South Beach Cartel

by Nisa Santiago

  “Maybe it’s five-oh. This ain’t over until detectives decide whether you’re being charged or not. You’re still under investigation.”

  “She doesn’t feel like the authorities. I can see her glaring from the driver’s seat, and I’m a little worried. Does Scar have a sister or something I should be worried about?”

  “I don’t know. But listen, keep going about your business as usual, and we’ll look out. You won’t know we’re there, but we will be.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “I just said so, right?”

  They hugged, and when Cartier left, the duffel bag she brought with her was transferred to Christy. It contained three times their original deal. Apple, Cartier, and Kola all contributed to the Christy Valentine fund.

  Sure enough, what Cartier suspected was true. A distraught Citi would stalk Christy’s place of employment. She couldn’t believe that Scar would fuck a man. Citi wanted to see her in person, her movements, and then blow her fuckin’ brains out. Seeing Christy in person was different than on television. She was tinier and even more feminine and ladylike than the cameras captured. Citi saw her beauty. She was beautiful, classy, and flawless. The trio followed her back to the penthouse and then finally to the bungalow. All they had to do was wait for the right opportunity to strike. The bungalow was the most ideal location because there was no security or surveillance cameras.

  Apple, Citi, and Kola watched the property from a distance. When they saw Irving leave the bungalow that night and Citi following him out, observing the two hugging and kissing fervently, the biggest smile came across Apple’s face. She grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  “There that bitch is,” said Apple.

  “How you wanna play this?” Cartier asked.

  “We go in and take that bitch out—put a fuckin’ bullet in her head. There’s no other way to do it,” said Apple.

  “And what about her brother?”

  “He’s one man. What the fuck he gonna do?” Apple replied.

  “One man or not, we still need to be careful,” Kola interjected.

  Apple couldn’t wait any longer. She was itching to strike and execute her revenge. Scar was put down, so she felt Nick could finally rest in peace. Now she couldn’t wait to see Citi’s face when she and her crew stormed into that house to finally kill her. Apple thought about torturing the bitch first—for hours and hours. Maybe it was too easy to kill her right away. She wanted that bitch to suffer.

  The bungalow and the property surrounding it looked feeble and unprotected. There was nothing stopping the trio from charging into the place and creating bloodshed. But Kola advised them not to assume anything. They had to be extra cautious.

  “There’s nothing more dangerous than a trapped dog in the corner. That’s when they get vicious and desperate, and they’re gonna make every bite matter,” Kola proclaimed.

  “She’s right,” Cartier said.

  “We wait another hour or two and continue to watch the place to make sure there aren’t any surprises. We came this far. Let’s not get sloppy now,” Kola suggested.

  Apple looked like she was growing impatient. Of the three, she fumed the most. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Her opportunity was only a few feet away, yet, she still had to wait, knowing her sister and Cartier were right. Citi might have one final trick up her sleeve to use against them.

  Apple sighed. “This bitch is gonna die slow, I swear,” she grumbled.

  Each lady had played her role in tearing Miami apart with murder and mayhem. They had become the grim reapers of the city. They were on a mission and so many lives were violently taken because of Citi’s act of betrayal against them. The girls had stolen so much money from trap houses and stash houses that they couldn’t spend it fast enough.

  The plan was to commit this one final murder and then leave the city of Miami—hopefully for good. Things were too hot there. The task force was kicking in doors, making arrests, and trying to bring order back to a city that was spiraling with anarchy. There were rivals crews warring with each other and trying to take control over the drug trade in the city. They desperately wanted to fill the void that was left behind when Lynch was killed. What the trio created was a vacuum effect of mayhem, dystopia, and carnage.

  The ladies continued to watch the house. There was no other traffic, only Irving’s coming and going. Citi was completely alone besides Cane. It was after midnight when they decided to make their move against Citi. Each girl wore all black, jeans, and a sweatshirt. Apple cocked back the Smith & Wesson .457, Kola gripped a SW99, and Cartier held onto a 9mm Berretta. They scowled as they climbed out of the car and approached the bungalow like trained soldiers. Their guns were drawn and their awareness was on high. They descended onto the property, moving in the shadows to employ their deadly style of justice.

