The Demise (21 page)

“I'm trying real hard to keep my anger under control right now, C.J. I provide the very best for you. I've done certain things so that you won't have to. I've lived a certain lifestyle that I never want you to emulate. I want you to know that as long as you tell me the truth, you'll never get in trouble. I'll never punish you as long as you keep it straight up with me. You understand?” Carter asked.

C.J. nodded.

“Nah, you a man. You don't answer me with no head nod. Now I'm going to ask you again. Do you understand?” Carter reiterated.

“Yes, sir,” C.J. replied.

“Now what happened? Where did the drugs and guns come from? I think I have an idea, but I want you to tell me,” Carter said sternly as they pulled away from the police station.

C.J. was quiet as he thought about lying to Carter. He didn't want to say anything to get Fly Boogie in trouble. “I'm not a snitch,” C.J. said as he looked out the window. “So whatever punishment you give me, I'll take.”

Carter didn't know if he should be livid or proud. “I respect that,” Carter said. He didn't need C.J. to lay out the story, anyway. The moment his attorney had said C.J. was caught with pills in his book bag, Carter knew who was to blame: Fly Boogie. “Drugs aren't cool, C.J. Guns are dangerous. They don't make you tough. Pulling a trigger is one of the most cowardly things you can do. That takes no thought, no strength. It's stupid. You're my son. You're a future king. No son of mine will use drugs or sell drugs … ever.”

“I wasn't,” C.J. said in a low tone. He looked over at Carter. “Why can't I have a gun if you carry one?”

Carter sighed because he knew that one day he would have to answer for the things he had done. “I know how and when to shoot a gun, C.J. I know the responsibility that comes with carrying one. When you're old enough I'll teach you how to handle a gun and who to and not to aim one at, but that's not for you right now. I don't need you running around L.A. playing cowboy. I want you to enjoy being a kid. You have the rest of your life to be a man; you only have a few short years to enjoy your childhood. You understand?” Carter asked.

C.J. nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Carter reached over and pulled his son's head across the seat, kissing the top of it. “I wish I didn't have to carry a gun, C.J. I wish I were the type of man who led the type of lifestyle that didn't require protection. I wish I had the luxury to live by the letter of the law instead of against it. You can grow up to be that type of man. You're supposed to be better than me.”

They were silent the entire ride home. Carter had thought he had a few more years before the allure of the street began to entice his son. It was happening too early and it was heartbreaking. Carter didn't want C.J. following in his footsteps. He wanted the streets to be a mystery to his son. His hustle wasn't something he wanted to pass down to his son. Carter knew exactly who had caused this to happen. Fly Boogie was the only person he had words for at the moment. When Carter pulled up to Miamor's home, he could hear an argument brewing on the inside.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Giving my son your shit to hold?” Miamor screamed. She was so loud, her voice carried through the stillness of the suburban neighborhood.

“You think I meant for this to happen? The cops were fucking with me! I was just trying to show him the hood,” Fly argued back. “I sat in the fucking bull pen for hours. I ain't feeling this noise right now. All this fucking yapping! It was a mistake! I fucked up! Damn!”

C.J. looked down at his feet. “They never argue. They're arguing because of me,” he said, feeling guilty.

Carter shook his head. “They're arguing because Fly Boogie made some bad decisions today. This isn't on you, lil' man,” Carter replied. He tried the door. Finding it unlocked, he walked inside. His presence caused an awkward silence to fill the room.

“Niggas don't knock no more?” Fly Boogie asked as he mean-mugged Carter, who scoffed in dismissal.

“Oh baby boy, come here,” Miamor said, sighing in relief as she rushed to C.J.'s side.

“Go put him to bed,” Carter stated to Miamor as if he had just walked into his own house and not that of another man's.

“Carter…” Miamor said, knowing that leaving the two men in the same room alone was not a good idea—not after tonight.

Carter nodded his head, signaling for her to remove their son, and she reluctantly walked out, steering C.J. up the stairs to his bedroom.

“You asked my son to hold your drugs? A hundred thousand dollars' worth of pills in an eight-year-old's school book bag? You put guns in his hands. You got him out here skipping school. I can hear it in his voice that you got him thinking that shit is cool. I'm trying to think of one reason why I shouldn't put you in the dirt,” Carter said in a low tone, hands in the pockets of his designer slacks as he walked around the living room, admiring the art that hung on the walls.

