The Demise (24 page)

“Yeah, it's yours,” Carter said.

“Thanks, man,” Zyir replied.

Carter nodded. “Now tell me the truth. That nigga be hitting on you, too?”

Zyir pulled his shirt off, feeling comfortable enough with Carter to reveal his secret. He turned around and showed Carter his scar-covered back. It looked like someone had used him as a human ashtray. It was so bad that Carter's eyes filled with tears of anger.

“He burned you with cigarettes?” Carter asked.

Zyir threw his shirt back on over his head. “Not in a while. He just been getting into it with my mama,” Zyir said.

“The next time that nigga even look at you funny, you shoot him,” Carter said.

Zyir nodded as he aimed the gun at the wall.

“BOOM!” Carter yelled, scaring Zyir so bad that he dropped the gun. Carter burst into laughter.

“First you got to learn how to shoot it,” Carter said. “We can set up some cans on the roof after school tomorrow. I got some bullets.”

*   *   *

The next day, Zyir awoke early and crept out of Carter's apartment. He was always too embarrassed to stay for breakfast with Carter and his mom, so instead he woke up at the crack of dawn to make his escape. When he entered his apartment, his mood instantly changed. He walked quietly to his mother's door, lifting his tiny hands to knock. He pressed his ear against the door. He knew her boyfriend was gone because he didn't hear his drunken snores. He opened the door and reached for the light switch, but as he flipped it, nothing happened.

“Ma?” Zyir called. “Ma, you okay?” he asked. He walked into the dark room, stepping over empty liquor bottles and empty fast-food bags. “Ma!” he said as he shook her.

It wasn't until he got right up on her that he saw why she wasn't responding. Her face was bashed in. Blood covered the pillow and the sheets. “Ma!” Zyir screamed as he shook her. “Ma, wake up!”

Zyir was sure she was dead and tears welled in his eyes. Her face was so badly beaten that he didn't recognize her. Zyir ran out. He needed help. His heart beat out of his chest as terror seized him.

“Where you think you going, little nigga?”

His mother's boyfriend stood between Zyir and the door. He had a large hunting knife in his hand and a huge sack in the other.

Zyir was frozen. His eyes went from the knife to the bag to the devilish look on the man's face. Was he going to cut his mother up? If not, what was the knife and bag for? He wanted to run, but his feet wouldn't move and he had left the gun at Carter's.

Zyir had a feeling he wasn't going to make it out of the apartment. He had seen too much.

“Please, I won't say nothing,” he said.

The man stalked over to him and grabbed him by the neck, using so much force that Zyir thought he would snap it. “Get your little ass in here,” the man barked. “I told that bitch about her mouth. I told her. Now look what the fuck she made me do.”

He tossed Zyir onto the floor, hard, causing his head to hit the corner of the wall. The man climbed on top of him and put his hands around Zyir's neck. Zyir's eyes bulged out of his head as he kicked his legs frantically. He couldn't breathe. His lungs burned so bad as tears rolled out the sides of his eyes onto the dirty carpet beneath him. He was about to die all because his mother had chosen the wrong man. Zyir felt the blood vessels in his eyes bursting. Seconds felt torturously long, until he slowly began to not feel anything at all. Then …

BOOM!

The weight of the grown man collapsing on top of his body crushed him. Zyir was too weak to even push him off. He just lay there only half-conscious, on the edge of death.

“Zy! Zyir!”

That was Carter's voice.

“Zyir! Wake up!” Carter screamed. “Mama!!!!”

Carter pushed the man off of Zyir and pulled Zyir's limp body toward the front door. “Mama!”

The gunshot had lured nosy neighbors into the hall, but none dared go inside.

Finally his mother emerged from their apartment. “Carter! What did I tell you about…”

When she saw her twelve-year-old son struggling to carry Zyir to the door, she put her hands over her mouth in disbelief.

