La Bella Mafia

by Ashley

  “Rich stand up.”

  The unexpected visit from the C.O. caused him to stand.

  “You’ve got a visitor,” he said.

  Zyir frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but he didn’t mind taking a walk. The air in the visiting room was easier to breathe than the musty, muggy, stinking atmosphere where the cellblocks were located. He turned around and placed his hands behind his back, then backpedaled so that he could stick his wrists through the slot on his door. Every time the metal cuffs bound his hands he cringed. This was slavery. He was in bondage and it hurt his pride as he grit his teeth.

  “That’s a little tight bro,” Zyir stated with impatience as he shot a warning look over his shoulder. The C.O. didn’t respond but he loosened the cuffs slightly. He opened the door and Zyir stepped out.

  As they walked him through the cellblock the inmates peeked out of their holes, trying to get a glimpse of him. Some looked at him with hate in their eyes, others with respect, but either way they all looked. He made eye contact with no one.

  When he saw her face his cold heart melted. Her smile always warmed him.

  “I didn’t think you would come,” he said as he leaned into her, kissing her neck and inhaling deeply as the smell of her perfume intoxicated him. She was his Breeze. Only she had the power to blow the negative thoughts out of his mind and brighten his day without effort. All it took was her presence.

  “Of course I came,” she replied. “You’re my world Zyir.”

  Breeze was effortlessly beautiful and the faded skinny jeans she wore and crop top fit her body like a second skin. The other inmates in the visiting room couldn’t keep their eyes from straying from their own guests. They were too busy ogling over his wife. She was like a piece of meat and Zyir’s temper flared as he asked the inmate next to him, “Fuck you looking at my nigga?”

  Breeze noticed Zyir’s aggression. He was wound tightly and wore his stress all over his face. She reached across the table, gripped his chin and turned his face back to her. “Hey, look at me Zy. Just focus on me. Forget what they’re looking at. It’s me and you. An hour is hardly long enough so lets make every single minute count. Okay?”

  Zyir nodded as he rested his face in her palm, becoming emotional. Tears accumulated in his eyes but his pride would let none fall. “I hate being away from you B. I love you so fucking much. I’m sorry for leaving you.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay. It’s hard but I’m fine. We will be fine and I’ll be here every visiting day. I’m thinking of getting a place in New York until you’re free.”

  There was nothing he would have enjoyed more than to see her face twice a week, but he wouldn’t burden her with that expectation. “Nah B, don’t do that. You stay with the family. You, Leena, Miamor. It’s important that y’all stay together. Wherever they go, you go. That’s the only way I know you’ll be safe. I don’t want you to come here again B. These niggas eye fucking you and shit. I’ll catch beef over you ma and you deserve better than to have these bitch ass C.O.’s feeling you up every time you visit.”

  “I’m coming Zyir,” she protested adamantly.

  “Promise me you won’t Breeze. You’re my wife. You have to trust me. I want you to live. Don’t fuck with no nigga because I swear to God when I get out I will put him in the dirt, but don’t become a jailbird running up here to see me all the time. That’s not who you are. Write me letters. Send me pictures, but my queen won’t grace these walls again. Stay on your throne. You’re too good for this,” he said.

  A tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away. “I love you.”

  “I love you more Zy,” she responded.

  Zyir spent the next hour enjoying the melody of her voice and drawing a mental picture in his mind because it would be years before he saw her again. He touched her, stroking her hand, her face, inhaling her scent. He didn’t want to forget one detail. In five years she would be different. It was a long time to be away from someone, there was no way that either of them would be the same and he secretly feared what that change would mean for their relationship. He loved her, like no one he had ever loved before and he hoped that this bid didn’t destroy the bond that they shared.

  Monroe was a part of the black La Cosa Nostra, it was a known fact. Even behind bars he was royal. There was no such thing as being low-key for Monroe. His face was known worldwide and because he was the surviving son of Carter Diamond and the blood born heir to Emilio Estes, his story was not easily concealed. He wasn’t like Carter. He couldn’t hide behind an illegitimate name. No one knew about Carter Jones except for those that needed to know. Everyone knew about the infamous twin sons of Taryn and Carter. Mecca was no longer here. Monroe was the last official son standing. He was a Diamond. He was Monroe Diamond. As soon as he was taken into custody, the media went mad. The New York Times, USA Today, Miami Herald, and all the bloggers covered his story. He was a modern day mobster and when Time Magazine plastered him on the cover he became famous. His name suddenly became a synonym for ‘gangster’. The hottest rappers dropped his name in lyrics, his mug shot was printed on a popular t-shirt line. He became ingrained in pop culture but he never confirmed anything. He kept his mouth closed and ignored the speculation. He wasn’t a fool. The Feds were just waiting for him to get cocky and confirm some of the illegal activities that had made him so popular. They would slap a case on him faster than he could bat an eye. Monroe Diamond would never be able to outrun his past because it had now been noted in the history books. It was a gift and a curse. The streets would forever mention his name but when he finally got out of prison he would never be anything but a drug dealer to everyone he met going forward. His future was already ruined. He was and would forever be a kingpin. On top of that he was a king pin that stood tall. He hadn’t snitched, he hadn’t turned state’s evidence to get himself off of the hook. He lived by principle and he never did anything that he couldn’t stand behind. He had sold dope on the streets of M.I.A. He had murdered on the streets of M.I.A. If that was his legacy, so be it. He had done it so there was no point in being ashamed now. His father had always taught him to stand behind his decisions. It didn’t mean that he didn’t have regrets because his head was filled with many, but he was man enough to live with the destruction that he had caused. Diamonds didn’t fold. So these five years he would eat like chocolate cake.

