The Cartel 2: Tale of the Murda Mamas

by Ashley; JaQuavis

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 lil’ 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, lil’ 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 lil’ 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 morning, 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.”

  * * *

  The next day, I received a text message from a number I didn’t recognize: WATCH THE NEWS! I frowned when I read the words, but went into Anisa’s room and told her to turn the channel:

  “… This is Allison Fisher, reporting for WWOR. Gun violence has once again taken a hold of the Bronx. Thaddeus Johnson was gunned down in his vehicle today on East 142nd Street. Witnesses say that two unidentified females were riding a red motorcycle, when they pulled up to a traffic light next to Mr. Johnson’s car and opened fire. This young woman was the passenger in Mr. Johnson’s car when the shooting took place. “Can you tell us what you saw?” the reporter asked.

  The girl’s voice shook as she replied, “It all just happened so fast. All I remember is listening to the music one second, and hearing loud gunshots the next. I was ducked down in my seat. I was too afraid to look up. There was so much blood. I thought that I would die. I can’t believe this happened …”

  Anisa and I watched the newscast in shock. The girl who was being interviewed was Robyn, and the guy that had been killed was the hit I had given them. Anisa chuckled and said, “She deserves an Oscar for that performance.”

  “They pulled it off!” I whispered in disbelief as I sat back against the headboard on Anisa’s bed. Anisa looked at me and shook her head from side to side. My cell phone rang, and an unknown number popped up. “Hello?” I answered.

  “So, we’re in?” I instantly recognized Aries’ distinctive accent.

  “You’re in,” I replied with a smile. The average type of chick would not have been able to pull off what the three of them had. They were ruthless and conniving. They were just like me, and now they were on my team.

  Chapter Fourteen

  (Miamor)

  A year passed, and life was good! Anisa, Beatrice, Robyn, Aries and I were lying in the sun on a cruise ship just off the coast of Miami. We had planned that particular trip to celebrate our success. After Anisa and I got to know the other girls, we knew that they could be very helpful in our newfound profession. Before I even knew it, we established the Murder Mamas. At first it was a little joke, but the name was fitting and sort of stuck. We all even got “Murder Mama” tattooed on ourselves to show our allegiance.

  It did not take long for niggas to catch wind of us. We had expanded and took jobs from Jersey, Philly, and even D.C. The word spread quickly in the streets, because our phone constantly rang for new jobs. We only took jobs by referral, meaning you would have to know someone that hired us before to even have a conversation with us about our services. We had a secret society, and the only thing we asked for was trust. We sometimes set up clowns that were stunting too hard and robbed them, but we only did that when we traveled out of town. Our main hustle was murder-for-hire. That’s what paid the bills.

  The one thing about killing is; just like everything else you do, the more you do it, the better you get. I believe my heart had grown the coldest of our whole crew. I never thought twice about a murder once it was done. The only thing I thought about was the payoff. Some might call it cold-blooded, but I call it just being Miamor.

  We all sat, sipping our exotic drinks and enjoying the sun. I looked over at Beatrice, who lay out on the deck with her big Gucci shades on and smiled. “Bitch, you know you don’t need any more sun,” I joked, referring to her dark ebony skin tone. We all burst into laughter, knowing she was the darkest of the crew.

  Beatrice held up her middle finger without saying a word as she smiled and continued to sip her Long Island iced tea. She is what you called “ghetto fabulous.” She originally was from BX, and I loved her style. She always told it how it was, and had a tendency to be loud at the wrong times. But it was what it was; she was my girl … real bitch.

  Robyn was kind of sneaky in my eyes, but I dealt with her because she was resourceful. Her ass was like the sibling that you loved because you had to. She was my sister, but I could not stand her ass sometimes. She was a little older than me, about Anisa’s age, and she knew every hustler in every borough. Don’t ask me how, but she always knew who was coming up on the streets and who was next in line to be “the man.” That was useful for us when we occasionally robbed niggas. But we did have one golden rule—never rob or take a hit on anyone we encountered before. It would be too much of a risk for us.

  Aries was a sweetheart. She had a heavy Barbados accent, and it was hard to understand her at times, but I managed. She was petite, with beautiful shoulder-length twists in her hair that fit her exotic personality perfectly. She was one year younger than me, and kind of quiet. But don’t let that fool you. Aries was a killer. I noticed that she didn’t hesitate to kill if the money was right. She was the closest person to me, besides Anisa, because we were just alike. She was an asset to the squad for sure.

