Cartier Cartel (2 page)

The closer Trina got to the apartment, the angrier Cartier became. She
watched her mother casually stroll to the tenement building without a care
in the world, although their refrigerator echoed from a lack of food and the
cupboards were bare. Where is she coming from? Cartier wondered.

When Trina realized she was being watched, her eyes instinctively
looked up to the window. Her smile quickly faded when she saw the glare in
Cartier's eyes. She knew she'd fucked up. She also knew she would have to
hear her young daughter's mouth about not coming home last night. After
she climbed the two flights of steps to the apartment, she wasn't in the mood
to listen to Cartier's foul mouth.

"Where were you?". Cartier screamed. "I waited and waited all night
for you."

Shaking her head, Trina began her explanation. "I told that motherfucker
I needed to get home, but he wasn't tryna let me go."

"What do you mean he wouldn't let you go? You're grown!"

"You know how KP is." Trina paused for emphasis and then began taking
off her jacket. "I told him it was over and the next thing I knew we were having
breakup sex."

"Ma-"

"That motherfucker was like, `Now take this ... take my baby... nowyou're
gonna be with me forever." Trina chuckled, reliving her night of sexual fun.

"You kept me in here starving so you could have sex? With a loser? If you
get pregnant that's one more mouth to feed and you can't even feed the child
you already got." Cartier was furious at Trina's immaturity and she also hated
that her mother spoke to her as if they were friends.

"You know you're my only baby. I love only you, and I ain't having no
more kids."

"You're not gonna keep rocking me to sleep every minute with your lies!"
Cartier yelled. "I'm sick of living like this! I don't have any clothes and there's
never any food! I'm sick of being poor!"

"See, now that's where you're wrong. You're not gonna put all the baggage
on my shoulders. It took two to make you, so you can go and lay some of that
blame on your dead father! I done got you through the years that matter the
most. It's time you start doing for yourself around here. You're fifteen years
old. At fifteen, I was already out of my mother's apartment, living with my
man and keeping house-"

"I'm tired of hearing this same ole story," Cartier interrupted. "It's getting
stale. And you weren't keeping house. You were playing house and look where
that got you."

Trina was tired and her bodywas sore from an all-night fuck marathon. She
was in no mood to argue a moot point with her daughter. In some ways, Trina
was disappointed in Cartier. She felt her daughter lacked the independent
nature that Trina had at her age. When Trina was young, if there wasn't any
food in the house, she didn't wait around to be fed. She went out and got
herself something to eat. Whether she walked into a grocery store and stole
food or got some trick to buy her something, she made sure she ate.

All Cartier was good for was complaining.

Trina looked at her daughter intently. She was a combination of both
her parents. Cartier had Trina's dark complexion and body, but sadly, she
had her father's features. Cartier's broad nose and full lips, reminiscent of an
African sculpture, were traits inherited from her father. Yet when she smiled,
her face softened. Just like her mother, her thick wavy hair was a trait of the
Timmonses, much like her fiery personality.

"If you don't like living here you can get the fuck out!" Trina yelled. "This
is my house and I pay the motherfucking bills up in this crib."

"And you remind me every day!"

"You damn right I do. If you were smart you would have learned a thing or two from your momma."

"If school was ever in session with you, maybe I could learn a thing or
two from you. But it seems that you're always out to lunch:"

Trina couldn't figure out if that was a jab, but she knew it was some slick
shit. She could tell by the tone of Cartier's voice.

"Say something else smart and see if I don't shove my fist down your
throat."

Cartier recoiled. She feared her mother's violent nature.

"I need five dollars to buy a ham and cheese hero from the bodega,"
Cartier demanded.

"Girl, don't work my nerves. I don't have five dollars ... I might have
three. You can buy the sandwich and you'll have to drink tap water or bum
something in school:"

"Jeez, you're such a great teacher. I guess I'm supposed to learn how to go
fuck a nigga all night and come back broke!"

"Cartier Timmons, I will slap you into next week! Keep it up!" Trina
threatened. "Now fuck you! Eat your fucking fingers, bitch!"

Trina stormed into her bedroom, slamming her door. Cartier was so
annoyed and frustrated by her mother's actions that she wanted to cry, but
she refused. She walked over to the empty refrigerator once more and stared
hopelessly into it until she heard Monya knocking on the door. It was time
to leave for school.

