by Ashley
“I didn’t know you knew my brother.”
“I-I-” Miamor was at a loss for words, and her mind was unable to formulate a lie.
Robyn stepped up and said, “She doesn’t, I do. We were friends, and I’m just coming to pay my respects. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Carter peered at Miamor. “You okay?”
She nodded, still unable to speak.
“Look, I’ve got to get back to my family, but I’ll call you, ma.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before walking away.
Miamor turned to her friends. “I have to get out of here,” she whispered.
“Mia, what about the plan?” Robyn asked.
“Fall back. I can’t do this right now.”
“But, Miamor-” Aries interjected.
“I said fall the fuck back.” Miamor walked out of the church and almost ran to her car. When she got inside, her head fell to the steering wheel in defeat. “He’s his brother,” she said aloud. “He’s a part of The Cartel.”
Robyn and Aries exchanged glances. They knew that Miamor was feeling Carter. She had broken her number one rule and gotten emotionally involved.
“Miamor, fuck him. He’s one of them. Let’s go back in there and do what we came here to do,” Robyn stated.
Aries looked sympathetically at her friend, but kept quiet.
“I can’t, Robyn. It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple. You gon’ choose him over Anisa? Somebody has to pay for what Mecca did to her.”
“Robyn, shut de fuck up, okay. That’s she sister you’re talking about,” Aries said in Miamor’s defense.
“I thought she forgot,” Robyn said smartly, her arms folded across her chest.
“Bitch, shut the fuck up talking! That’s your fucking problem-you talk too fucking much. I can’t even hear myself think. I know what the fuck I have to do. I was there, Robyn. I know, okay. I just can’t do this right now,” Miamor said as she started her car and drove away.
She dropped her girls off at the apartment that they shared. The car ride there was filled with silence and tension.
“We’re going to make that money, so don’t think this is over. It’s us versus them, Mia. He’s the enemy,” Robyn stated before she got out of the car, slamming the door behind her.
Aries looked back at her friend, who was staring straight ahead, looking at the road. “Do you love him, Mia?”
“No,” she quickly answered. Her heart fluttered when the word left her lips, letting her know that her body knew better. She closed her eyes, and Anisa’s face popped into her mind. She slowly opened them and breathed deep. “I’m gonna kill him and everybody he loves.”
Aries stepped out of the car and watched Miamor as she drove away. She looked up at Robyn, who was standing on the stairs to their building.
“Did you have to be so fucking rude? Give she a break, Robyn. Damn! You know she’s in a fucked-up situation,” Aries stated. “You lucky I not she, ‘cuz I woulda beat your ass first and made up with you later.”
Aries and Robyn walked into their building arguing, both knowing that there would never be any real beef between them.
Miamor drove around the city for two hours trying to make sense out of her dilemma. Instinctively she found herself driving toward the cemetery. She had to talk to her sister. When she made it there, she saw the same crowd of people that she had seen at Money’s funeral. She knew that they were there to bury his body next to his father’s, the infamous Carter Diamond, founder of The Cartel. She didn’t care though. She still parked her car and walked over to her sister’s grave. She knelt down and cried.
“Anisa, he’s Mecca’s brother,” she said as she touched her sister’s headstone. She closed her eyes. “He’s the brother of the man who killed you. I miss you so much. I promise you that I’m not going to forget what he did to you. I’m gonna kill him. I swear on everything I love.” Thoughts of Carter filled her head, but she quickly replaced them with her sister’s face. “Why is this so hard?”
“It just is,” a voice behind her said.
Startled, she stood to her feet and turned around.
Carter stood there in a black Sean John suit, his hands tucked away in his pockets, and his muscular physique hung his linens well. His eyes were red as they gazed down at her tear-stained face. “It’s always hard when you lose someone you love,” he said.
Miamor didn’t respond. She had so much hate for him and his family in her heart. Her sister was underneath her feet at this very moment because of what Carter stood for.
He reached for her, but she pulled away slightly. “Don’t,” she whispered.
He didn’t listen and stepped closer to her.
She wanted to run from him. He was the only person she had ever encountered who intimidated her, and she despised him because of it. He’s a part of The Cartel. I slept with this man. I kissed him and let him explore me. I opened up my mind and body to him. I was willing to give him my heart, and he’s Mecca’s brother, she thought painfully.
