by Ashley
Carter stood and slipped back into his clothing as well.
Miamor retrieved her clutch bag and pulled out a pen to write her number down. She grabbed his hand and wrote it on his skin and then wrote his number down as well.
“Call me when you come back in town,” she said as she looked up at him with a smile.
Carter grabbed the back of her neck and brought her body close to his as he leaned down to kiss her lips. “Be safe.”
Miamor stepped out of his arms and walked away. She smiled and waved before walking down the beach, toward the pier.
Carter shook his head as he watched her stroll away.
Her hair was a mess, and sand stuck to her legs as her hips swayed from side to side, but she had his attention. Her swagger was intriguing. He rubbed his goatee, and a sly smile graced his lips. “I’m gon’ definitely check for you, Miamor, believe that,” he said to himself as she disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter Eight
“Welcome home.”
—Unknown
Breeze hugged Carter good-bye. “Are you really coming back?”
“Yeah, B, I’ll be back. I’ve got to get some things together in Flint, but as soon as that’s taken care of, I’ll be on the first flight down.” Carter could see the doubt in his sister’s eyes. “I promise.”
Money and Carter slapped hands and embraced. “Be safe, fam,” Money told him.
“No doubt, baby.”
Mecca walked by and nodded his head, but didn’t acknowledge Carter’s departure with words, and Taryn hugged him gently.
“We better get out of here before you miss your flight.” Polo patted Carter’s shoulder, and they hopped into the black limousine and pulled away from the estate.
Ma’tee noticed the black limo pulling away from the Diamond estate and halted his driver. “Wait,” Ma’tee instructed as he sat a block down from his intended destination, “me will sit here for a second and watch.” He checked the 9 mm Desert Eagle that was holstered in his waistline to ensure that it was locked and loaded before he nodded his head at his driver. “Tell de guard dat Mr. Diamond forgot something,” Ma’tee said, hoping that the guards would not want to check the inside of the car as they pulled up to the gated entrance. He wanted them to think that his limo was the same limo that had just left the estate fifteen minutes earlier.
His driver followed his instructions to the tee, and just as Ma’tee had expected, they were given access to the household without suspicion. The guards were clueless to the fact that their enemies were the true passengers behind the dark limo tint.
Ma’tee looked to his full-blooded Haitian soldiers that sat around him, all armed with semi-automatic pistols and ready for whatever. When the limo stopped in front of the house, he exited the limo calmly and rang the doorbell, his goons positioned behind him.
Breeze answered the door, and her smile quickly faded when she noticed the Haitian men at her doorstep. “Aghh!” she screamed.
“No need to scream, Diamond princess,” Ma’tee stated calmly, realizing that he was standing in front of the only daughter of his sworn enemy, Carter Diamond. “Me come peacefully to talk with de head of de Cartel.”
At that moment, Taryn came gliding into the room. “What are you screaming about, Breeze? Who is . . .” Her words trailed off, and her eyes turned cold as she stared into the eyes of Ma’tee, the man who had murdered her husband in cold blood.
“How dare you!” Taryn screamed as tears filled her eyes. She smacked Ma’tee across the face with all her might. Her rage was apparent, and she stood her ground, even though fear gripped her heart.
Ma’tee’s soldiers tensed up at her reaction, but again Ma’tee instructed them to stand down.
“Go and get your brothers.” Taryn spoke calmly but sternly, yet her eyes never left those of the enemy. She didn’t want to give them the pleasure of seeing her intimidated.
Breeze ran out of the room to get her brothers.
“Me come in peace,” Ma’tee repeated when Mecca and Monroe appeared.
“Fuck mu’fuckas coming to the estate!” Mecca screamed. He immediately pulled two .45s from his waistline and trained them on Ma’tee.
“We need to talk,” Ma’tee stated. “As chu can see, chu family is not untouchable, young Mecca. If me wanted to bring malice to chu door, chu sista and mutha would be dead right now. Me come to call a truce.”
