Cartier Cartel--Part 4

by Nisa Santiago

  Head watched as all the younger inmates, usually men in their twenties, would crowd around Kareem in the yard or in the mess hall. It seemed Kareem’s main focus was enlightening men on their birthright and how to go about manifesting the reality that all religions write about. To Head, it seemed Kareem was obsessed with polygamy and King Solomon in the Bible.

  “The Quran, Torah, and Bible all say that we are not meant to have one wife,” he preached. “The creator doesn’t want us to adhere to man’s law or societal norms. Y’all brothers got it twisted catering to these women—these Eves. Women were created to cater to the black man. The original man is us!”

  He continued, “If God, Allah, Jehovah, or Yahweh—whatever you call your creator—didn’t want this to be, then why when Eve was cursed did Yah say, ‘And he shall dominate you.’ Women aren’t our equals, and if you believe that they are, then the most high will withdraw his protection from you as he did with Adam.”

  Kareem was quickly challenged by a young inmate named Tariq. “You keep talking that outdated Hebrew Israelite doctrine with your diluted messages, which are the white man’s watered-down rhetoric. And what Adam are you talking about, because there was more than one Adam in the Bible? Adam is a tribe of people.”

  “The text says He made a group of Adams, which was man, and a group of Eves, which are woman, and then Yah created Eden for one Adam and one Eve.”

  “Where it say that? Show me the text that says that, Brother Kareem.”

  “I’m telling you what the text says.”

  “Show me!” Tariq yelled.

  “Genesis says that in the first five days Yah made a group of Adams and a group of Eves and then on the sixth day it says Yah made another Adam and Eve and placed them in Eden.”

  Everyone could clearly see that the young dude was getting under Kareem’s skin. Veins began bulging from his temples and his neck. Head had seen it all before, so he knew what was coming next.

  Tariq rubbed is chin and said, “So the first group of Adams was the black man and the second adaptation of Adam was white? I’m confused, brother. I’m asking you to show me the tex—”

  The punch to his jaw silenced Tariq, who quickly returned two body shots and an upper cut to Kareem’s chin. The fight was quickly broken up by three CO’s, and both Kareem and Tariq were dragged to the hole.

  Head shook his head. “Stupid muthafuckas.”

  Two weeks later, Kareem was back in the cell with Head. Coincidentally, he had just gotten another letter from Cartier. He wanted to vent.

  Now with his feelings open and raw, some of what Kareem had to say began to resonate. Head did treat Cartier as his equal. She busted her gun as he did his, sold drugs, and killed. Head thought that they had a mutual respect, but she disrespected him and fucked another man on his watch.

  A lot of what Kareem had to say fell on deaf ears, though. Head wasn’t buying into it. He would discard the radical parts of Kareem’s religion and keep the nuggets that would further his mission on the outside. The only way to truly find peace is to lord over women. If there was one thing that Head had vowed, it was to never have his heart broken again.

  So why can’t I get Cartier out of my head? he wondered.

  Head paced around his hotel room annoyed that he couldn’t get that night Cartier came into the day party in that sexy dress out of his mind. It was weeks ago and yet he couldn’t let it go. He missed everything about her. Seeing her there was like a breath of fresh air for him.

  He thought about the first time he was intimate with Cartier and the way she made him feel. She was explosive, and he knew that together they could conquer whatever problems and obstacles came their way. Hell, they probably could have taken over the world if they wanted to. They were once a powerhouse couple.

  Despite his reservations, he had to see her again, if only to get closure. Head knew of two people who could help him get in contact with Cartier. He was desperate to see her—talk to her—even if it was only for a moment. He picked up his cell phone and made the call to Chemo. The moment he answered, Head said, “I need a favor from you.”

  “What’s that?” Chemo asked.

  “I need you to get in contact with Cartier. I wanna see her, so set it up but don’t let her know what’s what.”

  “You don’t got her contact?”

  “Would I be asking?”

  “A’ight, man. I’ll do it,” Chemo relented.

  “Just call me when y’all meet and I’ll show up.”

  “You gonna get me on that girl’s bad side, and you already know how she is,” Chemo slightly joked.

  “Just do it.”

  Head ended the call. For some reason he was nervous, but he knew Chemo was going to come through for him.

  The day was sunny with clear blue skies. The café on Jay Street in Downtown Brooklyn was quaint and bustling with customers. It was an afternoon to enjoy brunch, drinks, and conversation as pedestrians shuffled by and traffic from Fulton Street was starting to overflow onto the side streets. Despite the area’s busyness, Cartier was enjoying her brunch with Chemo at an outside sidewalk table. They were having club sandwiches and talking about his club promotion business. Chemo had called earlier and asked her if she would be interested in investing in day parties.

  “It sounds promising, but what do I know about party promoting?” Cartier asked.

  “It’s simple. We start by making an invitation list. For a large cocktail party, it’s best to invite twenty percent more people than you can fit. I say that because typically seventy percent of invitees attend,” Chemo explained.

  “And you think it would be a good investment for me?”