He put his arms around her waist and pulled her near, even though she still tried to resist. “I wish I could’ve met her,” he said as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away her tears.
His touch was so gentle, so loving. He was so perfect.
“You love her so much. I can see it in your eyes that you’re hurting.”
“Don’t talk about her,” she replied in a whisper. She didn’t want him to speak Anisa’s name. He had no right to.
“I want to be here for you, Mia. I want you to be here for me. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through today, until I saw you at the church. Seeing your face did more for me than you know.”
Miamor looked up at him, and his words played funny tricks with her heart. Loving him would be wrong. Being with him would be wrong, but playing on his feelings toward her to inflict her revenge would be so right. Can I be around this man and not love him though? Can I do this? she asked herself. Yes, I’ll do it. It’s never been hard for me to murk a nigga before. I’m going to finish what I started.
“I’m sorry about your family,” she said sincerely as she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry, Carter.”
Carter thought that she was apologizing out of respect for Monroe. What he didn’t know was that she was apologizing for the death and pain that she was about to cause his family. She was going to become his only weakness and then use it against him. He didn’t know it yet, but he was going to contribute to his family’s demise.
Chapter Fourteen
“God, please forgive me for I have sinned. Money, Poppa, I’m coming to join you.”
– Mecca Diamond
Leena’s eyes shifted back and forth frantically as her blurred vision became clearer by the second. She didn’t recognize where she was. Tubes were coming from her nose, and the steady beep of the heart monitor echoed through the room. The last thing she remembered was Mecca pointing the gun at her and hearing a loud blast.
Instinctively, she began calling for her man. “Mon-Monroe,” she whispered as she blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to regain clear vision. She tried to sit up, but an excruciating pain shot through her body. She felt the tenderness in her arm and then realized that was where the bullet struck her.
She immediately began to think about the unborn child that she was carrying. She nervously began to feel on her belly and wondered, was her child okay. That was when she heard the unfamiliar sound of a man’s voice, and she instantly grew terrified.
She saw a tall, older man with a beer belly. He had on an expensive silk shirt with the first three buttons unbuttoned, typical gangster attire for older Florida natives. An unlit cigar hung from his mouth as he stood up and walked toward her. The man was of Dominican descent and had slick hair that was neatly brushed to the back.
Leena tried to scream, but she was too weak to project her voice. She immediately tried to reach for the emergency call button next to her b
ed, but she was unable to move her arm.
The man loomed over her and gently tapped her, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Leena quickly smacked his hand off her, and tears formed in her eyes. She knew one of Mecca’s goons was there to finish what he had started.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you, Leena,” the man said as he sat at the edge of her bed.
“Who are you, and how do you know my name?” Leena scooted to the opposite side of the bed, trying to get as far away from him as she could. She grimaced as she felt the pain in her arm. She clenched her stomach, all the while keeping her eyes on the man in front of her.
“My name is Emilio Estes. Monroe was my grandson,” he said as he dropped his head, noticeably saddened.
“Was? What do you mean, was? Where is Money?!” Leena’s face frowned up.
“He didn’t make it. He’s gone.”
Estes stood up and wiped the tear that threatened to fall. The thought of Monroe’s death made him weak. He quickly regained his composure and stared into the eyes of the woman who would birth his great grandchild. He had been with her throughout the whole time she was in a coma.
When he got to Leena’s house on the night of shooting, he was the first to discover that the Haitians had left Leena alive and that she was carrying a child. He’d arranged for Leena’s status to be kept a secret and got her moved to the top floor of the hospital, where they usually admitted celebrities and people of prestige. The doctor told him that the baby would be fine, and he was determined to make sure Leena would be taken care of until she delivered his first great grandchild.
Leena stared aimlessly in complete shock. The words that left Estes’ mouth sent a dart straight to her heart.
“He’s gone? No, he can’t be,” Leena said as her voice began to shake. Her whole world had just crumbled, knowing that the only man she ever loved was gone.
“His funeral was a couple of days ago. Sorry, sweetheart,” Estes said as he stepped closer to the bed.
Heartbroken, Leena broke down in tears and cried like a child.
Estes put his hand on her hair, slowly stroking it to comfort her.
She gripped her stomach, remembering that she was carrying Monroe’s child. Fear sunk in as she wondered if her baby was okay; it was the only piece of Monroe she had left.
