South Beach Cartel

by Nisa Santiago

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Bitch, does that matter?”

  “What do y’all want?”

  Cartier had rehearsed a different approach. With brute force she was supposed to strong arm Christy into helping them. But for some reason her gut told her otherwise. “We need to talk about the nigga you’re fucking,” Cartier said, making eye contact with Kola.

  “Scar?”

  “Bingo, bitch!”

  “So you’re Citi.”

  “So you know about me?”

  Christy exhaled. Here comes the drama. And at her second job too. It was messy, and Christy hated messy. She never set out to be a mistress but, somehow, she always was. The list of girlfriends and wives that showed up at her doorstep was endless. Christy knew that Citi was dangerous and not just a female with a slick mouth. She had to tread carefully.

  “Can we go somewhere quiet to talk? Please let me explain.”

  The four women exited the club through the back door into a small alley. To most, it would have been intimidating, but Apple, Cartier, and Kola weren’t the least bit unnerved. Christy walked ahead. “There’s a small café on the corner.”

  They followed her to the quaint café and took a corner booth. There Christy tried to explain that she didn’t know Scar had a girl when they met, it wasn’t her fault that he was cheating—all the shit other women spit when busted.

  Cartier snapped, “I don’t care ’bout all that.”

  Christy swallowed hard. “I understand. And I am sorry. I promise I won’t see him anymore.”

  “Do you know what he did to my brother?”

  Christy nodded.

  “He can’t get away wit’ that shit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Apple and Kola didn’t interject. They liked where Cartier was going with this, and they could clearly see that Scar must have told Christy enough stories about Citi to spook her.

  “What are you asking me to do? I don’t understand.”

  “Scar has to answer for tryin’ to assassinate my brother. He continually crosses the line wit’ his fuckin’ temper, and he has to be put down.”

  Christy looked at the pretty girl and couldn’t imagine having to sleep next to the man who tried to kill your brother.

  “Does he beat you?” Christy asked out of the blue.

  Cartier didn’t know how to answer. Apple did a slight head nod and Cartier replied, “All the time. The nigga is always laying hands on me. He hates strong women. Even after all I did for Scar—the car he drives, the money he tricks on bitches—that’s all me.”

  “Well, he’s not doing any tricking over here. I can promise you that.”

  “What?” All three girls said at once. And then they began laying on the compliments thick.

  “A pretty woman like you?” Cartier asked.

  “He should be making it rain on you,” said Kola.

  “His ugly ass should feel honored to be wit’ a queen like you,” stated Apple.

  Christy drank in all the compliments and beamed. Her face lit up like Christmas lights. She expected the elephant in the room to be addressed. She expected all type of homophobic epithets and xenophobic slurs.

  “He beats me too,” Christy said, embarrassed. “I feel like I need to confess something.”

  “What’s that?” asked Cartier.

  “I’m transgender.”

  “You’re what?” Cartier and the twins feigned shock. “Are you serious? I can’t tell.”

  Again, she blushed. “I am. It’s true. Scar didn’t know at first. But when it was time for us to get intimate I had to tell him. He was down, but afterwards he got angry and severely beat on me, screaming that he wasn’t a faggot. I wanted to call the cops, but he threatened my life.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then I healed and he came back around for more.”

  “More pussy?” Cartier asked.

  “More something. I haven’t had my surgery. It’s so expensive, but I’m saving up. That’s why I’m working two jobs. Here at Twist and also Floss. I’m going to be a full woman one day. There’s nothing on this earth that I want more.”

  The girls could listen to Christy talk forever. Her voice was sultry and melodic. And she had a beauty queen face.

  “How much does it cost?” Cartier asked.

  “Well, my gender reassignment surgeon charges sixty-two thousand, and that includes three days in recovery. I’ve saved nearly seven.”

  “Great. At that rate it’ll only take another five to ten years,” Cartier said. “I could help with that.”

  Christy’s interest was piqued. But she didn’t want any blood spilled for her cause. She shook her head. “There’s my surgery and then there’s murder. It’s not an even exchange.”

  Well, damn. She got to the point.

  “I don’t want you to murder Scar, Christy. I need you to allow me to do what I do.”

  “And then?”

  “And then you walk away with fifty thousand and never look back.”

  Christy was silent and then she spoke. “Could you ladies give me a day or two to think this through?”

  Apple was about to object when Cartier spoke first, “Yes! Absolutely. But, Christy. I promise if you tell Scar about this meeting he will kill you. He will do you just as he did Cane. His paranoia will tell him that you’re no longer trustworthy and he’ll empty his clip in your beautiful face.”

  Christy’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t look shocked. You know what I’ve said is true. He’s a maniac.”

  Satisfied that their plot to assassinate Scar was coming along, the girls exited the café separately. They moved from the area to the car in stealth. There was no telling who was watching them. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

  ***

  With their scheme to go after Scar in motion, the girls now wanted to try and open the safe from Nikki’s shop. Kola suspected that the contents would be rewarding once it was opened. The girls tried everything to get it open, from renting a blowtorch to Googling, how to open a safe, and watching a string of YouTube videos on safe cracking. They even bought a stethoscope and tried to listen for the right clicks—but to no benefit. It was becoming infuriating.

