She spent several minutes lying in bed and then decided to start her day. Last night was fun, but this morning she felt some guilt. She had just gotten married and had already cheated on her husband—and without protection.

  Fuck!

  Cartier showered and put on one of Caesar’s T-shirts and joined him in the gourmet kitchen for breakfast. He placed a plate of omelets and potatoes in front of her. The aroma coming from the food was mouthwatering, and Cartier couldn’t wait to dig in. Last night’s sexual tryst gave her a healthy appetite. The first bite of the omelet nearly gave Cartier another orgasm. It was tasty and she already wanted seconds.

  As she ate, Caesar sat across from her and sipped on his coffee. In a businesslike tone, he said, “Tomorrow, I will tell Lena that I want a divorce from her. And soon you can take the time to know my son.”

  She nearly choked on her eggs. “What?”

  “If you want, you can run a faction of my business or you can become my housewife,” he added.

  Cartier stopped eating and dropped her fork. Say what now? She thought she had heard him wrong. He had to be joking.

  “I want you fully committed into my life,” said Caesar.

  “I’m married.”

  “I am too,” he replied.

  The sex was good, but she wasn’t about to divorce Head over last night. It was a fling. A one-night stand—nothing more, nothing less. Wasn’t it?

  “Does this mean that you love me?” she asked him.

  “I love the way you make me feel. I love your feisty attitude, Cartier. I love how you’re hard on the outside and soft and feminine inside. But to answer your question, I am not in love with you.”

  To Cartier, that wasn’t enough. She had a man that loved her, she believed. “Well, I know Head and I have our differences, but I know he loves me and he tries,” she stated.

  Caesar laughed at her reply. “You crazy,” he replied in his thick accent. “You believe your marriage is love?”

  “It’s something worth fighting for, and we do have love.”

  “Don’t be naïve, Cartier. I know you’re smarter than that.”

  She didn’t appreciate how he was talking to her—like he was making fun of her marriage to Head. Caesar was a powerful and wealthy man, but Cartier wasn’t about to be talked to like she was some off-brand bitch. It felt like she gave him some pussy and now he wanted to change up on her. Enough was enough.

  She stood up abruptly from the table, slightly upset. Breakfast was suddenly over. “I’m done here, Caesar. I’m going home to my husband,” she announced.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  It was too late for that. She strongly eyed Caesar and said to him, “And I would like to keep our business relationship business.”

  He nodded. “I agree.”

  But before she could leave the kitchen, Caesar had one concluding thing to say to her.

  He stared at Cartier and said to her, “The only reason your husband is still alive is because of you. I could have easily had him killed and forced your hand to be with me.”

  Cartier stood there after hearing that chilling statement and she appeared to be undaunted by it. This time, instead of submitting to him because of his name and status, she intensely fixed her eyes on him and countered with, “No one forces me to do shit! Do you understand that?”

  Caesar smiled at her reaction. He then said to her, “Now that’s what I really like about you—your assertiveness and your slick mouth.”

  She spun around and walked out of the room. It was time to go.

  27

  Head huffed and puffed like he was going to blow someone’s house down. He was about to come hard inside of Cartier. She was riding him like a bull rider, fighting to stay on the dick. Her pussy was dripping wet and contracting for Head. They were having their best sex ever—the time of their lives. It felt like the Bahamas all over again. It didn’t matter where they fucked—the bedroom, the kitchen, living room, even in the shower; they were like two horny teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

  “I’m gonna come!” Head announced.

  He grabbed her ass and looked up at her. Cartier was the best, and Head couldn’t get enough of her. Since he had arrived back from Michigan, she had been extra horny and on Head like a bear after that sweet honey.

  But it was guilt about her affair with Caesar. Cartier wanted to connect with her husband without arguing. She wanted to prove Caesar wrong.

  “Come for me, baby,” she cried out. “Fuck me! Fuck me!”

  “Oh shit! Oh shit!” he cried out, feeling his sexual eruption brewing.

  He reached up and cupped her tits as she vigorously moved her ass back and forth against him, her pussy swallowing his hard dick whole. She soon felt him come inside of her and she came too, as they took each other into the stratosphere.

  Head had no idea what brought on Cartier’s desire to fuck almost every day since he had been back in town, but he wasn’t complaining. He took full advantage of her hormones raging out of control. Head wanted to spend some magical time with his wife before his next trip to Flint, and magical it was.

