“You sayin’ I need to get my grown man on, huh?”
“You lookin’ a little young in that Cayenne.”
“I got grown-man money, though.” He paused for emphasis. “My name is Head, by the way.”
“Head? What type of name is Head?”
“Ask somebody, ma.” Head walked into the restaurant.
Cartier didn’t have to ask anyone. She knew he was a local legend, and she hated to admit it, but she was intrigued. BET’s hit show, American Gangster, had profiled his life a few years back. People from his past were interviewed, including the arresting agents, their identities smudged out, detailing his rise and fall. The streets said he’d just got home, having done four years in a federal prison. He was given eighteen years to life, and on appeal his sentence was overturned, and ultimately he was acquitted, which when dealing with the feds, who everyone knows don’t play fair, is unheard of.
The girls hustled into the restaurant as well, only to be told there was a forty-five-minute waiting list.
“You wanna wait at the bar?” Li’l Momma asked.
Cartier glanced over and saw that Head and his friend were already sitting down ordering drinks. He saw Cartier looking toward him and motioned for her to come over.
“Yo, that guy who nearly killed me is motioning for us to come over.”
“He’s a cutie, Cartier. What’s his name?” Bam adjusted her clothes, hoping to catch the eye of the stranger.
“That’s Head from Brownsville.”
“Say word?” Li’l Momma said, her interest now piqued. “I heard of him.”
“Haven’t we all,” Cartier remarked. “So, shall we go over?”
“Lead the way.”
Li’l Momma and Bam followed Cartier over to the bar. Head stood up and pulled out the bar stool for Cartier, which immediately put a smile on her face.
Li’l Momma and Bam were thinking the same thing, both thinking they were the perfect candidates. The moment he glances down and realizes she has a ring on her finger, he’ll redirect his attention toward one of us.
“What y’all ladies drinking?” Head asked.
Cartier turned toward her girls and mouthed the word martinis.
Bam and Li’l Momma both nodded their heads. “Apple martinis.”
Head motioned for the bartender and ordered them their drinks. “This is my man, Clyde,” he said.
“My name’s Cartier, and this is Bam and Li’l Momma.”
Head thought he’d heard those names before. He remembered hearing about a group of young girls who’d caught a body some years back. So many names were thrown around, but the one that stuck out in the Daily News was Cartier Timmons. Head thought he knew her mother.
“Yo, do one of y’all got a mother named Trina?”
Cartier grinned. “I do. How you know my mother?” Instantly she couldn’t understand how pangs of jealousy shot through her. Did he sleep with her mother? He was at least forty years old.
“Your moms is mad cool. She used to fuck around with my man Nut back in the day. I’m talkin’ way back in the late eighties, early nineties, some shit like that. Wow! It’s a small world.”
That’s how Brooklyn was. If you put in work and made a name for yourself, it would last throughout the decades.
“Nut? Cartier, don’t your husband know him?” Li’l Momma had already tossed down the apple martini and didn’t like the way Clyde was leering at her. She’d already summed up that he was broke and that Head was the baller. If she locked him down, then she could see a bright future.
Cartier decided to ignore Li’l Momma.
Head glanced down at her ring.
“I cannot wait to tell Trina how you nearly killed her daughter.”
“Nah, don’t do that. Tell her I said whaddup. It would be good to see her. Why don’t we exchange numbers, and you can call me when you’re with her.”
Everyone sitting there knew Head didn’t give a fuck about no Trina. Bam and Li’l Momma sat on edge waiting to see Cartier’s next move. Cartier could almost feel the energy being sucked out of the room.
“I’m in between cell phones right now, but give me your number, and I’ll call you when I’m with Mom Duke.”
Bam’s and Li’l Momma’s aspirations about pulling the legendary hustler went up in a mushroom cloud, but they were slightly happy that Cartier wouldn’t be getting with him either. They both decided to make the best of the rest of the evening.
Head took charge and had the maître d’ seat them at a table for five. There wasn’t any way he was letting the spunky, convicted murderess out of his sight. He didn’t give a fuck if she did have on ring on her finger.
