Cartier Cartel Read online

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  he loud rumbling in Cartier's stomach kept her awake all night. Her mother, Trina, promised that she was stepping out with a male friend and would return shortly with an order from the Chinese restaurant. Cartier waited up, desperately, until she finally realized she would go to bed hungry, again. Cartier's mother often put her own needs before the needs of her child. But leaving Cartier hungry was going too far.

  Cartier didn't wait for the alarm clock to ring before getting ready for school. She was already dressed and waiting on her best friend, Monya, to meet her so they could walk to school together.

  Cartier sat on the windowsill of the quiet, messy apartment and looked at the street down below. Buses zoomed up and down the boulevard, while pedestrians made their way to work and school. Soon she spotted her mother walking down the block in a micro-mini skirt, waist-length leather jacket, and stilettos. It was deathly cold outside, but that didn't stop her mother from dressing so scantily. Trina's dyed blond hair against her dark chocolate skin grabbed everyone's attention. And her walk-more like a bop-was priceless. Cartier often joked that even Stevie Wonder would recognize Trina's walk.

  At thirty-two, Trina still possessed the shape of her youth. She was petite up top with A-cup breasts, wide hips, a round ass, and thick thighs. Her stomach was washboard flat, showing no signs that she'd ever given birth. Trina was severely bowlegged, but instead of hobbling, she switched her hips hard, so hard it served her desired purpose-a distinctive strut that men loved and found sexy.

  The closer Trina got to the apartment, the angrier Cartier became. She watched her mother casually stroll to the tenement building without a care in the world, although their refrigerator echoed from a lack of food and the cupboards were bare. Where is she coming from? Cartier wondered.

  When Trina realized she was being watched, her eyes instinctively looked up to the window. Her smile quickly faded when she saw the glare in Cartier's eyes. She knew she'd fucked up. She also knew she would have to hear her young daughter's mouth about not coming home last night. After she climbed the two flights of steps to the apartment, she wasn't in the mood to listen to Cartier's foul mouth.

  "Where were you?". Cartier screamed. "I waited and waited all night for you."

  Shaking her head, Trina began her explanation. "I told that motherfucker I needed to get home, but he wasn't tryna let me go."

  "What do you mean he wouldn't let you go? You're grown!"

  "You know how KP is." Trina paused for emphasis and then began taking off her jacket. "I told him it was over and the next thing I knew we were having breakup sex."

  "Ma-"

  "That motherfucker was like, `Now take this ... take my baby... nowyou're gonna be with me forever." Trina chuckled, reliving her night of sexual fun.

  "You kept me in here starving so you could have sex? With a loser? If you get pregnant that's one more mouth to feed and you can't even feed the child you already got." Cartier was furious at Trina's immaturity and she also hated that her mother spoke to her as if they were friends.

  "You know you're my only baby. I love only you, and I ain't having no more kids."

  "You're not gonna keep rocking me to sleep every minute with your lies!" Cartier yelled. "I'm sick of living like this! I don't have any clothes and there's never any food! I'm sick of being poor!"

  "See, now that's where you're wrong. You're not gonna put all the baggage on my shoulders. It took two to make you, so you can go and lay some of that blame on your dead father! I done got you through the years that matter the most. It's time you start doing for yourself around here. You're fifteen years old. At fifteen, I was already out of my mother's apartment, living with my man and keeping house-"

  "I'm tired of hearing this same ole story," Cartier interrupted. "It's getting stale. And you weren't keeping house. You were playing house and look where that got you."

  Trina was tired and her bodywas sore from an all-night fuck marathon. She was in no mood to argue a moot point with her daughter. In some ways, Trina was disappointed in Cartier. She felt her daughter lacked the independent nature that Trina had at her age. When Trina was young, if there wasn't any food in the house, she didn't wait around to be fed. She went out and got herself something to eat. Whether she walked into a grocery store and stole food or got some trick to buy her something, she made sure she ate.

  All Cartier was good for was complaining.

