She was about to have another baby. Boy or girl, Head or Caesar’s, her child was going to be loved unconditionally. She didn’t want to make the same mistakes she made when she had Christian. The choices she made brought the demise of her family, and staring at her reflection in the bedroom mirror, the truth was staring right back at her. She was a murderer and a hustler, and so was the child’s father, no matter who it turned out to be. And she didn’t want her child to follow in their footsteps.
“What are you gonna do, Cartier?” she asked herself.
One of the things she respected about Caesar was how he had a mysterious “vanilla” life upstate for the sake of his child. It was a front, but it worked. She wanted the same thing. She wanted to start a new life—a new Cartier Cartel. She wanted to start a cartel of positive women. It would be a girl gang for something good. Everything needed to change in Cartier’s life, starting with her men, her habits, and her outlook on life. She wanted that legacy Caesar had told her about the first time they met—a true purpose.
Cartier called Sana into the kitchen for a chitchat while she prepared to stuff her face with the bag of White Castle cheeseburgers and onion rings she had just bought. Cartier bought twenty burgers and six orders of onion rings and she didn’t want to share, yet she knew she had to offer.
“You want some?”
Sana frowned. “Vegan, remember?”
Cartier smiled. “Right. You know, I’m surprised you just now hopped on the vegan bandwagon.”
“What does that mean?”
Cartier murdered the tiny cheeseburger in two bites. “You have that look that says ‘I’m vegan, do yoga, drink matcha tea, juice my veggies, align my chakras each morning, meditate, and hike.’”
“Are you making fun of me?” Sana didn’t appreciate being called away from studying to be insulted.
“Stop being so sensitive,” Cartier replied, and then stuffed an onion ring in her mouth, licking the tartar sauce from her fingers. Her mouth was chewing so quickly but she managed to carry on a conversation. “I’m just saying that I’m proud of you for bettering yourself without help from anyone. It’s good to strive for the best version of ourselves.”
“Thanks, Cartier. But whether I’ve said it or not, you’ve helped me more than anyone and never asked for anything in return. I appreciate you so much, and I know that I’m better because I met you.”
Now Cartier was grinning. “So listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about that conversation we had about purpose—the one your teacher brought up. I said I would get back to you, and I’m still stumped.”
“Well, what gives you the most joy?”
Cartier exhaled and then shrugged. Her answers were inappropriate. “It should be positive, right?”
Sana nodded.
“I like lookin’ out for people—the underdog.”
Sana quickly agreed. “That’s true. The way you took in me and Har—the trifling one—shows that’s what you love to do.”
“But I can’t look out for everyone.”
“Maybe you could look into mentoring or public speaking. Maybe speak to disenfranchised high school students who are made to feel marginalized by society because of class, sex, or creed.”
Cartier shook her head. “Nah, not for me. All those young students would learn from me is how to curse someone the fuck out.”
They both grinned.
Sana had to admit that Cartier was rough around the edges. What could someone like her, who means well and has a good heart, do to have purpose and help her community?
“What about a group home? There are several in New York state. Maybe you could reach out and assist one in some capacity.”
“A group home?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe…”
“As you can see, the place is really spacious and in a very good area,” the female real estate agent informed Cartier.
Cartier and Sana were taking a quick tour of the place, a three-story Neo-Grec brownstone in Park Slope on a tree-lined street that needed some renovations. It was the fifteenth property she had shown to Cartier, and Cartier could tell that the realtor was ready to move on to her other potential buyers. However, Cartier wanted to make the right decision. This was important to her.
The real estate agent continued with, “It was built in eighteen ninety-nine and it’s twenty-seven hundred square feet per floor.”
“And what is the asking price again?” Cartier asked her.
“Two-point-five million,” replied the agent.
It was a hefty price to pay, but Cartier needed the space and a Brooklyn location.
“The ground floor has a private entrance and is zoned as a rental. Down there you have three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The previous owners used it for their in-laws. You can open it back up to the main house or keep it as is. The upper two levels has a separate entrance and six bedrooms with four bathrooms. It’s been on the market for less than a week, and it won’t last long at this price. And as you can see, though it needs some work done, the foundation is still steady, and the original craftsmanship to all fireplaces and mantles is intact.”
“I like it,” Sana said.
The realtor smiled at her, hoping the young white girl helped her with the sale of the place.
“Two-point-five, and with renovations—what I’m looking at, something over three million?”
“It would be a wise investment.”
It would.
“Fuck it, I’ll take it,” Cartier said.
“You won’t regret it. I’ll get the paperwork started.”
Sana smiled. She couldn’t wait to move in when the place was ready. Cartier and the realtor walked off to talk in more detail. Cartier didn’t want to drop two million on a home and alert the feds, or worse—the IRS, so she decided to finance the home through a shell company that Caesar helped her set up. The estimated monthly mortgage was $11,500.
When Cartier and Sana stepped outside the brownstone, they hugged.