  Finally, Cartier came up with the idea to hire a professional—someone from Craigslist. A day later, they met a Tyrone Kenny in a parking lot of a local supermarket. He was a mild looking and thin man wearing spectacles. He met with Cartier and Apple, and they made him leave his phone in his car just in case he had a tracking device for a setup.

  Tyrone climbed into the backseat of the girls’ car, while Kola followed them in a separate car for backup.

  The girls took Tyrone to a storage facility on the outskirts of the city, where they kept the safe. Inside, they quietly watched the man remove the tools he needed to operate from his bag, and then he went to work like a skilled surgeon in the operating room. He talked a lot, though, and he asked a lot of questions—questions that sometimes made the girls uncomfortable.

  “So, where are y’all girls from?” he asked. And, “This is a really nice safe. Where did it come from? What do you think is inside?”

  “Just do your damn job,” Apple scoffed.

  He took no offense to her bluntness. He focused on his job, and within fifteen minutes, it was open. The girls hurriedly looked inside, and they weren’t disappointed. There were bundles of cash stacked over each other—about ninety thousand dollars, Apple believed. Not bad. Even Tyrone was taken aback by the contents.

  “Damn,” he uttered.

  Cartier tossed him five grand for his services, but the money came with a warning. “You didn’t see shit, right?”

  He winked. “What is there to see?”

  She smiled.

>   Loading the cash into a bag, they exited the storage unit and climbed back into their car, dropping Tyrone back off where they’d picked him up. They were glad that they didn’t have to kill him.

  Back at their hotel, the girls divided the cash and sparked up some weed and drank champagne. They had a reason to celebrate. They were winning. They killed Nikki and stole ninety grand from her. They connected with Christy and she agreed to think about setting Scar up, and they had robbed numerous trap houses in Miami that belonged to Citi and stolen a heap of cash and drugs from her.

  They blasted music, they smoked, drank, and sang, making their place like their own private nightclub. The only thing missing from their personal party was niggas—some good dick. The girls had been so busy robbing, killing, and plotting, that they didn’t have time for men or sex.

  It was good times tonight, and then Cartier’s burner phone rang. It was Christy calling her.

  “Hey, turn that shit down. This is her,” she told Apple and Kola.

  “What’s up, Christy?”

  “Hello, Citi. This is Christy.”

  “Yes, I know. What’s up?”

  “I’ve been thinking about our conversation—”

  “Not over the phone. Do you want to meet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will it be worth my time?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  ***

  Cartier and Christy met for lunch at The Zodiac in Bel Harbour. It was located in Neiman Marcus and chosen because the area was densely populated and cameras were everywhere. Apple and Kola hung back, taking a table toward the back of the restaurant—far enough to be out of sight, but close enough should anything pop off.

  Cartier got straight to the point. “So will you help us?”

  “Maybe . . .”

  Cartier shifted in her seat. She was desperately trying to keep her cool. “What’s it gonna take to change that into a definitely?”

  “Some reassurances,” said Christy. “I don’t want to move forward in my life only to have detectives knock on my front door two years later.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  Christy nodded. “So you can see into the future?”

  “No, but I can make a conclusion based on my past track record.”

  “That doesn’t do much for me.”

  The waitress came and took their orders. Both women ordered garden salads and sparkling water.

  Christy continued, “What’s your plan to get away with murder?”

  Is she serious? “You tell us when Scar is at your crib, we come in, kill him, and we all live happily ever after.”

  “Will you remove his body?”

  No, bitch. Because you’re going to be dead right next to him. “Of course we will. We’re professionals.”

  “And what about clean-up? Blood splatter? DNA? I can’t actually hire someone for that.”

  Cartier cut her eyes. “We’ll make sure he’s on a tarp. It won’t be messy at all.”

  Christy locked eyes with Cartier and said, “Yeah, you can go through all that trouble, or we can do it my way.”

  “Your way?”

  Christy nodded. “I’ve given this a lot of thought, and if Scar has to die, then I want him to die for a cause.”

  Cartier was perplexed. She took a large gulp of her sparkling water and just said, “You have sixty seconds to get the point, or I’m walkin’ out of this bitch. You’ve tried my patience long enough. This is murder. We’re not studying for the fuckin’ bar exam.”

  Christy saw Cartier’s dark side, and she didn’t like it. She began, “Florida is a tricky state, lots of controversial laws, legislation that are on and not on the books yet. When Scar comes to my home, I think he should be killed at my front doorstep, not inside—therefore, no blood seeping through my newly installed hardwood flooring. He should be shot with my registered pistol, and you and your friends should immediately exit my place while I call the police to report the incident.”

  “Are you stupid?”

  “I assure you, Citi, I am anything but. I have an MBA and plan to return to the corporate world as a full woman once my reassignment operation is complete.”

  “So what’s this about?”

