by Ashley
“I’m sorry, it’s policy—”
“Open the casket!” Miamor’s voice was full of venom and suddenly tension was an attendee.
“Inmate—”
“I’m not leaving here without seeing his face. I’m his wife. I deserve to see him. I just want to see him!” Miamor was distraught. She was crying so hard that her face had taken on a shade of red as her distress plagued her.
The woman whose face Miamor was still trying to place stepped up and whispered something to the groundskeeper. Seconds later, the casket was being opened.
There he rested. Seeing his dark face, eyes permanently closed, hands folded on top of himself in a signature suit, Tom Ford, if she had to guess. It was this image that haunted her. To see the absence of life, his shell, lying before her, knowing his spirit was somewhere in the clouds, dug a hole in her so deeply that Miamor’s shoulders jerked with pain.
“Hey handsome,” she whispered as she touched his face, caressing it with the back of her hand as she bent to place a kiss on his lips. “I love you. My God, I love you so much. How are you leaving me right now? How could you do this? I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” she wept. Miamor had always hoped they would die together, old in their home, with a lifetime of memories behind them. They were just getting started. In fact, amidst the wars and the treachery, they truly hadn’t even begun. She blamed herself for not being by his side, but only because she needed someone to assign blame to. She knew her presence probably would have made no difference, but her absence placed a guilt on her that she couldn’t shake. She had incomprehensible loss to deal with: the burden of her imprisonment, the inability to be there for their son. Miamor knew Carter enough to know that it was what had killed him. He had been disconnected from his lifelines and his heart couldn’t function without them.
Miamor wasn’t even supposed to be touching Carter but not even the guards were cold enough to stop her. It felt like they were witnessing a private moment. Everyone in attendance was a voyeur to her grief. Her world was ending as she realized her doom would be the punishment of walking through life without a world that included him. His love was what sustained her and without the sustenance of him, Miamor would slowly rot. She may be physically present but her soul was right there in that casket with Carter. No one would ever be able to touch her heart the way he had. Carter was her soul food and without him she would starve. He was the one who made her believe she was worthy of love, that she was worthy of a man who wanted to do more than simply possess her. Carter had shown her forgiveness when he owed her none and she had yet to repay him for that kindness. With him six feet under, now she never would.
The opportunity to enjoy this gift of a man had passed her by. She had wasted it, wasted her life, their life, behind bars. I should have just run away with him. We could have taken C.J. and lived away from the madness. Away from the feds. At least we would have been together, Miamor thought. She was so full of “what ifs” that she was choking on them. Miamor could feel the torturous vacuum of nothingness begin to consume her as she cried over her man. He was hers. She was his. They belonged to each other. How dare God take him so soon. Carter’s death had birthed an anger with her creator that she had never felt before. She had never been close to God, because she did the devil’s work, and Carter’s death only widened the gap.
Miamor was vulnerable, exposing her heartbreak for the few that were in attendance, and it was a scene to see. Everyone, even the guards, felt her loss. She noticed the droplets of rain falling onto his body and quickly realized that it was her tears, staining him. The rain was picking up and Miamor didn’t want him to get wet. She reluctantly let go. “Even a lifetime would not have been long enough. I’ll see you when I get there, my king,” she whispered. She already had it made up in her mind that she would expedite the process. Miamor couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe; the privilege of inhaling felt selfish if Carter could not.
As she leaned over to kiss his lips she wished she could just share her air with him, let him borrow a little of hers, but life didn’t work that way. Everyone was living on borrowed time and Carter’s had sadly expired. It’s not fair. God please. But there was no point in begging. Hers would be the last prayers to be answered if ever there was a hierarchy. Her sins were just that great.
“Mia…”
Miamor loved Breeze but she wanted to dead her where she stood for interrupting her goodbye. She turned her head, eyes ablaze, but her misplaced anger was quickly doused with the image of her son.
“Ma?”
