by Ashley
Mecca hopped off the rails and stepped back into the house. He walked over to the table and grabbed both of his guns. He then dipped his entire face into the cocaine bowl and took a deep sniff. Cocaine was all over his face as he rose up with bloodshot-red eyes. He walked over to the radio, and the sounds of Tupac blared out of the speakers. He turned the volume up as high as he could, so the intruders didn’t have to guess what part of the house he was in.
“Come on, mu’fuckas!” Mecca yelled. He pounded his chest just before breaking the bulbs in the big lamp that lit the room up. He wanted to kill every single man who came for him. He was about to set that mu’fucka off.
Mecca ran to the corner of the spacious room and kneeled behind the couch and cocked both of his guns. “Y’all trying to come in my home and get me? Do y’all know who the fuck I am? Huh!” he yelled over the couch, as four men ran into the room and positioned themselves.
Mecca’s body was sweating profusely because of the drugs and his anxiousness. He was ready to get it popping. He rose up blasting, shooting anything that was moving.
The sound of Estes’ henchmen’s assault rifles filled the air as they tried their best to take Mecca’s head off.
Mecca, even though he was high as a kite, aimed with a marksman’s precision, picking them off one by one. He ducked behind the couch briefly for cover and then emerged blasting. Busting his gun was like second nature to him, and he began to kill the men in the room. Before he knew it, he was the only one left standing.
When he heard the sounds of feet coming up the stairs, he realized that he had no chance against the army. A man ran through the door, and Mecca rolled across the floor and fired his gun at him, but nothing came out. He was out of bullets.
Mecca rushed for him, but the man popped him in the shoulder. But that didn’t stop Mecca. He ran and struck the man across the face, causing him to drop his gun. Mecca then began to beat the man to a pulp. Swollen to twice its normal size, the man’s face became like a bloody stew as Mecca pounded the man with his gun. That’s when the others came up the stairs, and Mecca caught another bullet to the mid-section.
“Ahhh!” he screamed as the burning-hot bullet ripped through his torso. Mecca fell on his back in pain and saw another man coming for him.
The room was dim, so the man couldn’t see Mecca clearly and began firing aimlessly.
Mecca grabbed the dead man’s gun and fired a bullet through the man’s head, dropping him on contact, and the rest of the goons came in blasting.
Mecca then struggled to his feet and ran full speed toward the balcony. With bullets whizzing by his head and body he thought he had no choice, so he leaped.
“Everything is going to be okay,” Young Carter said as he consoled Taryn. “I’m going to find him.”
Taryn had been worried all night about her only remaining son. She had gotten the news from her father that he would be killed. She knew the rules to the game, but as a mother, there was no way she could accept the contract on her son. She tried her best to convince her father to call it off, but he wasn’t budging.
She had been calling Mecca all night to tell him to flee. She just couldn’t believe what Estes was telling her. She didn’t want to believe that Mecca had killed Monroe.
Estes had decided not to tell Taryn about the baby, and he moved Leena in with him, so he could protect her. Potentially she could have been carrying a boy, and that would be another opportunity for a male heir to bear his last name. By Taryn being past her biological time frame to have babies, he wanted to shield Leena until the baby was born.
“I know Mecca didn’t do what they saying he did. I went over there this morning, and his place was empty and riddled with bullet holes. I have to find my baby.” Taryn cried hysterically on her stepson’s shoulder.
“I will find him for you. Mecca is a soldier. I know he is still alive, okay. You know Mecca. He’s probably laid up somewhere with a female right now. Them goons just came over and trashed the place, trying to intimidate him.” Carter was selling Taryn a dream. He knew in his heart that if Estes put a contract on Mecca then most likely he wouldn’t half-step. “Look, I’m going to check around and see what I come up with, okay.”
“Okay, Carter. Thank you so much. Please bring my baby home. I can’t lose another son.” Taryn grabbed his face gently. She looked into his eyes and was amazed at the resemblance he held with his father. At that moment, she had faith that he would make things right.
She then looked over at Breeze, who was on the couch crying, and went to soothe her.
