She wanted to get the fuck out of there, but Head took away her ID to get on the flight and he kept her locked in the windowless basement. He wanted to convince her to stay—to join their family, to become a sister wife. He wanted Cartier to believe that there was a better life in Flint—a life more rewarding than what was back in New York.
Cartier hollered and kicked walls and overturned furniture. She became a screaming banshee downstairs, shouting out, “Let me the fuck outta here!” She wanted desperately to escape. But the solid door was locked securely.
Cartier had tired herself out and decided to chill. She felt that any minute now Majestic and Scooter would come through bucking off shots until she was freed. The hate in her heart hoped that they killed everyone inside, including the kids.
Majestic and Scooter arrived in Flint a half-day later. They both hopped on the earliest flight out of JFK and landed in Michigan on a mission. Their boss was no longer answering her burner phone, and the last Majestic had heard she was going into an unknown address. This time Majestic had set up a sure thing. He got their cousin Loogie to drive up from Fort Wayne, Indiana and meet them at the airport.
Majestic and Scooter emerged from the airport looking ready for battle. Both had on jeans, Timbs, warm coats, and deathly glares. Loogie immediately spotted them and stepped out of his red Chrysler 300. The car was too bold for Majestic and Scooter’s taste, especially with what they had planned, but they had no choice. Each man gave each other dap and then got into the vehicle just as airport security was walking toward them to insist they move along.
“Yo, thanks, cuz,” Majestic said as he turned the heat up a few notches. “You brought those burners we need?”
Loogie nodded. “We straight.” He turned toward Scooter, who was sitting in the back passenger’s seat. “They inside the duffel under my seat.”
Loogie peeled out, not yet knowing where they were going. Scooter leaned low and grabbed the heavy butter soft bag. He unzipped it and saw an arsenal of weaponry. There was a Tech Nine, an Uzi, two .45s, two nines, and a few revolvers.
“Damn, bruh, you think we got enough firepower?” Scooter joked.
“No such thing as enough,” Loogie said arrogantly. “Y’all niggas seem like you at war. We don’t know what we walkin’ into.”
Majestic nodded. “True.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knot held together with a rubber band. “That’s for lookin’ out.”
Loogie grabbed the money with his free hand without ever taking his eyes off the road. He stuffed it in his pocket, knowing from the weight of it that he was taken care of.
“Yo, so where’s our first stop?”
Majestic gave him the address to Cartier’s last known location. “First we go get our boss and then we hunt down that piece of shit, Andre, who violated her and disrespected me. I’ma make that nigga eat a bullet.”
Forty minutes later they pulled up to Great Giant Supermarket.
“What the fuck is this?” Majestic asked as all three of them stared at the store in bewilderment. “You sure this is the address I gave you?”
“This is what you gave me.”
Scooter asked, “Did you change the GPS to Michigan? Maybe it’s still on your city.”
“Nah, my shit is right,” Loogie assured them. “Majestic, enter the address on your phone and see what’s what.”
Quickly Majestic typed the address in his smartphone and they were at the address that Cartier had given him.
“Something ain’t right,” Scooter said. “Where the fuck she at? She ain’t in there, right?”
It was a rhetorical question. The men didn’t know what to do. Majestic knew that Cartier said she was going inside someone’s home. He surveyed the neighborhood, and there wasn’t a house even close to where they were. He called her phone again and it went straight to voicemail.
“Fuck!” he yelled out. Where was she?
“Yo, I’ma go inside and ask some questions. Maybe there are two locations wit’ the same address.” Scooter needed to stretch his legs. “Y’all want anything?”
Both shook their heads.
Loogie asked what he already knew. “What’s next?”
Majestic replied, “We find Dre.”
30
For two weeks, Cartier had been locked inside the basement against her will. Every day she tried to strategize on how she was going to get out. Head always made sure to keep the door locked, and her pleas to be released fell on deaf ears. She had morning sickness and did everything in her power to hide it. If Head knew she was pregnant, there was no way he would let her go. She had no idea what Head and the others were going to do to her, but she had to keep hope that she would be released before she began showing. Cartier hoped this wouldn’t become her final destination. She missed home. She knew people were worried about her, but she had no way of contacting them. She mostly wondered what happened to Majestic and Scooter. Had Head seen them coming and murdered them? Were they dead?
With only time on your hands to think, a lot of crazy thoughts pop up. Cartier was worried the most about Caesar. Her sudden disappearance would create a problem, and the last thing she needed was problems with a man like him. If she did manage to escape, then how was she going to explain her sudden absence to him? She feared there would be repercussions for her vanishing, and the cartel would believe she had been arrested and flipped.
The sister wives were very friendly to her and only entered the basement as a group and only when Head was home. Cartier peeped that because she would hear the door lock behind them and they had to knock to leave. They kept her fed, but only brought her food with a plastic spoon no matter what was being served. She knew Head was behind that. Cartier needed a weapon if she was going to survive this. A sharp knife would do. Day in and day out, she thought about bashing each of their faces in. But then what? She could beat the shit out of them all, but she would still be a hostage. And then she wrestled with putting her baby’s life at risk.
