Cartier Cartel, Part 3

by Nisa Santiago

  As he sat, a familiar face entered the library. The man spotted Head and walked over. He took a seat opposite Head.

  “Any word?” Head asked.

  “Nah, they lookin’ everywhere for her, but she ain’t nowhere to be found just yet.”

  “She’s out there somewhere.”

  “You think she’s still in New York?”

  “I fuckin’ hope so,” Head replied.

  “What ’bout this thing with the Cartel?”

  “I’ma deal wit’ it.”

  “A’ight. I got my peoples in Jersey on the lookout too.”

  “That’s what’s up.” Head gave the man dap, and the man walked out the library.

  Head remained in the library thinking hard about how to get Cartier and himself out of the pits of hell.

  ***

  Cartier spent several days cooped up in her condo, keeping her movements limited and breaking off all outside contact for the moment. She had to think about some things and remain focused. She was worried about Mills. She didn’t know if he was alive or dead. And she knew Head was worried sick about her. There was too much going on—no room to breathe. The walls were closing in around her, so it was time to start building her own structure and leave the one she was under.

  She lingered on the balcony. It was a beautiful fall night, but she wasn’t living a beautiful life. As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, so did her past life and her sanity. She felt wrapped in a cocoon, transforming. A new Cartier was about to be born. And the one that surfaced wasn’t going to be a beautiful, innocent butterfly. Nah, fuck that! She was becoming a praying mantis and was ready to bite the heads off niggas. She had nothing to live for, and every reason to kill for. They had come at her from every angle, killing her loved ones and taking shots at her, and she was still alive, still standing. They had underestimated her, and she was ready to show them that fucking with her was about to become costly.

  She had hidden in the shadows of the New Jersey condo long enough. Now it was time to get back out there and make her presence felt. It was time to be reborn into some kind of hellspawn and rain fire on everyone who opposed her. The murder of Christian, Trina, and her two sisters wasn’t going to be in vain.

  ***

  Cartier sat in the main visiting room at Sing Sing with a cold expression waiting patiently for Head to enter. She needed to know if he knew who the mystery man in the photo with Janet was and if he had put a face to her enemies. Her woman’s intuition told her Head had put the pieces together. Head always came through for her, so she figured this time it wouldn’t be any different.

  Head walked into the room looking upset. He glared at Cartier and made his way toward her. He sat opposite her. This time there weren’t any hugs or kiss from either one of them or holding hands across the table. Things had changed considerably in a few days.

  “I’m glad to see that ya alive,” Head said sarcastically.

  “Alive and well,” she replied coolly.

  “Where you been? I had my peoples looking for you all over. You just disappear and had me worried about you.”

  “No need to worry. I’m a big girl, Head. I can handle my own.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. But you got problems, Cartier. And your fuckin’ problems spilled over into my lane, and now I gotta help and fix this.”

  “So I take it that you know somethin’.”

  “The right price, the right people and shit gets said, no matter if you like it or not.”

  “So what got said?” Cartier locked eyes with him, ready to hear what he had to tell her. Good news or bad, she needed to know right now.

  “Your friend Janet, she was sleepin’ wit’ the enemy. The man in the picture is Luis Juarez. He’s a member of the Gonzalez Cartel.”

  It was news she didn’t want to hear. Cartier was familiar with the Gonzalez Cartel. You couldn’t be in the game and not know about the Gonzalez Cartel. They were ruthless killers with boatloads of money, and they moved tons of drugs, with influence from coast to coast.

  “Are they the ones that killed my daughter and butchered my family?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “I don’t put it past them. But you remember Jalissa?”

  “What about that bitch?” she growled.

  “When you killed them sisters, you triggered a war wit’ their fuckin’ uncle, Luis Juarez. He’s connected big, Cartier, and he’s out for blood.”

  “Fuck him!” she hissed.

  Head sighed heavily. “You done opened Pandora’s box.”