“I’m so proud of you,” Sana sang.
Cartier didn’t admit it, but she was eager to get out of her rental. Too many people knew the address, and she would rest easier if she rested her head at a new location.
After closing on the brownstone, Cartier’s next move was to see an attorney. She and Sana strutted into a prestigious law firm in Lower Manhattan to meet with a woman named Megan McKinney. McKinney’s specialty was in intellectual property. She was able to advise Cartier on issues relating to trademarks, service marks, and patents. Cartier had trademarked Cartier Cartel’s Clubhouse, and she was working toward opening its doors to underprivileged youth. She wanted to do community outreach and help guide wayward teenagers with nowhere to go on education, job placement, mentoring, and internships. Cartier wanted to get grants from the government to help with legitimate cash flow to keep the place functioning.
What Cartier saw in Flint with Head opened her eyes, and it disgusted her how Head was misguiding those young women. She knew how it felt to be taken advantage of as a young girl. Back in her young days, a bitch named Shorty Dip took advantage of Cartier and her friends. She had Cartier and her crew shoplifting and taking all the risks while Shorty Dip reaped the benefits from it.
It was going to be difficult caring for her baby and running things too, so she put Majestic in charge of her distribution operations, and they would meet once a week. Business on the streets was good. Having a buffer between herself and the drug operation allowed her to focus more on her day-to-day planning of her group home and on giving birth to a healthy baby.
Astonishingly, Sana became more of a help and benefit to Cartier than anyone else. Sana was great at getting through to her generation, and with her knowledge about computers and numbers, they became a great team. Sana actually cared about Cartier, and she was grateful to help out any way she could.
Spring rolled around, and just as the frost dissipated, so did thoughts of Head, Harlem, Pebbles, drama, heartache, and heartbreak. Cartier kept herself busy and focused on what mattered—her pregnancy and CCC group home for girls. She hadn’t heard from Head in months since escaping his compound, but then that streak was broken.
35
The pain was nearly unbearable for Pebbles, even though it was her third time giving birth. It felt like she was going to be in labor forever.
“Push! Keep pushing,” the doctor encouraged. “Come on, just a few more pushes.”
“Aaaah! Oh god!” Pebbles cried out.
The head was crowning, and Pebbles was pushing the best she could. She hollered in pain and wanted it to be over with. Surrounded by medical staff with the room feeling crowded, the one person she wished was there was Head. She yearned for him to be by her side at a wonderful moment like this—to hold her hand, comfort her, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. She knew he was in town, and she expected him to be there for his baby’s birth.
She continued to push, feeling her baby would come at any minute. She thought Head was going to miss his daughter’s birth. But surprisingly, he came marching through the doors and into the room ready to witness everything. Seeing Head there, Pebbles smiled and exhaled.
“Thank God,” she uttered.
Head came to her bedside and took her hand into his and said to her, “C’mon, baby, you can do this. Push!”
And she did. She grunted, growled, cursed, and squeezed Head’s hand like she wanted to break it into two pieces—but she pushed and pushed until their baby girl was in the doctor’s arms, crying loudly. It already sounded like she had a healthy set of lungs.
After cleaning her off and physically inspecting the newborn girl, the doctor handed their prized daughter into Pebbles’ arms and Pebbles beamed with joy. She was the most beautiful thing Pebbles had ever seen. Head smiled too. They had created a life together—a black life—and Head wanted to teach his daughter so many things.
“What are you going to name her?” one of the nurses asked.
Pebbles gazed at her baby girl and replied with, “Piper.”
“It’s a beautiful name,” the nurse responded.
“It is.” Pebbles smiled.
At that moment, Pebbles felt that she and Head were a family. It was an awesome feeling and she didn’t want it to fade. Lying there skin-to-skin with her newborn daughter, she already felt connected, and having Head by her side in the room, she wished he would never leave.
“I love you.”
He smiled and replied, “I love you too.”
Those simple words made for a heavenly moment, and Pebbles felt that things were about to change. She thought Head would be around and treat her more like a wife than a mistress. Now that she had birthed his daughter, Pebbles believed that she had been promoted to a different position in his life.
Head spent a week with Pebbles and his daughter. When Pebbles and the baby were discharged, she came home to a beautiful new nursery. It was all paid for by Head. Only a few days old, and Piper already had everything a child could dream of, even though she didn’t know it. Head even bought his baby girl a diamond ankle bracelet. He wanted her to have the best, and for her to be the best.
However, Pebbles’ family moment and her bond with Head were short-lived.
“I gotta go,” he announced to her one morning.
“So soon?”
“I need to take care of business. You know that,” he said.
Head packed his things and left for Michigan a week after Piper was born. Pebbles never asked him any questions. She let him go on his merry way to whatever business in Michigan he had to take care of. She simply went with the flow. Head was paying all her bills, and once her body snapped back into shape, she planned on getting back to work.
