by Ashley
“You know he is going to go right back to Miami right?” Monroe stated. “There is no telling who he’s going to run his mouth to. We need to dead that nigga.”
“He’ll never make it. The mechanic is going to make sure of it. The Feds will find the plane at the bottom of the ocean, assuming that we were on it,” Carter replied. He swiped his nose arrogantly, feeling no remorse for double-crossing the pilot. He knew that the man would not be able to resist returning to Miami. He had just come into a million dollars. He wouldn’t want to be rich alone; he would want to share it with the people who knew him. There was no point in getting money if you couldn’t floss in front of the people that you were once broke in front of. He would disobey Carter’s orders and surely attempt to return to Miami. Unfortunately for him Carter had anticipated this. The man would be half way across the Atlantic ocean when the engines on his plane gave out. It was cold blooded, but the men couldn’t afford any slip-ups. The pilot was a casualty to the game. No one, not one witness to their escape could remain alive. No one needed to live to tell the story of how they had evaded the law. A black, tinted, Escalade pulled up directly in front of them with two Arab men in dark suits inside.
Zyir instantly reached in his waistline, but Carter grabbed his wrist, halting him. “They’re allies,” he informed. “Polo arranged for us to hideout in Saudi Arabia. We’ll be safe there.”
“The Middle East? That’s not an easy move bro. We don’t have friends there. We don’t speak the language. This is the plan?” Monroe protested unsurely.
“Your father,” Carter paused. “Our father, had friends there. He put in work that is protecting us today. We will be well taken care of. It’s our only play right now, unless you have a better idea. We can’t stay in Bermuda. The Caribbean will be the first place that the Feds look. Its too predictable.”
“The way you’re talking we ain’t never going back,” Zyir interjected solemnly. “My lady is in Miami. You have a new baby in Miami? Li’l nephew is there . . .”
“What about family?” Monroe finished for Zyir. Zyir shook his head unsurely.
“I’m not going to leave her unprotected fam. You talking about letting them think we’re dead,” Zyir stated. The thought of never seeing Breeze’s face again, or hearing the sweet tone of her voice sickened him. He knew what his “death” would do to her. She would crumble.
Carter sighed in frustration. “Look. I would like to move as a unit but we’re all grown men. I’m going to Saudi, but if this is where the road separates for the three of us I understand. I’m not worried about Miamor. I know her. She is more than capable of holding things down while I’m away. Until I can get word to her that we are safe the girls will just have to go through the pain of our loss. Eyes are on them right now anyway. Their grief will make it look real.”
If Zyir could think of any other solution he would have offered it. The situation was just bad from all angles. Zyir may not like the plan but he trusted Carter with his life. It was time for loyalty to kick in. Everybody in the crew couldn’t be chief. It was Zyir’s turn to take the back seat so that anarchy didn’t divide them.
“I’m with you my nigga,” Zyir conceded.
Carter turned to Monroe. “What about you? We’ve got another flight to catch. What’s it going to be?”
Since Monroe’s return he had been the rebellious soul. Carter half expected him to buck against him once again. Instead Monroe nodded. “I’m with you bro.”
Good. Carter opened the back door of the truck and climbed inside. Zyir and Monroe piled in behind him. “By this time tomorrow we will be half way around the world.”