C.J. stood, the spitting image of his father, and Miamor felt the tug of her heart. This was what Carter had left her with. C.J. was the kryptonite that would make sure she wasn’t destroyed in Carter’s absence.
Not much time had passed—in fact C.J. was coming up on his thirteenth birthday—but it had felt like an eternity and somehow, she could see he had changed. He was flanked by two men, both of Dominican descent, clearly there for C.J.’s protection, and she looked at Breeze stunned. She went to her son, who stiffened slightly as she embraced him, but a mother’s love, no matter how distant, is undeniable. He melted eventually at her touch.
“You’re so big. I can’t believe I’ve missed so much,” Miamor whispered, completely distraught. It was like the time she missed didn’t hit her until she saw his face. He had completely transformed into a young man she didn’t recognize. “I’m so sorry,” Miamor whispered. “As soon as I can, I’m going to come for you. That’s my word.”
“I’m okay, Ma,” C.J. said with a maturity that Miamor didn’t like. It burned her that she was missing these important years with him. She would have no control over the type of man he would become and the thought both saddened and scared her. Without Carter, who would shape him? Who would he be? He was growing at a rapid rate and she felt like less than a mother for not being around when he needed her. She had banked on Carter being there to fill in for her absence but with him gone, the guilt ate at her. He lowered his tone. “I’m with Estes.”
Recognition flickered in her eyes as worry filled Miamor. She didn’t entirely trust Estes with her son. I killed his daughter … an eye for an eye …
“Leave here with your auntie Breeze. Listen to me, C.J. You cannot trust Estes. Do you hear me? Don’t trust him,” Miamor warned.
She could already see his indifference and the guards were stepping up, intruding on her space and her time with her seed. It was important that he listen to her. It was imperative. His life could depend on it. Miamor wrapped her arms around her child. “I love you, don’t ever forget that. You’re the son of Carter Jones. You best not ever forget that. I love you so much.”
The guards grabbed her by the elbow. “It’s time—”
“Don’t touch me while I’m talking to my son!” She snatched her arm away from their grasp, but before it could become a scene Breeze stepped up.
“I’ve got him, Miamor,” Breeze reassured.
Miamor hung her head in defeat as tears fell with the rain. “Take care of him, Breeze. Please, make sure my baby is okay. Look at him. He’s hardened. He’s—”
“A son of the Cartel.” The mystery woman stepped up and as if she were the one cutting the guard’s checks they backed up, giving her space. “I’m Anari. I’m a friend of Carter’s.”
Anari noticed the looks of jealousy and wrath that crossed Miamor’s face and she chuckled. “Only a friend,” she assured. “I’ve heard about that temper of yours. You have nothing to worry about. I don’t want any part of that illogical craziness that Carter loved so much. Carter ensured your freedom before he passed. Reuniting with you and his son has ordered his steps for the past year. I’m sorry he won’t be here to see all his hard work pay off, but he took care of everything. I need you to stay strong in there, erase those thoughts I see swarming in your head. Think of your son and stay low. I’m going to be coming for you and when I do, I need you to be ready.”
Anari stepped off and before Miamor could ask any questions
the guards were escorting her away. “Wait, please, wait.” When she turned back she saw her son standing in front of Carter’s casket, saying the same goodbyes she had just muttered.
She went to him, walking up from behind, and placed her cuffed hands around her son’s body. He didn’t cry the way she had. He only stood there, quietly, solemnly. The groundskeeper stepped up. “We have to close it now. The rain…”
Miamor nodded and watched. Pieces of her heart broke off as they lowered the lid inch by inch. “Wait,” she said. She reached inside and removed his Rolex, then handed it to C.J. “I love you” were the last words she said before the guards insisted that she leave.
She was grateful for their tolerance on this day, but she had a feeling that some of it had to do with the mystery woman who was now being driven away in the blacked-out Bentley. Miamor didn’t look back because it would only make her want to stay with her family, stay with him, and none of it was possible. So instead, she retreated, nursing a wounded soul as she headed back to her imprisonment. An era had ended and much like the conclusion of all good things she wanted to fight it.