  “And I’m supposed to worry ’bout that? They fuck wit’ me, and I’ll fuck wit’ them right back.”

  Cartier let her emotions overcome her when she’d killed the two sisters. Jalissa was into something that didn’t belong to her. That bitch was fucking her husband. She had to die. She disrespected Cartier’s family. And Cartier didn’t take any disrespect to her or her family lightly.

  “And Janet was fuckin’ that nigga?”

  “She was into some shit too big for her to see. I never really trusted her, Cartier. I’m sure she told them everything about you.”

  “Head, you barely knew her.” Cartier didn’t want to believe it. Janet would never betray her. She was like a second mother to her. “Janet wouldn’t do me like that,” she argued.

  “Think, Cartier. Look at you and her. You and your moms living the life of luxury in Miami, and she’s living in the projects. Monya’s dead, and you told me yourself she blamed you for that. You think she really forgave you for that?”

  “Monya’s death wasn’t my fault.”

  “It was, in her eyes. She lost her only daughter because of a nigga you used to fuck.”

  “We made our own choices, and Monya was a loose fuckin’ cannon. Janet knew that about her daughter.”

  “It don’t fuckin’ matter. That bitch sold you out.”

  “And you know this for a fact, Head?”

  “Cartier, open ya fuckin’ eyes — Janet was hatin’ on you.”

  “So you sayin’ she was the one behind all this?”

  “She had a hand in it. To what extent, I don’t know. Does it matter? Four people are dead because of her—three innocent little girls.”

  It was still too hard to swallow. But Cartier had learned to never put anything past anyone. She had Li’l Mama killed, assuming she was the one snitching. Now it looked like Janet was the one who’d betrayed her. It was a sickening thought. Li’l Mama was gone because of Janet. If Janet wasn’t dead already, she would have definitely slaughtered her and pulled that fuckin’ bitch apart limb by limb and slit her throat.

  Cartier had no time to linger on regret. “Five.”

  “Five?”

  “Li’l Mama . . .”

  Head knew not to pry. He could see the coldness in her eyes. He smirked and said, “So you think you gonna be able to take on the Gonzalez Cartel by yourself? You tryin’ to become that kind of crazy?”

  “They fucked wit’ the wrong bitch, Head.”

  “Then go and dig yourself an early grave.”

  Cartier rolled her eyes. She was almost wishing she would die trying to avenge her family’s death. It would accomplish two things. Death would put her out of her misery and also validate to her loved ones that she did everything possible she could for revenge. That she gave up everything, most importantly, her life.

  “I’ll make things right, Head. That’s a fuckin’ promise. And I gotta do this alone. You’ve always been here for me, but I can’t allow another person to die behind my choices.”

  He looked at her intently and asked, “How you gonna make things right? You ain’t Superwoman. So how?”

  “I have a plan.”

  “A plan, huh?” He chuckled.

  “I need you to trust me and not interfere.”

  “You always had heart, Cartier, and you was always smart, but what you talkin’ ’bout right now, it’s fuckin’ suicide. We at war wit’ these muthafuckas. So I suggest you lay low for minute, recoup, and
then we think ’bout things. Reach out to these muthafuckas and talk.”

  “Head, you sound like a fuckin’ pussy. When was it they snatched your balls from you and made you their bitch? We never ran or backed down from anyone.”

  Head was ready to jump over the table and choke the shit out of her. “Bitch, don’t forget who the fuck I am!”

  “Who are you, Head?”

  He frowned.

  “’Cuz what they took from me, there’s no talkin’. Look at me. You think I give a fuck? Luis and whoever he’s connected to, they gonna fuckin’ pay and pay in fuckin’ blood, down to every last man. They ain’t God. They can get touched too!”

  “And I’m gonna do that, but not from behind bars, ma. Just let me handle this my way. I swear, I can’t lose you.”

  She remained forbidding and unsmiling. And her heart was ice-cold. “With or without your blessing there ain’t no stoppin’ me.”

  “Do you then.”