Breeze’s heart felt frozen. A plane crash. The moment she had heard those words her heart had stopped beating inside of her chest. It was like the blood refused to flow through her veins. Her fingertips were ice cold, her eyes void of emotion, and her mind blank. How could this have happened? Zyir, Carter, and Monroe were three of Miami’s most powerful men and they had been killed. Not by a bullet, a war, a rival or even a cop . . . but by a mechanical error on a private plane. She sat still, staring out of the window as the chauffeured Benz truck pulled up to the church. It was the same church that her father’s funeral had been held in. Now here she was years later, burying not only the love of her life, but her brothers as well. She rode alone. It was how she preferred it. Since hearing of the tragedy she had wanted no one around her. She needed time. Space. Silence. She and Zyir had been beefing before he fled town. Their last words had been hostile ones and it was a regret that she would live with for the rest of her life. What had once felt like not enough time, now felt like too much. With Zyir by her side it seemed like life was not long enough to love him, to be with him. She had wanted a couple of forevers to bask in the joy he gave her. Now with him gone, she didn’t want to go on another day, another year . . . let alone a lifetime without him. She was beginning to think that her family was cursed. No one she knew, no one with whom she shared blood had ever lived without looking over their shoulders. She was the last one standing. The only Diamond left of her generation. A heavy burden had been placed on her shoulders and she could feel it weighing her down already. As the driver sat silently in the front seat, waiting for her command to open her door she sighed deeply. Once she stepped out of the car all eyes would be trained on her. News cameras, the ghetto grapevine, friends, foes . . . they would all be awaiting her reaction. She had been young when her father had been murdered. She hadn’t known the rules. Now she was well versed in the ways of the underworld. She remembered how strong her mother had been during her father’s funeral and she vowed to be that strong today. If she was going to do that however, she needed to get it all out now because there was no way she was going to let the world see her cry. She cleared her throat. “Please lift the partition,” she instructed. The driver nodded and as soon as Breeze saw the dark glass slide up her soul bled through as a gut wrenching cry came over her.
Leena held Carter Junior in her arms as Monroe’s heir rested his curly head in her lap. Her red-rimmed eyes cloudy as she sniffled slightly. She wasn’t ready for this day. Burying Monroe. It was too soon. Life was not supposed to come to this. She had done this routine before and he had promised her that she would never have to see him lying in a casket again. She couldn’t help but be mad that he had broken their pact. She hadn’t bothered to put on make-up. She knew that her sorrows would do nothing but wash the charade of happiness away. She was shaken to her core. Her baby, their baby was left without a father and Leena didn’t know if she could do this alone. She had gone through a lot being first Mecca’s, then Monroe’s girl but nothing had ever made her feel more alone than this. “Where is daddy?”
When her son asked the question her entire body quaked. He was old enough to realize that Monroe wasn’t around. He missed his father and Leena’s lip quivered as she searched for a response. “Daddy’s . . .” she paused, unsure of what to say. She gripped her son’s hand and took a deep breath. Get it together. You have to keep your shit together for your baby. You’re all he’s got now. Do not break down in front of him, she told herself. “Remember when I told you about God and how he has angels by his side baby?”
Her son nodded innocently. “Well God loved daddy so much that he needed him by his side baby. Daddy is resting now. He lives with God and we won’t be able to see him anymore. More he’s always with you. He’s your guardian angel and if you close your eyes and listen to your heart you’ll feel him. He is always watching over you baby. Do you understand?”
Monroe Jr. nodded and smiled as he closed his eyes, squeezing them tight as he said, “I feel him mommy! I feel him!” He opened his eyes excitedly. “Close your eyes too mommy! Hurry, hurry!”
When Leena closed her eyes she felt the tears drop out of the sides of them but she didn’t make a sound. Her heartbeat increased and she sobbed silently, not wanting her child to hear her grief. “Keep them closed baby. Just be with daddy for a little while,” she said. She opened her eyes
and saw her driver extending a handkerchief to her. She mouthed the words, thank you, and wiped away her tears. Taking a deep breath she said, “Okay baby. Its time to go inside now. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The smile of her child put the strength in her legs that she needed to stand on her own two. She reached into her bag and pulled out the Xanax she had been prescribed. She needed to take the edge off a bit. She placed it inside of her mouth and took a swig of her son’s apple juice before she readied herself to face the world or rather the underworld of Miami.
Miamor sat behind the windows of the tinted Maybach. She was last in the procession of fancy escorted cars. The fleet had cost them almost $50,000 but she had spared no expense. Bulletproof everything was not a luxury it was necessity and she took an extra measure of security by putting Leena in a car with the kids because she knew that no one would target her. They saw her as a grieving widow not a member of the Cartel. Leena would be the last to be hit if anything did go down.