“This ain't Nevada and it damn sure ain't Miami, my nigga. L.A. is my city. You can't bury me in my own backyard,” Fly shot back, mugging Carter. He had tried to take him out of the game before, but Carter seemed to have nine lives. Unbeknownst to Carter, he was standing in a room with the man who had shot him. There was larceny in the air. He had no idea the lengths to which Fly Boogie would go to get him out of Miamor's life.

“Let's be clear, little nigga. The only reason I haven't stepped to you yet is because you brought my son back home. That don't give you unlimited passes with me. You want to be me, nigga? You fucking my bitch, trying to play a part for my son, you in these streets trying to build yourself your very own empire just like me … so move like me, you unoriginal ass mu'fucka. That woman and that little boy upstairs are my family. They will always be my family. I protected them at all costs.”

“That protection was lacking when it came to the Saudis. You wasn't protecting shit. You couldn't stop shit. Baraka took your son and exiled your bitch until I made that shit disappear,” Fly Boogie stated arrogantly.

Carter stepped toward Fly Boogie until they were standing toe-to-toe. “You begging me to tag your toes. You better tread lightly,” Carter said in a serious tone. “Let's be clear. If you ever put my son in jeopardy again, I will kill you.”

“Carter.” Miamor stood at the top of the steps looking down at the ego battle between the two men. He looked up at her. “It's been a long day. Maybe you should go.”

Carter looked back at Fly Boogie. “We gon' finish this,” he said.

“Indeed,” Fly Boogie replied arrogantly as Carter headed for the door. Watching him swagger out made Miamor's stomach clench. God knew she just wanted to be with him, but their time had passed. There was no point in forcing something that he had so clearly claimed to not want.

As she watched Carter, Fly Boogie watched her, and he was livid. No matter how much he was there for her, how much love he gave, how much work he put in to being her man … she would never look at him with the longing she reserved for Carter. She had a godlike complex when it came to Carter, and Fly Boogie, although a suitable replacement, would never quite measure up. In matters of the heart, you can't compete where you don't compare. Fly Boogie and Carter weren't even in the same league.

“You know how to find me,” Carter said as he turned to look at her. “I'll be by in the morning to pick C.J. up.”

She nodded and as he walked out the door, her heart sank into her stomach.

Miamor came down the steps. These were the types of problems she didn't know how to fix. The tension that was building between Fly Boogie and Carter would eventually lead to disaster. She didn't know how to remedy that, and she didn't know whose side to pick. Her son was in trouble, her man was jealous of her ex, and she had no idea how to make him feel secure. Carter hated her for things she could not change. These were grown-woman problems. She wished it was something that a bullet could solve. That's where her expertise lay, in the streets. This new level of grown-woman responsibilities overwhelmed her in a way that she had never experienced before.

“You need to remember who the fuck here with you every day holding shit down on a regular. The least you can do is hide the fucking stars in your eyes,” Fly Boogie said in a low, menacing tone as he stood directly in her face. “That nigga ain't the only nigga getting money. He ain't the only nigga with muscle. He don't go the juice no more. That's me. It's my time, but you too busy living in the past with that muthafucka to see that I'm trying. Got that nigga coming in my shit, disrespecting me. You lucky I don't slap the shit out of you.”

Miamor was taken aback by his aggression. She snaked her neck because she knew that he had to have bumped his head. “You need to remember who you're talking to. I'm going to walk away from you right now because things can get ugly between us real quick. I don't do this arguing thing, so if you can't control your jealousy and check this temper—”

Fly Boogie put his hand around Miamor's neck, stopping her mid-sentence. He pressed her against the wall hard as he pushed his body into her. “I'm not done talking,” he said through clenched teeth. “I know who you are, but remember you're not a nigga, Miamor. You're only tough with a pistol in your hands, ma. I'm all man. You can't overpower me,” he said as she pushed against him, struggling to get him off of her. He was right. His strength overwhelmed her. “Ain't no pistols in sight. I did everything for you. I murdered Baraka for you. I saved your fucking son and came to get you from that crazy nigga Murder. I knew you wouldn't let that Cartel shit go. Carter got you wrapped around his fucking finger. He cheated on you and then left you to die at Baraka's hands. I saved you. I came back for you. I put a hole in that nigga chest and he didn't die. I should have put one in his head. Next time, I won't miss,” Fly Boogie threatened as he curled his fingers in a pretend gun and placed them against her forehead, point-blank range.