“Call 911! Don't just stand there! Call somebody!” she shouted as she rushed inside. “Oh my God! What happened?” she cried.

She heard the groans of the man in the hallway and watched in horror as Carter stood to his feet, walked over to the man, and stood over his body.

BOOM!

Without remorse, he put a bullet in the man's head just as the cops came swarming in.

“Put your hands where I can see them!” the police yelled.

“No!” Tonya yelled. “No!” She left Zyir lying there as she ran to Carter. “No! You will not arrest my son! He was protecting his friend! Help him!” She pointed toward Zyir, who had slipped into unconsciousness.

Her screams fell on deaf ears as they pushed her son against the wall forcefully before placing him in cuffs.

“Stay with Zyir, ma,” Carter said as they escorted him out.

“We've got another body back here,” another officer called out. Tonya stood as she watched the paramedics tend to Zyir.

“We've barely got a pulse. Let's get him in the bus,” an EMT yelled. She stood horrified as she watched them load Zyir's small body onto a stretcher while working to save his life. Zyir's eyes fluttered open and he saw Carter being escorted out. He couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to see anything more. The last thing he remembered hearing was someone say, “I'm losing him.”

*   *   *

Zyir remembered the day as if it had happened just yesterday. If Carter had walked in a minute later, Zyir would be dead. Carter had saved his life. He had killed for him. Due to the evidence against his mother's boyfriend, Carter never served a day in lockup. He was put on probation until the age of eighteen and walked away without a felony conviction. Zyir had lost his mother that day, but he had gained a brother. From that day forward, Zyir and Carter were inseparable. They had always had each other's back … until now. Zyir picked up his phone and sent Carter a text.

Zyir

I love you, fam.

Carter

Fuck you being all sensitive for little nigga?

Zyir

Ha!

Carter

I love you, too, my G.

They hadn't spoken the words to each other since they were young kids. Ego often caused men to mask their emotions, but Zyir felt it necessary to say. They were family, and Zyir didn't know how long he had before Carter's love transformed to hate. He reminded himself that he was doing this for Breeze as he stepped off the boat where two federal agents were waiting to wire him up.

 

C
HAPTER
17

The rolling hills of the golf course were the perfect shade of leprechaun green. The country club was full on this Saturday afternoon, and the mild temperatures accompanied by a cloudless day made the perfect combination for tee time. Carter and Zyir stepped into the ritzy building. Their black skin immediately made them the focal point of the many club members. It was a members-only type of club. This may have been Miami, but it was still the South. It was clear they didn't belong, but they still walked in like they owned the place. Both dressed in designer, tailored suits it was evident they weren't there to step and fetch. They screamed money … real money … long money … not the gold-chain-wearing, flamboyant, hood-rich type, either. They were made men. They had acquired their riches their way, playing by their own rules. Bosses. That's what they were. Black kings and they knew it. Carter bypassed the reception area and walked right onto the fairway, where he knew Estes would be. It was so routine that even the most unworthy adversary could catch him slipping. Nine a.m. tee time every Saturday. It never changed. For over thirty years, he had come like clockwork.

Carter and Zyir waited patiently, keeping a respectable distance as he watched Estes swing.

Estes turned and noticed them waiting. He took his time before calling them over. Carter smirked. Even in old age, Estes kept it G. They were on his time. He respected it. Finally he motioned for them to approach.

He held out his hand to Carter to shake. He ignored Zyir. He didn't talk to the help, only the man who wore the crown.

“You going to sit back and watch or you going to pick up a club?” Estes said as he patted his head with a handkerchief that he retrieved from his pocket. “This one will do just fine,” he said as he handed his own club over to Carter. Carter stepped up to the tee, and to Estes's surprise, swung the iron like a pro. Estes wagged a finger at him as Carter came back by his side. “There is more to you than meets the eye, young man.”

“Lucky shot,” Carter said, smiling. Carter looked around and said, “You're a little too relaxed, aren't you? You slipping in your old age?” he asked, only half-jokingly. “You're too accessible out here.”

