Cartier Cartel (11 page)

On the ride home the two women wouldn't stop clowning Wise.

"I can't wait to get on the horn and tell everybody what the fuck he did."
Monya glared.

"He's a crab-ass nigga!" Cartier added.

"He gonna get his. Don't let me see him when I'm with One-Eighty or
those other niggas from the Stuy. They will seriously beat his Queens ass
down!"

"I know that's right. In fact, we don't need to get no one to beat his ass,
we can do that shit ourselves," Cartier retorted and Monya knew she was
dead serious.

When Ryan pulled up in front of Monya's building, he wasn't ready for
Cartier to leave. He squeezed her hand and gave her a look. Cartier knew
exactly what that look meant.

"Monya, I'll see you tomorrow," Cartier said.

"What? You not coming with me?" Monya asked weakly.

"I said I'll see you tomorrow. That means don't wait up, bitch."

Monya smiled and got out of the car, but inside she was steaming. She
knew Cartier was about to get some dick, the dick that was supposed to be
hers. The dick she had dreamed about and wanted for months on end.

Slutty bitch, was her lasting thought.

ver the next couple of days, Cartier and Ryan were inseparable. When
she wasn't overseeing drug deals, or hanging out with the Cartel, she
and Ryan were developing a serious relationship.

Their relationship didn't sit well with Monya and Jason. As a distraction,
Monya had fucked through the borough. Some joked she was the
neighborhood ho now.

Jason, on the other hand, was stunned. Cartier was the love of his life and
it hurt him to see Cartier with Ryan.

"Yo, I should just knock that nigga off," Jason said.

"You can't kill him," Monya replied, thinking that this wasn't a part of
the plan.

"And why not? I can post up out here and wait on that silly motherfucker
to pull up for Cartier and push his wig back." Jason was so angry his nose flared
as he spoke about murdering a man he didn't even know.

"Because that's stupid, that's why. She ain't worth taking a life over."

"She's worth that to me," Jason replied stubbornly. Jason was in love with
the only girl he ever had eyes for-Cartier. Since grade school, she had been
his future. She was the girl, and now the woman he always wanted. Watching
Cartier with another man hurt. He couldn't take seeing Ryan and his luxurious
ride while he still drove a used Pathfinder, or watching him spoil Cartier with gifts and money while she wouldn't give Jason the time of day. Jason didn't
think of himself as a jealous guy, but he had never dealt with someone having
something or someone he wanted. He was jealous of this mysterious uptown
dude who had stolen the love of his life, the woman who had his heart.

He and Monya sat in his jeep, sipping on a small bottle of Hennessy,
commiserating. It was a pity party for two. Monya didn't like seeing Cartier
happy, but she couldn't explain why. She wanted Jason to step up his game
and pull Cartier. She didn't want Cartier and Ryan falling more in love, and
Ryan buying a car for Cartier. As bad as the Cartel needed a whip, she didn't
want it to be Cartier who provided it by way of Ryan.

"Why don't you ever tell her how you feel?" Monya asked.

"What the fuck you think I've been doing? Cartier knows exactly how
I feel."

"Well, obviously, what you've been doing ain't enough. There's no way
this outsider should have been able to swoop down and bag her." Monya
knew what she was doing. She knew what buttons to push. And she needed
Jason to be pushed.

Jason's anger was increasing. He felt like a chump, a loser who couldn't
even pull the girl he dreamed about. But what he couldn't understand was
why Monya cared so much.

"Monya, you and I ain't never been cool. Why the fuck you care if I get
with Cartier? What's in it for you?"

Monya didn't expect the question, but she had confidence on her side.
She thought she was smarter than Jason and could easily manipulate him.
"This really ain't even about you-"

"That's exactly what I mean. If this ain't about me, then what's it about?"
Jason snapped back.

"It's about my best friend," Monya tried explaining. "This guy is no good
for her and I hate to see her making a big mistake."

"Then why don't you tell her?"

"I did," Monya lied. "She just won't listen to me"

"Then let's go back to plan A and let me push back this nigga's wig!"

Monya thought about it for a second before coming to her senses. She
couldn't believe she'd actually entertained the thought of having an innocent
man murdered. Quickly, she snapped back to reality. There wasn't any way
she could have blood on her hands. That was just bad karma. Plus, she still
had feelings for Ryan, and the last thing she wanted was for him to die. And
worse, she didn't want to be a part of such a death.

Monya was aggravated. She looked at the pitiful look in Jason's eyes
and listened to the yearning in his voice, and for the life of her, she couldn't
understand why he liked Cartier so much. What in the hell did these men
see that she didn't see? On a scale of one to ten, Cartier was a struggling four.
And three out of those four points were for her body. Why can't anyone else
see this?

"Calm the fuck down," Monya snapped. "You ready to do a bid over
Cartier? I don't know what the fuck is so special that motherfuckers are
losing their minds over her."

"Let's keep this gangsta. Ain't nobody losing their mind," Jason said. "I'm
just saying that I have more to offer than that lame, permed-hair faggot."

"Whatever."

Monya was disgusted and felt that they weren't getting anywhere. She
decided to carry her ass back upstairs. Tomorrow was another day.

he anger brewing inside the young black male was palpable. He told
those hard-headed little bitches not to sell shit on his corner, and they
defied him. He couldn't fucking believe it. He sat inside the front seat of his
black Yukon watching as Bam did a hand-to-hand transaction to Shirelle, one
of the local fiends.

Each time she served a customer, Donnie rationalized that they were
taking food out of his daughter's mouth and money out of his pocket. As the
car sat idling, a million thoughts flowed through his mind. But one thought
remained constant: to bust a cap in the young bitch's ass.

Donnie took another long, steady pull from his blunt, ignoring the
repeated calls his phone kept registering. He was in his world, contemplating
doing the deed of a dealer and protecting his turf.As the purple haze permeated
the confined space in the car, he began coughing, trying desperately to
control his breathing. He was beyond fucked up. He reached inside his glove
compartment and pulled out a small bottle of Hennessy to lubricate his dry,
pasty mouth. The strong cognac burned his throat as he took a large swig of
the dark liquid. His body felt warm as the alcohol traveled through his body.
He loved this feeling.

Normally this would have been a job for one of his boys, one of the
peons who worked for him. But tonight was about a statement, a statement he wanted the hood to hear loud and clear-that these young bitches and
anyone like them would never punk him in front of his peoples. This was man
business, and he was the man delivering the message tonight.

When the incessant ringing of his telephone blared again, he decided to
pick up. It was his baby's momma, Pebbles. There was no reason for him to
ignore her call when he wasn't out fucking some other chick.

..Yo!"

"Where you at?" she asked.

"Don't you know how to address a nigga?" he responded with attitude.
"Damn. You can't say hello? How was your day? The first fucking thing out
your mouth is where you at."

"Hello, motherfucker! Now, where the fuck you at?" she returned the
attitude.

Donnie chuckled. He had the streets of New York on lock, people feared
him, and no matter what he said or did, he couldn't get his baby momma to
walk with trepidation. She was the realest chick he ever fucked with and she
was nice with her hands. If she wasn't pregnant with their second child, she
would be the one throwing down on the Cartel tonight. One-on-one, he was
sure she would have whipped their asses-all by herself.