  We all enjoyed the sunrays and sounds of the churning waves as we relaxed and conversed. In the midst of our conversation, the phone rang. We all sat up, recognizing that particular ring. I had all the calls from Murder’s line forwarded to a cell phone used only for our hits. I put my finger over my lips to signal the girls to be quiet before I picked up. They all stared at me as I flipped up the phone and placed it to my ear. I remained silent and just listened.

  “I have a job that requires your services. I want you to listen, and listen very closely,” a man said with a deep Russian accent. He continued, “I have a problem that needs to be resolved. I want this done within thirty days. The contract is worth one hundred thousand dollars. Half will be given up front, and the rest will be paid upon completion. You can find the information on the target in locker number 1356 at the Grand Central train terminal, and you can find the key under the station’s bench, eight rows down.”

  I quickly reached into my purse and grabbed a pen and a small piece of paper to jot down the information. I just listened and wondered what type of job this was. I never had someone come so organized, and also we mainly only dealt with ‘hood niggas. This was far from a ‘hood guy” that we were used to handling business with. He paused, and there was a brief moment of silence on the phone before he continued.

  “I take it that you want the job, since you haven’t hung up,” the Russian said before he let out a small chuckle. “Very well then. The money will be placed in a bag in the locker along with the information. Good day,” he said before he left me with the dial tone.

  I slowly closed down the phone and looked at my girls, who were all staring at me, anxiously waiting to see who had called.

  “Well what did he say?” Anisa asked as she threw her hands up.

  I took my time before I spoke, almost too excited to let the words come out of my mouth. “One … hundred … stacks!” I said as I jumped up and watched as my girls cheered and slapped hands. This was the payday we were looking for. That was about $20,000 apiece. Usually we would have to split $50,000 for one hit. Twenty to ourselves sounded real good. It was the last day of the cruise, and we were all eager to get back to NY to get that money … the Murder Mama way.

  * * *

  We sat in our condo in midtown Manhattan. We all moved in with each other a couple of months back. We didn’t want to live in the ‘hood, now that our operation was booming. Everyone sat and waited patiently for Anisa to return. She went to the station to retrieve the money and information. She told us that s
he wanted to go alone, just in case it was a setup by police, considering that we had never done business with this mysterious Russian guy before. She said there was no reason for all of us to do down.

  “Do you think it’s legit?” Beatrice asked as she split open a blunt and began to fill it with kush weed. That girl knew she loved her weed. She was a bigger weed head then me, and I had learned from the best, being that Murder and I had shared at least three blunts a day before he was arrested.

  “I don’t know. I hope so,” I responded as I looked down at my watch. “Where is she? She should be back by now,” I said, noticing that she had been gone longer than expected. Just as the negative feelings began to invade my thoughts, Anisa came through the door with a duffel bag and a big manila folder. “What took you so damn long?” I asked as I stood up.

  “I had to think about if I should take the money or not,” she answered. All of us grew confused looks on our face.

  “What chu mean?” Aries asked as she put her hands on her hips. Obviously, she already had plans for her share of the money, as we all did.

  “Look at this,” Anisa said as she threw the folder on the coffee table.

  I picked up the folder, and when I saw the face of the man in the pictures, I quickly understood what Anisa meant.

  “Fuck!’ Beatrice said as she looked at the picture along with me. It was Joell, the owner of the club, Tenders, and also Robyn, Aries, and Beatrice’s former boss. Taking this job would be breaking our golden rule: never hit someone we know or had ever encountered before.

  “Me no believe dis’ shit!” Aries exclaimed as she flopped down on the couch and put her hands on her head.

  “He used to be our boss! He knows us!” Beatrice exclaimed. “We can’t hit anybody we know, remember!” she said in total frustration.

  “Fuck that! I’m about to get this money, with or without y’all. Me and Miamor don’t know this nigga,” Anisa exclaimed.

  I remembered encountering Joell back at the strip club a while ago, but I remained silent, because I wasn’t ready to give up on that money just yet. “Just hold up a minute. We are talking about one-hundred-thousand-dollars, ladies,” I said, trying to weigh our options.