Return of the Cartier Cartel (Part 2)

by Santiago, Nisa

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Return of the Cartier Cartel. Copyright © 2010 by Melodrama Publishing. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Melodrama Publishing, P.O. Box 522, Bellport, NY 11713.

  www.melodramapublishing.com

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2010926183

  ISBN-13: 978-1934157305

  ISBN-10: 1934157309

  First Edition: October 2010

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Editors: Nicole Peters, Brian Sandy, Candace K. Cottrell

  Interior Design: Candace K. Cottrell

  Cover Design: Candace K. Cottrell

  Cover Photo: Torrence Williams

  Prologue

  Expiration Date

  “I’m not going to tell you one more muthafuckin’ time, Jason. If this bitch doesn’t tell us what the fuck we wanna hear, you better put a fuckin’ slug in her head. Do I make myself clear?”

  Jason exhaled, trying to regain control of the situation. He had no idea how he’d gotten put in this position. He tried desperately to block out Cartier’s loud bickering, but her voice was like a sledgehammer drilling into his skull. In his opinion, Cartier had lost sight of the real enemy, in her thirst to avenge her best friend’s murder.

  Jason, holding the Glock tightly in his left hand, paced up and down the small motel room on the Conduit in East New York, Brooklyn. The motel was a run-down, rat-infested joint, where an addict would OD almost once a week, and where a steady stream of prostitutes brought their tricks. Management was on that “don’t snitch” policy, which kept the steady flow of cash coming in.

  “Look . . . ummm . . . what’s your name again?” Jason asked, cautiously.

  Through her whimpering, she managed to say, “J-J-Jalissa.”

  “Right, right. Jalissa, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will make you swallow a muthafuckin’ bullet if you don’t tell me where the fuck Ryan lay his head at. I’m tired of running all around this city chasing a nigga with my dick in my hands. Now, with or without you, that nigga is ghost. The only question is, do you wanna take that ride to hell with him? You feel me?”

  “But I told you I don’t know where he lives,” Jalissa whined, her voice trembling. “He’s too smart to let anyone know.”

  Jason turned to Cartier. “I told you this is a waste of time! She don’t know shit. If

  you’d just let me control this shit my way, I wouldn’t have to go through all this aggravation. I’ma flat-line that nigga in due time. Just let me deal with dude my way.”

  Cartier wasn’t interested in Jason’s sermon. She wanted results. She landed yet another punch in the side of the girl’s head. “He’s your fuckin’ sister’s man! Don’t say that stupid shit again, or I promise I will kick your fuckin’ teeth down your throat, you dumb-ass bitch!” Cartier spewed, jealous of the beauty sitting in front of her.

  “Look, Cartier, I’ma handle this situation. Go home, and let me do what I do.”

  Cartier paused, her wild eyes darting back and forth from Jason to Jalissa. She was so angry, her throat tightened up.

  Jason took her silence as an opportunity to exert more authority.

  “I do my dirt all by my lonely, and I don’t need my wife, the mother of my seed, involved in this here gunplay. Now I’ma rock this bitch to sleep, but you gotta get ghost—”

  “Now wait a fuckin’ minute,” Jalissa interjected, cutting Jason off mid-sentence. Out of fear, her eyes popped open wide like saucers. Her once flawless face was distorted with dried blood and bruises, compliments of Cartier. Her breathing was shallow as she struggled to maintain a steady stream of air to her lungs; she feared that one of her ribs might be fractured or broken. The last thing she thought could ever happen to her while getting ready to head out to the manicurist was that she’d be beaten, kidnapped, and then have her life threatened over a nigga she wasn’t even fucking. This wasn’t her beef.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Cartier roared, her face twisted, enhancing her already strong features. Her anger was boiling over, and she knew she’d snap any second.

  The prisoner wanted to plead her case and try to reason with Cartier, but at that point she realized she wasn’t dealing with a rational person. She looked to Jason for reassurance, and he gave her a slight head nod that finally put her heart at peace. Up until then, she didn’t know which way he’d flip.