  As a result of his newfound fame, the inmates around him showed nothing but respect whenever he graced them with his presence. Prison life for Monroe was far different than what Carter and Zyir were experiencing. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. The locks and chains were merely a façade. Even the prison guards wanted to keep him happy in hopes that when he got out, he would remember the favors they bestowed. He was like a king inside. Being locked down only intensified his network. The Feds were better off letting him be, because when you put him with other wolves he ended up leading the pack. The relationships he was building behind the wall would only strengthen his muscle when he was finally released. At first his reach was slightly limited to Miami but he was locked up with criminals who had run their own enterprises, shaken down their own cities, murdered under their own circumstances. Once Monroe recruited and took them under his wing the Cartel would emerge better than ever. The Feds had tried to stop him but they had only helped to decorate his crown because he was picking up some valuable jewels while being locked away. It was only a matter of time before he put them to use.

  Let the five-year bid begin.

  Chapter 17

  “Our reactions depend on your actions.”

  —Breeze

  Year One

  “We’re moving to Las Vegas,” Miamor said to the ladies as they moved around the kitchen, preparing Sunday dinner. It was a tradition that they had started as soon as the men went inside. It had only been a few months but Miamor knew that it was of utmost importance that they remain strong . . . united. When Miamor got the go ahead from Carter to transition out of Miami she knew that
it would be a hard move. She was reluctant to leave all that they had built but she trusted Carter. If he said it, than it was law. Las Vegas it was. It was up to her to get all the pieces put in place. Upon release, Carter and the men would be convicted felons which would automatically black ball them from the Nevada market. Anything they owned would be put in the names of their women.

  “Las Vegas?” Leena asked. “No offense but I’m not moving across the country to jump into the pit of another fire. We know these streets. Why would we go somewhere else where The Cartel name has no clout?”

  “In business you don’t need clout, just money. When we move we’ll be clean. Carter wants to open a casino,” she informed.

  “A casino?” Breeze questioned.

  Miamor nodded. She was just as unsure as them, but it didn’t show. She knew that if her skirt showed than they would worry. She had to appear as if she had it all under control. She didn’t, but they didn’t need to know that.

  “What do we know about the casino business?” Breeze asked.

  “Not much, but we have friends who know it well. Baraka from Saudi Arabia will invest. I have a meeting with him this evening. While I’m setting up shop, Breeze you need to liquidate our assets here in Miami. Sell it all. The realty company, this house, your houses.”

  “I’m not selling my house,” Breeze said. “And I’m definitely not selling my parent’s old home. This is where I grew up. This is where the next generation of our family should grow up.”

  “Where you grow up isn’t usually where you grow old Breeze. There’s too much history here. Miami won’t give you a chance to grey. This city would rather see you dead. Keep the old Diamond estate if you like, but sell the others. This transition will be hard but I have a feeling that it will be worth it. Leena we’ll need somewhere to stay when we get to Vegas. Think you can handle that?” she asked.

  Leena nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get on it right away.”

  Miamor approached her next subject tactfully. “There is someone else I need to bring in on this.” She paused because she knew that conflict was to come. “I need Aries.”

  “No,” Breeze replied without hesitation.

  “Miamor!” Leena protested.

  “Look without Aries, neither of you would have ever seen your husbands again. She helped bring them home. I can’t run The Cartel without some bite behind my bark and I don’t see the two of you putting in that kind of work. We need people like Aries to do our dirty work. She’s loyal and I trust her,” Miamor said, arguing passionately on her behalf. Breeze shook her head and rolled her eyes in disbelief.

  “Breeze just give her a chance. Talk to her. One time. If you don’t like it than I’ll leave it alone, but remember that there are a lot of niggas in line for the thrones. With the three of us sitting on top this empire, we have to prove that we are not to be fucked with. If not, there is only a matter of time before niggas begin to test us. If everyone does their part we will be out of this city by the month’s end and will have some loyal soldiers following us. Just let Aries do what she does best.”

  “Murder?” Breeze shot back sarcastically.

  “She’s protection Breeze and she’s loyal. If she is on your side she is on your side. You don’t have anything to worry about. The days of Ma’tee and that beef are long over,” Miamor tried to convince.

  “I’ll meet with her, but I’m not making any promises,” Breeze shot back.

  “That’s all I can ask,” Miamor said. “Now which auntie is watching baby Carter while I take this meeting?”

  “That’s nothing,” Leena said with a flip of the hand.

