“Girl, you know how to seduce a man. Cook him a nice dinner and suck his dick. And don’t forget to swallow the cum. Get frisky, chick. Men love a freak.”
Cartier laughed slightly. If it was only that easy, she thought. “Maybe we could go away where there won’t be any distractions, and we could maybe renew our vows or something. Maybe run to Vegas for a few days. Truthfully, I’ve always wanted to get married, for real, for real. Like not behind bars, you know, all the whispers behind the scenes from bitches saying that getting married while locked down wasn’t the real deal. What do you think, Bam?”
“I think that’s hot. He’ll love it. And while you’re planning your trip, I’ll keep my ears to the street to see if I hear anything.” Bam was ready to agree with anything at that moment. She’d already tossed back half the bottle of wine and had gotten bored with Cartier’s conversation. Why should she be excited about weddings and vacations when she could have been making the same plans?
“You’d do that for me?”
“You know you’re my girl.”
Finding out who Jason was sleeping with was the last thing on Bam’s to-do list. Besides, Jason had scads of women. It would probably have been easier to name who he wasn’t sleeping with.
Bam laughed at her own thoughts and crawled back into her bed to cry her eyes out.
****
That night Cartier decided to take Bam’s advice by swallowing her pride and asking Jason to come back home. Her heart palpitated from fear as she dialed his number and throughout each ring. When he allowed her call to go to voicemail she was consumed with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. Was it really over? Had she finally taken it too far? Was she systematically losing everyone she loved most?
After downing a half bottle of Patrón and pineapple juice, Cartier was violently shaken out of her drunken stupor by Jason.
“I see you been missing a nigga . . .”
Chapter 11
Unthinkable
As May rolled around, the weather was just beginning to dry out from the April showers when Cartier got the phone call she was dreading. Janet called the house to say that Monya had taken a turn for the worse, and the ventilators were no longer able to sustain her heart and brain. The doctors said she probably wouldn’t make it through the night.
“This can’t happen,” Cartier said in disbelief. “I thought she would get better.”
Janet was tired and weary. “She’s ready to go, Cartier. As much as it pains me to say this, my baby wants to be at rest. She’s a fighter, and she’s fighting being here. I’m calling to tell everyone to go to the hospital to say their good-byes.”
****
The beeps from the ventilator could be heard from the opposite end of the hallway. The smell of death, antiseptics, and dried blood from the ICU assaulted Cartier’s nostrils as soon as she stepped out of the elevator. When she arrived no one was there with her friend. Her body lay still, as if already dead, in the small twin bed. Her already slender frame was emaciated and hardly visible underneath the sheer white hospital sheet. Instantly Cartier burst into tears and collapsed at Monya’s bedside.
Thirty minutes later she was still in tears. She just couldn’t bear to let her go.
“We got one of them,” Cartier managed to say. Laced with regret and grief, her own voice sounded foreign to her. Up until now, she didn’t feel a need to tell Monya anything but good, positive things. “Big Mike . . . he’s gone, Monya. And I promise you that we’ll get Ryan too.”
Cartier wiped her tears and then looked at her best friend. Her eyes were tightly shut, a tube assisting her breathing. “Monya, you’re still beautiful.” Cartier’s voice got stronger as she reminisced. “I would never tell you this in the past, but you were always the prettiest out of our crew. I bet you knew that, didn’t you? You thought you were hot shit.”
Cartier laughed somewhat. “In fact, we all thought we were the shit. You couldn’t tell us nothing. Remember when we boosted those mink coats”—Another hearty laugh. “Baby, our names were ringing bells. We were the youngest bitches to come through with mink coats and stilettos. Those were the good days.”
Cartier looked off, through the window, her voice beginning to crack. “We sure did have fun back then. Back when we didn’t think our actions had consequences.”
