South Beach Cartel

by Nisa Santiago

  She laughed and strutted closer to him, dropping the coat lower down her curvy frame. It was sexy to see him masturbate. His erection was impressive, and he was definitely all man. He moaned while pleasing himself, and Apple felt he’d suffered enough. She finally allowed the mink coat to fall from her frame, dropping it to the floor. She left her shoes on and joined him on the bed.

  “Stay on your back,” she said.

  She straddled him, pushed him on his back, and gradually placed his huge erection inside of her, feeling his profound width. Nick moaned from the glorious feeling of penetrating her nice and slow, and he gazed up at her in admiration with his hands reaching up and cupping her breasts as they started to fuck.

  And the celebration continued.

  The next day, they headed to Kola’s place. Apple had been thinking about her sister lately, and she felt the urge to check to see how she was doing, especially since she was pregnant.

  The drive from SoHo to Westchester was a somewhat drawn out one, and while Nick drove, they started to discuss Citi. Not a day went by that Apple didn’t bring the bitch up, either in revenge, disgust, jealousy, or hatred.

  “That bitch was at a Knicks game the other night,” she told Nick.

  “She was, huh?”

  “Yeah, and she damn near had courtside seats,” Apple added. “Let that bitch enjoy her life for now, cuz we’re ’bout to fuck her entire world up.”

  Lately, Apple had been stalking Citi’s Facebook page from a fake profile she created. Citi was easy to find and follow because she wasn’t hiding. Any big event—playoffs, Knicks games, concerts at Madison Square Garden or the Barclays Center—she showed up highly protected and flossing in her trendy outfits. Apple would seethe seeing pictures of Citi looking glamorous and watching videos of her living the good life, cruising around in expensive cars like Maseratis, Porsches, Range Rovers, Benzes. She had them all.

  And now Nick wanted in on the glory and success. Seeing the toys and the money that Citi had, he saw that Apple was right. She was sitting on a goldmine. Apple explained to him that Citi was nothing but a brainless tramp that she and Cartier had taken under their wing. Had it not been for Apple and Cartier, she wouldn’t have anything. Nick wanted to take care of the bitch. He knew niggas like her who didn’t put in work but wanted all the glory and the street credit. But behind the scenes, they were nothing but punk bitches.

  “If we go after her, then we gotta start with her muscle,” Apple said.

  “So, you and me, going after a big organization like hers,” Nick replied.

  “Without her muscle around, it will make her vulnerable.”

  “I agree, Apple, but this isn’t some light work. This isn’t a home invasion with a few armed niggas here and there. This is an organization, where they got guns too—lots of guns—and I don’t have the time to get my hands that dirty, especially to go after one bitch. This wasn’t what I signed up for,” Nick griped.

  “So you just happy wit’ that half a million we took from that bitch?”

  “Absolutely. Look, I love you, bae, and I want you to be happy,” he proclaimed. “I can’t lie, this Citi bitch is a fuckin’ goldmine, but I made promises too. I say we bow out while we ahead.”

  “You mean, you’re ahead. Me? I’m still in the same position ’cause that bitch ain’t dead yet. How you sound, nigga?”

  “I learned that an eye for an eye will make everyone go blind. That revenge shit ain’t for me. I jumped in for a taste of the pie. We ate. Let’s bounce now and drive off into the sunset, ma.”

  “You’re such a fuckin’ hypocrite. Where was that eye-for-an-eye logic when your ass was locked up for murder? Did you preach that bullshit to Amir before he went and murdered that snitching bitch for you?”

  Nick was quiet. No refuting the obvious.

  “Thought so, nigga.”

  Apple sighed and rolled her eyes. She knew he didn’t see the scowl on her face because he was driving. She was growing tired of his back-and-forth attitude about helping with her revenge project. One moment he would be hyped, excited, and down for her cause, and then the next moment, he was indecisive and preaching to her about the promises he made to get out the game.

  “I thought you was an OG,” she muttered.

