Cartier Cartel (36 page)

Pinky walked over toward Jason and dashed toward the dropped phone.
He tried to get to it before she did, but her agile body and youth beat him to
the punch.

"Give me the phone," he yelled.

"Hello, who's this?" Pinky asked.

"Bitch, you already know who this is," Cartier snapped back. "This is his
wife!"

"He don't want your ugly ass!"

Jason thought about wrestling the phone from Pinky, but decided Cartier
could take care of herself.

"Let me say this to you clearly," Cartier began. "It will take me
approximately thirty-seven minutes to get over there from where I am. I'm
walking toward mycar as we speak. Itwill take me approximately eight minutes
to beat you down to a pulp. When I get there, I promise you that I will stomp
your teeth out of your mouth and rip each strand of hair dangling on your
head. You won't be able to see out of both eyes and will be unrecognizable
to all your family and friends for weeks. Now ask yourself if fucking with my
husband is worth it. If it is, then great. Have your sneakers laced up tightly
and your fighting gear on. If not, then you have about thirty-four minutes to
vacate the premises."

The phone clicked and Pinky held onto it for a few seconds longer, trying
to think what she really wanted to do. Was she really ready for battle? She
had heard about Cartier and knew she used to be a vicious bitch. And she
sounded like she was still just as vicious. She would be stupid to still be there
when Cartier arrived. But she had to leave with dignity. She began to front for her one-man audience. She refused to go out like a punk. "Bitch, fuck you.
Don't nobody want this fucking loser. I got so many men I can't count. You
can have him!" Pinky tossed the phone and began to run around frantically
grabbing her clothes and shoes in an effort to leave before Cartier showed
up.

Jason watched in amusement and relief. He couldn't wait to have his
wife back.

Cartier pulled up ten minutes after Pinky had departed. She had sped the
whole way over. She was ready to whip ass as she stomped up the driveway.
Jason opened the door with only a pair of sweatpants on and a huge smile. He
didn't even speak. He just grabbed Cartier in a bear hug and dragged her into
the house. They began kissing passionately and groping each other. Cartier
surmised the slick talking tramp had vacated the premises. Cartier dropped
the matter. The bitch left. It wasn't worth mentioning. She had messed
around with Monya and how could she expect any man to go without pussy
for several days, let alone several months.

"I love you, ma," Jason kept repeating through each kiss. He truly meant
it. Whether his actions showed it or not, Cartier was the love of his life and
he was miserable without her.

For so long he wanted her and when he got her he didn't give her the
respect she rightly deserved. Part of that was because he was a street dude
and they didn't always play by the rules. And because he was still young and
growing into a man each day. His father wasn't around when he was growing
up to teach him how to be a man, so he let the streets dictate his actions.
All his friends did fucked up shit to their women, fucking their best friends
and whatnot, so instead of him being a leader, he followed other's lead. And
that path wasn't putting a smile on his face. Holding and kissing his wife was
what he realized made him happy. He hoped that they could redeem their
relationship and make a new beginning.

"I love you, too," Cartier replied.

Jason realized tears were streaming down Cartier's cheeks. He'd truly put
their marriage in jeopardy and he knew that he'd hurt her deeply.

Jason pulled Cartier into their bed, the bed he'd only moments ago
shared with Pinky and they began to make love. He ate her pussy until her
legs trembled and she called out his name over and over again. The way
she wrapped her legs around his waist and he sank deeper and deeper into
her vaginal walls, connected the couple without words. They realized they
had both made mistakes. But for now, those mistakes were left buried,
underneath the surface. It was the blissfulness of the moment-a bliss they
hoped wouldn't end.

After hours of lovemaking and sleep, Jason was the first to speak. "Ma,
I'm so sorry for all the hurt I put you through. I know I've fucked up time and
time again, and each time you forgave me. I didn't know that you could, and
would, finally get sick of me. I took you for granted and I realize that now."

"You made it so hard to keep loving you," Cartier began. "Each time I
forgave you and opened my heart to you, you would hurt me again, and I'd
feel like a fool. I'm so afraid to try again, yet, my heart won't let you go. I gotta
know if we give it one last try that I can trust you not to fuck me over."

Jason had made up his mind. No more cheating. Ever. "You can trust
me," Jason said and began to suck each of Cartier's fingers. "You're the only
woman for me. I was sick without you and Christian. Promise me you won't
ever leave me again."

Jason looked deeply into Cartier's eyes. He wanted confirmation.

"I promise," she replied and they kissed again. As Cartier lay on his chest,
he softly stroked her back.

"Are you and Monya through?"

The question made Cartier uncomfortable, but she knew it was coming.
She just nodded her head and that was enough for Jason. He squeezed her
tighter and they both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

onya had to admit that she was desperate. Cartier had left in the
wee hours of the morning with just a Post-it note that read: I'M
SORRY. SOME DAY YOU'LL UNDERSTAND MY DECISION.