She reached down and grabbed Monya’s hand. It was ice-cold. “Monya, I know you’re tired of being here, and you’re ready to go.” Once again her voice choked up. “I want you to know that we’re taking real good care of Jason Jr., and he’ll be raised in a loving home. I’ll always share great stories about you with him. He’ll definitely know his mother through me. Oh, and before I forget—”
The loud beeping jolted Cartier’s thoughts. She couldn’t remember what she was about to say. Everything happened so fast. One moment she heard a code blue announcement, the next, she was being ushered out of the way by a doctor and two nurses. She watched in horror as a team of professionals worked on her friend. Using the defibrillator, they tried to jump-start Monya’s heart. Less than five minutes later, Monya was gone. Just like that. Her best friend was dead, for real this time.
Chapter 12
Ring The Alarm
Cartier hated to feel this way, but she almost wished that Monya had passed away the same day last year as Shanine. She just couldn’t stomach going to another funeral. It was all too traumatic.
“You almost ready?” Trina asked as she walked into Cartier’s room. Jason and the kids were waiting for her downstairs.
“I guess.”
“Well, come on now. We don’t want to be late.”
“Ma, it’s just not fair.”
“We know that already, Cartier, but there’s nothing either one of us can do. So come on now. Monya is expecting you to send her off.”
After the funeral everyone headed to back to their old block for an old-fashioned block party in celebration of Monya’s life. People from all boroughs pulled up in droves. The Cartel had spent well over ten thousand dollars on food to feed hundreds of people; steak, turkey burgers, franks, lobster, and shrimp were all tossed on grills. Champagne arrived by the caseload—Moët, Clique, Dom P, and Piper were being crated out of Range Rovers and Cayennes. Get-money dudes rolled up with liters of Hennessy, Cîroc vodka, and Rémy. Chicks pulled up with trays full of potato salad, deviled eggs, tossed salad, and watermelons.
DJ Klue began spinning all the vintage hits, from Total, the “No One Else” remix with Lil’ Kim, Foxy Brown, and Da Brat, to U.T.F.O.’s “Roxanne, Roxanne.” Everyone was losing their minds, dancing on top of hooptie cars and their front stoop just celebrating.
DJ Klue put on Brandy’s song “Best Friend.” He said, “This song goes out to Cartier, Li’l Momma, and Bam. I see you! From Shanine and Monya. They still watching over y’all.”
Everyone erupted in cheers. Cartier’s grin was as wide as a slice of watermelon. She, Bam, and Li’l Momma all embraced, and they got strong encouragement from the crowd.
Later that night, everyone ended up at Janet’s house looking through a stack of old photos, laughing, crying, and just reminiscing on the past. That night everyone slept over, either because they were too drunk to drive, too tired to walk, or just because they felt peaceful being around those who loved them and just wanted to enjoy the moment while it lasted.
****
“Where you at?” Bam asked Cartier.
“I’m home. Why?”
“You alone, or is Jason there too?”
Cartier knew Bam had dirt. She could hear the urgency in her voice and was eager for her to share. “No, no, Jason ain’t here. He’s running the street. What happened?”
“This ain’t good, so I’m just going to give it to you straight, no chaser. I found out who Jason’s fucking with, and you ain’t gonna like it one bit.”
Cartier’s heart plummeted. Although her intuition told her Jason was fucking around, deep down inside, she was hoping she was wrong.
“Who is she?�
�
“Her name is Jalissa, a Puerto Rican bitch. I’m not really sure you know her, but you can find her at Sophie’s any Friday of the month. And, Cartier?”
“What?”
“Her and her sister Marisol both have something in common with you. Y’all have the same taste in men. Her sister is Ryan’s baby momma.”
The news hit Cartier like an unstoppable force. It was wrong on so many levels. More than ten years later, she just couldn’t get past Ryan leaving her to rot in jail while he hooked up with Marisol, and now to hear that her husband was fucking with the sister was beyond hurtful. She was humiliated, angered, and jealous.
“Are you positive?”