  Nick’s head swiveled her way. “What? I am an OG in these fuckin’ streets. Don’t get shit twisted. I ain’t scared of no one, especially some young-ass bitch.”

  “I know you ain’t scared, baby, that’s why I fuckin’ love you to death.” She placed her hand on his thigh.

  Nick sighed. “Damn, you’re lucky I love you, or am in love with you. A’ight, we take out a couple of niggas and try to roll up on her. I wanna make you happy, baby, but I don’t want this shit to come back on us either.”

  Apple grinned. “You already make me happy. But for this, I’ll suck your dick for two months straight and make you come in my mouth each time.”

  Nick laughed. She had already done that, but he was happy to hear the news.

  They arrived at Kola’s place late that afternoon. They rang her doorbell several times, but to no avail. It seemed like no one was home, but they were always home. Apple sighed. She really wanted to see the kids, especially her daughter. Plus, this was the first time she’d brought Nick by to introduce him to her sister.

  She rang the bell a few more times and knocked on the door, but nobody answered. After that, she pulled out her cell phone and called Kola, but there was no answer.

  “Something’s wrong?” Nick asked.

  “I hope not,” Apple replied.

  Apple tried calling Kola’s cell phone again, but received the same results. She didn’t want to worry, but where were her sister and the kids?

  “Maybe they went out for a bite to eat,” said Nick.

  “She always answers her phone,” Apple replied.

  By now, Apple started to look through the windows and snoop around the house. Nick stood there watching her. He had a .45 concealed on him. He was always cautious, observant of his surroundings, and ready for anyone or anything. The fact they were in the suburbs didn’t matter. He knew shit could pop off anywhere, even in the safest neighborhoods. Danger had no zip code.

  Apple sighed. “This is fucked up.”

  “Just chill. I’m sure your sister is okay,” Nick said.

  Just then, Apple’s cell phone sounded in her hand. She assumed that it was Kola calling her back. She quickly answered her phone with a sharp, “Where the fuck are you and the kids?”

  “Apple, it’s me, Kamel,” she heard him say.

  “Why do you have my sister’s phone?”

  “Listen, Kola is in the hospital,” he said.

  “What? What the fuck you talkin’ about? What happened?”

  “We left this morning. She’s gonna be admitted overnight for observation of the baby and she’ll be on bed rest because it’s a high risk pregnancy,” said Kamel.

  Apple’s stomach fluttered. “What hospital y’all at?” she asked.

  “We’re at Westchester Medical Center,” he said.

  “We’re on our way there.”

  Apple and Nick rushed to the hospital as fast as they could. In a way, Apple felt relieved that it was only pregnancy issues. With the life they had lived, anything could come back on them. Apple feared that one of their many enemies had located Kola and done the unthinkable to her sister and the family. It was one of her biggest fears—retribution from an enemy.

  When they arrived at Westchester Medical Center in Valhalla, New York, Apple walked through the hospital with a sense of urgency. She was concerned about her sister and the unborn baby. Her heels click-clacked loud and fast against the flooring, and she spewed questions at the staff.

  “My sister, Kola Evans-Carmichael—where is she?”

  She and Nick were directed to room 312. Apple hurried toward t
he elevator with Nick trying to keep up. The girl was moving like a thoroughbred race horse. They soon arrived at room 312 and Apple entered without knocking. She laid her eyes on Kola lying in bed and looking copasetic. Kamel was by her side looking worried, and the children had fallen asleep on the nearby chairs.

  “Bitch, you about gave me a damn heart attack,” Apple exclaimed. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, Apple,” replied Kola.

  “What happened?”

  “It was just a pregnancy scare, that’s all . . . just some spotting.”

  “So is the baby okay?”

  “The baby’s fine,” said Kola.

  “Well, whatever you need, I’m here for you,” Apple said.

  Kola smiled. “And by the way, I’m having a boy.”

  “Bitch, shut up!” Apple hollered excitedly.

  Kola nodded. Coming from a family with all girls, it was exciting to finally have a swinging dick in their family. After everything they’d been through, finding out that Kola was having a son was wonderful news.