  Cartier stood up. It was all she wanted to hear from him. This visit was over. She still had Head’s support. He still had an army in the streets, but only if she needed it. Now it was time to reach out to her second party.

  Chapter 28

  It was a cold and windy day, and everyone was feeling the chill in the prison yard, but Head was feeling a different kind of chill. He had no time to relax. Declaring war with the Gonzalez Cartel was suicide, but fuck it, he was ready for any kind of war. The yard was filled with inmates clad in their denim prison yard coats. Whites, blacks, and Latinos were all huddled in their tribal circles while confined within the towering brick walls crowned with razor-sharp barbwire. The guards were perched in soaring watchtowers overlooking everything, and a few other guards were scattered around the yard keeping a cutting eye on everything.

  Head took a pull from the cigarette burning between his fingers. He had a lot to think about. Things were tense inside. He had a feeling something was about to jump off. He didn’t know with who or when, but he’d been on the streets and inside long enough to know when trouble was brewing. His peoples had fought with everyone behind the walls: Aryan Nation, Bloods, Crips, and the Latin Kings. Every day there was a fight for survival. He had authority, but there was always some muthafucka trying to challenge his power, trying to test him, thinking that time and age had weakened him. But he was always ready to prove them wrong.

  Head, being in his early forties, had seen it all. And he didn’t come up this far without being smart and ruthless. But today he couldn’t escape the uncanny feeling of trepidation.

  Dado walked up to him. “Can you buss me down?” he asked, talking about the cigarette.

  Head took one last pull and handed him the cigarette.

  Dado took a few pulls as the two men stood in silent for a moment. They watched the yard, watched the men scattered around.

  Dado and Head, hardcore gangsters from the old school, were the same age. They both had come up in Brooklyn together, and Dado was like a brother to him. The two had caught their indictments around the same time.

  Dado exhaled the smoke from his mouth. It was obvious he had something on his mind.

  Head picked up on it. “What you need to tell me, Dado?”

  “Word around the place is that you tryin’ to war wit’ the Gonzalez Cartel. You think that’s wise?”

  “You runnin’ this crew now, Dado?”

  “No. But you ready to get into some serious shit because of her?”

  Head knew he was talking about Cartier. “You tryin’ me, Dado?” Head barked.

  “I’m just talking, that’s all. Four men are already dead because of this shit. And you know niggas is still upset about what happened to Scat.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “Jumping into this is bad news, Head.”

  “They fucked wit’ my chick, and now I’m gonna fuck wit’ them.”

  “And how many niggas gonna have to die, Head? Huh?” Dado pleaded. “This is us, in here—our reality! All our lives are at stake!”

  Head glared at Dado. “I’m going to ask you this one time. You’re either ready to die for me and mines or you’re not. Speak your truth.”

  Dado could no longer look Head in his eyes. “You know I would lay down my life for you.”

  Head was wise enough to know that there wasn’t any validity to his words. Dado had to go. Head was already planning his demise. He would do it tonight at chow.

  “You’re dismissed, Dado.”

  Dado hesitated. “Yo, what does that mean?”

  “Get the fuck outta my face!”

  Dado walked off with uncertainty, leaving Head to think about what had just transpired.

  It was time to head back in. One guard remained in the prison yard as everyone moved on.

  Head watched everyone as he started to make his way back indoors. He walked behind a few Latino men, their tattoos revealing Latin Kings membership. Two were ahead of him speaking in Spanish and laughing.

  The men in front of Head stopped suddenly.

  “What the fuck!” Head exclaimed.

  The attack came unexpectedly. He felt someone grab him in the chokehold from behind, their powerful forearms crushing into his windpipe. He resisted a great deal; he wasn’t going out without a fight. Then he suddenly felt the sharp shank in his back. The blade went through his denim jacket and penetrated his flesh.

  Head jerked. “Aaaahhh!” he screamed.