Cartier flung open the door and peered at her best friend. They had been
best friends since they were born. Monya was just as poor as Cartier, they
had so much in common, and their mothers were best friends too. The two
connected on those levels.

"I heard y'all arguing from down the street," Monya said as soon as
Cartier opened the door.

"What else is new?"

"What happened now?"

"She left me in the house all night without anything to eat," Cartier said
and then grabbed her book-bag.

"Well, in a few days she'll get her assistance check and then you'll have
food for at least a couple weeks."

Cartier shook her head. "Nah, I'm gonna have food today!"
"You got money?"

"We won't need money."

That day was the first day either girl stole anything. And neither felt an
ounce of guilt behind their actions. Stealing was a survival mechanism. No
longer would Cartier look to her mother to feed her. From this day forward
she was feeding herself daily. She reveled in her newfound independence.

isten," Cartier began as Monya, Lil Momma, Shanine, and Bam
all gathered around. "I'm tired of walking around here looking all
bummy while other girls our age are dressed fly."

The crew all looked down at their worn, outdated clothing.

"So, I've put in a call to Shorty Dip and she's agreed to take us out."

"Take us out where?" Shanine asked.

"To the department stores. She's going to take us to the expensive stores
in the city and bag us up."

"I'm not walking out of nobody's store with stolen merchandise," Lil
Momma exclaimed. "I'm not built for such things. Bottom line, if I got caught
my mother would beat fire out of my ass"

"Will you stop being so negative?" Monya interjected. "Ain't nobody
getting caught. Cartier and Shorty Dip already worked out the plan. All we
gotta do is walk calmly out the door. Dip and her crew will do the rest. They'll
remove all the sensors from the clothing, bag it up nicely in a large department
store shopping bag, make sure none of the undercover detectives are on to
us, and then we will do the easiest job, which is walk out the front door."

"If that's the easiest part then why don't they do it?" Lil Momma was
relentless in her objection. Her pride wouldn't allow her to be what the
streets called, a vic. Meaning, she would forever be looked upon as a slouch. A person who allowed herself to be used.

"Look, either you're down or you're not. It's that simple." Cartier had had
enough of Lil Momma and her annoying ways.

"Well then, I'm not down."

Without hesitation, Cartier retorted, "Then bounce."

s the cold winter months came and went, Cartier, Monya, Bam,
Shanine, and Lil Momma began dressing in the latest outfits. Though
Lil Momma wasn't down with boosting, her girlfriends still treated her as
an equal. When they boosted a store, they always added something extra to
their bag for their friend.

Their popularity at school and around the neighborhood skyrocketed.
Cartier was the ringleader of the crew, who planned their heists and provided
guidance and advice. The crew, which she aptly named the Cartier Cartel, all
looked up to her.

When spring rolled around, Cartier had a new outlook on their situation.
Something Lil Momma had said months ago stuck in her head. Cartier realized
she and her crew was doing the riskiest part of the heists. They were the ones
walking out of Bloomingdales, Macy's, Sak's Fifth Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman,
and Barney's with thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. A few of the
Cartel crewmembers had open court cases for shoplifting and all of them had
been caught in the act at least a half dozen times.

Yet Shorty Dip walked home with most of the merchandise. She took
home seventy percent of the merchandise. She rationalized that it was only fair
since she brought the young girls in. After all, she was twice the young girls'
ages and young girls their age didn't need the best clothes or accessories.

They sat outside in Dip's 1998 Lincoln Navigator and took turns going
in and out of those high-end stores like cattle. Dip loved taking Monya inside
stores. She had a light-brown complexion, as if she were a foreigner, possibly of Indian descent. When she dressed properly, her looks were deceiving. By
the time the store got wind that she was up to no good, she was already out
the door and inside the safe haven of Dip's truck.

Each girl couldn't deny the adrenaline rush getting away with stealing
gave them. Business was good and interesting. Popping off tags on $1,800-
shirts was incomprehensible. They had clothing that they couldn't even
pronounce and shoes they couldn't even walk in. Cartier finally understood
what her mother had been trying to convey to her regarding independence.
Boosting had afforded her and her crew a new lifestyle that consisted of
getting their hair professionally done, manicures and pedicures, movies, and
taxicabs. Additionally, the girls sold some of their merchandise at the local
beauty parlors. The Cartel was making moves and handling their business.
But business could always be better.