  “I saw the ultrasound and he’s beautiful.”

  “I bet you he is,” Apple said.

  Apple hugged Peaches and showed her affection. She and Kola continued to chat.

  Nick was taken aback by Kola. She was definitely Apple’s identical twin, besides the extra weight due to her pregnancy.

  “You need to take it easy like the doctors told you. The only thing you need to be doing is getting rest, eating good, and having Kamel wait on you hand and foot—and eat that pussy too,” Apple joked.

  “Shut up, Apple.” Kola laughed.

  The two sisters were in high spirits. Apple couldn’t stop thinking about her sister bringing a boy into this world. She smiled at Kola and said, “I got the perfect name for him.”

  Curious, Kola asked, “And what’s that?”

  “Koke.”

  “What? Koke?” Kola wasn’t too thrilled by the name.

  “Yes!”

  “Are you serious, Apple?”

  “Koke sounds cool and intriguing,” Apple replied.

  Kola laughed, but Apple was dead serious. “Koke and Kola.”

  “I’m not naming my son after a narcotic, Apple. That’s insane . . . and ghetto.”

  Apple rolled her eyes. “And Kola is so highbrow and distinguished.”

  The sisters continued to talk, and Nick got to meet Kamel, and the two men seemed to hit it off. It was all love inside the hospital room. Being with Kola and her daughter took Apple’s mind off of Citi and her desired revenge. She and Nick looked like different people, almost the perfect couple—joyous folks enjoying family and good news for once. Nick even laughed and played with Peaches. He missed the little princess being around, but business was business, and he had some murders to do.

  Later in their visit, Kamel gently tapped Apple on her shoulder and asked if they could speak outside. From the look in Kamel’s eyes, it seemed like it was really important. They excused themselves from the room and went into the hallway to talk privately.

  Kamel fixed his eyes on Apple. “Could you do us a favor? We need help around the house. With Kola being pregnant and needing as much bed rest as possible, I was wondering if you could come and stay with us for a while to help us around the house and with the kids.”

  The nerve of him, was the look in Apple’s eyes. “That’s what you’re there for, right? You signed up for sickness and in health, didn’t you?”

  “And I’m there for her as always. I love your sister, Apple, but this isn’t easy,” he replied.

  “Nothing in life ever is,” she smoothly countered. “You made your bed, so you lie in it.”

  Apple didn’t sign up to become anyone’s maid or nanny. She hadn’t put the ring on her sister’s finger, he had. She wasn’t about to make shit easy for someone she felt was a bitch-ass nigga. Kola promised to take care of Peaches—those other rugrats weren’t her problem. Besides, she was knee-deep in exacting revenge.

  Apple’s final words to Kamel were, “Go hire a nanny with Eduardo’s money.”

  She pivoted and marched back into the room. It was time for her and Nick to leave.

  Kamel hated his daily thoughts about Kola’s twin. He wished someone would park a bullet in her fuckin’ temple and put him out of his misery. In another lifetime, he would have been that someone.

  11

  Nick sat behind the wheel of his GMC truck for a moment and enjoyed a cigarette and a moment of solitude. It had been a tiresome five-hour drive to the Clinton Correctional Facility in Dannemora, New York. The day was brisk and gloomy with remnants of a previous snowfall still covering the small iron-working town.

  Nick felt ambivalent about seeing his father. The old man had spent Nick’s entire life inside a prison, and he never got to see Nick grow up. They had to build a father-son relationship under the eyes of the powers that be, and his pops did his best to guide and teach his son from behind bars. It didn’t take long for the father to see that his son was a chip off the old block.

  Nick lingered in the visitor’s parking lot and set his eyes on the towering concrete walls that stretched for several blocks in different directions. Multiple guard towers had a sweeping view of people’s comings and goings. It was an intimidating structure—maximum security at its finest. From the parking lot to inside, everything Nick would do was going to be scrutinized. He sighed and got out of the truck to get the process started.