  “You know I got you.”

  “Pack a few days worth of clothes,” Miamor instructed.

  Leena frowned in confusion.

  “The meeting is in Saudi Arabia.”

  After a long and tiresome flight, Miamor emerged from the private luxury jet a bit fatigued. The thick heat that seemed to blanket the air was the first thing she noticed as she made her way down the stairs. A driver waited at the bottom and he greeted her with a smile.

  “Mrs. Jones, welcome to Saudi Arabia,” he said.

  Miamor nodded and placed her Versace shades over her eyes as she stepped into the vehicle. Miamor took a deep breath as she rested her head on her closed fist while propping her elbow on the windowsill. She would never admit it, but she was exhausted and completely overwhelmed. Since giving birth it seemed that her life had been moving at a rapid rate. She hadn’t had a moment to breathe. Her emotions were all over the place and some nights she barely slept. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought she was battling with a bout of post partum, but she was a ‘Murder Mama’ . . . nothing had ever gotten the best of her. She wouldn’t start to accept defeat now. She wished that she lived in a world where everything was black and white; where she could be a mother to her son without worry of her past coming back to haunt her. A woman with a body count like hers was never supposed to bear a child. The child always paid for the sins of the mother and she feared that eventually her murder record would catch up to her. She could only hope and pray that it never did.

  Lost in her thoughts, the hour long ride passed her by in no time and when she arrived at the resort she was escorted to the gardens, where a private luncheon was set up strictly for the occasion.

  Baraka had a guard waiting at the entrance and she spread her arms out wide as she was searched thoroughly. He walked up to her wearing a tan cloak and matching head wrap. A friendly smile decorated his face.

  “I have heard many tales about the infamous Miamor Holly, but your legend does not do you justice. It fails to mention how lovely you are,” Baraka said.

  She smiled. It never failed. It seemed that no matter their ethnicity, men always fancied her. Men found her irresistible.

  “Thank you but apparently my legend hasn’t been updated yet. My last name is Jones now,” she replied, letting it be known that his flirting was in vain.

  “Carter’s wife?” Baraka said, obviously shocked.

  She nodded confirmation but the sound of clicking heels caused her to turn her attention to see who was approaching from behind.

  “Father, you didn’t tell me we had a guest.”

  Baraka extended his hand to his daughter. “Miamor this is my daughter Yasmine. Yasmine this is . . .”

  “Carter’s girlfriend,” Yasmine finished for him without a smile. She clearly wasn’t happy to see her. “I know who she is.”

  “Appraently you don’t,” Miamor replied, sensing ill vibes from Yasmine. “I’m his wife,” Miamor corrected, giving no smile of her own. Her intuition was in overdrive as she eyed Yasmine intently.

  “Funny, he never mentioned that,” Yasmine shot back.

  Miamor scoffed. She wasn’t going to discuss her man with a woman that was irrelevant. There would be no playing badminton with snide remarks. This wasn’t a competition and if it was Yasmine would lose . . . Miamor killed the competition, literally. You don’t want to see any part of me little girl. Keep it moving, Miamor thought. She focused her attention to Baraka, blatantly dismissing Yasmine.

  “Shall we discuss business?” Miamor asked.

  “Absolutely. I look forward to meeting with your representative,” Baraka said. Arab men held women in low regard when it came to business. The men wore the pants. Period. Point blank. In Baraka’s eyes Miamor’s place was to be seen but rarely heard. “I assume since Carter is not available you have a family member, perhaps a brother, or consigliere to do things on your behalf?”

  Miamor smiled, realizing the difference in cultures made her presence awkward. “I’m fully capable of handling this independently. Until Carter is free, I am the only person who has the authority to negotiate on his behalf. It’s a bit different for you, I understand, but I think I can hang with the boys,” she said charmingly.

  A woman with such a strong presence was uncustomary to Baraka and the way she used her femininity to enamor him left him with a stiff one. He was t
aken aback by her instantly. He had fallen under the murder mama spell. “I think that you can,” he replied. “I like a woman who knows how to get what she wants,” Baraka said. He held out his bent arm for her to latch onto. “Shall we?” She embraced him as he escorted her onto the grass until they reached their table.

  Yasmine followed closely behind. There was no way she was sitting out of this meeting. If it concerned Carter, she wanted to be involved. She would do anything to be in his presence again.

  The three of them sat and ate while having casual conversation. Yasmine did most of the questioning . . . too much for Miamor’s taste. This bitch wants to know more about Carter than anything else. The fuck? Miamor thought. Her patience was wearing thin so she fast-forwarded to more serious matters.

  “I know that you originally had planned to open a casino with Carter. As you know Nevada gaming will never approve a license to him now that he has a criminal record. I on the other hand am squeaky clean,” she said.

  “I find that hard to believe,” Baraka replied quickly and with intrigue.

  “Where it counts Mr. Baraka,” she added with a laugh. “On paper I’m as legit as they come. My credit is impeccable and I have no record besides juvenile stuff that was sealed long ago. Carter trusts me to be the front woman for this new venture.”