Each girl talked to her as if she was a friend. They wanted Cartier to stay on her own free will. They wanted her to accept their family and accept Malachi Muhammad as her savior.
“He’s a good man,” said Jacki.
“He’s a piece of shit,” Cartier retorted.
“Nooooo,” Kandy crooned. “He’s a man of faith and love and togetherness.”
“Malachi Muhammad is taking care of us. He pulled us away from our despair and gave us something to live for,” said Mandy.
“We had nothing, and he’s given us all of this,” Melissa chimed in.
Cartier wanted to throw up. She felt like Amanda Berry. It was a nightmare. She tried to tell the girls that they were all brainwashed. What Head, or whatever they called him, was feeding them was a load of bullshit. It wasn’t a family. It was a cult. But all the girls were happy with Head, and they would rather stay with him than go back to their alternatives.
The young white twins that were pregnant by Head particularly turned her stomach. After all the preaching about how the white woman was the devil and the black man’s downfall, he had gotten two young white girls pregnant. Cartier couldn’t believe his hypocrisy.
But that was just the beginning of Head’s two-facedness. One day, Jacki came into her room and said, “I want to show you something.”
Cartier thought about her options. Curse her out or play along. Knowing that the success margin of overpowering all four women, getting Head to unlock the basement, overpower him, overpower Harlem, and escape was a fairytale. She figured that the only way out was through making inroads with the women and pulling at their heartstrings. Cartier got up and took a short walk with Jacki as the other three stood off to the side with wide grins and prideful eyes.
There was a bookcase. Jacki pulled on it and it slowly opened as a hidden door. Inside the room was a full-blown drug factory. Cocaine, heroin, and pills were
stacked, packaged, and ready for shipment. Cartier’s mouth hit the floor. She had no idea. Who was Head? Who was the man she married? He had commonly preached to her about drugs poisoning their people, and how her drug dealing was work for the devil. He had scolded her about her actions in South Beach. He made it appear that he was a completely transformed man who regretted his past as a drug dealer. But this, everything she saw in the basement, it nearly rivaled her operation. He was moving drugs by the boatload. Was he serious?
“Impressive, huh?” Head asked her, showing up suddenly.
“How long has this been going on?” she asked him.
“Long enough to spread across several states and bring in millions.”
She looked at him with utter disgust.
“Don’t look at me like that, Cartier. In fact, you should admire and respect me. You and I together in business, can you imagine the territories we could take over? We can expand anywhere we want. We can work with or against Caesar. It’s all up to you. If you get him to trust you then we can hit his shipments, infiltrate his operation from within, and then, baby, the sky’s the limit.”
Cartier was silent for a moment as her eyes drank in his operation.
Head then added sincerity to his voice and continued, “I know what you must be thinking, and before you say anything I just want to set the record straight. The only reason I didn’t want you to get pregnant is because you are my foundation. Every organization needs a strong infrastructure, and I need your full attention. I know seeing all these women carrying my children must have you feelin’ like you’re not good enough, and I’m here to tell you that not only are you good enough, but you mean more to me than all of them put together.”
“You’re a fuckin’ fraud!” she cursed. “My self-worth is never wrapped up in how a nigga feel or don’t feel about me. And I know these bitches done super-sized your ego, but you ain’t all that, baby. Your dick is just ok—no bells and whistles. Remember, I’m the same bitch who rejected you in South Beach when you came begging me to marry you. You know that the only reason we ended up together is because Hector was murdered, so stop actin’ like you don’t know who Cartier Timmons is.”
Ouch. Her words hurt him deeply. Head cut his eyes toward his ladies and saw that she had their full attention. The story he had told them of Cartier and how she would kill for him was a slightly different narrative.
Head chuckled to hide his pain. “The big, bad, Cartier Timmons. Of course I know you. I know that you tried to kill me when I rejected you for another woman. I know that it wasn’t only my enlightening conversation that made you go ape shit. I’d say the dick played its part.”
The days of Cartier being shocked about anything were over. Of course, Harlem told him about their little caper. It was a good play, and if Cartier were in her shoes she would probably have done the same. Hood commandment number one was do your dirt all by your lonesome. And when you violate the code, you suffer the consequences.
“You might as well kill me right now, Head, because I will never become one of these brainwashed bitches you have running around here kissing your ass, thinking you’re some kind of god,” she strongly stated.
He chuckled creepily and countered with, “I wish it was that simple.”
The following week, Cartier was still there.
She had watched the girls load up stash cars and go on drug runs. They all were completely under Head’s control. Cartier tried a different approach. It seemed like Jacki was the alpha female out of the four and that Harlem must be the top bitch over Jacki. Harlem never came inside the basement because she knew what was good for her.
“Why do you do this for him?” Cartier directly asked Jacki. “Help me understand.”
Jacki could only answer in a way that she understood. “I do this for me and it benefits us. I work better, live better, think better when I am paired with someone as one unit. I love catering to my man—cooking, cleaning, making love to him. It’s what brings me joy. It’s my purpose in life.”
