by Ashley
He had made a mistake by killing Monroe, and it was a regret that he would live with for the rest of his life. Estes’ vengeance was not necessary. The burden was already heavy enough, sometimes too heavy for him to carry.
As Mecca ventured on his grandfather’s side of town, his instincts sharpened. He kept his eyes in his rearview and one hand on his pistol. He never wanted to be caught slipping again, so he stayed ready, safety off. It would be the wrong day to run up on him unannounced. He knew that he would never make it through his grandfather’s door with a gun, so he hoped that Estes did not have him killed on sight.
Mecca had love for no one besides family. He remembered the Christmas holidays and the many birthdays that had been spent in his grandfather’s presence. How long ago that seemed now. How easily they both had forgotten.
It seemed to Mecca that Estes placed more value on his relationship with Monroe. The little boy that respected his grandfather simply wanted to be loved, but the grown, cold man that Mecca had come to be wanted to place his grandfather in the dirt.
As he finally neared Estes’ home, he parked at the public beach and decided to walk along the sand behind his grandfather’s house. The fact that Estes’ house sat directly on the water helped Mecca go undetected. The many people that were enjoying the sun allowed him to blend in, and as he neared his grandfather’s home, he noticed that Estes was outside sitting on his patio. A few feet away from him, a woman stood in a sundress and large sunhat, holding a child in her arms. Estes seemed to be distracted by the woman’s presence as Mecca approached.
He wished that he had brought his pistol with him. It was the first time he had seen his grandfather so relaxed. There were no bodyguards in sight, and it would have been the perfect time to end their beef once and for all, but Mecca knew that he did not have time to go back to his car. He had to try to reason with Estes.
Mecca watched the woman go inside, and Estes’ eyes were so focused on the woman that he never saw Mecca walk up.
“Hello, Grandfather,” Mecca greeted in a low, steady tone.
Caught completely off guard, Estes turned around to find Mecca standing before him. He half expected to be shot instantly. Mecca lifted his arms and shirt and then said, “I’m not strapped.”
“Why not? I would not have extended you the same courtesy,” Estes replied as he pulled a.45 from underneath the table. It had been resting in his lap, but Estes immediately showed his cards to let Mecca know that he was constantly aware of the business he was in.
“You’re still alive,” Estes observed as his eyes roamed his grandson cautiously, surveying him to see if he was injured.
“Diamonds are forever,” Mecca replied.
“Tell that to your brother,” Estes shot back. He clicked off his safety as his finger gripped the trigger of his gun. “You’re a snake, Mecca. You’re a traitor. You killed my grandson.”
“Am I not your grandson, Estes?” Mecca asked.
Estes fixed his mouth to respond, but was interrupted when Leena emerged from the house with her son in one arm and a bowl of fruit in her hands. She was so busy trying to balance everything without dropping it that she didn’t look up. When she finally did, both she and Mecca got the surprise of their lives.
“Leena?”
Her name fell out of his mouth without him even knowing it, and the sound of his voice caused her to drop the glass bowl in her hands, causing tiny glass fragments to explode on the ground. Her heart beat in fear as she instinctively gripped her son in protection.
Mecca’s eyes widened as if he were seeing a ghost. He had shot her himself. For all this time, he had thought that she was dead. Now here she was, standing before him, as beautiful as he remembered. His gaze went from her to the child in her arms. He looked like a tiny replica of Mecca, but deep in his heart, Mecca knew that the little boy was not his seed. Mecca was sterile, and the child in Leena’s arm was his nephew. It was Money’s son, and that fact brought the betrayal that he had felt rushing back to him.
Tears came to Leena’s eyes as she saw Mecca’s expression go from sad to angry. She knew him, and felt as if he would explode at any moment. Estes didn’t hesitate to chamber a bullet in his gun. He, too, recognized the look in his grandson’s eyes.