  Cartier took a couple steps behind Jason and seemed to relax. Finally she said, “OK, Jason. I’ll let you take over, but I’m not leaving here until she tells us where Ryan lives. It seems as if this friendly line of questioning isn’t working, so I think you should begin torturing this silly bitch. And I mean some real crazy shit, like cutting off a finger or something, because, as you can already see, this bitch can take a good beat-down and she won’t break.”

  Cartier reached in her back pocket and pulled out a switchblade and tossed it to Jason. Her icy eyes caused Jalissa to shiver with fear.

  Jason knew Cartier wasn’t going to let Jalissa off the hook. Right now all he wanted was for Cartier to leave. And from the vicious ass-whipping Cartier put on Jalissa, he was sure all Jalissa wanted was for Cartier to leave as well. Jason exhaled a sigh of defeat, sweat trickling down his smooth skin.

  Cartier’s feminine voice turned gruff. “Cut . . . this . . . bitch . . . up!”

  Jason ignored her order. Who the fuck did she think she was? Didn’t she realize he was running the show?

  As he struggled to think of another angle to try to outsmart Cartier, he heard, “Just as I thought—Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!”

  The sound of the loud cannon was deafening to Jason’s ears. He watched in horror as Cartier let off four shots, each piercing its intended target. As he watched Jalissa’s life and that of his unborn child drain from her eyes, it was only then he realized that Cartier had known about his affair all along.

  Before Jason could retaliate or avenge the murder of his mistress and unborn child, Cartier emptied her clip into him, and the hot slugs ripped through his limbs. As his body hit the dirty rug, he heard Cartier say, “Now, fuck that bitch in hell!”

  Chapter 1

  Rewind

  The Ivy, Chateau Marmont, Mr. Chow, TMZ paparazzi, and Sunset Boulevard weren’t enough to keep Cartier in Los Angeles. Jason, on the other hand, was star-struck. The small, quaint Melrose Place-type of apartment that they’d rented on Larrabee Street—with the legendary Viper Room on the corner, where actor River Phoenix allegedly overdosed—cost a grip, though it wasn’t any bigger than a Brooklyn bathroom.

  The size of the apartment didn’t really seem to bother Jason because he was hardly there. Every night he’d leave Cartier home alone with the kids while he’d hit every hot spot Cali had to offer. To escape the apartment, Cartier and the kids spent most of their time in the courtyard pool, where Cartier sat thinking about her life. Escaping New York was what she thought she’d wanted. A new beginning in a new town. Right now, Monya and Shanine were intuitively calling her to take action, and once again she knew she had to take her place as the head of Cartier’s Cartel.

  As Cartier sat by the pool watching Christian and Jason Jr. flop around in the water, she decided that as soon as Jason woke his tired ass up from a night of partying, she’d confront him and kick-start their return to New York. Looking at the celebrity-obsessed, fake-boobed wannabe actors coming in and
out of the courtyard, she quickly grabbed the kids and toted them upstairs before she lost it.

  Cartier put the kids down to take an afternoon nap. The apartment reeked of alcohol, which was obviously seeping out of Jason’s pores, his loud snoring rattling her nerves.

  Unbeknownst to Cartier, Jason had come home around seven o’clock in the morning after beginning his night by taking Mari, a new exotic beauty he’d met a few weeks ago, out to dinner at Eva Longoria’s restaurant, Beso. Then he dropped her off and headed to club Villa, a swanky establishment littered with the rich and famous, before ending his night at celebrity hotspot, Ecco. Among the glitzy nightclub’s regulars were Paris Hilton, Jamie Foxx, Gerard Butler, and one of the cast members from HBO’s Entourage, to name a few. Jason had the pleasure of stalking them all.

  The crumpled hundred-dollar bills tossed on the dresser along with Jason’s brand-new platinum and diamond jewelry were an obvious indication of how much money he was blowing. In this town, you could only act your way or buy your way into the in-crowd. Jason was clearly doing the latter.