  “It’s about getting a discrimination law passed in Florida for the LGBTQ community. We’re still not represented as equals in this state, and I feel that this shooting, coupled with the controversial Stand Your Ground law, will shed light on phobias, hate, bigotry—everything my community experiences. Scar beat the shit out of me when he found out that I was a man. Each time we would have sex he would verbally and physically be abusive, yet he liked what I had to offer. There is a lot of shame attached to people who look like me—who are different, who don’t fit societal norms. Scar will be someone who committed a hate crime against a transgender woman. If the ADA tries me for his murder—which I can assure you the grand jury will never allow, then I will be acquitted.”

  “Hold up.” Cartier couldn’t believe her ears. “You want to get caught?”

  “I want to get caught for a cause. National news will certainly pick up this story because all involved; police, ADA, DA, and legal counsel will want their five seconds of fame. The spotlight will be on me to make a statement, and when I do, I will be ready.”

  Cartier shook her head. “This is too risky. What if you don’t get off?”

  “Sweetheart, this if Florida. We all get off.”

  “But what if you’re the exception? We can’t take the risk of this blowing back on us when you start snitching.”

  “What would I say? A shadowy female named Citi coerced me into killing the man we shared with my own gun? And then told me to use the Stand Your Ground law to my advantage and manipulate the public into thinking that this was a hate crime?”

  “I see what you sayin’. It’s a stretch, but it doesn’t mean that someone won’t believe you.”

  “Look, let me worry about that. I’m telling you I can pull this off as long as you keep up your end of the deal. You use my gun to kill Scar. I can’t do it. I’m not a killer. I also get that money for my surgery, and I don’t want to sound greedy or ungrateful, but could you throw in a little extra in case I have to hire an attorney? I give you my word if I don’t have to then the money is yours to come back and get. I won’t spend a dime.”

  “There’s still one thing you didn’t think of.”

  “What’s that?” Christy asked.

  “His goons. He rides two, three cars deep. We can’t kill him outside or else we’re all dead.”

  Christy smiled. “He only brings them on my block if he comes through during the day. When he comes for late night booty calls he comes alone. We have a neighborhood watch and they called the cops on more than one occasion on the unidentified vehicles and suspicious black males.”

  Cartier exhaled. She had to admit that Christy’s convoluted plan was bold, risky, and took great courage. She would do all that for equality.

  Cartier looked at the beauty and admired her. She was on board, but she had to clear this with Apple. It was her money. “I’ll speak wit’ my brother and if he’s good then I’ll have your back.”

  The two finalized the last details of the plan and hoped for the best.

  Apple and Kola responded better than Cartier initially had. Immediately they got it. They read the news and knew all about the tribulations the LGBTQ community went through. Even the latest bathroom controversy was up for debate. If you’re a transgender male fully reassigned you still had to use the men’s room. What kind of fuckery was that?

  There is one thing, though,” Apple acknowledged. “I didn’t plan on paying this bitch and we also said that we trust no one.”

  “What does she know about us? She thinks I’m Citi. And when this is over we’ll be over a thousand miles away.”

  “And the
money?”

  “Apple, this is for Nick too. He left you a million dollars and if you have to give ten percent to get at the nigga who is the reason he’s in the ground, then that’s a no brainer.”

  Apple felt like being a stubborn bitch.

  “And I’ll chip in,” said Cartier.

  “Me too,” said Kola. “I like her. You know, Apple, that I’m a feminist so let’s bless her.”

  Apple grinned. “Today must be throwback Thursday because I’m feelin’ like the old Apple who use to give a fuck ’bout people.”

  ***

  “He called. He’s coming to see me late tonight,” Christy informed Cartier.

  “A’ight, what time?”

  “After midnight,” she said.

  It was the golden opportunity that they needed.

  “Okay, we’ll be there soon. And, Christy, don’t fuck this up or don’t fuck with us. We’re about our word and you better be about yours,” Cartier sternly warned her.

  “Believe me, I am. I’m ready,” Christy said.

  Cartier ended the call. It was time to take out Citi’s most notorious killer, and the head of the muscle to her organization.

  37

  Though Miami was warm year-round, tonight it felt like the Devil was breathing on the southern city just for fun. But a heat wave wasn’t going to stop the trio from executing their plan against Scar. He had gotten lucky far too many times, and tonight, they were confident that his winning streak would end.

  The girls arrived at Christy’s home hours before midnight to set a trap for Scar. A key was left in her mailbox for entry. As planned, Christy was at club Twist making an appearance. She needed as many patrons and transgender performers as possible to see her.

  “Pattie, will you take my next slot? I’m going to head home early tonight.”

  Pattie was six-four, 210 pounds and, as no shock, loved to perform Patti LaBelle songs.

  “Are you okay, pumpkin? You not feeling well?”

  “I’m fine.” Christy looked around and shook her head. “I think I’ve spotted someone in the audience. A real creepy looking male. I think he’s been following me.”

  “What?” Pattie clutched imaginary pearls and continued, “Let’s let security know and kick his ass out!”