“Only after you murdered my father and we put the heat on your ass. You’re here because of what happened at your daughter’s birthday party. You are not untouchable, Ma’tee. If we wanted to bring malice to your door, then you would’ve buried your fucking daughter last week,” Monroe stated calmly. He pulled his own 9 mm from his waistline and rested it in his palm at his side.
“Me understand. Bloodshed came to close to me home wit’ me baby girl. Me will stand down if de Cartel will.”
Mecca yelled, “I’ma murder your fucking daughter, mu’fucka. Fuck a truce, bitch. You took my father, I take her—Fair exchange ain’t no robbery!”
“Yuh kill me daughter, ah kill you sister, then what, young soldier? De Cartel has nothing to lose by calling a truce. Yuh keep yuh territory and we all gain peace of mind.”
Monroe knew that a truce made sense, but was reluctant to make a deal with the devil. “How do we know you will keep up your end?”
“Me a man. Me will keep me word. Me word is all me have.” Ma’tee held out his hand.
Monroe stared contemptuously at Ma’tee’s hand, rage burning in his heart from the fresh wound of his dead father. He knew that the truce was a wise decision, at least for the time being. He shook Ma’tee’s hand firmly, staring him in the eye. Monroe’s gaze was nothing short of menacing, and it held an underlying message. One that said he had not forgotten what Ma’tee had done to his father.
“We have an understanding. Now see yourself off of our property,” Monroe stated. He watched as the Haitians retreated and the limo disappeared beyond the security gates. Money turned to Mecca and said, “Go handle that stupid mu’fucka at the gates. Dead his ass. They should’ve never made it to the door.”
Mecca stormed out of the house and walked across the large manicured lawn while Ma’tee and his limo approached the steel gate. They reached the exit at the same time, and Ma’tee rolled down his window.
The guard posted at the gate looked at Mecca approaching and then shifted his gaze back to Ma’tee.
“I just thought you should know why you’re about to die,” Ma’tee said as he lit a cigar and rolled his window back up.
At that exact moment Mecca reached the guard and removed his chrome 9 mm Ruger.
“Me-Mecca, I didn’t know that was—”
Boom!
Mecca didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. The guard’s life was ended instantly as the hollow-point bullet ripped through his skull. Mecca then hit the button to open the gate for Ma’tee’s limo, and ice grilled the car as it rolled away toward safety.
Truce or no truce, I’m going to avenge Poppa’s murder. Niggas got me fucked up.
* * *
Carter was finally home after being in Miami for the past couple of weeks. He walked into his spacious two-bedroom that sat in a suburban area just outside Flint, Michigan. Carter took a deep breath as he realized how good it felt to be there. His condo was small but comfortable. He had just purchased it a year earlier. He always said, when his money got right, he would move out of the hood, and that’s exactly what he did.
The brick walls were ornamented with various Afrocentric paintings. A large picture of Bob Marley smoking a joint and playing his guitar hung above the fireplace. The place was definitely a bachelor’s pad, but Carter had decorated it pretty well. He tossed the duffle bag full of money onto his brown sectional sofa and pulled his gun from his waist and placed it on the bar-style kitchen countertop.
Carter was getting money in Flint, and it wasn’t a secret. For every getting-money dope man, there were a hundred broke niggas, so Carter kne
w that he was a target for the local stick-up kids in his old neighborhood. Moving out of the hood was not an option after Carter began to become a heavyweight in the streets.
Just as he was about to walk to the refrigerator and toss out some of the food he had left there, he heard a noise coming from the back. What the fuck was that? Carter scooped up his gun and listened closer. He heard commotion coming from his back room and knew that someone was trying to find his stash. His street instincts immediately kicked in. He switched his banger off safety and began to creep to the back.
As he got closer, he saw that his guest bedroom was where the noises were coming from. His door was closed, so he crept up and kicked it open, his gun drawn.
The big-butt Latino woman screamed, “Oh, daddy! Fuck me, papi!” as Ace beat it from the back.