Miamor's eyes widened in shock as Fly Boogie revealed the truth to her.
He shot Carter,
she thought with a gasp. “You shot him? All this time, it was you? You fucking bastard. He fed you!” Miamor whispered in a sharp tone as her temper erupted.

“Don't look surprised, ma. I'll get rid of anyone who stops me from fucking with you. So when I say control those fucking googly eyes, you should check that. I don't want to have to make C.J. a fatherless child. You're either with me or you with him. You can't have both,” Fly Boogie said.

This revelation turned all the affection she felt for Fly Boogie into contempt. Miamor had assumed that it had been Baraka who had gunned Carter down in front of the casino years ago, but now she had been smacked with the truth. She had been the cause of that and ever since she had been unknowingly sleeping with the enemy.

“Mama?” C.J. called from the top of the steps.

Fly Boogie immediately loosened his hold on her neck, but he didn't move. He had her cornered against the wall. “Go upstairs, C.J.,” Miamor said.

“But, ma,” he protested.

“Now!” Miamor roared.

Miamor wasn't the chick to tolerate this change in temperament from Fly Boogie. There wasn't anything to think about. On Carter's worst day, Fly Boogie didn't measure up. She liked him. He had helped her get her head right when everyone else in the world had thrown her away, but she couldn't turn a blind eye to the fact that he had shot Carter. Despite everything, Carter would always be the man she loved. She wasn't doing this Helen of Troy shit. She didn't want to be the woman in the middle … there was no middle. She would always be aligned on Carter's side. “I choose him,” Miamor said. She head-butted Fly Boogie with all her might, causing stars to appear before her eyes.

“Agh!” he shouted in pain as he grabbed the bridge of his bleeding nose. Miamor stumbled to the kitchen and reached under the sink, pulling out a 9mm pistol. She could never truly leave her past behind her. She had to have guns placed strategically around the house just to feel safe, and today she was grateful for the habit. Revenge was on her mind. Anger pulsed through her. Perhaps she had played the wifey role for too long. Clearly Fly had forgotten how she got down. This was what she did. Committing murder was like riding a bike for her. She would never forget how to do it. “What the fuck, Miamor? Damn!” Fly Boogie said, using hushed tones. “You gon' shoot me? Over a nigga who set you out for the wolves?” She aimed at him. “You pull that trigger, ma, and C.J.'s going to hear the shot. You're going to destroy his entire world. He don't deserve that. He's already been through enough. Now you want him witnessing bodies in the place he lays his head?”

Miamor curled her finger around the trigger. She wanted to dead him where he stood, but he was right. C.J. would hear it and once witnessed, murder was something one never forgot. He had already had his childhood taken away after witnessing Leena's death. Miamor wouldn't let that happen again. She placed the gun on the counter, but never took her hand off of it.

“Fuck!” Fly Boogie grimaced as he snatched a paper towel off the counter and nursed his face. “You ain't got to go for broke, ma. Damn! Head-butting me and shit.” We can fix this. All the shit I've done for you, it ain't good for nothing?” he asked. “I think you broke my shit.” He grimaced.

Miamor lowered her head, conflicted. “It counts. It could have meant a lot, Fly. You could have gotten to my heart without shooting Carter. He taught you the game. Him. Zyir. Monroe. They all brought you in, and you put a bullet in his chest,” Miamor said with tears forming in her eyes. That bullet had changed the course of Carter's life. “He hasn't been the same since,” she whispered. “All because you wanted to, what? Fuck me? Be with me? You could have killed him.” The more she spoke, the more she realized how she was to blame. She had allowed Fly Boogie to get close to her. She had even flirted with him, enjoying the attention that he gave her. She had strung him along way before he ever got his shot with her, and it had led to this … to deception and disloyalty.
Maybe Carter is right … nothing good comes from loving me,
she thought.