“It’s that easy for you to shoot me, Estes? Your flesh and blood,” Mecca stated as he looked back and forth between Lena and Estes. Seeing her reminded him of his sins, and his bottom lip began to quiver uncontrollably. He held his arms out at his sides as Estes’ finger rested on the trigger. “Did Money mean that much more? Why is his life more valuable than mine? Huh, Estes? Why does everybody hate Mecca?”
Estes was silent but unflinching as he listened to Mecca break down. “Ever since we were little, everybody always favored Money. Mecca was the bad twin. I was the unwanted seed! My heart was cold before the streets ever got a hold of me. Everybody always loved Money… never me,” Mecca shouted, getting years of pent-up emotion off of his chest.
His words brought tears to Leena’s eyes, because even she had chosen Monroe over Mecca. She had contributed to his hurt, to his isolation.
“There is no excuse,” Estes spoke up, unaffected by Mecca’s outburst. “You murdered your brother. You knew what the consequences would be for your actions. Be a man and take what you deserve,” Estes said without the theatrics. He was calm and sure of his decision as he raised his gun, aiming it at Mecca’s heart. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Leena stopped him.
“Emilio, please don’t,” Leena whispered. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Mecca as her tears began to flow. “There has been enough bloodshed.” Her voice was pleading, and even though she hated Mecca, she did not want to see him dead. He looked so much like Monroe, like her son, and as she read the hurt in his stare, she began to think about Mecca’s pain for the first time since she had been shot.
“Leena?” Mecca repeated in disbelief as he stumbled backward a bit, completely in shock.
Estes stood to his feet and stepped close to Mecca. His gun hung threateningly in his palm. “She just saved your life, son. You are no grandson of mine. You will keep your distance,” Estes said. He did not raise his voice, but his tone was all the warning that Mecca needed.
“What do I have to do to get your forgiveness, Estes?” Mecca whispered so that only the two of them could hear his plea.
“Ask God for forgiveness. I have none to give,” Estes replied.
Mecca stepped back and wiped his face with one hand. “You’ll call off your dogs,” Mecca countered.
Estes looked back at Leena, who nodded her head as she wiped the tears away while holding her son tightly.
Estes replied dryly, “I will.”
Mecca extended his hand to his grandfather, but Estes walked away disgusted. He had no respect for Mecca, and did not want there to be any misunderstandings. Estes would never welcome Mecca back into his family.
Mecca walked away stunned. His mind was completely blown. The mixed emotions that Mecca felt threw him completely off balance. Seeing Leena alive and healthy, seeing her breathing, had taken his mind back to when everything was as it should be. She reminded him of the days that were so carefree, and the baby boy that mirrored him in image made him think of Monroe. He wanted to think that the fresh little man he had just seen was his own son, but he knew better. It wasn’t even possible for Mecca to procreate. He was shooting blanks. It was as if God knew that nothing good could ever come from him.
Leena had given birth to his nephew and had been in hiding, living with Estes all this time. Now that he had seen her, he did not know if he could just walk away. Her affair with his flesh and blood had led Mecca to kill his own twin. Her survival enraged him, while at the same time, it pleased him. He had so many questions that only she could answer.
How long had she and Monroe been fucking? Why did she choose him over me? What the fuck is she doing with Estes? Mecca thought as he sauntered blankly down the sandy beach. These things burned in his mind, and he k
new that he would not be satisfied until he got some answers. He got into his car and pulled away, knowing that he would not stay away for long.
Leena watched from the upstairs window as Mecca disappeared up the beach. Fear paralyzed her as she thought of what he might do now that he knew of her existence. Seeing him again terrified her, but when she had looked in his eyes, her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest.
Mecca symbolized so many things in her life. He looked as if he had been through so much anguish since the last time she saw him. He had aged, matured, changed, and she did not know if it was for the better. She saw misery in his stare, and his features were so identical to Monroe’s that she could not help but fall in love at first sight.