  Sex made Head hungry. He got up and put on a robe and went to the kitchen. He made himself a healthy sandwich and downed a Pepsi. He felt good, like he was finally on the right track with Cartier mentally and physically. Eventually he wanted his wife to join him in Michigan and see all that he hoped to accomplish.

  She would become his dominant queen among his sister wives. He knew his agenda was most likely years away because Cartier was so stubborn. It would take time for Head to fully indoctrinate her to his new beliefs, but he was hopeful that in the end it would all work out just as he had imagined.

  One example to Head that he could manifest his polygamist dreams and live as King Solomon and build his Black Wall Street with Cartier was how she handled the Pebbles scandal. Brother Kareem told him that women were born to accept and forgive what society labeled as infidelity because that was a manmade law. He had preached that a man can’t be unfaithful because men were never born to have one wife or one girlfriend. Although
Cartier cursed, fought, and screamed about Pebbles, she ultimately accepted that she had been sharing Head with another woman. When she found out Pebbles was pregnant, Cartier put on the same show, but again, she accepted it. Head was sure that she would accept his sister wives. Maybe just not right away. There was still work he needed to do on her.

  His next trip to Flint was in a week, but before he left again, he planned on making a pit stop. He had one home in order, and now it was time to get his second home in order.

  Head knocked on her door several times before she decided to open it. Pebbles came into his view with a blank gaze. He couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him or not. But she was. She reached out to hug him closely. They kissed each other and she pulled him into her apartment, ready to play house with her man—her baby’s father.

  Head crouched before her and kissed and caressed her protruding belly. He could feel his child moving around inside of her.

  “Is it a boy or girl?” he asked.

  “I don’t know yet. I wanted you to be with me at the appointment to find out.

  “Okay, set it up.”

  “I will,” she assured him. “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too.”

  Pebbles smiled. Her mother was right. They always come back.

  It didn’t take long for Pebbles to be truly forgiving. They ordered Chinese food and then relaxed on the sofa. Pebbles was five months pregnant, and she was carrying large and low. She told Head about her food cravings and how she wanted to decorate the nursery. Again, it was something she wanted to do with him. He saw the boxes upon boxes of baby gifts that he assumed were things her friends had bought, or maybe she had bought them with the money he would send her each month.

  Head amicably agreed to all of her demands as he massaged her swollen feet. His attentiveness helped Pebbles relax and think about their future. It was at that moment that she spotted his wedding band. A large lump formed in her throat that she swallowed away, along with the tears that wanted to fall. She wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to fall apart in front of him again because she knew he would get up and walk out her front door.

  “So,” she managed to finally squeeze out, “baby shower or no baby shower?”

  “I’m not really up for it. You know how I feel about people being in my business. And I’m sure your friends will be there snapping pictures and posting. But it’s up to you. If you want one then I’ll slide through for a minute.” Head was getting cocky with his affair, knowing that Cartier would find out if he went to the shower.

  Pebbles shook her head. “Then no baby shower. I don’t need it. Well, we don’t need it. Our baby will have everything with two loving parents.”

  “I want a boy,” he volunteered.

  The statement melted her heart. “You do?”

  “Absolutely. I want someone to carry my name.”

  Head stayed with Pebbles for the week before boarding a plane and heading back out to Michigan. The elephant in the room was never mentioned.

  28

  Six Weeks Later

  The morning sickness had become continuous for Cartier. Since last week she found herself rushing into the bathroom, hovering her head over the toilet, and throwing up like she was bulimic. She stayed in the bathroom for well over a half-hour, throwing up or dry heaving. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was wrong with her. She assumed that she was pregnant, but she wouldn’t be sure of it until she took a pregnancy test. Finishing her business in the toilet, she stood up and stared at herself in the mirror. Pregnant, she thought. It was what she had asked for.

  She went into her bedroom and took a seat in a chair. She heaved a sigh. Once again, Head was in Flint handling his business. He’d been gone for a week now, and she missed him. He promised to be back home in time for Valentine’s Day. Lately, their marriage had been going good—going strong. They were communicating and they were having great sex. She wanted to trust Head again, and so far, it was gradually working.

  She hadn’t seen Harlem in months, and though Cartier was worried about her, she couldn’t dwell on the girl’s absence. She had her own life to live, and if Harlem didn’t want to come back or reach out, then that was her choice. She was a big girl and making her own choices, whether Cartier agreed with them or not. Cartier was hurt, though. After everything she had done for Harlem she felt she at least deserved an explanation.

  Business with Caesar was still going strong. Since their sexual tryst, things had been strictly business between them. Cartier was making money hand over fist.