  Cartier had estimated that in only three months he had blown nearly a half million dollars as she sat back and said and did nothing, evidently still mourning the events regarding her friends. Now she was getting her mojo back, and wanted revenge so badly, she could visualize it.

  Before waking up Jason, Cartier grabbed his jeans he’d taken off only hours earlier and his cell phone and crept back out of the room. She had never snooped on her husband—ever—thinking, if you search, then you shall find. And she really couldn’t reason why she was doing it now. His jeans didn’t hold any evidence of cheating. He only had his car keys, gum, and a pack of Gummy Bears.

  Next, she went through his cell phone’s rolodex. At first glance, everything seemed innocent. There were numerous male names, and all the females in his phone were either mutual friends, or family.

  Cartier decided to go back and revisit the six unknown male names, two with Los Angeles area codes, and one of which he’d called right before coming home. She went to that number first and hit redial. Her heart raced as a female voice groggily picked up. Cartier hadn’t given a thought about what she’d say, but she knew she wasn’t going to just hang up.

  “Hello,” the female answered.

  Silence.

  “Hello?” she said again.

  Thinking quickly, Cartier whined, “Oh my God, Jason’s been arrested.” Her voice was rushed and wavering. “He gave me his phone and asked me to call you. The police were everywhere this morning.”

  Cartier heard some rumbling, and could sense some hesitance.

  “Who is this?”

  “Oh, sorry. I apologize. I’m still shook up. My name is Sabrina. I work at the rental unit he lives in. I think they arrested him for a DUI. All I know is, one moment I’m on my way to work, and the next minute, he’s tossing a phone in my face, asking me to call you and for you to bail him out. What’s your name? He said to dial Marvin and ask to speak to his girl.”

  She giggled lightly. “That’s my code name, Marvin, but my real name is Mari.”

  Her voice is syrupy-sweet, Cartier thought. Seductive. Cartier’s jealousy was bursting, but she knew it was better to contain it for now.

  “You two are crazy.” Cartier forced a laugh. “Why do you have a code name? Are y’all like James Bond, 007 type thing going on? I know me and my man are into games, but that’s usually saved for the bedroom.”

  “Oh, we have our bedroom games as well, but that’s not what the code name is used for. Let’s just say, my having a code name is what’s needed to keep the peace.” Again, she giggled.

  “I see. Well, Mari, bail money—that’s why I’m calling. Do you have any to contribute to getting Jason released?”

  The giggling suddenly ceased.

  “How much does he need? I have the five grand he just gave me to pay for maintenance for my condo this month, but I’m not really willing to part with that right now. And just between you and me, Sabrina, I’m not trying to dip into my savings, you know? Us girls gotta take care of ourselves first.”

  Cartier swallowed hard. “Well, he’s been calling his cell phone constantly, and he said to tell you that whatever you give up, he’ll double as soon as he’s released. You seem like a smart girl. In less than twenty-four hours you could double your money.”

  “He said that?”

  “Yes. But I’m only the messenger.”

  “No, no, I totally understand. But whatever Jason has promised this far, he’s always come through, so I know his word is good. I just wish he would call me directly.”

  “In this day and age, who memorizes telephone numbers? I’m sure he would if he could, but right now, let’s concentrate on getting him out. There’s a couple of dollars in this for me as well for running all his errands. He needs twenty thousand dollars. Do you have that?”

  Cartier wanted to know what this chick was working with. She was hoping for Mari to play Big Willie and toss twenty large in her hand, because she had every intention of not only kicking her ass but also keeping every dime.

  “Yes, I have it, but I’m not giving up that much cash. I mean, I wouldn’t feel comfortable. I can offer up the five grand, that’s it. Besides, that won’t be too much trouble, being that it’s still sitting on my dresser. I haven’t had a chance to do my banking yet. I’ve just booked travel to go on a holiday, so things are hectic.”