  Trina looked at her daughter intently. She was a combination of both her parents. Cartier had Trina's dark complexion and body, but sadly, she had her father's features. Cartier's broad nose and full lips, reminiscent of an African sculpture, were traits inherited from her father. Yet when she smiled, her face softened. Just like her mother, her thick wavy hair was a trait of the Timmonses, much like her fiery personality.

  "If you don't like living here you can get the fuck out!" Trina yelled. "This is my house and I pay the motherfucking bills up in this crib."

  "And you remind me every day!"

  "You damn right I do. If you were smart you would have learned a thing or two from your momma."

  "If school was ever in session with you, maybe I could learn a thing or two from you. But it seems that you're always out to lunch:"

  Trina couldn't figure out if that was a jab, but she knew it was some slick shit. She could tell by the tone of Cartier's voice.

  "Say something else smart and see if I don't shove my fist down your throat."

  Cartier recoiled. She feared her mother's violent nature.

  "I need five dollars to buy a ham and cheese hero from the bodega," Cartier demanded.

  "Girl, don't work my nerves. I don't have five dollars ... I might have three. You can buy the sandwich and you'll have to drink tap water or bum something in school:"

  "Jeez, you're such a great teacher. I guess I'm supposed to learn how to go fuck a nigga all night and come back broke!"

  "Cartier Timmons, I will slap you into next week! Keep it up!" Trina threatened. "Now fuck you! Eat your fucking fingers, bitch!"

  Trina stormed into her bedroom, slamming her door. Cartier was so annoyed and frustrated by her mother's actions that she wanted to cry, but she refused. She walked over to the empty refrigerator once more and stared hopelessly into it until she heard Monya knocking on the door. It was time to leave for school.

  Cartier flung open the door and peered at her best friend. They had been best friends since they were born. Monya was just as poor as Cartier, they had so much in common, and their mothers were best friends too. The two connected on those levels.

  "I heard y'all arguing from down the street," Monya said as soon as Cartier opened the door.

  "What else is new?"

  "What happened now?"

  "She left me in the house all night without anything to eat," Cartier said and then grabbed her book-bag.

  "Well, in a few days she'll get her assistance check and then you'll have food for at least a couple weeks."

  Cartier shook her head. "Nah, I'm gonna have food today!" "You got money?"

  "We won't need money."

  That day was the first day either girl stole anything. And neither felt an ounce of guilt behind their actions. Stealing was a survival mechanism. No longer would Cartier look to her mother to feed her. From this day forward she was feeding herself daily. She reveled in her newfound independence.

  isten," Cartier began as Monya, Lil Momma, Shanine, and Bam all gathered around. "I'm tired of walking around here looking all bummy while other girls our age are dressed fly."

  The crew all looked down at their worn, outdated clothing.

  "So, I've put in a call to Shorty Dip and she's agreed to take us out."

  "Take us out where?" Shanine asked.

  "To the departme
nt stores. She's going to take us to the expensive stores in the city and bag us up."

  "I'm not walking out of nobody's store with stolen merchandise," Lil Momma exclaimed. "I'm not built for such things. Bottom line, if I got caught my mother would beat fire out of my ass"

  "Will you stop being so negative?" Monya interjected. "Ain't nobody getting caught. Cartier and Shorty Dip already worked out the plan. All we gotta do is walk calmly out the door. Dip and her crew will do the rest. They'll remove all the sensors from the clothing, bag it up nicely in a large department store shopping bag, make sure none of the undercover detectives are on to us, and then we will do the easiest job, which is walk out the front door."

  "If that's the easiest part then why don't they do it?" Lil Momma was relentless in her objection. Her pride wouldn't allow her to be what the streets called, a vic. Meaning, she would forever be looked upon as a slouch. A person who allowed herself to be used.

  "Look, either you're down or you're not. It's that simple." Cartier had had enough of Lil Momma and her annoying ways.

  "Well then, I'm not down."

  Without hesitation, Cartier retorted, "Then bounce."

  s the cold winter months came and went, Cartier, Monya, Bam, Shanine, and Lil Momma began dressing in the latest outfits. Though Lil Momma wasn't down with boosting, her girlfriends still treated her as an equal. When they boosted a store, they always added something extra to their bag for their friend.