****
“So whatchu gonna do about Jason? You know if he find out, he gonna flip.”
“And thank you for blowing me up in there,” Cartier stated. “And find out what? That I got a telephone number for Trina? And what?”
“Don’t bullshit me with that lame story. Just admit you checking for dude.”
“I think checking for is too strong of a term. I mean, he’s cute and funny.”
“And dangerous. Don’t forget, he got a rep. And you know you like a bad boy.”
“Bitch, I’m married,” Cartier joked.
“So? Jason ain’t exactly the faithful husband.” Bam had always had a deep-seated hatred toward Jason for pulling the trigger on Big Mike, and sometimes when the grief assassin crept in her dreams at night, making her relive the moment, the anger transferred to Cartier as well. But, so far, she was usually able to temper that and concentrate only on Jason.
Li’l Momma could never stand Bam’s ability to ride Cartier’s coattail. She was nothing but Cartier’s cheerleader, if you let her tell it.
“Right now, you saying, because Jason cheats, Cartier should as well? If that’s the case, then why get married? I know my marriage won’t be like that.”
Cartier wasn’t in the mood. She hated that she and her friends found it hard to communicate without yelling and screaming, or taking shots at each other.
“I don’t think it’s realistic to say how your marriage will be, when you can’t even keep a relationship,” Carter retorted, “let alone get someone to take you seriously enough to marry you. And I know you’re not dumb enough to think that a piece of paper will really keep a nigga faithful.”
“I’m smart enough not to marry a hood nigga. I know that much. It’s like they say: ‘You get what you pay for.’”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bam asked before Cartier could lose it on Li’l Momma.
“It means that there are plenty of corporate men out here that are marriage material. If I want a nigga to lace me with Gucci boots or keep my neck icy, I go to the local hustler. If I want a husband and father to my kids, I most certainly don’t go to the local hustler. You feel me? Cartier set herself up for everything she’s getting.”
“I guess I could swallow that pill, if only hood niggas cheated. A cheater’s a cheater, no matter what race or occupation. But until you are walking in my shoes”— Cartier cut her eyes at Li’l Momma—“then all you’re doing is talking noise.”
“Cartier, I’m not trying to get your pressure up.”
“And you’re not!”
“But I just think you deserve better. Since y’all hooked up, he’s been publicly disrespecting you. I think you could do better. I mean, I know he blesses you with paper, but you can make your own paper. You had a rep way before y’all hooked up, and it’s like he’s taking your ‘cool’ points.”
The more Cartier sat listening to Li’l Momma, the more her pressure rose. She wasn’t angry with her friend for speaking the truth. Her anger began to fester and grow for her husband.
“I know you’re probably thinking that I can’t talk about this subject because I ain’t married,” Li’l Momma added, “but I feel there should be a level of respect. You can’t even go to get your hair washed without wondering if the chick sitting across from you is on the down low with not
just your baby daddy but your husband. Honestly, you’re better than me, because there’s no way I would have taken him back after he got my best friend pregnant. I could live a hundred years and will never swallow that bitter pill.”
Bam was tired of listening to Li’l Momma preach. “Damn, Li’l Momma! Where’s all of this coming from? You act like you’re married to Jason. You know how these street niggas do. You’ve never really had a relationship where a dude wifed you, so you’re really—”
“I know you didn’t just say what I heard?” Li’l Momma swung her face around toward the backseat to face Bam. “And you have? Bam, please spare me. You had one dude who, while having a gun pointed at his head, made a remark that he was gonna make it official, and all of a sudden you’re wifey material?”
“I know what we had!”
“What the fuck y’all have?” Li’l Momma said, getting hyped. “No, what you should have said is, you know what he had. He had a bullet put into his muthafuckin’ brain, and you had an opportunity to spend his money, you low-down, grimy bitch!”
Bam burst into tears, unable to face the truth.
Cartier didn’t even bother to referee the argument. She was still replaying her own issues in her marriage.