“I will. I’m going to find him. Just don’t worry,” Carter said just before he exited the house. He hopped into his car and grabbed his phone from his waist so he could call Ace and Zyir to roll with him. He picked up his phone, but dropped it when he felt someone grab him from his backseat.
“Yo, Carter, it’s me!” Mecca said as he released Carter.
“Man, what the fuck are you doing?” Carter asked as he turned around to look at Mecca. He saw that he was shirtless and bloody. The atrocious smell of liquor and blood invaded Carter’s nostrils.
“Don’t look! Stay turned around! They watching,” he said as he lowered his voice and stayed crouched down out of sight. “Yo, fam, pull off so we can talk.”
Carter pulled off, and once they were clear of the house, Mecca sat up and looked around nervously. “Man, they trying to kill me.”
“I know. Taryn told me what was going on. Man, tell me you didn’t do what they say you did.”
“Hell nah, I didn’t kill Money. I told you I saw them mu’-fuckin’ dreads running out when I came. I didn’t have my banger on me, so I couldn’t get at them.” Mecca kept his eyes moving.
Carter immediately had skepticism, because as long as he knew Mecca, he was always strapped. It didn’t sound right, but he was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I knew it couldn’t be true, man. You know we have to get at them niggas, right? We have to go to war.”
“Most definitely, but I can’t, with my grandfather on my ass. I have to lay low for a minute.” Mecca’s voice began to break as he explained to Carter how he jumped off his balcony to get away from Estes’ goons and landed in his pool. He needed medical attention for his wounds and was losing blood rapidly.
Carter looked at Mecca’s bloody shoulder. “We have to get you to the hospital, man.”
“Nah, I can’t go to the hospital. Estes will find out. He has the whole city in his pocket. I need to holler at Doc,” Mecca said, referring to one of his father’s old friends that happened to be a surgeon. “Then after that I am going to have to lay low, feel me?”
“I got you. I’m gon’ hold you down. I have an idea,” Carter said as he jumped on the highway. He had to make Mecca disappear for a while and only knew one place where Estes would never look for him.
Chapter Fifteen
“This ain’t Flint town, baby. Money flows like water in Miami, and I got a crazy connect. I’m getting the birds straight off the boat . . .”
—Carter Jones
Taryn looked directly into Mecca’s eyes. A part of her was relieved that he was safe and sound, but another part of her ached at the fact that he could possibly be responsible for Money’s demise. She could never imagine him committing such an act of sin. Certainly the hands that had shed her son’s blood were not those of his brother. It couldn’t be.
“Mecca, I need to ask you a question. I will only ask you once, and I need to you to be honest,” she stated. Her voice cracked from emotion. She was losing everything that she and Carter had worked so hard to maintain. She composed herself, and once Mecca’s eyes met hers, she asked, “Is it true? Did you harm Monroe?”
Mecca fixed his lips to answer honestly. He wanted to be truthful with his mother, but the look in her eyes revealed her inability to forgive. Killing Monroe wasn’t a trespass that she could dismiss, and he loved his mother too much to give her a reason to hate him. He couldn’t change the fact Money was gone, but he was st
ill breathing and needed his mother’s love like a newborn that hadn’t yet been removed from the womb, so he lied.
“No.”
The lie ripped through his heart like a hollow-point, and he couldn’t contain his emotions. He held onto his mother, trying to feel her heartbeat through their embrace while he wept on her shoulder, mourning the death of his brother and the loss of his sanity. Ever since he had killed Monroe, his head wasn’t the same.
“Everything is going to be all right, son. I love you. No matter what your grandfather says, I know in my heart that you would never do what you’ve been accused of. Monroe was your other half, and you are too selfish to hurt a part of yourself.” Taryn held Mecca’s face in both hands. The sight of him so weak and exposed reminded her of his childhood years, and she wished that she could turn back the hands of time. She wanted to go back to the days when her husband was their protector, but those days were lost, and now it was up to her to salvage what was left of her family.
Mecca had tears in his eyes as he sniffed loudly. He knew that his mother was unaware that he was responsible for Monroe’s murder, and the secret was eating out his insides.