The sounds of Ace’s balls smacking against the woman’s genitalia filled the air, and his chain jingled on his bare chest as he continued to sex the girl, while Carter pointed his gun at him. Carter smiled and lowered his gun as he chuckled to himself. He was laughing at how crazy his best friend was. He didn’t even stop pumping when he saw Carter bust in. The girl was so busy getting her back blew out, she didn’t even notice Carter come in.
Ace looked at his best friend and threw his head up, greeting him while still pleasing himself.
Carter walked out shaking his head from side to side. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to leave an extra set of keys with Ace. He’d told Ace to come in and check on his spot periodically, not bring his jump-offs there. “That nigga is wildin’,” Carter said in irritation as he walked to his living room and tossed his gun on the couch.
Ace and Carter had been best friends since third grade and were more like brothers than anything else. Carter didn’t like the fact that Ace had a chick up in his spot, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to cock-block his man, but he was surely going to express his discomfort later.
Carter took a seat on his couch and felt his cell phone vibrate on his hip. He looked at the caller ID and smiled. It was Miamor calling. I got to stay focused. I’m going to get at her later, he thought to himself as a small grin spread across his face.
Carter wanted to pick up for her, but he wanted to stay focused on his brief return home. He was planning to move to Miami and get on his hustle. He figured Miami was a good place for him to take over and join the family business. He saw more money in the three weeks in Miami than in a year hustling in Flint. The move was a must for him.
Just as Carter finished his thought, Ace came from the back, buttoning up his Sean John jeans.
“Fam, what’s good? I thought you weren’t coming back for a week or so?” Ace walked over to the bar and rested his hands on the counter.
Carter remained silent and just looked at him with a piercing stare.
Ace knew that his right-hand man was upset with him, so he tried to make light of the situation. “Did you see that ass on that broad?” He nodded his head in the direction of the back room.
Just before Carter could tell Ace about himself, the naked Latino woman came walking out, and all eyes were on her. She walked out without a care in the world, as if she wasn’t butt naked. Her behind was so big, you could literally sit a cup on top of it and it wouldn’t move. The only thing she wore was red pumps, and her plump, voluptuous ass cheeks shifted sides with every stride. The nonstop jiggling had the two men in a trance.
“Hello, papi,” she said as she looked over at Carter on the sofa. She then turned to Ace and gave him a passionate kiss before walking over to the refrigerator and grabbing some orange juice.
“Ace, you didn’t tell me you were having company.” She put her hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side.
Carter couldn’t believe his ears. His man Ace was stunting for a ho, pretending that it was his condo, rather than Carter’s.
Ace looked at him and read his mind. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “How could I not stunt for an ass like that?”
Carter shook his head and headed out the door. He motioned for Ace to follow him. Once they reached the door and out of earshot of the woman, Carter told him, “Have that trick out of my shit in an hour. You owe me a stack for fucking in my bed too, nigga. You buying me some new sheets and all.” Carter’s face was expressing his anger at that point. He peeked around the corner to get another look at the horse ass the woman was toting and then looked back at Ace. “Shorty got a fat ass, though,” he said as he smiled and stuck out his hand.
Ace returned the smile and shook his man’s hand. He was relieved and surprised by Carter’s reaction. He was sure he was going to spazz out for him having a girl up in his house and pretending it was his own. He and Carter were like brothers and Carter wouldn’t front his man out like that, but Ace surely was going to pay out of his pockets for his little fun.
“I got you, Carter. My fault about this little situation. You know my baby mama be popping up at my crib acting a fool. Anyway, I’m glad you back home, my nigga. Shit been crazy since you left. After I drop her off, I’ll meet you at the spot. I need to pick up anyway.”
“Look, I’ll pick up the cash from the spot. You just get her out of here and meet me there when you finish up,” Carter said as he opened the door and headed out. Just before he closed the door, he turned around and looked at Ace sternly. “Don’t ever bring a bitch to my house, Ace. We got to stay smart, all right?”
“All right,” Ace said just before he closed the door.