She did not know how two brothers who were so physically alike could be so different on the inside. She hoped that Mecca would let her be. She had pieced her life back together seamlessly with the help of Estes, and the last thing she needed was another Diamond brother to come along and tear her world apart.
“Are you okay?”
Leena released Mecca from her gaze as she turned around at the sound of Estes’ voice. She nodded unsurely as she put on a phony smile. “I’m fine,” she replied.
Estes came over to her and removed baby Monroe from her arms. The one year old went to him happily. Estes was the only man that had ever been around her son. He was the only stability in her life, but seeing Mecca had been like a bad omen, and she felt it in her bones that a deadly storm was about to blow her way.
Chapter Eight
“A real live American boy.”
– Illiana
When Zyir stepped off of the private plane, the overwhelming heat hit him instantly. His baggy khaki shorts and white button-down linen shirt seemed too heavy for the Mexican heat. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the crisp white wife beater underneath. His eyes were hidden behind the Homme shades he wore.
The hidden airstrip that they had used to fly in on was undetected by the Mexican government, so Zyir felt secure as he stepped off of the plane. Still, he knew that because his presence in Mexico was completely undetected, if something were to happen to him, no one would even know where to begin looking.
He had wanted to bring Mecca along, because that was the one person he knew would not be afraid to pop off if things got out of hand, but Mecca was a hot head, and could easily blow this deal for them. Because of this, Carter had insisted that Zyir go alone, and even though he went everywhere strapped, he felt that it would be of little use in the foreign country.
“Buenas tardes, señor,” the driver greeted as he held open the limousine door.
Zyir nodded his head to greet the man, and then stepped inside of the plush vehicle. A full liquor bar was set up for him inside, but he chose not to partake. He was there to handle business only. He could bullshit back home.
He attempted to keep his bearings as the limo took him to his destination, but he quickly realized that it was no use. He did not know where he was being escorted, and the fact that he was not in control pushed him out of his comfort zone. Trust would be his only way of getting through this meeting. He would have to hope that the men he was about to meet with were men of honor. If not, he was about to walk into a situation where he was greatly outnumbered.
Zyir watched as the city turned into countryside as they drove along the coastline. An hour later, they pulled up to an estate much grander than anything he had ever seen. The beauty of it was magnificent. He admired the stone exterior. He was brought back to reality, however, when he noticed the armed guards standing post at the gates and aiming their automatic sniper rifles from their high towers. The property was guarded like a fort.
Zyir’s palms began to sweat as he attempted to keep his composure. He removed his pistol and placed it underneath the seat of the limo. He knew that the sixteen bullets from his 9 mm would be no match for the artillery that the guards were equipped with. They would fill him with holes before he even let off a shot. So, he was making the first effort to establish a trusting alliance with the Mexicans by going in unarmed. It was his way of showing good faith.
The guards peered into the car, and once Zyir’s identity was confirmed, he was admitted onto the property.
The atmosphere was not what he had assumed it would be. There were no bikini clad women and no sleazy lifestyle taking place. It reminded him of the Diamond estate. It was a family home, and he relaxed a bit when he stepped out of the car.
“Welcome to Mexico, Zyir,” a man greeted as he emerged from the mansion.
“You must be Felipe,” Zyir responded. “I appreciate the invitation. We have a lot to discuss.”
“That we do, but my wife has prepared a beautiful lunch for you on the back terrace. Let’s eat first. The time for business will come soon,” Felipe stated. He led Zyir through the home and out onto the back terrace that faced the ocean.
“Zyir, this is my wife, Maria, and my sister Illiana,” Felipe introduced.
“Very nice to meet you, Zyir,” Maria greeted.
“A real live American boy,” Illiana stated as she surveyed Zyir, her dark, mischievous eyes looking him up and down as she sipped on a cocktail.
Her dark hair and striking features immediately stood out to Zyir. He had never seen a woman so beautiful. As she stared him down, Zyir knew that there was nothing good about this girl. She was a temptress, and the deep pools that were her eyes were hypnotic. He quickly broke their stare to avoid becoming lost in them.