  He continued to fight the man off him, but it was useless. He was overpowered. The blade was plunged into Head’s back repeatedly, but he refused to go down. The two Latin Kings in front of him then went in for the kill, both extracting their own prison-made shanks and lunging for him.

  “Die, muthafucka!” one of them shouted.

  The first blow struck him in the stomach, the second strike slammed into his chest, the third in the chest again.

  Head felt himself dying, but he continued to fight. His knees were wobbly, but he wasn’t going down so easily. He was a strong man. He managed to punch one of his attackers in his face, and then he removed the shank that protruded from his chest and jabbed it into the man behind him that had him in the chokehold.

  “Aaaahhh,” his foe screamed, releasing his powerful grip on Head.

  Even though Head was free from the chokehold, the damage was already done. He stumbled, bleeding profusely from the numerous stab wounds all over his body. He couldn’t breathe, and it was painful. His eyes widened with shock when he noticed Dado watching the attack. Then Dado nonchalantly walked into the building. Head also noticed that the prison guard posted outside refused to intervene, indicating it was an orchestrated hit. Someone had to have paid heavily to have him taken out. He dropped to his knees and fell over.

  The alarm sounded, and the officers came storming out to the incident. One prisoner lay dead with a shank protruding from his head, and the other was barely alive.

  The attempt on Head’s life infuriated his men, and a riot jumped off a few hours later. They tossed shit up inside the prison, as they went on a rampage, even going after a few Latin Kings.

  Chapter 29

  Cartier looked at her new image in the bathroom mirror. She kind of liked it. She had cut off most of her hair and styled it into an asymmetrical blonde bob. She needed the transformation. She lingered on her new look for a moment and nodded. She touched it gently and was ready to move on. This would be her last night in the condo.

  The plan was to hook back up with Quinn. But before leaving New York, she had other affairs to take care off. The first thing she did was put her stepson Jason Jr. into boarding school far away from the drama. And she made sure there was enough money in his account to pay for it.

  Then she made sure Janet’s rotten body was sent off to Potter’s Field on Hart Island, a wasteland of unmarked graves for the unidentified and indigent. Cartier wanted to spit on that bitch’s grave, but knowing she lay unclaimed in a pine box was almost as gratifying. It was the ultimate hurt though; even family had tu
rned against her. But it was a feeling she couldn’t dwell on.

  Last, she dropped off seventeen thousand dollars to Li’l Mama’s mother so that she could bring her daughter back from Miami and bury her the right way. Her mother, of course blamed Cartier for Li’l Mama’s murder, just as Janet had blamed Cartier for Monya’s murder. Nevertheless, she took the money.

  She also had received the news about Head surviving a brutal attack and being in the infirmary fighting for his life. It saddened Cartier. She wanted to go see him, but that was impossible. Things were heating up and she needed to end the drama.

  Cartier carried her things down to the Cadillac parked out front and stuffed everything into the trunk. It was going to be a long drive down to Miami, but worth it, because she had an arsenal in the trunk of her XTS to take with her. It was unsafe for her to travel anywhere without protection, and the airlines left her vulnerable and exposed.

  She had made sure that everything traceable to her or incriminating was discarded and destroyed, and had burned papers and other documentation. And she blacked out her past memories, erasing any family from her mind. It was hard, but in order for her to exist, she had to kill her past, permanently trapping herself into darkness. That meant staying away from Head, even though he was in a time of need.

  Cartier climbed into her car and started the ignition. There was no more hiding or running. Now it was time to face the problem head on. She drove off and headed to the Bronx.

  ***

  Confident that with her new look and the dark shades around her eyes that no one would recognize her, Cartier gave the front desk receptionist at Jacobi Medical Center a fraudulent name and made her way to the floor where Mills was recuperating. She heard through Apple that he was alive and in stable condition.

  She stepped off the elevator and looked for Room 605. The hallway was flooded with staff and patients, and no one on the sixth floor paid her any attention. Everyone was in their own world, doing their jobs running around, trying to keep some stability.