  He moved through the tight-knit security without any issues. He’d been coming to the prison for so long that he knew the routines like the back of his hand. He knew what was allowed and what wasn’t. In an inexplicable way, Clinton had become like a second home to him—though he didn’t want to make the place his permanent residence. He feared ending up like his father and best friend, serving life sentences and never seeing the outside world again.

  Hence the reason he wanted to retire.

  Nick entered the large visiting room and took his seat among the others there to see their loved ones. They were mostly women with children there to see a husband, a boyfriend, a father, or a brother. The chitchat wasn’t too loud, and there were cameras everywhere. Unlike Rikers Island, the visitors at Clinton had access to vending machines, the kids were able to run around, families were able to take pictures with their loved ones, and the guards weren’t too overzealous with their authority and instructions.

  Nick sat coolly at the table and watched his surroundings, observing a few beautiful ladies there to give their men some needed comfort. He wondered if he ever got locked up would Apple visit him faithfully like some of the women he saw there on the regular. He really didn’t want to find out, though. Nick planned on staying free. He valued his freedom, and it was one of the reasons he continually worked alone and was always extra careful when pulling off a robbery and murder—take shit fast and subtle and leave behind no witnesses. The dead can’t testify against you.

  Nick’s father, Corey Davis, loomed into the visiting area. Like always, there was an air of power about him. Corey’s hard frown transitioned into a slight smile when he spotted his son in the room. He moved toward Nick with a tiger’s stride—confident and authoritative, like even the guards couldn’t tell him shit. He was an original gangster who ran the streets with the best of the best, and he’d once had more money than he could count. Corey was sixty-six years old, but he didn’t look a day over forty. He kept himself physically fit, had smooth skin with no wrinkles, and he hardly had any gray hairs. It was like Nick’s father couldn’t age—like he’d found the fountain of youth.

  The two hugged ardently, showing a father-son bond that couldn’t be broken. Corey was always proud to see his son, and Nick was always proud to see his father. Although their relationship had always been through prison visits, Corey had a knack for knowing how to guide his son through letters or visits from the time he was young, an
d he knew how to look out for his only son even from prison.

  “How you holding up, Pop?” asked Nick.

  “Same ol’, same ol’ . . . one day at a time, because you know the hardest prison to escape is your mind,” said Corey.

  “You still look good, Pops. They got you looking healthy in here. Shit, you’re looking better than some free fools out there,” he joked. “What they feeding you, steaks and ribs? I bet you eat better than me in here.”

  “It’s life, but it’s not home. I do what I need to do to keep myself free inside here,” Corey said, taking his two fingers and tapping the side of his head. “You understand?”

  Nick nodded.

  “Do you?” Corey uttered sharply.

  “Absolutely.” Though Nick was a grown man with a violent past, to his father, he still needed guidance.

  “So, in saying that, are you keeping that promise you made to yourself?” Corey asked. “Because I don’t wanna see you in here with me, doing a life sentence. Don’t make it a family reunion by coming here, son. Do you understand?”

  “That ain’t gonna happen. Trust me. I didn’t travel this far to go nowhere. I’ve moved intelligently and stealthily and have gotten off scot-free,” Nick boasted.

  “Scot-free?” Corey smirked. “Nigga, is you stupid? I don’t know if it’s arrogance or ignorance speaking. But check this, young blood, there’s always a toll on that get-money-quick road, either at the beginning, middle, or end of your life’s journey. You’ll pay on this side or the other for your transgressions. I’m paying with time. I don’t want you paying with your life.”

  Nick nodded. “I hear you, Pops. I got this.”

  “So, what’s your next move since you’re supposed to be out of the game? Are you gonna open up that bar you always talked about?”

  Nick stared at his father in silence, knowing he could never lie to him. “There have been some changes, Pop.”

  Corey’s eyebrow lifted as he repeated Nick’s word, “Changes?”

  “Yeah, I got something brewing right now—something sweet that can net me a few million dollars so I can retire more comfortably.”