Li’l Momma continued, “That nigga wasn’t ever gonna wife you. You were just a recreational fuck, hopping out of your bed two and three o’clock in the morning to go and get slayed. We call that a booty call on my side of town.”
“At least I get booty calls, ho! Who the fuck ringing your phone?”
“Bam, please don’t make me sling this pussy on one of your next beats, please. You know I keep a sponsor locked down, so fuck all that dumbness you talking.”
“You’re really feeling yourself for some strange reason,” Bam yelled through tears. “But check this. Anyone that’s checking for me will dodge your contaminated pussy, so you can sling your shit all you want. You won’t be getting nowhere with the caliber of men I fuck with.”
Li’l Momma erupted into an uncontrollable laughter.
Finally, Cartier had to ask, “What’s so funny?”
“This chick is really slow. Like Donnie’s beat-down really did make her a retard. Bam, I wouldn’t crush you like this, but you asked for it. I already fucked one of your beats. Big Mike, sweetie. I slung, and he”—Li’l Momma popped her collar—“played catch!”
The news hit Bam and Cartier like a Mack truck. Only, Bam reacted. As she reached in her handbag to grab her gat, Li’l Momma peeped her reaching for something out of her peripheral vision. Swiftly, Li’l Momma unclasped her seatbelt and lunged toward the backseat, and both girls began tussling as Cartier continued to drive. Fists were flying everywhere, some landing on top of Cartier’s head.
“Y’all better stop before we get killed!” Cartier screamed as she tried to find a safe place to park. She couldn’t see out of any of her mirrors, and the sharp kicks into the back of her chair weren’t helping things any. Next, she felt a clump of her hair being pulled, “Owww!” Cartier screamed as the car jerked and headed dangerously into another lane. “Let go of my fucking hair!”
Bam had Cartier’s hair, accidentally, but refused to let go. They were fighting to the finish. It seemed as if Cartier would never get the car to safety, but she did. Immediately, she hopped out and opened the back door, and Bam came tumbling out onto the hot pavement.
Cartier reached for Bam’s bag and held it snugly, quickly moving out of the way as the two women ravaged each other. Cartier was somewhat amused, watching the two go at it. After the harsh transference of words, she knew they needed to get it out of their system.
“You tried to pull out on me?” Li’l Momma kept yelling as she continued to hit Bam with a flurry of blows.
Bam had handled herself well, but in the end, Li’l Momma got the better of her. When they both tired out, Li’l Momma turned to see Cartier perched on the side of the car.
“Why you didn’t jump in and help ya girl?” Li’l Momma said, making light of the situation.
“I was waiting for the cops to roll up and take y’all to jail.” Cartier shook her head. “We all need to go to anger management.”
Both girls began to chuckle.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Cartier hopped back in the front seat to take everyone home.
Bam blurted out, “Fuck y’all bitches! Cartier, give me my bag!”
“Bam, come on and get in the car. It’s over. Let me take you home.”
“I said, give me my bag!”
Cartier looked up to see fresh purple bruises beginning to form on Bam’s milk-chocolate skin. Her eyes were wild and shifty. Cartier opened up her bag, removed the gun and placed it on her lap, and then tossed Bam’s bag out of the window. It hit the pavement like a bag of potatoes.
“Come on, Li’l Momma, let’s bounce.”
Once they drove off, Cartier turned to Li’l Momma. “Now why did you torture that girl like that? You know you didn’t fuck no Big Mike.”
“Of course, I didn’t. Since when we get down like that? But if her psycho self was silly enough to believe it, then so be it.”
“But, damn, what made you go there? You know Big Mike is a touchy subject.”
“I don’t care. She was taking shots at me, making me feel like I was a third-class citizen, that you and her belonged to some exclusive wifey club.”
“Well, later I think you should call her and apologize, and I’ll do the same. You know it’s been rough on her.”
Li’l Momma was silent for a while. “How long are we supposed to kiss her butt?”