  “It would. Become a silent partner and see the returns that come in.”

  The proposal was intriguing. Cartier knew that she needed to invest in something lucrative and legit. In just a few weeks, Cartier’s cartel was moving fifty kilos a month with Majestic and Scooter’s help, and she needed to find ways to launder her money. Investing in day parties didn’t seem like a bad idea. Still, she looked at Chemo and replied, “I’ll think about it.”

  “Please do that. It’s gonna be worth it,” said Chemo.

  While Cartier snacked on her grilled chicken salad and sipped her afternoon martini, from the corner of her eye she thought she was seeing things. But when she craned her head to the right and focused her vision on someone approaching, it was real. Head was coming their way like he had just happened to come through.

  Cartier cut her eyes at Chemo. “You played me to come here for him?”

  She leaped from her chair as Head grew closer. She was ready for another confrontation with him. She figured something was up when Chemo called and said he wanted to catch up and talk business. Her gut told her to be prepared for anything. It was the reason she came to the meeting looking stunning in a short summer skirt revealing her sexy legs, a sexy top, and high heels. Cartier knew the moment you fall back, a nigga crawls back. By the look Head gave her, she knew she had accomplished that mission. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  “Can we talk, Cartier?” he asked humbly.

  “About what? We ain’t got shit to talk about, especially after how you disrespected me,” she griped.

  “I’m sorry. I was wrong. But just hear me out and give me a chance to speak my piece.”

  She stared at him. He sounded sincere, but she was on guard. While he stood there pleading his case to her, she noticed how handsome he still was. His outerwear was still street, but he sounded different. Did prison change him? He had always been a thug and masculine man, but there was something different about him.

  “Look, I’ll give you your chance to talk, but you better not bullshit me, Head. I’m not in the mood for any fuckin’ games with you. You hurt me,” she proclaimed.

  “You hurt me too.”

  Cartier sucked her teeth. “Here w
e go.”

  “See? That’s what I’m talking about. You think you’re the only one with feelings.”

  “I know I’m not, but I’ve already apologized and it was so long ago. I made a mistake and chose Hector.”

  Hearing Hector’s name made Head grit his teeth. “So you can understand my mistake in choosing Pebbles.”

  “Are you still with that bitch?” she asked blatantly.

  “Nah. I got rid of her a while back. I’m staying at a hotel in Queens. I needed some time to myself. I needed to think. And all I could think about was you. I missed you, Cartier. I missed you a lot,” he admitted.

  His words weren’t enough for her to fully trust him again. She still had her guard up, and she wasn’t about to run to him just because he had dumped his bitch and was talking sweet things into her ear.

  “Let me take you out,” he suggested.

  Cartier had to think about it for a minute. She then replied, “It better be someplace nice.”

  “You deserve nothing but the best,” he said.

  If the remark was supposed to make her grin, it didn’t. She continued to stare at Head deadpan. She knew she had to guard her heart. It was going to take more than dinner and some smooth words to win her over. She had a lot to be angry about, and she wanted Head to get on his knees and grovel and kiss her black ass. But dinner was a start.

  The Modern restaurant on 53rd Street served French and New American fare with garden views at the Museum of Modern Art. For Cartier, it was classy and creative. She never expected Head would take her there for dinner. She wondered how he got reservations. The décor was extraordinary and the menu was tongue-twisting, but the food was delicious.

  Having dinner at The Modern was part of the special day they’d had together. Head took Cartier shopping in the city and told her to get whatever she wanted on his dime. She took advantage of it and got herself some new shoes, a few pieces of jewelry, and some new handbags. She had a thing for pricey handbags.

  She sat opposite him at the restaurant. Head was clad in a black button-down and some jeans, looking comfortable.

  She took a swallow of wine while Head poured his heart out to her.

  “For a man, when the woman he loves cheats, it affects him differently,” he said. “I came down to South Beach to marry you and you turned me down—for him! I thought you loved me,” he said. “That shit fucked me up. I ain’t been the same since.”

  “Like you were an angel yourself, Head,” Cartier came back with.

  Head cringed at hearing her repeatedly say his street name but decided to not argue over it. He knew she would never call him Henry. “No. But I knew what I wanted, and that was you.”

  “I needed some time.”

  Head sighed and took a hefty drink of his water. The conversation was going left and he was growing frustrated. Part of him wanted her to keep begging for forgiveness—maybe kiss his ass a little more—but since she had caught him with Pebbles, Cartier was defensive. He didn’t want to argue with her. He wanted to win her back.

  “Look, let’s not fight,” he said.

  “So let’s not bring up the past. It’s gone and forgotten,” said Cartier.

  “You’re right. Let’s just focus on our future. And speaking of the future, I’m hearing from the streets that you’re back in the game full-blown.”

  Cartier knew what he meant. Of course the streets were talking. “It’s my life, Head, and I need to do me.”

  “I’m disappointed to hear that. I thought you wanted out of the game. I thought you wanted something different. What you’re doing out there is poisoning our people.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” His stoic stare corroborated his answer.