  Their popularity at school and around the neighborhood skyrocketed. Cartier was the ringleader of the crew, who planned their heists and provided guidance and advice. The crew, which she aptly named the Cartier Cartel, all looked up to her.

  When spring rolled around, Cartier had a new outlook on their situation. Something Lil Momma had said months ago stuck in her head. Cartier realized she and her crew was doing the riskiest part of the heists. They were the ones walking out of Bloomingdales, Macy's, Sak's Fifth Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman, and Barney's with thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. A few of the Cartel crewmembers had open court cases for shoplifting and all of them had been caught in the act at least a half dozen times.

  Yet Shorty Dip walked home with most of the merchandise. She took home seventy percent of the merchandise. She rationalized that it was only fair since she brought the young girls in. After all, she was twice the young girls' ages and young girls their age didn't need the best clothes or accessories.

  They sat outside in Dip's 1998 Lincoln Navigator and took turns going in and out of those high-end stores like cattle. Dip loved taking Monya inside stores. She had a light-brown complexion, as if she were a foreigner, possibly of Indian descent. When she dressed properly, her looks were deceiving. By the time the store got wind that she was up to no good, she was already out the door and inside the safe haven of Dip's truck.

  Each girl couldn't deny the adrenaline rush getting away with stealing gave them. Business was good and interesting. Popping off tags on $1,800- shirts was incomprehensible. They had clothing that they couldn't even pronounce and shoes they couldn't even walk in. Cartier finally understood what her mother had been trying to convey to her regarding independence. Boosting had afforded her and her crew a new lifestyle that consisted of getting their hair professionally done, manicures and pedicures, movies, and taxicabs. Additionally, the girls sold some of their merchandise at the local beauty parlors. The Cartel was making moves and handling their business. But business could always be better.

  Cartier watched as Dip grabbed one item each of the new Gucci summer white line in Bergdorf Goodman's. Dip loved to take Cartier into the large, ornate store because Cartier had the most heart. She was fearless and would run, fight, and maneuver her way out of the store with the merchandise if need be. Bergdorf was the type of establishment that relied on their surveillance cameras. You had to be swift and stoic in order to evade the security system or guards. The security guards who worked the exits were diehard enthusiasts who loved busting thieves.

  Inside the store, Cartier and Dip pretended to be strangers. Cartier's role was to peruse the aisles and not touch anything that would cause the sales associates to take notice of her. A skilled booster had to be unassuming and invisible while standing in front of a store employee. Your biggest job was to go undetected.

  Cartier walked past a dress that she had seen the week prior. The price tag was $2,299. Then, Dip had promised to put it in the bag for Cartier. She didn't do it. And it appeared to Cartier that Dip wasn't going to steal the dress this week either. For some reason, Dip only wanted the girls to dress in jeans and sportswear, while she dressed in the high-end fashions. Cartier and her crew were inundated with Guess, BCBG, Juicy Couture, DKNY, and bebe, while Dip gravitated toward Cavalli, von Furstenburg, Moschino, and Gucci.

  Cartier observed Dip go to a table and pick up three pairs of Versace jeans. Cartier knew she and her crew would be given those as consolation for today's work. She was furious. The Cartel had more Versace jeans in all flavors than they could wear. What the fuck was Dip thinking? Cartier gave Dip a signal and pointed toward the dress. Dip grimaced in disapproval. She frowned and her forehead creased. Cartier watched in horror as Dip stuffed a large shopping bag minus the dress Cartier so desperately wanted. At first, when Dip placed the bag underneath a rack of clothes and gave Cartier the head nod to go and retrieve it, she hesitated. Cartier wanted to tell Dip to take the fucking bag and shove it up her ass, but she held her tongue. She watched as Dip headed down the escalator, making her way out the store.