Suddenly she regretted every single insignificant thing that had ever kept her and Carter apart. None of it had been worth it, but in the end, she was glad that he knew how much she loved him. Miamor would sacrifice it all for Carter Jones and he knew that because she had shown him. Their tumultuous love had endured the darkest valleys and reached the highest peaks. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced and she was grateful to know truth and love without conditions through her connection with him. If they all were God’s children, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Carter was his favorite, because the energy he contributed to her life was almost mystical, as if God had given her a small token of love to show her that He was indeed real. Not many people experienced love like that and as she stared out her window and looked up into the sky, she felt Carter with her. He would always be with her because he had been inside her. He had rooted himself there, giving her a baby, planting his DNA. Carter had fertilized her soul so good that remnants of him would bloom every season when it rained most.
This was one of those times. The pain was present but somewhere deep inside she felt the pulse of his strength telling her to keep going. He’s here, he will always be here, she thought as she placed a hand to her heart. She took a deep breath and when she exhaled her tears ceased. Her loss was great. They had written a story so great that without it the world of the Cartel would have no narrative. They had fought hard and loved harder. She wouldn’t have minded doing it just a bit longer.
She remembered meeting him in that casino all those years ago. She remembered hesitating at the funeral when she was supposed to kill him, when something inside her told her she couldn’t. She remembered the way he had entered her on that beach under the moonlight. She smirked as she thought of the many showers she had taken to get the sand out of all her creases. She thought of disappearing from his life then appearing on his doorstep, begging him to forgive her as rain poured over them. He had stepped out into that rain with her, taking her back because their love was fated. Neither of them had ever been able to resist. The birth of their son, traveling across oceans to bring her man back from Saudi Arabia, building up Vegas together as the first black family to have a majority share in a casino, and being crazy enough over him to put a girl in the dirt for trying to take her place. All of it—the good, the bad, the hood, the ugly, the crazy … she would do again in a heartbeat because it had been a hell of a ride. Carter had made every moment worth it.
Miamor would yearn for him every day for the rest of her years. That’s just what a real man had the power to do to a woman. She had experienced one of life’s gifts. He had blessed her and Miamor would never forget it. They were inseparable, even the grave couldn’t part them, and she promised herself that every day with every breath, she would live for them both.
EPILOGUE
TEN YEARS LATER
C.J.’s heart pounded as he stood at the grave site, staring at his father’s headstone. He felt so many emotions pulsing through him and he clenched his fists at his sides, used to working out his conflicts through his hands, through boxing. This feeling was one that fighting couldn’t solve. “You weren’t there for me, man,” C.J. whispered as he swiped his hand over his full beard and sniffed away the mist in his eyes. C.J. knew his father was a great man, but so many years had passed without him that he had grown resentful. “You just left me.” C.J. had been too young to understand Carter’s absence in his life after Miamor had gone to prison and years without explanation had put a deep seed of hurt inside him. At twenty-two years old, he was a man with unresolved anger.
He chose to work it out inside the ring. Estes had raised him, almost bred him, like a prizewinning horse. He had spent most of his life in the Dominican Republic, making a name for himself with his skill, fighting all the demons that lived inside his head from his childhood. He had worked hard to make his exterior as hard as possible. His defined abs, his broad chest, and hard biceps were all masks that hid his interior. C.J. was fucked up, unable to trust, unable to love, and he made no apologies for it. Everything he had lived through had made him this way.
He looked at the Rolex watch he wore on his wrist. It was the only thing besides his name that he had of his father’s. It was time to go. He couldn’t spend too much time wallowing over the past. He had to make it to his training session or Estes would kill him. He was preparing for the biggest fight of his career, right here in Miami. He had moved back to train with a world-class team, but he knew when he stepped foot in the city that his family’s past would come back to haunt him.