  Book travel? Holiday? This bitch think she is Posh Spice, Cartier thought. “But he said he’d give you back dou—”

  “I know what he said, but I say no fucking way!” Suddenly the soft-spoken, eager-to-help woman was no more. “Either I give up the five, or I give nothing. He can take that and get the rest from his wife or some other chick, but that’s as far as I go.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Cartier didn’t know how to play this out without Mari becoming suspicious, so she decided to give her a false sense of control. “I think I know where I can come up with the rest of the money, being that anyone’s investment will be doubled. So do you want to meet me at the jailhouse? Shall I come and pick you up? Tell me, what should we do next?”

  “We aren’t going to do anything. Look, Sabrina, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m not about to go on this odyssey with you. One girl to the next, I just walked through the door only hours ago. I need my sleep because I have an important evening planned ahead. Why don’t you come over here, pick up the money, and go and spring Jason out of jail? And if you promise to tell him only good things about our talk, then there might be an extra hundred bucks in it for you from me. Are we cool? Are we on the same page, sweetheart?”

  “Definitely.”

  Cunt.

  Chapter 2

  Tricks Are for Kids

  Cartier couldn’t drive fast enough to Mari’s house. She had to see in person the female with the silky voice her husband was tricking with. Jason dropping that kind of money on a broad was definitely intimidating to her. You didn’t drop that kind of money on a one-night stand. In fact, Mari was garnering more maintenance than Jason’s own household. Jason was putting her before his wife and kids. While he had Cartier and his family living in a two-bedroom closet for three grand a month, his mistress was living in a high-end condo, and he was paying five grand for her pussy.

  Mari’s condo was located in Beverly Hills, where apartments ranged anywhere in a soft market from 1.5 to 8 million dollars. It took Cartier a matter of minutes to sum up the situation. Mari was either connected to the rich and famous, or she was rich and perhaps even semi-famous. She most likely met men to maintain her lifestyle, and Jason was exactly the type of asshole she preyed upon.

  When Mari opened the door she was everything Cartier didn’t want to see. Her beauty was unblemished. Her creamy, mocha-colored skin, pointy nose, slanted eyes, and high cheekbones gave her an exotic look. She was a mixture of something you couldn’t put your finger on. Her shiny hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her long, flowing white s
ilk bathrobe trimmed in white mink with matching stiletto slippers was something a character in a movie would wear. Cartier wondered, Do women really dress like that for bed?

  Cartier was about to pounce on Mari and beat the beauty out of her as she opened the door, but the wide, warm smile radiating from Mari did something unexpected. Cartier’s anger toward her rival subsided, as she stood in awe.

  Extending her hand, Mari said, “You must be Sabrina. Welcome to my humble condo.”

  “You mean, palace.” Cartier’s eyes scanned the immaculately decorated room. Who is this woman? Cartier thought. And how did Jason land this one? Mari looked to be at least forty years old. You couldn’t actually see it from her face, but her age was in her eyes.

  “Come sit down while I go and get the money.”

  Cartier got a firsthand view of Mari’s baby grand piano, sheepskin fur rugs, Marilyn Monroe pictures, marble floors, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances, and she wanted to be upgraded.

  Jolting her out of her trance, Mari said, “So, how long have you and Jason been married?”

  Cartier was stunned. How did she know?

  “I didn’t know until I opened the door. He showed me a picture of you and the kids, cute kids by the way.”

  Cartier’s anger immediately resurfaced. She was usually the one in control. For years she’d controlled The Cartel, and then her marriage to Jason. She was used to calling the shots, but here this Sherlock Holmes-type tramp was blowing her element of surprise. It was at that moment Cartier realized the hot California sun had fried her street sense. She was furious.

  “Bitch, don’t be questioning me! I should—”

  The small chrome .22 was enough to silence the feisty Cartier. Her eyes flew open wide like saucers.

  “Look, let’s not go there, OK? The yelling and name-calling really isn’t my cup of tea. It’s beneath me. And it should be beneath you as well. You have kids? I mean, what were you planning on doing? Coming over here to fight me? And then what? You can’t say that you’d actually feel better.”