  “I need something to drink,” Cartier said to herself.

  She went into the kitchen and poured herself a full glass of orange juice. She downed the juice quickly and poured herself another. It seemed like it was going to be a regular day for Cartier. The only thing she wanted to do was relax.

  Seated at the kitchen table, Cartier decided to finally go through her mail. It had been sitting there for a few days now. She opened several pieces of mail that were irrelevant to her. But then she came across a letter that stood out. It was addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Henry ‘Head’ Jackson. She tore open the envelope and there was a letter inside. The writing wasn’t even a full paragraph. It simply said: Cartier, leave my man alone or die.

  First the cards, now a threatening letter. It had been months since she had received a cardstock. She fumed. When is it all going to stop? She read the sentence several times and wondered who could have written it. Cartier ran into her bedroom and pulled all the cardstocks from her dresser drawer and walked back to the kitchen to examine them. Was it the same person?

  She grabbed her cell phone and started to dial Head’s number. She was ready to call and confront him about the letter that was mailed to her—curse him out and ask him what the fuck was up. It had to be from a bitch he was fucking from Flint. But she thought against it and ended the call. Cartier came up with a better idea. She decided to fly to Flint in the morning to see for herself what was happening out there.

  Lil Foe and Roddy were called upon to take the trip with her. She needed her hired shooters to have her back as a precaution. For all she knew, she was walking straight into some crazy woman’s trap. Whoever she was, the note made it clear that she wanted Cartier’s husband all to herself.

  At the airport with just over an hour before boarding time, the three of them rushed to TSA for screening.

  “Y’all take out your license and hold it with your boarding pass,” she instructed. “And take off your sneakers and belts so we can just breeze through. I’m not missing this flight.”

  Both did as they were told. Cartier then called Majestic on a burner phone to make sure he had set up what she had asked. It was short notice, but he came through.

  “Yo,” he answered.

  “Is it done?”

  “Yeah, my little man will be waiting at an address that I’ma text you. Three ninas, five a piece.”

  Cartier hung up confident that she would be able to get her hands on the firearms needed before they rocked up to an unknown address. As they snaked through the line, she couldn’t front. She was nervous. If she got there and it was an affair then she knew she would have to leave Head once and for all and not look back. But if it turned out that this mistress was really plotting to murder her, then Cartier wasn’t certain that when she killed the bitch that she would have the strength to not have Head killed too.

  They all placed their carryon duffel bags into the trays and stepped through the body scan one by one. Cartier went first and was cleared. As she grabbed her Prada and duffel, a small commotion began to stir from a group of TSA agents who were now huddling together. The line was paused, a few walkie-talkies were clicking on and off, and then several more TSA agents and airport security came running over. Cartier, Lil Foe, and Roddy exchanged bewildered looks. Most began to think the same thing: A bomb must have been
discovered.

  Within minutes Roddy was tackled to the ground and Lil Foe started swinging, trying to help his friend.

  “Get the fuck off me!” Roddy screamed as they placed plastic flex cuffs on his wrists. He kept trying to wiggle free. Everyone gawked with their mouths open. What had the thugs done?

  Cartier was wide-eyed and frozen. She watched as Lil Foe fought three TSA agents like a heavyweight prize fighter. His arms were swiftly swinging with powerful blows backing them all down. It was Cartier’s inclination to jump in. She only hesitated to think about her unborn child.

  Lil Foe caught eye contact with his boss and yelled, “Nah, Cartier. I got this!” and she chilled.

  It seemed like the fist fight lasted forever before at least nine agents were able to restrain Lil Foe taking him to the ground. Ultimately, both men were dragged away.

  Eventually everyone learned that Roddy had a gun in his carryon bag. Cartier knew it was unintentional, but damn. The passengers who were already cleared were allowed to go to their gates, and those who had not been cleared griped and screamed out in frustration because that section was shut down and they had to filter into other lines.

  Cartier’s flight was leaving in less than thirty minutes, and she didn’t know what to do. She was amped from the commotion and decided that she needed closure. She had been up against worse, she thought.

  The 757 touched down on the runway at Bishop International Airport early that afternoon. It wasn’t how she had planned it, but Cartier arrived in Flint alone. She departed the plane with her carryon and went into the terminal. It was a brisk day in Flint, but she came dressed for the weather.

  Outside the terminal she got into a cab and told the driver that she needed to make more than one stop.

  “What’s the first address?” he asked.

  She gave him the address from Majestic. She still needed to go and purchase the burners.