He could feel the legacy of his family name in the air. Like slaves haunted plantations, the Diamond family seemed to make Miami their own personal heaven. Even a decade later, the name still rang bells all over the city. He told himself that he could stay focused amid the media storm, but he had no idea of how strong the legacy of his father really was. Miami was a city that could turn even the best of men bad, and he prayed that the decision to come back wouldn’t lead to his downfall. Only time would tell.
* * *
Miamor sat braiding the hair of her cell mate but in her mind, she was on a sandy beach with Carter Jones. It had been ten years and time had done nothing to remedy her heart.
“You good Mia?”
Miamor nodded and looked down at Ash. “Yeah, just thinking,” she replied.
“You go off in your head a lot,” Ash said. “Better be careful in here. One of these bitches in here is just waiting to catch you slipping. What are you going to do when I’m gone?” Ash asked.
“They know better,” Miamor said. “And I taught you everything you know. You came in here looking like a meal to some of these women. Now you know how to protect yourself,” Miamor said. Ash had been her cell mate for the past four years. When the girl had first arrived, she was young and defenseless. At eighteen years old, she was way too young to be in prison. After she had gotten into a fight with an inmate, Ash had spent two weeks in the infirmary with cracked ribs and a punctured lung. When she returned, Miamor taught her how to keep the wolves at bay. She taught her everything she knew and turned her into a monster. Ash was fearless with Miamor at her side and had caught two bodies since being inside. The guards didn’t know who was responsible for the hits, but the inmates knew and once they recognized Ash as Miamor’s guard dog, they never tested her again.
“You’re getting out of here, I’m proud of you. I’m not telling you not to get your hands dirty, because you’re a grown woman, you’re going to do what you want to do, but be smart. Move smart out there. I don’t want to see you back in here with me,” Miamor said.
“You only have a year before you come home,” Ash said. “I’m going to set up everything for when you get out.”
“Tell me what you have to do,” Miamor said.
“I got it,” Ash assured.
“Tell me anyway,” Miamor insisted.<
br />
“You want me to contact Aries and get your money, get a place, and then find your son,” Ash said, reciting the instructions in the exact order Miamor had taught her.
“He will have enemies that he knows nothing about. Don’t let them touch my son. He doesn’t need to know I sent you. In fact, being close to me will make it harder to be close to him. So, don’t even mention me. Just become acquainted. Get close to him and keep the snakes out of his grass,” Miamor instructed.
Miamor knew that her son was back in Miami and there was no way she was leaving anything to chance. She had made too many enemies to not worry.
“I got him, I promise,” Ash said.
Ash had become like a daughter to Miamor and although she was sending her back into the world with an agenda, she truly did care about her well-being. “And take care of yourself, Ash. Miami is treacherous. Be careful,” Miamor added.
“I will,” Ash assured her. “Now you can go back to your daydreams,” Ash said with a chuckle.
Miamor laughed but as she continued to braid, she slipped back into the depths of her mind where Carter still lived.
* * *
“Nigga, I want my fucking money when I burn your ass,” Mo said as he revved up the engine to the stolen convertible Porsche 911 he drove. He looked over at Joey, his best friend, who sat confidently behind the wheel of a 1969 Camaro.
“Bruh, get the fuck out of here. You in that foreign shit. I like that homegrown,” Joey cracked as the beautiful ebony-colored girl seated in his passenger seat giggled at the witty response.
Mo looked at the exotic woman next to him with her manufactured looks and then stuck up his middle finger. “Just have my bread, my G,” Mo gloated. “On three.”
“1,” he counted.
“2,” Joey added.
“3!” the girls shouted as both men took off. They flew through the streets of Miami, lawless and without worry as the horsepower under their hoods made it neck and neck. They were playing a dangerous game, pushing 140 miles per hour down the city street, weaving in and out of regular traffic. Mo’s long hair that he wore wild and free like a lion’s mane blew in the wind as he pressed the beautiful machine to the limit. His face fell in defeat as Joey took the victory and the sound of his tires screeching to a stop as he did a full three-hundred-sixty-degree turn tore through the air as he hopped from the car.