Carter drove his black-on-black 2008 Impala down I-75, bobbing his head to rapper T.I.’s CD. He was on his way to visit his candy shop. Having been away for weeks, he knew he had a nice piece of change waiting for him in the hood. Before he left, he had hit all his four head soldiers with a half kilo on consignment. That meant around $40,000 altogether was owed to him.
For years Carter had been dealing with straight blow—raw cocaine—but after he was exposed to Miami’s heroin trade, he wanted in. Monroe and Polo had offered him a position in the business, and the offer was too good to refuse. He told them that he had to return home to handle some business and would return to join The Cartel.
Carter’s soldiers didn’t know, but he was going to refuse the consignment money and give it to them as a farewell gift. He was ready to leave the murder capital that he called home.
Carter pulled onto the block of North Saginaw and Harriet and saw his goons standing on the corner trying to make pay. He crept up the street behind his limo tint and parked on the curb in front of the candy shop.
As soon as Carter stepped out, he shut down the block. It was scorching hot at ninety-six degrees, and the sun seemed to bounce off his iced-out Jesus piece. Shirtless, his chain hung down to his belt buckle, and all of the tattoos on his ripped body were on display. He wore a Detroit fitted cap pulled low over his eyes, crisp jeans, and butter Timberland, to top it off.
Everyone had their eyes on him, and the hood threw him an onslaught of greetings. Even the small kids playing in the streets stopped and admired him.
Carter proceeded to walk into the candy shop.
“Carter! What’s good?”
“Yo, Carter, glad you home.”
“What up, boy.”
Carter released a small smile and a peace sign as he headed into the apartment projects where the coke was manufactured. He walked up to the fifth floor of the projects. He knocked on the door in a pattern only he and his workers knew and gained entry. When he walked in, the smell of cooked dope filled his nostrils. It was business as usual with topless women cutting up the cooked coke on the round wood table, and naked women with a doctor’s mask scattered over the room, doing their assigned job in the drug operation.
Carter smiled, knowing that his small operation was still running smoothly during his absence. He’d left Ace in charge while he was away, and just as he expected, everything was butter, making the offer that Polo had made him even more tempting.
Carter walked through the house and greeted his
workers and henchmen as he made his way to the back where the money was held. He walked into the room and saw one of his head lieutenants, Zyir, a blunt hanging out of his mouth, running money through the money machine.
Zyir was a little nigga. Only eighteen, he was a smooth-faced, fast-talking hustler at the top of his game. He had been working for Carter since he was fourteen and was the one who ran that particular spot. Zyir reminded Carter of himself, and Carter knew that he was the future. He had a certain swagger about himself that typified gangster.
Zyir was so busy staring at the money, he didn’t even see Carter enter the room.
“Family, family, what’s good?” Carter asked as he walked toward the table.
“Oh shit! My nigga. What’s good?” Zyir got up and embraced Carter. “When you get back?”
“I came in last night. How’s business?”
“Up and down. Yo, I got that for you, plus interest,” Zyir said, referring to the weight that Carter had hit him with before he left.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m came to talk to you about.” Carter took a seat. “That’s on you, fam. You don’t owe me anything.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah, you good. I’m outta here for good this weekend. Take it as a gift, nah mean? From now on, you can get the coke from Ace. He got the same connect, and the prices are going to remain the same.” Carter held out his hand.
Zyir shook Carter’s hand. He was happy to hear that he didn’t owe Carter any money, but sad to hear that his man was leaving the city for good. He knew that Flint was losing a thorough dude. Honestly, he didn’t like the idea of buying coke from Ace because he knew how hotheaded he could be at times.
Zyir couldn’t believe that Carter would give up his successful cocaine operation. “Yo, are you really leaving for good?”
“Yeah, fam, I’m done.” Carter knew that the paper he was making in Flint was remedial, compared to the opportunity that awaited him in Miami with The Cartel. He was about to follow in his father’s notorious footsteps. Carter turned to leave, but before he left, he took off his three-carat pinky ring and tossed it to Zyir.