  “And this coming from the same man with drug distribution on his resume,” she countered. “I mean, your story is all over the media—you’re a legend out there and you wanna start judging me for what I’m doing?”

  “Like you said, Cartier, we don’t need to look at our past but our future. . . and our people are dying out there.”

  “You mean black people, right? If so, we aren’t the only race who uses drugs. Have you read the news lately?”

  “I have, and my eyes are open. You need to put your hustling on pause so I can school you, or preferably stop it altogether. I love you, Cartier, and I don’t wanna see you in ruins.”

  “Nigga, if you came here to win me back, you sure got a funny way of showing it,” she said, throwing back the last of the South African chardonnay in her glass and pouring another from the half-empty bottle on the table.

  “I’m trying to enlighten you to something much greater than the streets,” he stated. “If you have patience and let me work a few things out, soon I’ll be able to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll take care of you, ma. I promise. Just trust me.”

  Cartier stared at him with intensity. She was adamant that no one was going to tell her what to do. She didn’t take orders from him or any nigga.

  “Head, don’t do that—don’t try to tell me what I need to do, or what is best for me. I’m my own woman making my own decisions in what is my life.”

  “I’m not trying to control—”

  “Yes, you are!”

  Their conversation had spilled from their table, and other patrons couldn’t help but overhear them. It was embarrassing. Their waiter had to come over and tell them to keep it down.

  Head nodded. “We’re sorry. We’ll keep things down.”

  Once the man walked away, Head refocused his attention on Cartier. Now she had fire in her eyes as she glared at him. She downed the rest of her wine with an attitude.

  He said to her with a heartfelt tone, “I want you to become a beautiful black queen for society to take note of—and for society to be jealous of, Cartier. You are that woman.”

  She chuckled.

  “That’s funny?” he asked her.

  “No. But I find this person that you’re morphing into amusing. Who are you trying to become? I mean, preaching to me about my shortcomings and my lifestyle, when the man sitting in front of me was once a notorious gangster and murderer. You don’t have the right to come home from prison and try to reform me or change my life around, and especially not after I caught you with the next bitch that you went home with. It doesn’t work that way,” Cartier said with gusto.

  She was being stubborn. Head wanted to control her as he did Pebbles, but her slick mouth and her stubbornness was starting to get under his skin. She had a strong will that wasn’t breaking anytime soon. Cartier had always been smart and resourceful. Also, he would never admit it to her, but he was intimidated that she had gotten Caesar Mingo as her connect without his help.

  Head continued with, “I just want to take care of you. Whatever you need, I want to provide.”

  “Nigga, as long as you knew me, have I ever wanted or needed a man to take care of me? That’s not who I am. I’m not some needy bitch.”

  He knew she wasn’t. The last and only person she relied upon to feed and take care of her was her mother Trina, who failed miserably.

  “You know I didn’t mean any disrespect,” he said.

  “I’ve been hustling on these streets since I was fifteen years old, and I’m not relinquishing my power to anyone,” she said.

  With that being said, Cartier pushed her chair back from the table, stood up, stared strongly at Head and said, “Now I need to go use the bathroom. Thanks for dinner.”

  Head could only watch her walk away with that bow-legged strut. He wasn’t giving up on Cartier, though. He knew she would be tough, but he was up for the challenge.

  13

  Cartier leaving the restaurant had left a sense of urgency in Head. Navigating his Range Rover through the thick New York City traffic, he knew he had to capture her mind, body, and soul a different way. He almost for
got who he was dealing with. She wasn’t weak in the mind like Pebbles. She could be just as manipulative as he was.

  The city traffic stretched for blocks and it was frustrating. Head heaved a sigh of annoyance. Wherever he was going, he wasn’t going to get there anytime soon. It seemed like the city was about to have a heart attack since every block was clogged with a traffic jam. Horns blew loudly and drivers cursed out their windows. New York City had too many people living in it, and it seemed like every last one of them was stuck in traffic with him.

  Head huffed again and listened to the radio with his mind on Cartier. The only thing that broke his concentration was hearing his cell phone ring and seeing that it was Pebbles calling him. He was emphatic when he told Cartier that he wasn’t with Pebbles. He reluctantly answered, knowing that she would keep on calling him if he didn’t.

  “What is it?” he answered indifferently.

  “Where are you?”

  “Why?” he replied with the same uncaring tone.

  “Baby, I miss you, and I need your help.”

  “Help with what?”

  “I’m about to get evicted. They put a letter on my door today, and I’m so scared. I can’t lose my home.”

  “Why you calling me?”

  “Because I need you!” she cried out. “And I don’t have anybody else to call. Come on, baby, don’t do me like this. I’m not throwing this in your face, but I held you down for three years.”

  “I’ll be there in a few,” he said.

  “Thank you, baby.”

  He could feel Pebbles grinning through the phone.

  “And listen, we need to talk,” he added.

  “Okay, baby. When you get here I’m gonna have something special waiting for you,” she said merrily.