Cartier Cartel

by

he loud rumbling in Cartier's stomach kept her awake all night. Her
mother, Trina, promised that she was stepping out with a male friend
and would return shortly with an order from the Chinese restaurant. Cartier
waited up, desperately, until she finally realized she would go to bed hungry,
again. Cartier's mother often put her own needs before the needs of her child.
But leaving Cartier hungry was going too far.

Cartier didn't wait for the alarm clock to ring before getting ready for
school. She was already dressed and waiting on her best friend, Monya, to
meet her so they could walk to school together.

Cartier sat on the windowsill of the quiet, messy apartment and looked
at the street down below. Buses zoomed up and down the boulevard, while
pedestrians made their way to work and school. Soon she spotted her mother
walking down the block in a micro-mini skirt, waist-length leather jacket, and
stilettos. It was deathly cold outside, but that didn't stop her mother from
dressing so scantily. Trina's dyed blond hair against her dark chocolate skin
grabbed everyone's attention. And her walk-more like a bop-was priceless.
Cartier often joked that even Stevie Wonder would recognize Trina's walk.

At thirty-two, Trina still possessed the shape of her youth. She was petite
up top with A-cup breasts, wide hips, a round ass, and thick thighs. Her
stomach was washboard flat, showing no signs that she'd ever given birth. Trina was severely bowlegged, but instead of hobbling, she switched her hips
hard, so hard it served her desired purpose-a distinctive strut that men
loved and found sexy.