“Now you are the only son I have left. Walk through these doors and you man the fuck up, do you hear me?”
Mecca knew that she was serious because swearing was something that his mother rarely did. He nodded his head in understanding.
“Your father isn’t here, Mecca. My baby Money is gone. I’m not losing you too.”
He hugged his mother tightly, and Breeze stepped up and wrapped her arms around him as well.
“Mecca, I love you,” Breeze whispered as they all embraced tenderly.
“I love you too, B,” he answered, holding on to her as if it were the last time he’d ever see her. He looked up at Carter, who stood next to his Uncle Polo, both hands tucked away in his Cavalli slacks. “Take care of them for me, man,” Mecca said in an almost pleading tone.
“You know it, fam. Get your head right, baby boy. I don’t know what’s going on inside you, fam, but we need you healthy, nah mean? Don’t worry about anything. I’ma take care of everything,” Carter told him.
Mecca embraced Carter briefly and gave his Uncle Polo a nod before he turned around to walk through the double glass doors and into the therapeutic mental institution.
Breeze fell into Carter’s arms as soon as Mecca disappeared from sight, and her tears flowed freely down her golden face. “I don’t want to lose you, Carter. Everyone’s leaving me. All of my brothers are gone except you,” she whispered in a broken voice.
Polo and Taryn stood silently as they watched the youngest member of the Diamond family break down. They knew it had been a long time coming. Breeze was by far the most vulnerable member of their dynasty, and with nothing but misery around her, they were all waiting for her to crack.
“Shh,” Carter whispered. “That’s not happening, Breeze. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Mecca. He’s going to get better, I promise you that. We’re going to rebuild this family, you hear me?”
She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder as he walked her to Polo’s Bentley.
“Get some rest, B. I’ll be by to check on you later, a’ight.”
“Okay,” she said as she stepped into the open car door. “Be careful, Carter. I don’t want to bury you too.”
“You won’t have to,” Carter replied as he closed the door. He turned to Taryn and Polo then said, “Taryn, can I speak with Polo for a second?” He rubbed his hands over his neatly trimmed goatee in frustration, the stress evident on his face.
Taryn nodded and then excused herself to the passenger seat of the car.
“Yo, what the fuck, fam? Shit is getting wild. Mecca got these mu’fuckas after him, got his mental all fucked up. My baby sis is breaking down, and Money . . .” His words broke off in his throat as he thought of his current circumstances. He had just become acquainted with his siblings, and he was already losing them. “I swear to God, fam, I’m ready to murder Ma’tee.”
Polo could see Carter was hurting, and he felt his pain. He had been a part of the Diamond family from the conception of the very first seed, and he too was feeling the burdens of the war with the Haitains. “Listen, son, we’ve got to stay smart . . . strategic. You said it yourself. We’ve got to think before we move. Right now, The Cartel’s taking a lot of losses. We need to be about the business, get our money up and our soldiers strong before we get back at Ma’tee. We need to sit down and promote some of our street lieutenants—”
Carter interrupted Polo, “Nah, fam, I can’t rock with them mu’fuckas, man. No offense, fam, I respect what The Cartel is and all that it stands for, but I don’t trust them niggas. I haven’t bled with them, fam. They don’t know my hustle. I need my own people down here. These Haitains is playing for keeps, and I’m gambling with my life, nah mean? I need niggas around me that I can trust.”
Polo nodded. “A’ight. Put your peoples on the first flight out, and let’s get this money so we can dead this beef and get back on track.” Polo walked toward his car and got in, leaving Carter standing on the curb alone.
Flipping up his cell phone, Carter called his right-hand man. “Yo, Ace, what’s good, baby? It’s about that time. I need you, fam.”
It was all that needed to be said. Ace knew what time it was. He agreed to gather Zyir and be on the next flight out to chop it up with his best friend.