  The house was dark and silent, but that didn’t mean everything was going to be simple. The girls moved like they were a tactical assassination team—crouched low, their heads on a constant swivel, and in tight formation, ready to have each other’s back.

  Reaching the back door, the girls didn’t see a threat. There weren’t any signs of security and it looked like there would be nothing for them to steal inside. The house was modest and needed some work. The backyard was somewhat disheveled with overgrown grass and shrubs and trees.

  Apple took the lead. She grew antsy and lifted her foot and kicked in the feeble looking back door. Her strength came from pure anger and hatred. But the moment the door was forced open, an alarm sounded, breaking the silence of the night. They didn’t see that coming. But that didn’t stop the girls from charging inside. Their element of surprise was gone. Cane was on to them right away.

  “Citi, run!” Cane shouted, and then he fired at them—Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The girls immediately returned fire. He continued to strike back, releasing a barrage of bullets at the trio, keeping them trapped in the kitchen. Citi refused to leave her brother and she joined in on the gunfight as bullets were exchanged between the two groups.

  Bullets whizzed by Apple’s head, splintering the wood behind her and missing her by inches. It was a tight shot, and it was keeping Apple and her girls from moving forward.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  “Fuck!” Apple shouted, crouching behind the partition that separated the kitchen from the living room.

  As their guns blazed in the night, the phone rang and the machine picked up. The alarm had alerted the security company and without anyone there to deactivate it, the police were being sent. The trio had no idea this raggedy place had a system. They were clever enough to not have signs. Fuck!

  “You fuckin’ bitches!” Citi screamed. “Get the fuck out my house!”

  “Not before I blow your fuckin’ head off, bitch,” Apple retorted.

  There was more gunfire, and Citi and Cane knew they couldn’t hold them off for too long. Apple spun rapidly from her hiding position and took aim with Kola covering her and she released a hail of bullets at the siblings.

  Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak!

  Citi was hit in her leg and she stumbled to the floor, crying out from the pain. Cane saw his sister’s injury and went berserk. He lifted sharply to his feet and fired away, but then he suddenly went down with two shots.

  What Cane didn’t know was that those shots came from his sister. Citi thought that this shootout was confirmation that her brother had been working with the enemy all along. Scar was right! How else did they find her? If she was going to die today, she was taking her brother with her.

  “Citi, I’m hit. I’m hit!” he shouted. “Get the fuck outta here, Citi!”

  When the trio thought they had their opportunity to end this, Cane wasn’t down and out yet, and though he had been shot twice, he still had some fight in him. He maneuvered to his right and continued to shoot wildly at the girls, able to
back them into a corner.

  Sirens blared in the distance, racing toward the alarm ringing out and the loud gunshots that echoed from the bungalow. The 911 calls were flooding in, and the group was about to have some serious company.

  But that didn’t stop them from trying to kill each other. They continued to exchange gunfire and Citi was hit again. She held her waist, feeling crippled from the bullets that slammed into her.

  “Go! Get out!” Cane continued to shout at his sister.

  They were in a losing battle, and the police sirens were growing closer. The girls’ window to escape was closing. And though Citi had been shot twice, she was still alive. Apple wanted to put a bullet in between her eyes, but Citi had managed to flee the scene, leaving her brother behind, who continued to defend her until his end. Cartier sprung toward him and ended him, firing four bullets his chest. He collapsed facedown. He was gone.

  “We gotta go!” Cartier shouted.

  She and Kola were trying to drag Apple out of the residence, but Apple put up some resistance. No way was she going to allow Citi to escape. But the heat was on and more trouble was coming their way—the police.

  Apple broke free from their grip and dashed through the house in frantic search for Citi. She saw her blood trail and followed it. Citi had escaped through a bedroom window and Apple climbed out of the same window only to see nothing.