She was the most exotic young woman he had ever seen. She exuded a confidence and sexiness that he had never encountered before. Zyir was no fool, however. He knew that to do business with the Garza family meant that Illiana would be the forbidden fruit. Wars had been sparked over women, and no matter how exotic she appeared, no pussy was that good. He was always about his dollar.
Not wanting to appear too friendly, Zyir nodded his acknowledgements and took a seat. It was customary for a wife to welcome the guests of her husband, and Maria ensured that Zyir was comfortable. The four ate and spoke as if they were old acquaintances, but Zyir was simply being polite and going through the motions. He was itching to get to the money, but knew that he had to build a rapport before Felipe would even bring it up.
Although there were only four people at the table, Zyir was well aware that he was being evaluated by many more. After much unwanted banter, Zyir finally spoke up. His patience was running real low. I’m not here on a social call, he thought. If we ain’t talking money, then we’re wasting time.
He leaned into Felipe so that the women could not overhear and said, “I’m ready to get down to it. I appreciate your hospitality, but it really isn’t necessary. Time is of the essence, nah mean?”
Felipe put his hand on Zyir’s shoulder. “My man… in such a rush. Sometimes you have to do things slowly in order to do them efficiently, my friend,” he replied. He stared tensely at Zyir, and then snapped his fingers, making one of his housekeepers rush quickly to his side.
“¿Si, señor?” the elderly woman asked.
“Rosa, please take my friend’s glass and get him a fresh drink,” Felipe instructed.
Zyir never broke Felipe’s stare, because there was not a man on this earth who could intimidate him. He was fearless as he sat, one man against what he was sure was an entire Mexican army lingering in the shadows of the massive estate. It was clear that Felipe held the power, and by making Zyir wait, he was sending a clear message that everyone on the southern side of the border moved at the pace of the Garza family, including Zyir.
Illiana watched Zyir’s interaction with her brother and secretly admired him. In no form was Zyir bowing to Felipe, and his demeanor intrigued her. She was not used to opposition. No one ever had the balls to hold their ground against the Garza Cartel, but it was obvious that the reputation was not impressive to Zyir.
The housekeeper came back with a new drink for Zyir and then turned to Felipe and announced, “It has been done, señor. He is not in the dat
abase.”
Felipe’s mood immediately changed, and his callous expression transformed into a satisfied smile. “I apologize, Zyir. I had to make sure that you are who you say you are. I lifted your prints off of your cocktail glass and had one of my men run them through your country’s national federal database. All federal agents must have their prints taken. A man in my position can never be too cautious,” Felipe explained.
Not wanting to appear too impressed, Zyir held his cards, but he was inwardly pleased at how thorough Felipe was. “I understand,” Zyir replied.
“Now, if you two will excuse us,” Felipe stated as he stood to his feet. “I think I have wasted enough of this man’s time.”
“Surely lunch with me was not a waste of time,” Illiana spoke up, seduction oozing off of her words.
Zyir smirked and then followed Felipe into the mansion.
By the time Zyir departed Mexico, he had secured a new connect and partnership with Felipe. The Cartel was back on, and with the pull that the Garza Cartel possessed, it was only a matter of time before Carter was free and money flowed again.
As Ace stared out of the hotel window, he could not believe his life had come to this. Hiding out in northern Pennsylvania with no contact to the outside world was not what he called a life. Foolishly, he had tried to backdoor The Cartel and sell bricks of cocaine on the side. He had gotten greedy. Tired of constantly working beneath Carter, he had tried to expand on his own, but there was a reason why Carter kept him in the background of the operation. Ace did not have the makings of a boss, and he proved that when he sold a kilo of coke to an undercover federal agent. The feds could almost smell the fear on Ace, and they took advantage of it from the very beginning. Once Ace revealed his connection to The Cartel, he became a pawn in their game to take down Carter, and like a true snitch-ass nigga, Ace obliged to save his own behind.