Right now, all Monya could understand was getting up enough money
to move her and Cartier away from New York, and the judgmental glares
from people in their hood. Monya felt that not only was Cartier embarrassed
by their relationship but she was also afraid that Monya wouldn't be able to
support her as Jason could. Monya had a lot on her shoulders and a lot to
prove. She needed Cartier to know that she was capable of getting that paper
just as a man could. It didn't take much maneuvering for Monya to call Jesus,
the Puerto Rican cocaine supplier she'd used for years. Monya had fucked
him a few times in the past, but he wasn't ever going to wife her. He was too
loyal to his Puerto Rican women to let a black chick be his main and only
girl.

"Jesus, what's good, papi?"

"Oh, Monya, mami, long time, no?"

"Si, daddy. Look, I need to hold something. I got moves to make.
Comprende?"

Jesus knew exactly what she was referring to and was glad she wasn't
stupid enough to talk over the telephone. He told her to come through his stash house on Chestnut and Liberty Avenue in East New York, Brooklyn.
Monya was excited about the prospect of making her own money again. Jesus
had the lowest number around town, and his shit was pure white, Columbian
uncut cocaine. The competition was selling a kilo for twenty-one five. She
was going to monopolize the game by selling at nineteen. Jesus was giving
her the keys on consignment at seventeen per brick, so she stood to make
two large off each key.

Monya dusted off the 1998 Ford Taurus stash car and went and picked
up Shanine to make the run with her. They had to make two stops. The first
stop was to meet Ryan, Cartier's old beat in North Carolina. Word was he was
getting a lot of paper in Raleigh and was doing great for himself. He supposedly
bought a large enough house for a half a million that motherfuckers were calling
it a mansion. Five hundred thousand in New York bought you a dump with rats
and roaches. Monya was definitely looking forward to moving her and Cartier
out of town so they could live in luxury.

"What's up, bitch?" Shanine joked as she got in the passenger's seat. She
had an overnight duffle bag she put in the trunk, and a few books were strewn
throughout the car to look the part, just in case they got pulled over on the
highway.

"Money, that's what's up," Monya said.

"I feel you," Shanine replied. Things had gone south for her since they'd
stopped hustling. She'd spent up her stash money and was struggling day to
day to pay her bills. Monya had called right on time. She was about to go
down to the welfare system and apply for assistance and food stamps. "You
got the car inspected?"

"Nah, we fin to go and do that now, that's why I'm here so early."

"OK, cool."

Monya knew getting the car inspected was a must. It was mandatory the
brake lights worked properly, as well as the brake line and oil pan didn't leak.
The worst thing that could happen when riding dirty was getting pulled over by the cops because a brake light was out or something else broke down.
That wasn't a good thing on the highway with a car full of drugs. There were
too many stories to tell of stupid motherfuckers getting locked up, because
they didn't ensure their ride was working properly before filling it with drugs.
Plus, the cops were on to the secret compartments on these cars, so they had
to play the part to the hilt when cruising down I-95. Their freedom depended
on it.

After they got a clean bill from the mechanic, they headed toward Jesus.

"So, what's the plan?" Shanine asked. "You didn't go into details over the
phone. Who we hitting off and how much we making?"

"True. OK, we about to get paid," Monya explained. "Ryan is in North
Carolina right now, doing lovely. He wants eleven keys at nineteen each.
We're gonna make twenty-two large off that. Then, Big Mike wants nine keys.
He wants us to meet his man in South Carolina and then we head back home.
We stand to make eighteen off him."

"What Ryan? From Harlem? Cartier's old beat?" Shanine was inquisitive.
She didn't like the sound of this.

"Yeah, him," Monya replied. "He heard I had product for a good number
and he reached out:

Shanine was skeptical. "I mean, I know who he is, but he ain't ever copped
from us before. What if this nigga try to rock us to sleep?"

"He good peoples."

"And why do he want so many?" Shanine's bullshit meter was on high.
This whole joint didn't smell right to her.

"Because we got the lowest number on the streets," Monya proudly
replied. "Everybody else is coming in at twenty-one five. Do you know how
my phone is ringing off the hook? We both gonna make twenty large each
in two days time. After this one more run, I'm out the game for good this
time.

"Bitch, you said that eight months ago and you're back. You keep coming back because the money is fast. Fast money spends just as fast, so if you ask
me, we got a few more years of this shit unless either one of us hits the lotto or
meets a ball player stupid enough to marry one of us," Shanine joked.

"Nah, I'm serious," Monya said and her tone changed. "I'm out for real.
Once I save up fifty, I'm taking my son to Atlanta and chill out, buy a house
and get a real job."

"You seriously gonna leave me?"

"Shit, you can come too. Ain't nothing stopping you. You don't have a
steady man nor any kids, so you should think about it too."