Miamor hadn’t actually gotten time to process the plane crash just yet. She was in shock. So many things had fallen apart simultaneously that the only thing she could do was go into autopilot. She was handling the Feds, the organization of the memorial, a newborn baby. It was all so overwhelming and time consuming that the fact that Carter was never coming home to her had not yet hit her. She would never see his face again and still no emotion had materialized within her . . . not just yet. Miamor knew that once she allowed herself to feel that she would feel it all and falling apart was not an option at the moment. She would mourn him in private, after the memorial was over, but right now she had to protect his legacy. She had to protect his seed, his sister, and what was left of their family. She clicked her gun off safety and placed it inside of her Chanel bag. She wanted to wear it on her body, but the black Herve Leger dress left no room for her to tuck it inconspicuously. Miamor hoped she wouldn’t have to use it but in any case she would be prepared to pop off. She herself had once walked into a Cartel funeral with the intent of murder so she didn’t put it past anyone. The Cartel was weakened by the death of their men, it was the perfect time for infiltration. She looked out of the window at the massive crowd that was filtering out of the church. Even the mega church wasn’t big enough to accommodate the amount of people that had come out to pay their respects. Everybody was there, but not all that attended came out of love. She was sure a few enemies lingered in the crowd to confirm the deaths. The Feds were lurking. She could sniff out the pig bastards from a mile away. They were so obvious that she almost wanted to go and say hello. But the majority of the attendees were Cartel affiliates. Wives, girlfriends, hustlers, runners, muscle, groupies. Everybody was out and dressed to impress. If the mood wasn’t so somber it would have been a hell of a party. Even in death Carter commanded respect. It was one of the many things she had loved about her man. She climbed out of the car and watched as Leena, Breeze, and the kids did the same. The bodyguard that Miamor had assigned to Leena and the younger ones escorted them in first as Breeze and Miamor trailed behind. Concealed behind designer shades they all made their way into the church and with heavy hearts they said good-bye to the men that had ruled not only the streets of Miami, but their hearts like no other before them.
“It didn’t feel like a funeral,” Leena said. “Their bodies. Where are they? Am I the only one that feels like maybe this is a mistake? Maybe they’re alive?”
“They’re not alive,” Breeze said. “No one could have survived that wreckage.”
“And I’ve been to a funeral where there was a body but no death,” Miamor said, reminding them of Monroe’s fake funeral years prior. “We just have to accept what is. The kids are asleep. I’m going to bed. You’re more than welcome to stay the night if you want. Choose a room,” she said, motioning to her massive mansion. She secretly hoped they would stay. With Carter gone it felt ominously empty . . . void of color . . . of life . . . of hope. She used to dream of filling every room with Carter’s bobble head babies. She imagined that their girls would have long, curly coils, and big brown eyes. Their boys would be dark and strong with serious temperaments like their father. Now, she saw nothing. She couldn’t even imagine what tomorrow would be like let alone foresee far into the future. Time stood still. Death would do that to you. She remembered the healing process when her sister was murdered. It had taken years for her to get over the loss. Feeling hurt every moment of everyday made days feel like weeks and weeks like months. It was all just so unbearable. It was worse than any physical torture that she had ever encountered. She would need something to help her sleep through the night and a bottle of wine was the only remedy. She walked into the finished basement and then down another set of stairs where Carter had insisted on building a wine cellar. She would have preferred a gun chamber but his incessant passion for fine wine had quickly rubbed off on her. She grabbed a vintage bottle. It was one that he would have never allowed her to open had he been alive. She pulled it down as she thought, you shouldn’t have died on me. A tear fell down her face as she carried it up to the basement. She couldn’t wait until she got upstairs. She sat at the basement bar and frantically uncorked the bottle as she poured herself a full glass. As the bitter redness entered her mouth she felt her emotional dam breaking. She lowered her head as she gripped her wine and let her tears flow. Finally, it hit her. Carter wasn’t there to chastise her over his expensive bottle of wine. He wasn’t there to hold her. To love her. To help her find her way as a new mother. She was by herself. It was how she had started out. She almost wished she had never loved Carter because losing him was worse than never having him at all. She wished that she had a fast forward button to push her past this part. When she felt pain she liked to inflict pain, but as a new mother she could no longer follow that pattern. Miamor was in unchartered territory. She didn’t know how to be this girl. She didn’t know how to live this life without Carter there to guide her. She had become the type of woman he could trust, but now that he was gone she didn’t trust herself. She had loved him so hard that she had lived her life in accord to his liking but he was gone now. Where does this leave me? She thought sadly.