Estes huffed as he shined his club. “The men at par two are my men. The fat fella over there reading the newspaper, fifty yards out, on that bench—that's Bruno, my henchman. The field hands, fixing the lawn, have guns on their waists. They are my men as well. I don't go anywhere without protection.”

Damn,
Carter thought.
He has goons everywhere.

“Well, you're not here to make me look bad, so speak your piece.” Estes was straight to the point.

Carter tucked his hands in his pockets. “I have a friend who wants to open a bakery, but they don't have access to enough sugar,” Carter said discreetly.

“Too much of a sweet tooth is a bad thing,” Estes said. “I've told Monroe. He thinks that if he sends you, I will change my position.”

“I assure you, Estes, Monroe has nothing to do with this deal. This is all me,” Carter guaranteed.

“How much sugar do you need?” Estes asked.

“A thousand squares,” Carter answered.

“Must have a lot of goods ready to bake?” Estes replied.

“Can't bake without sugar,” Carter confirmed.

“I suppose not,” Estes agreed.

“I'm buying in bulk, so I'll need a good price,” Carter said.

Zyir smirked, somewhat glad that Carter wasn't incriminating himself. The wire he wore beneath his clothes was picking up the entire conversation. Carter hadn't said anything that could be used against him. He hoped it stayed that way. He was doing his part. He was cooperating. It wouldn't be his fault if Carter never gave the feds the evidence they wanted.

“Doesn't need to be said. I can get a shipment out to you as early as Tuesday,” Estes said.

There it was. A date for the exchange. It was the exact information that Zyir didn't want Carter to disclose.

“My man,” Carter replied, extending his hand. They shook before Carter and Zyir departed.

Zyir was silent and deep in thought as they made their way back to Carter's car. Carter unlocked the doors and then looked over at Zyir. “You good, Zy?” Carter asked.

Zyir realized he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. Carter had sensed his moody disposition. “Yeah, fam, yeah, I'm good,” Zyir replied, but the fact was, he had never felt worse. He had turned into the type of nigga he swore he would never be: a snitch.

*   *   *

“Get rid of this, throw this tacky shit out, toss this cheap shit,” Miamor said to herself as she cleaned out the room that Sam had once occupied. Miamor was thoroughly enjoying tossing out her things. It had killed her to see another woman with Carter. It had hurt her even more that she couldn't snatch the bitch out of her starter-pack Louboutins. She was trying to grow and be a better woman this time around, so instead she took pleasure in packing up the cardboard box.

“Basic ass bitch,” Miamor mumbled with a frown as she tossed a cheap collar shirt into the box with the rest of the worthless items.

When she opened the top drawer she pulled out a shirt and a cell phone fell onto the floor. Miamor picked it up curiously. “Why would she leave her phone?” she whispered. It was an old-school flip phone and Miamor opened it nosily. Before she could snoop, the doorbell rang.

“Magda!” Miamor called out to her nanny. She was so grateful that the woman had agreed to resume her employment after so many years. Miamor didn't trust anyone with her son, so when deciding to hire someone to help with the day-to-day, her original nanny was the only one who had come to mind. She'd paid her a year's salary in advance just to get her to relocate to Colorado. “Can you get the door, please?!” she shouted. “And tell C.J. that you are his nanny, not his maid. He can clean his own room!”

“
Sí,
Señora,” Magda called back. A few moments later Magda's voice broke through the air again. “Señora! It is for you!”

Miamor snapped the cell phone shut and placed it in her back pocket as she made her way to see who the hell was at her door. She didn't know anyone out here, so this random guest was unexpected.

When she rounded the corner, she saw Sam was standing there.

“Thank you, Magda. Please keep C.J. in his room,” Miamor said, not wanting her son to see her fly off the handle should it come to that. “You are just asking me to slap the shit out of you right now. Why are you here?”

“I came for my things,” Sam said.