Estes noticed the sudden look of worry in her face. “The baby is fine, Leena,” he said.
Leena took a deep breath and buried her face into her hands. “Thank God. Thank God, my child is safe,” she whispered as she continued to cry a river.
Estes wanted to be supportive of Leena, but revenge was the main thing on his mind. He wanted to affirm that Ma’tee’s Haitian mob was responsible for the killing.
“I know you are going through a lot right now, but I have to ask you a question. Who killed my grandson?”
“Your grandson,” she repeated as she briefly stared him in his eyes.
Estes took the cigar out of his mouth and slightly frowned, “What did you say?’ he asked in a heavy Dominican accent.
“Mecca killed Monroe. Mecca did it.”
Estes was at a loss for words as he clenched his teeth and involuntarily balled up his fist. He was hurt by her words, and his anger got the better of him. He angrily grabbed Leena by her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me!” he yelled.
“I’m not lying, I swear to you. Mecca shot both of us. He went crazy. Monroe and I were fooling around and he walked in. But I wasn’t serious with Mecca. Monroe was the one I loved.”
Estes caught himself and released Leena’s hand. He shook his head from side to side and remembered the look in Mecca’s eyes at the funeral. He knew something wasn’t right with his only living grandson. Estes was a firm believer in family morals and loyalty.
What Mecca had done was the ultimate betrayal, and Estes quickly disowned him. Estes was from the old school and played by the rules. If you went against the family, you weren’t considered family anymore. The thought of vengeance was the only thing he could fathom. He motioned to the man that was in the corner of the room to come to him.
Leena was startled. She didn’t even realize that they weren’t alone.
A Dominican man emerged from the shadows of the darkened room, and Estes whispered something in his ear. The man quickly exited the room, and Estes sat next to Leena and instructed her that he would look after her, and everything would be okay. Unbeknownst to Leena, Estes had ordered the death of his only remaining grandson, Mecca.
Mecca sniffed the long line of cocaine, using his nostrils like a Hoover vacuum. His hair was unbraided and wild all over his head, giving him the look of a crazed man. He quickly jerked his head back so that his nose wouldn’t run. He stared at the items on the table-a bottle of Rémy Martin, two Desert Eagle handguns, and a bowl of pure coke. He had already sniffed two grams and was high out of his mind.
He reached over to his end table to grab the picture of himself, Money, and their father. It was a picture that was taken when they were little boys, both of them sitting shirtless on their father’s lap. He remembered that day and smiled. That smile quickly turned into a saddened expression, which was then followed by tears. He was deeply remorseful for his actions and continued to shed silent tears as he picked up the bottle and took a big gulp of liquor then another line of blow.
“I’m sorry, Money, I am so sorry, bro,” he said as he broke down crying hysterically. “I love you, man,” he whispered as he stood up, almost falling back down. He looked around his tri-level condominium that overlooked the sands of Miami’s coastline. He staggered over to his balcony with the bottle in one hand and the picture in the other. He forcefully pushed open the door and stumbled out. He looked into the sky as the moonlight shined down on him. He felt worthless, like he was the scum of the earth.
He took another swig of the drink and threw the bottle off the balcony and watched it land in the Olympic-size swimming pool below. His condo was three stories above ground, and as he glanced down, the mixture of liquor, height, and cocaine caused him to become disoriented. He looked at the picture again and kissed it. He remembered back when he was innocent and untainted by life’s ills. He wished he could start back over and have his life back with his father and brother. But now both of them were gone.
Mecca took off his Timberland boots and carefully climbed on top of the railing. He took off his shirt, exposing his definitive tattoo that covered chest and arms. He closed his eyes and spread his arms out like an eagle soaring in free air.
“God, please forgive me for I have sinned. Money, Poppa, I’m coming to join you,” he said as he prepared to jump to his death.
Before he took the leap, he heard a stampede of feet coming from beneath him. He opened his eyes and glanced down and couldn’t believe his eyes. Am I drunk? he asked himself as he saw at least fifteen men of Dominican descent creeping into his first floor patio door, all of them carrying assault rifles or handguns.
Mecca knew who’d sent them, his own grandfather. He had seen those same goons wipe out other crews while growing up. Mecca instantly grew enraged. His pride was still intact, and he figured, if he was going out, it would be with a bang.
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.