Purpose. There was that word again. “If that’s true, then how could you share him with the others? It’s not really a pairing, right?”
“Oh, but it is. Things are structured here and when Malachi Muhammad is with me, he’s with me. His time, focus, and dedication is to me and only me. He makes me feel as if I am the only person he loves.”
“But you’re not, though. You may be the chick he loves on Tuesday, but then what? What about his Friday bitch?”
“You can’t keep looking into someone else’s backyard or you’ll never be happy. If I worried about Wednesday through Monday, how does that serve me? It doesn’t. All that matters is my perception of happiness. How he treats me.”
“What about how he’s treating me!” Cartier’s voice rose an octave. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home to my family. As a woman you should understand that. As a religious woman you should empathize with allowing my family to suffer not knowing where I am.”
Jacki nodded slowly, as if she was fully taking in her words. She replied, “But you don’t have any family.”
Cartier tried to connect with Melissa next. She could see that she was a former addict; all the signs were there.
“How long do you think you can be around all those drugs before you relapse?”
Melissa’s eyes widened. How did Cartier know her secret?
“I have it under control.”
“Do you?”
Melissa frowned. “I said I did, so drop it. You’re being cruel now, and that’s not how we live. We live for love and unity, and once you join us then you’ll see how Malachi Muhammad’s teachings have given me the strength that I never knew I had.”
“Does he know? About your drug problem?”
“I don’t have a drug problem,” Melissa corrected.
“But if he did know, isn’t it cruel of him to have you tempted in this way each day for his own gain? His own greed?”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“And what is that?”
“I’m not letting you out.”
“I’m trying to help us, not just me. You need to get out too. We both should leave together. You could come back to New York and I’ll pay for your drug treatment at the best facility.”
“You don’t get it. I don’t need drugs anymore. I used drugs to fill a void that I had, to numb my pain. Love was missing from my life, and I only saw the darkest parts of the human race. Malachi Muhammad has shown me compassion and self worth. I matter. What I do—what I contribute to this household matters. And his vision to buy properties and build communities brick-by-brick is more than you’re offering. It’s more than anyone has ever offered. We’re going to make history, and you’ll be sorry that you didn’t get in on the ground floor.”
This was harder than she thought. Cartier had met her match, and it was Head.
Majestic and Scooter had been safely back in New York for weeks. Still no Cartier. They left behind three dead bodies and had managed to retrieve her Rolex watch, which Andre had on his wrist when he was captured. Her other items were sold off. Back in Brooklyn, Majestic took over as the de facto boss until they could either confirm or deny her whereabouts. There was still a business to run.
Lil Foe and Roddy were back on the team, but both felt equally responsible for her disappearance. Majestic and Roddy felt the most guilt. They tried to remain optimistic that if Cartier did make it out of Michigan alive that she wouldn’t hold them accountable for their missteps.
31
Cartier paced the basement. She was trying her best to maintain her sanity. She had been at the place a month, and she could only imagine what was happening to everything she had built. It had to be falling apart. She knew everyone was worried about her, maybe believing that she was dead. It was clear to her that Head wasn’t going to let her go anytime soon—maybe not at all. Trying to penetrat
e the impenetrable wall of Malachi Muhammad was tough. Kandy and Mandy weren’t down to help her out either. Everyone had their own unique reason for going along with her confinement. Still, she was determined to try and get back to her old life. She knew Head was growing frustrated with her every day she remained resistant to his cause, and it felt like things were about to come to a confrontational collision between them. Cartier felt Head would do something drastic to try and put her in check—to make her compliant like the others. But unlike the others he had brainwashed, she had something to lose.
Lying on her bed and contemplating her survival, the bedroom door opened unexpectedly.
Seeing Harlem come into the room was difficult. Cartier didn’t know what to expect from her. In the past month she had gone to extensive lengths to avoid Cartier, but now they were face-to-face in the room. For a second, they glared at each other—the room thick with animosity. Cartier was ready to go ham and tear into Harlem. She was hard to look at. Seeing her pregnancy and knowing it was Head’s baby stirred up a whirlwind of emotions inside Cartier.
After everything she did for the girl, she went behind her back and had sex with her man, her husband, and had gotten pregnant by him. She had been lying to Cartier the entire time. To Cartier, betrayal meant death.
“What the fuck do you want?” Cartier growled at her.
Harlem tossed something onto the bed, a small sack. She said to Cartier, “Just take it.”
Cartier stared at the sack and was skeptical to open it and take a look inside. She didn’t trust anything about the bitch.
“I should fuck you up, Harlem. I trusted you,” Cartier continued to gripe.
“Look, I didn’t come in here to fight with you. I came in here to help,” she replied.
“Help me?”
“Open the sack, Cartier,” Harlem continued.
Dubious, Cartier carefully reached for the sack and looked inside. She was in awe at what she saw. It was her ID, some cash, and a plane ticket. Her burner phone was missing. She looked at Harlem and asked, “Why?”
Cartier Cartel--Part 4 Page 20