The knock at her front door caught Pebbles off guard. She was trying to breastfeed Piper when it came. She knew it wasn’t Head because he had his own key to her place. Pebbles placed her baby girl in the crib, covered herself, and went to see who it was. When she glanced through the peephole, she was completely taken aback by the visitor. In fact, she became worried. Cartier was standing in the hallway.
“What do you want, Cartier?” Pebbles asked from the other side of the door.
Pebbles knew Head had married Cartier, and she still allowed him to lie in her bed and continued to have sex with him.
“We need to talk,” Cartier said.
“We have nothing to talk about. Get away from my door before I call the police.”
“I came to talk, and you wanna call five-oh?”
“You’re here for a reason and I know it’s not to talk. Stop being mad because your man chose me.”
Cartier shook her head. Pebbles was always talking slick through a phone line or thick door.
“First off, let me get this out the fuckin’ way—I will always be that bitch who niggas will give a ring to and want to marry. Head’s not my man; he’s my husband.”
“And, if it wasn’t for the mistresses, then marriages wouldn’t last as long as they do. And if it wasn’t for the mistresses, y’all husbands would be completely miserable and bored, so you should be thanking me,” Pebbles countered.
Cartier chuckled at her remark.
“Look, Pebbles, I didn’t come here to fight or argue with you. I came here to talk—woman to woman,” Cartier said.
“Again, talk about what?”
“It’s about Head. I promise that no harm will come to you,” said Cartier sincerely. “Look, I’m pregnant too, and it’s Head’s.”
Pebbles huffed. It was a shock to hear. She wanted to believe Cartier, but the bad blood between them made her dubious. However, she couldn’t run from Cartier forever. Maybe they did have something to talk about.
Cautiously, Pebbles opened her apartment door. Cartier stood there with a slightly protruding stomach. She entered and the first thing Pebbles said to her was, “I don’t want any shit from you. My baby’s sleeping in the next room.”
Pebbles had her cell phone in hand and 911 on speed dial.
“I told you, I didn’t come here to fight,” said Cartier. “Look at me.”
“So, you’re pregnant?” Pebbles took a seat on the couch and motioned to the chair nearby for Cartier.
Cartier nodded and took a seat. “Nearly five months.”
“Well, like it or not, our children are gonna be related,” said Pebbles.
“I know.” She hated it, but it was the truth. “I have something that I think you should know.”
“What, Cartier?”
“Do you know about Head’s other life?”
“Other life?”
“Yes. I found something out about him, Pebbles—something you should know too.”
“Listen, whatever you know or found out about Head, just keep it to yourself,” Pebbles replied in exasperation. “I don’t wanna know. I don’t care.”
Cartier was shocked by her reply. She came to inform the bitch, but it was obvious that she wanted to keep herself in the dark.
“The only thing I care about right now, Cartier, is my daughter, her father, and how her father treats me when we’re together. I don’t want to know about anything else out there. Our issues are our issues, and I’m cool with the way things are. But I don’t want any more surprises and bullshit in my life. Head’s business out there is his business, not mine.”
She said a mouthful, and Cartier couldn’t believe Pebbles could be so simple-minded. She thought that maybe she and Pebbles could become allies instead of enemies, but now Cartier felt she had made a mistake coming to her and believing the girl had any common sense.
“I guess that’s it then.” Cartier stood to leave.
Pebbles nodded. “I guess so.”
36
Cartier got out of the black Tahoe with the assistance of Lil Foe. He jumped out the driver’s seat and opened the back passenger side door for his boss. With her drug operation expanding, she had Majestic hire additional men, which freed up Lil Foe to start back driving for her. It was really more for convenience than her security. Roddy was needed with distribution, and that’s where he felt most comfortable.
“You want me to follow you up or you good?”
“I’m good, Foe.”
“A’ight. Call me and I’ll pick you up in the morning if you need me.”
“Cool.”
“You sure you don’t need anything before I go? Snacks, soda, pickles?”
She laughed. “Nah, I’m good. Be safe.”
She wobbled her way into her building and took the elevator to her floor. Her Brooklyn brownstone was still under renovation, and the cost was climbing to $600,000 for repairs. She wanted the place finished by June. She didn’t want to spend a minute longer at her current place.
She stepped off the elevator and approached her door, but before she could walk inside, she heard Head say, “Cartier, we need to talk.”
His voice sent chills down her spine. She spun around and saw Head coming toward her. She immediately frowned at his presence. She was armed with her .380 and wouldn’t hesitate to use it on him if he came to act up.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Head. I don’t want you here!” she retorted.
Head would soon be the father of six babies with a possible seventh on the way. Cartier’s protruding stomach was now noticeable, and Head glanced down at it and said to her, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” she countered. “It’s not yours!”
Head stared at her stomach, trying to guess how far along she was. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
“Too bad, nigga.”
Head tried to follow her inside her apartment, but she quickly vetoed that. “Cartier, I just need to talk. To explain some things.”
Cartier Cartel--Part 4 Page 22