“Yeah, girl, I am. I heard it from more than once source. But the most trusted informant was Mesha, that young booster from Harlem. She said she ran into Jason in front of Bloomingdales with Jalissa last week and he bought a bag full of stolen merchandise off of her for Jalissa. She said they were all hugged up like two love birds. So what are you gonna do? I can come with you when you put your foot in her ass for fucking with your husband, but just so you know, if you fuck with Jalissa, her sister Marisol ain’t gonna take shit lightly. I heard her hand-play is nice and that she keeps a .357 on her at all times. I know you ain’t no punk, but I just want you to know what you’re up against.”
Cartier tuned Bam out as she droned on and on. She didn’t have a clue about how to handle the situation. Should she confront Jason and listen to his lies? Should she run up on Jalissa and have it play out as it did with Mari back in California? Should she just kick Jason out for the last time and give up on her marriage?
“How does she look?”
“Huh?”
“Jalissa. Describe her.”
“Umm, she’s about our height, light skin, long brown hair with blond highlights. I dunno. She’s pretty, I guess. Oh, and she has a mole next to her upper lip.”
“Like Cindy Crawford?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
“I know exactly who that bitch is,” Cartier said, visions of the girl inside the salon flashing before her eyes. “I saw her at Sophie’s the day Li’l Momma and I got into it, and I also saw her and Jason the night of the shootout in the club.”
“See, didn’t I tell you she went to Sophie’s? So do you think she know who you are?”
“Of course, that bitch know I’m Jason’s wife. She was clocking my every move in the salon. Li’l Momma checked her, but I just brushed it off. You see how sneaky these bitches are? She sat a few feet from me, just staring at me, knowing she’s fucking my husband.”
Bam listened to Cartier’s tantrum for a few more moments before she got to the good part—the meat and potatoes as her foster mother would say.
“But check it. We gotta talk about how Jason has gone against the grain. You know I can’t let this go, Cartier. Big Mike was my man, and he’s dead. There’s no coming back from that. Now we find out that Jason is fucking with a bitch who has ties to one of the men who murdered our friends. How are you gonna handle that? Because nobody gets a pass.”
Cartier wondered if for the next sixty years she’d have to hear Bam bring up Big Mike. Her constantly talking about Big Mike was like hearing nails on a chalkboard; that irritating. She wished she’d just get over it already.
“I hear you, and trust, nobody’s getting away with anything. I’ma handle this situation. I don’t know how, but I will.”
Cartier felt betrayed, and as the pieces of the puzzle began to come together, she no longer knew who to trust. What the fuck was Jason doing fucking with the enemy? Out of all the pussy in this town, why would he even go there? And how could he have been so righteous in flipping on Bam for fucking Big Mike then turn around and do the same thing? What if this chick was a double agent? What if Ryan and Jason had squashed the beef? And where was all the money they’d saved up and also scored from Big Mike? Why had Jason taken it from the house? In fact, Cartier no longer had any access to “their” money. She realized Jason was setting up to move on without her. That had to be the reason why he’d taken all of the money.
Cartier decided Trina was the only person who could give her guidance and wisdom. She went downstairs to her room.
“Ma, we need to talk, and this is some serious shit. So you gotta cut off Grey’s Anatomy and pay attention.”
Trina looked up, annoyed. Until she saw the look in her daughter’s eyes. She muted the television and sat up.
“Well, if it’s going to be one of those conversations, go in the kitchen and grab me one of Jason’s Coronas.”
Quickly, Cartier ran into the kitchen and grabbed two beers and returned to her mother. Both women cracked open the beers, and Trina waited impatiently for Cartier to get on with the story.
“I don’t know where to begin, but here goes. I told you that the same night we went to the New Year’s Eve party, we got into a shootout with Ryan.”
“Yeah, you said that somebody set y’all up because he knew that y’all were there.”
“Well, I left out that I saw Jason briefly with this Spanish chick but didn’t really think anything of it.”
“So he’s fucking around again, huh?”
Cartier didn’t like that Trina said it so casually, as if it was to be expected. “Yeah, but this time a lot is at stake. Jason is fucking this bitch who is the sister of Ryan’s baby momma.”