  Once outside the house, the girls got separated. Cartier jumped into their getaway vehicle and went looking for the twins. A few blocks from the house, she saw Apple. Apple hurried into the car and then they sped off looking for Kola, who was nowhere to be found.

  Immediately, several police cars converged onto the property. Uniformed officers sprung from their cars with their guns drawn. The alarm still sounded and they covered the property in haste, rushing into the house searching for suspects or victims. They only found Cane’s body sprawled in the living room with multiple shots.

  Apple and Cartier were cautious and afraid. Police were everywhere, they were riding dirty, and Kola was still missing.

  “Where the fuck is she?” Apple cursed, becoming worried.

  She refused to leave without her twin. The ladies did their best to look inconspicuous. The police kept coming, heavily flooding the area, and with Kola missing, they hoped that she didn’t get herself arrested.

  “Leave the guns in the car. We need to walk around and find my sister,” Apple said.

  ***

  Kola carefully crept into the abandoned house three blocks away from the crime scene. She had caught a glimpse of Citi in the distance and followed her. Not too far away, it was pandemonium with police activity. But that didn’t stop her from going after Citi with her pistol in hand.

  The side door to the house was ajar, and Kola slowly entered the dark quarters, with the wood floors squeaking as she took steps farther inside. That worried her, because it could indicate to Citi that someone else was inside the abandoned house. But Kola continued to search for her, gun in hand and carefully looking everywhere.

  Citi had been shot twice, once in the leg and the other bullet went through her side. Both injuries were through-and-through, but she was losing a lot of blood. She cowered in a shabby bedroom, her breathing shallow and fear written on her face. She tried to use a torn shirt to make a tourniquet to tie around her thigh and waist to try and stop the bleeding, but she was doing a poor job at it. She was extremely weak, and she started to feel faint.

  A sudden noise from the next room, a floorboard squeaking, alerted Citi that she wasn’t alone. Then Kola loomed into her view, startling her. Citi’s gun was on the floor, not too far from her reach, but Kola already had the drop on her. She pointed her large cannon at a weakened and bleeding Citi—aiming for her head. Kola had her dead to rights.

  “So this is it, huh?” Citi uttered faintly. “Would saying I’m sorry squash this beef?”

  Kola stepped closer, the barrel of the gun in Citi’s face. She was ready to shoot her point-blank in the head. But then Citi uttered, “Please, Apple. Don’t do this. I’m pregnant.”

  Kola hesitated.

  Noticing the uncertainty, Citi knew she had her ear. She started to cry and beg for her life, believing that Kola was Apple. “I want my baby to live, Apple,” she said. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m truly fuckin’ sorry for being a foul bitch and betraying you and Cartier. But I’m going to be a mother, Apple. You hold my baby’s fate in your hands and I am begging you to spare us. Let us live . . .”

  Kola started to think about her own miscarriage and unexpectedly started to feel some pity for the young and stupid bitch. The two of them stared at each other. Things were tense. And then Kola sighed, making her choice.

  Kola picked up Citi’s gun. “Go!” she said. “But you better get ghost and never be seen in Miami or New York again.”

  Citi nodded. “Really? I can leave?”

  “Now! Before I change my mind. If you’re lying—if you go underground and try to resurface with a new team—let’s just say that I’ll murder you cartel style. You’ll beg for mercy but won’t get it.”

  “I promise you, I’ll never be seen again.”

  “Go!”

  Citi knew it was over. By a miracle, she was still breathing.

  Epilogue

  She’s gone, Apple. Most likely, she’s dead. Besides, Citi had nothing left. We took everything from her, even her dignity,” Kola proclaimed to her sister.

  “You don’t know that for certain, Kola,” Apple griped.

  “That bitch was barely breathing and was bleeding heavily. She took a lot of lead. Most likely she ended up somewhere and died slow,” Kola lied.