Before she knew it the entire bottle of wine was empty and she had cried so many tears that her eyes burned. She hated being so weak, it didn’t suit her. She walked upstairs, bumping the walls along the way from her drunken state. She wasn’t for this sulking shit. Her emotions were getting the best of her and she didn’t like it. She located her Chanel bag and pulled out her pistol. She was glad that the memorial had gone peacefully but the pop off queen in her needed a release. She found Breeze sniffling quietly on her living room sofa.
“You’re still awake?” Miamor asked.
“Can’t sleep,” Breeze responded with a shrug. The evidence of her loss was written all over her face.
“Come on,” Miamor said. She went into the hall closet and pulled down a case that held a 9 mm inside. She passed it to Breeze.
“What are you doing?” Breeze asked, confused.
“Showing you the perfect stress reliever. Follow me,” she answered. Miamor led Breeze out of the back of the house and out into the vast yard.
“Where the hell are we going?” Breeze asked.
“Whenever I feel overwhelmed I come out here,” Miamor said. The amount of land that they had was unbelievable. Huge lots weren’t common in Miami, but Miamor had acres. Carter had wanted a large yard and a big house to raise his family in but today it hurt to even breathe the air inside. When they were far enough away from the house Miamor stopped walking and pointed to a ledge that held bottles on top.
“Pulling a trigger is a stress reliever for me,” she admitted.
“Figures,” Breeze shot back with a smirk. “Let’s go ahead and test your theory.” Breeze aimed.
BOOM!
She hit nothing.
Miamor chuckled. “We need to work on your aim. I thought Zyir taught you how to shoot.”
“Not in the middle o
f the night,” Breeze said. “Give me a break. You’re drunk. You probably can’t do any better.”
Miamor aimed.
BOOM!
The glass broke as Miamor hit her mark effortlessly.
Breeze threw up her hands incredulously causing Miamor to laugh out loud. Her laughter turned into cries as Breeze’s eyes watered. The two women embraced, leaning on each other. They were sisters, not by blood but by street law and at this moment all they had was each other.
Chapter 2
“D.E.A is all over us. The workers are snitching, they have photos, and evidence . . .”
—Breeze
Four Weeks Later
Miamor sat in her son’s nursery as she swayed gently in the wooden rocker. Her emotions were all over the place. Here she was holding the newborn child of the man that she was supposed to spend the rest of her days with, yet he was gone. It seemed as if they had just reunited. They hadn’t had enough time together before Carter was taken away. “A plane crash,” she whispered still in disbelief. She was still getting used to being a mother. Her body, her emotions, her view on the world . . . it had all changed the moment she gave birth. She had prepared herself for her life to alter drastically, but not in this way. She would never get used to raising her child alone. All she wanted was forever with Carter but it seemed that forever was elusive. Miamor wanted to break down, but everything seemed to land on her shoulders. With the absence of the male heads of The Cartel, the empire was in need of leadership. Breeze had come up around the game, but she had never been a player in it. She was a pampered princess. All she knew was the money and the reputation that she got from being affiliated. She knew nothing of the stripes that it took to lead an army of street niggas. Then there was Leena. A pretty face who had stood on the arms of made men for years. She had been around, but Miamor was almost sure that she was just like the average hustler’s wife, she knew no details. Leena wasn’t street, but could still prove valuable because she was sharp, and she seemed to be loyal. Still, she lacked the raw courage that it took to run things. In an organization as infamous as The Cartel, there couldn’t be weakness. Miamor was used to running with a pack of thoroughbreds. Leena and Breeze were a far cry from The Murder Mamas. Miamor had trusted them with her life, she wasn’t sure if Breeze and Leena could compare.