“I guess, as long as it takes. And, really, I don’t think you should be the one kissing her butt. That should come from me. But I do think you could rein in your temper somewhat, just for the sake of peace. And, believe me, I know how hard that could be. Bam has a way off getting under anyone’s skin, and before you know it, you’ve already snapped.”
“You know what?” Li’l Momma turned to face Cartier. “What do you think she would have done, had I not stopped her from getting into her purse?”
Both ladies didn’t want to speculate.
“I think, when you call her, you should ask her.”
****
The sharp pain in her side was an indication of what was to come. Cartier tried to turn over and sleep through the pain, but it was too intense. She didn’t even have enough time to get angry about waking up to an empty bed. Jason had spent yet another night out. Almost crawling to the bathroom, she was eager to relieve her full bladder, until her urine came flowing out like fire.
“Oouucchhh!” she screamed, her eyes welling up with tears. “That muthafucka!”
Cartier didn’t need a doctor to know that Jason had given her an STD. She needed her girls, calling Bam and then Li’l Momma, and demanding, “Please, meet me at Trina’s house in an hour!”
Any morsel of love she felt for Jason was dead. Finally she felt ready to implement the plan that had been swirling around in her head for weeks. She just needed to know that her girls would be down for whatever.
****
Jalissa didn’t know who burnt who, because Jason wasn’t the only guy she was seeing. Nor did she know who the father of her unborn child was, for that same reason. But she did know how she would go about handling both those issues.
Screaming into the telephone, she let out a flurry of Spanish words, throwing in disease and then pregnant.
Jason knew he was busted. He’d already been to the clinic a week ago, so he knew that more than a few chicks would be calling to curse him out. Even his doctor gave him a tongue-lashing for having unprotected sex at his age. But Jason just didn’t get the same feeling putting on a condom. For him, it was like getting in a hot tub with rubber boots on.
Jalissa’s outburst was the least of his worries. She wasn’t his wife. He knew Cartier would surely act violent, but so far, she hadn’t said a word. Foolishly, he thought he hadn’t contaminated her. The next issue was Jalissa’s pregnancy.
“So what are you gonna do?”
“I no keep,” she cried into the phone.
Jason was sure she would have wanted to keep his baby. Her response made him challenge her. “What do you mean, you’re not going to keep my baby? I thought you were a good girl. You believe in abortion?”
“I no keep. I no want your wife to leave.”
After everything he’d put her through, burning her and getting her pregnant, she still had the kindest heart to think of his situation with Cartier, sacrificing her own morals and happiness. Jason was certainly smitten with this one.
“Look, don’t worry about my wife. You keeping my baby, and I don’t want to hear you talk about no abortion.”
“But it cost mucho dinero for baby.”
“Jalissa!”
“Yes, papi.”
“Don’t worry about that. I got you.”
Chapter 15
Expiration Date
“Bitch, you already know what this is. Don’t say a word, and you won’t get hurt.”
“Yo, what the fuck you doing?” Jalissa asked, looking down at the barrel of the .45 pointed directly at her abdomen. Once she saw the seriousness in Cartier’s expression, her ‘I no speaka English’ act was dead.
The hard whack on the back of her head with the butt of the gun buckled her knees and instantly dazed her. Woozy and temporarily blinded, she was unable to think straight, as fear shot straight through her veins. Her hands trembled as she tried to massage the back of her head at the point of impact.
“Didn’t I tell you not to say a muthafuckin’ word?” Cartier’s voice was stern as she growled instructions. “Now get the fuck in the car. Move!”
Fearfully, Jalissa crawled into the backseat of Jason’s Benz, where once again Bam was at the driver’s seat and Li’l Momma was riding shotgun. Cartier scooted in the back with the crying hostage to better control the situation.
“Don’t cry now,” Bam taunted. “Your ass should have known better than to fuck with The Cartel.”
“Remember me, bitch?” Li’l Momma’s icy glare cut through Jalissa’s heart. “You was all up in my grill a few months ago, and all the time you knew Ryan killed our friends. You slimy bitch!”
Return of the Cartier Cartel (Part 2) Page 10