  “That bitch didn’t die. Her heart still beats. I can feel that shit.”

  “And? Who the fuck cares? She has nothing. Cane’s dead. Scar’s dead. She’s finished.”

  “I still care, Kola! I wanted her dead!” Apple fumed.

  “OK, let’s just say by some miracle she’s alive. What is it that you want?” Kola asked.

  Apple didn’t reply right away. “I want the throne.”

  Cartier knew that Citi was just a placeholder for Apple’s chronic thirst for chaos. If not Citi, then it would have been someone else. It wasn’t the player; it was the game that Apple craved. She had a restless spirit, whereas Cartier needed a time-out from everything.

  “Head will be home in forty-eight hours,” she informed Apple. “So in two days I’m officially retiring.”

  Apple looked at her with skepticism. “You? Bitch, please. You’ll get a taste for the old life again. I guarantee you can’t just walk away from it.”

  “Watch me,” Cartier replied.

  “I’ll give you six months before you and I cross paths again, and all I’m saying is keep your cartel from crossing over the Brooklyn Bridge into my territory,” said Apple.

  “Or what, bitch?”

  “Or you got a problem,” Apple joked—maybe.

  “No shook hands in Brook-land,” Cartier sang.

  The two of them then embraced. Cartier kissed the side of Apple’s face and Apple did the same.

  Cartier climbed into her new Bugatti Chiron and Apple and Kola climbed into Apple’s brand new Maserati and both flashy cars headed north on I-95, going back home to their respective stomping grounds.

  ***

  Amir was in the TV room watching The Four. He liked the battle concept and how the best person won. The room was somewhat crowded until inmates began to slowly disperse. As Amir chuckled, he was oblivious to the looming threat and his impending doom. The three guards on duty all decided to take their breaks at precisely the same time.

  Finally, Amir noticed he was almost alone. He stopped chuckling and looked up to see Corey, flanked by three of the deadliest killers inside Clinton. Corey, an impenetrable figure with his salt-and-pepper beard and cold eyes, felt betrayed.


  “You thought I wouldn’t find out that you were helping the bitch who murdered my son?”

  “Nah, Corey, it ain’t even like that.”

  “How is it then, nigga?”

  “I-I-I-I-I-I had it all w-w-w-w-worked out. That bitch was gonna die for what s-s-s-she did to Nick. You know he’s my brother. I’d do anything for him.” Amir was stuttering like he had a speech impediment.

  “You was gonna take his bitch and spend his bread, nigga. That’s what the fuck you were gonna do!”

  “Corey, don’t do me like this,” Amir pleaded. “You know you like a father to me.”

  “Kill this fool,” Corey commanded.

  “You owe me!” Amir screamed. “If it weren’t for me it would be Nick in here! Not me! I saved your son’s life, and you gonna take mine!”

  Amir was surrounded, and his muscular body was rapidly penetrated by homemade shanks over three hundred times. His body had so many holes in it, it looked like Swiss cheese.

  Corey stood over the body of someone he loved. It had to be done. It was the game.

  ***

  Citi and Irving arrived in the small town of New London, Connecticut just before dusk. Citi’s long brown hair with blond highlights was dyed black and pulled into a ponytail. She had nothing left—but maybe a simple future with Irving. And Irving had nothing but a promise of employment at his father’s auto body shop.

  Irving would become their skilled mechanic and Citi agreed to take in humble work at the front desk as a receptionist. The pay would be lousy, but she had a second chance at life and she’d prayed to God that if he allowed her to live, then she would make it work with Irving, and most importantly, she would never complain again. She’d lost her entire family, and she didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to lose Irving too. So they left Miami right away to start a new life hundreds of miles away in Connecticut.

  They had arrived in town via Greyhound bus. It was a long, tiresome trip on the smelly and loud bus. When they arrived, they weren’t met with any fanfare. There was no one at the bus depot to pick them up. They had to take a train and two buses before they finally got to their new home—a newly vacated, furnished one-bedroom rental over the body shop.