“What?” Trina jumped up off the bed, and got really animated. “I know you didn’t say he’s fucking with the enemy. Is he stupid or stupid?”
“Not only that, Ma. He’s been acting really distant ever since I let him come back home. We’re more roommates than husband and wife, if you feel me.”
Cartier didn’t want to go into sexual details with her mother, but Trina got the point.
“What if this bitch sets him up with Ryan?”
Trina shook her head. “Damn! I didn’t know Jason was that gullible over a piece of twat, but shit shouldn’t surprise either one of us, if he was able to fuck around with your best friend. And I don’t mean to hurt you by bringing it up, but it’s the truth. And what his stupid ass doesn’t realize is that all our lives are in danger, including the kids’. We’re sitting ducks. What if this bitch has Ryan follow Jason one night on his way home? Shit, they could have already done that. What if they’ve found out where we live? They could run up in here and do a home invasion and murder us all.”
“Those are my thoughts as well. What if this chick is the one who told Ryan that Jason would be at the club that night? And here we were suspecting Bam. And you know his whipped ass ain’t even suspect that possibility, because he’s still fucking with her.”
“I just want to know how this happened.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the how, or truthfully, the why. The point is, he violated, and he should be held accountable.”
“Well, if you’re asking my advice, I’m going to tell you not to bring it up or begin to show that you’re jealous. If a man think that another chick has your pressure up, he’ll immediately put that chick on a pedestal.”
“I got to do something.”
“Jason is a good provider and a good father. He’ll see the error in his ways, and he’ll cut that bitch off. She don’t mean nothing to him. Trust me.”
“Ya think, huh? You think you know Jason. Well, know that Jason snuck all of our money out of this house, and if shit hit the fan today or tomorrow, you and I are back to Brooklyn in a heartbeat.”
“What do you mean, he took all the money?”
“I’ve been on him since we came back from Los Angeles to save money for a rainy day, and he was doing that. He’d saved close to at least a million dollars, and then we got that score from Big Mike, and money just kept rolling in. He was approaching our retirement goal quickly, and then one day I go to the safe and all the bread is gone and he has this lame excuse. Now I don’t know where the money is at, and he is basically telling me to kick rocks. No matter how much I curse him out about the money, he
just screams back.”
This new information was disturbing to Trina. She knew men kept their money with their loved ones. And if it wasn’t in this house or at least where Cartier could get her hands on to it, then she was right—Jason was most likely open off this new bitch. Trina felt that her daughter had gone through too much to be left broke. That wasn’t going to happen.
“So Jason not only walked out of here with over a million dollars and you don’t have one coin to even bail his stupid ass out if he got jammed up, but he’s also fucking with a Spanish chick whose sister is the mother of Ryan’s child. And chances are that she could now be the keeper of all that cash? Oh, hells no! No fucking way is this Spanish bitch and that little-dick muthafucka gonna get over on my daughter.” Trina’s mind was spinning with thoughts. She knew if the feds kicked in the front door, the house held a hefty mortgage, and that even if she and Cartier both got jobs, they couldn’t afford it. So that meant that Cartier needed a stash for rainy days, which, when you’re in the drug game, were sure to happen.
“Where’s the drugs y’all scored from Big Mike?”
“The drugs? They still here. With what we took off Mike, and from Jason’s stash, there’s eleven keys.”
Trina reached for her Newport and lit it. “You know, first off, there shouldn’t be any muthafuckin’ drugs up in here, with these kids, but I didn’t wanna say anything ’cause this ain’t really my crib. But fuck all of that. That little dirty bastard gonna leave us up in here dirty while he toss all that cash toward a new bitch, and you been down with him for how long? You the mother of his kid! This shit is unbelievable! So how much that tally to?” Trina took a moment to calculate the street value of the drugs. “OK, so that’s like two, three hundred large, give or take.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So? So we’re gonna rob him.”
Cartier’s eyes popped open wide like she was spooked. “Come again?”
Return of the Cartier Cartel (Part 2) Page 8