  Cartier looked around and all was quiet. Slowly, she walked over to the clothes rack and peered down at the neatly packed, large shopping bag. Her eyes darted around the area and all was quiet. Cartier gripped the heavy bag and made her way toward the elevators. When the doors flung open, there was an undercover detective inside and she clearly heard his conversation over the radio. The male's voice on the other end excitedly shot off a description of a black female known for stealing. Cartier knew the description was Dip's. The voice informed the undercover detective of Dip's location on the second floor, in the shoe department. The commanding voice also emphasized to his fellow detective to be on high alert. The detective never glanced at Cartier, whose heart was in her throat by now.

  As Cartier was getting off the elevator, making her way toward the exit, she knew what she had to do. But the decision she'd make would solely depend on whether Dip was a team player or not.

  Back at the car, she hipped the girls to her plan. At first, they resisted, but since Cartier was the leader of the Cartel, they knew they had to follow her lead. In the close quarters of the SUV, the girls waited patiently for Dip to come back so they could continue shopping.

  When the undercover detectives spotted Shorty Dip, her hands were buried deeply in her coat pockets as she walked briskly down the block toward the car. Dip was on point, continually looking over her shoulder to see if she were being followed. It wasn't uncommon for store-employed detectives to follow known boosters from the store to their cars. Sometimes they would get lucky and catch the boosters with merchandise from numerous stores.

  To be safe, Dip usually parked blocks from the store they would hit.

  As Dip got closer to the SUV, her eyes searched the car to see if Cartier was safely inside. When she spotted Cartier, she exhaled.

  "Girl, it was so hot in there," Dip began. "I didn't know if you got knocked."

  "Nah, I was straight. But they were looking for you."

  "Yeah, they found me, but there wasn't shit they could do but escort me out because I didn't have shit"

  "They walked you to the door?"

  "They sure did"

  "That's embarrassing," Monya commented. "I hate when they do that stupid shit:'

  "I don't give a fuck," Dip replied. "They can walk me from here to Brooklyn as long as I got their shit. We G'd off in that motherfucker."

  Unable to contain the excitement she felt about getting the new Gucci line, Dip grabbed the bag and began pulli
ng out the garments. Although she didn't say anything, in fear the girls would start to finally wise up and realize she kept all the good quality clothes for herself, the expression on her face was priceless.

  Cartier began, "Did you get me that dress I wanted?"

  "What dress?" Dip was a bad actor Cartier surmised.

  "The dress that I pointed to inside the store?"

  Dip shrugged. "Oh my God, I didn't know you wanted that dress. Why didn't you say something? It would have taken two seconds to put it in the bag."

  "What do you mean why didn't I say something? You knew I wanted that dress last week and I reminded you again today!"

  "All I had on my mind was getting y'all these fly-ass jeans." Dip pulled out the three pairs of Versace jeans. It was beyond her that four girls were in the SUV. "I should have gotten myself a pair too. Y'all gonna be some fly bitches. Don't nobody have these."

  "That's'cause nobodywants them!" Cartier blurted out and then reminded herself that she needed to chill in order for the plan to go accordingly. She had recently made it a point to be a better leader, definitely a better leader than Dip.

  "Look, calm down with all that fucking yelling!" Dip responded. "I always get y'all what the fuck you ask for. In that store it's different. You see how they be on my ass up in there. My time is limited and I don't have time to linger. If I sleep, then, we get nothing. I only have a matter of minutes in any department before they call the Ds on me, so I don't have time to decipher hand and head movements. Next we about to go to Macy's, and I won't get shit. I'll pick out a whole bag for just you girls"

  Cartier couldn't believe how selfish and greedy Dip was. Macy's had the bullshit and she knew it. Cartier knew that in Macy's they'd be walking out with Guess and Mudd jeans. Instead of flipping out, she said, "Are you serious? You're gonna dedicate a whole bag just for us?"

  "Yeah, I'm serious," Dip replied. "That's because I'm not a selfish bitch. This shit don't mean nothing to me. I'm the flyest bitch in Brooklyn. I don't have shit to prove to these hoes. They all know what time it is. I got so much shit in my closets I can't even close the doors. I'm not greedy at all."