The next night Carter waited patiently as he watched Ace and Zyir emerge through the airport doors. A sense of relief instantly washed over him when he saw the faces of his two most trusted associates. With his own squad in town, he could lay niggas down with no reservations because he had his right and left hand beside him. He greeted Ace first, slapping hands with the one person he had come up in the game with. They were thick as thieves and had taken over their hometown of Flint with relative ease. They were seasoned and thorough. They had been putting in work together for years, and he knew that the transition to Miami would be a smooth one.
“You good, fam? You had me worried on the phone. You ain’t sound right,” Ace commented as they embraced.
Carter nodded his head and greeted his protégé, “Li’l Zyir, what’s good, baby? I’m glad you came down, fam.”
“My nigga call, I come running, fam. That’s how we do, nah mean? Besides, it’s warm than a mu’fucka down here. It’ll do ya boy some good getting away from that Arctic shit up north.”
Carter walked toward his Range, and they all packed their bags inside before pulling away from the curb, Jay-Z’s American Gangster CD immediately filling the leather interior.
Out of habit Ace punched in the code to Carter’s hidden compartment, revealing three chrome pistols. He removed two, tossing one in the backseat to Zyir.
Carter, Ace, and Zyir were the last of a dying breed and would never be caught without their heaters. Zyir and Ace had the exact hidden compartments in their own whips. The compartments always held three guns, one for each of them in case of emergencies.
“So what’s so important that we had to come all the way down here?” Ace asked, admiring the change of scenery that Miami offered. The palm trees and busy streets seemed worlds away from the dilapidated houses and potholes of his hometown. “It’s nice down here, fam,” he commented as he waited for Carter to reply.
“It’s the same game with a different face, fam. Don’t let this glamorous shit fool you. I’ma be real honest about the shit that’s going on here. My father—”
“Your father?” Ace asked in astonishment, knowing that his best friend had never known his dad.
“Yeah. That’s how all this started. My father was the leader of a criminal enterprise called The Cartel. Basically they run all this shit down here. Drugs, real estate, politics, anything that happens here, The Cartel makes happen or is a part of in some way.”
“Yo, so these Cartel mu’fuckas on some real organized crime type shit, huh?” Zyir asked.
“Yeah, and business
was good, up until my father was murdered by Ma’tee. Ma’tee runs little Haiti, and this nigga ain’t holding no punches. Since killing my father, he’s murdered one of my little brothers and sparked a war that is fucking with my money.”
“Your money?” Ace asked. “You a part of this Cartel shit?”
“I run The Cartel. It’s mine now, which is why I need the two of you here. Y’all know how I move. I trust both of you with my life,” Carter said seriously.
“You know we’re with you, fam, but how is the money down here? We were making at least a hunnid thou a month in Flint. You know how lovely the hustle was there. We had our blocks on smash,” Zyir said proudly.
“A hunnid thou?” Carter raised his eyebrows and looked at Zyir in the rearview mirror.
“Each,” Zyir bragged. “That’s good money, nah mean? Ya boy was eating.”
“Don’t worry about the cash, fam. You gon’ eat. You will make a hunnid thou easy,” Carter guaranteed.
Zyir nodded in approval, but he lost his mind when Carter added, “A week.”
“Nigga, you bullshitting!” Ace exclaimed.
Carter remained silent.
Ace looked back at Zyir and said, “Yo, this mu’fucka is really serious.”
“This ain’t Flint town, baby. Money flows like water in Miami, and I got a crazy connect. I’m getting the birds straight off the boat, ninety percent pure, but these Haitains is plugging up my leak, nah mean? They are taking out my soldiers, which is slowing up my money. We about to rebuild, and when we’re where we need to be, we’ll get rid of them mu’fuckas.”
Ace and Zyir trusted Carter and was with him before he even finished what he was saying.
Carter drove them to a luxury apartment community near the Diamond household. It was a 2,500 square foot space with three bedrooms for them to share. They walked in through the attached two-car garage, a Hummer for each of them resting inside.
Carter removed two sets of keys and tossed one to each of his friends. “Y’all are all set up. This place is close to my family’s home. They live a few miles from here. I’ll take you through tomorrow to meet them and introduce you to your new workers.”
