Cartier Cartel Read online

  "Well, who's going to go in with you?" Cartier asked.

  Dip thought for a moment. "I think I'll take in Bam. She has the perfect look for Macy's " Dip always mentioned that Bam was really of no use other than a low end store like Macy's. No matter how you tried to clean her up, there was something deceptive looking about her. She was dusty looking and only good for crowded, affordable department stores.

  "That's what's up," Bam acknowledged.

  "You know what?" Cartier began. "I think you should go up first and let Bam wait around ten minutes, and then meet you up there. That way if the Ds are on to you, Bam won't get knocked. Macy's Ds are a lot smarter than Bergdorf's, and they are on to the whole decoy thing. What do you think?"

  Dip hesitated for a moment. She was torn between cursing out Cartier for trying to dictate the next move and also thinking about the household goods she was going to steal for her new apartment. Dip didn't have any intentions of packing one bag of shit for them. She was going to have Bam's stupid ass walk out with two stuffed shopping bags, most of which would contain bed sheets, towels, and dishes. The latter prevailed and Dip realized she needed time to find everything and prepare the bags before Bairn could leave with them.

  "OK, you're right, Cartier. Bam meet me in exactly twenty minutes in the Cellar."

  "The Cellar?" Bam asked in a confused state.

  "Look, I got this. Just meet me in the Cellar." Macy's Cellar was the bottom level that held all the household goods.

  Despite Dip thinking the girls were stupid, they weren't. She never thought the girls were smart enough to figure out her scheme, or strong enough to stand up against her.

  "OK, sure. Twenty minutes and I'll be there," Bam replied.

  The crew waited five minutes before they hopped out of Dip's truck. Cartier's plan consisted of them leaving the SUV in the no-parking zone, taking all the merchandise that was stolen that day, and hopping on the 3-train back to Brownsville, Brooklyn.

  Their take for the day was over twenty-five thousand dollars of stolen merchandise. The only thing that stopped the crew from having a big celebration was the infamous reputation of the woman they'd just crossed. Shorty Dip wasn't going to take what they'd done to her lightly.

  or two days, the girls didn't walk the blocks alone. They were all too familiar with the code of the streets and knew that their actions would beget an action from Dip. No one had to tell them that they now had beef with Dip. Not only did Dip's truck get ticketed and towed, but they heard that the tow-truck driver fucked up her rims as well.

  It was only a matter of time before Dip and her crew from Flatbush, Brooklyn ran up on the Cartel. Dip couldn't be disrespected. She had a reputation to uphold, and if she didn't respond appropriately, then she would be opening up a can of worms for other motherfuckers to try and play her.

  Shorty Dip didn't work a nine to five. Her job was boosting. Boosting paid her rent, paid her car note, put food in her refrigerator, sent her daughter to a private school, and paid for a host of other things. The common thread that afforded her lifestyle were vics-a steady stream of young girls with heartwilling, ready, and enthusiastic about walking out of department stores with stolen merchandise. And the so-called Cartier Cartel was the best. She had never run across girls as ruthless and full of heart as Cartier and her crew.

  Barn was the first to notice the black Lincoln Navigator creep up the block, as the Cartier Cartel sat on the stoop. Lil Momma, Bam, Shanine, and Monya looked toward one another and then bolted down the block. Only Cartier hesitated, eventually deciding not to run. She thought back to when she was eight years old and had gotten jumped by two neighborhood girls. Cartier ran inside her house crying for her mother. Trina told her that she better go back outside and give those girls the fight of their lives.

  "In the hood either you fight and earn respect or you run and lose respect," Trina's words resonated in her head. "You better go back out there and earn your respect!"

  Shorty Dip exited the car first in her toughest gangster imitation.

  "Oh, bitch, you think you tough?" Dip asked in a gruff voice, trying to antagonize the girl who was half her age.

  "Ain't no shook hands in Brook-land," Cartier spat and prepared herself for battle.

  "Bitch, I will beat the Brooklyn out of you if you don't give me back my shit," Dip threatened.

  Cartier, still not bowing down, stood firm. "I'm not giving you shit and I'm not gonna be too many more bitches-"

  "Yo, Dip, punch that little smart bitch in her fucking face!" Angie said from inside the SUV.

  Cartier cut her eyes toward the SUV and said, "Why don't you come do it?"

  The remaining three women inside the Navigator got out and surrounded Cartier. Each woman looked as if they'd been in a war. They had battle scars etched into their hard, leathery skin. Their beer bellies protruded from their jeans and not one of them tried to hide their muffin tops with the tight tank tops they wore. The variety of colorful weaves-orange, blond, and burgundy-accentuated their ugliness.

  Yet Cartier refused to be intimidated. She hated Dip and really wanted to spit in her face for the way she treated her crew who had been loyal to her. All Cartier wanted was a measly dress and that was too fucking hard for Dip to comprehend. And what killed Cartier was that the dress was f-r-e-e. Dip acted as if Cartier wanted her to toss it on her credit card.

  "This between me and Dip-one on one," Cartier declared. "But if y'all wanna get in it, then we can all toss it up. Whatever, however, is how I get down!"

  Dip knew Cartier was tough and could bring the heat. She looked into Cartier's eyes and knew she was prepared to give her a fight. Several things raced through Dip's head in a matter of seconds. She wondered if she still had it in her to stomp out a girl half her age. Although an avid fighter all her life, Dip hadn't had to beat on a bitch in years. Her reputation preceded her and usually kept people at bay. Dip also knew if she backed down now, with Jacki, Karen, and Angie watching, she'd never live that down. Dip fingered the screwdriver she had stuck in her back pocket and decided to ask Cartier one last time to give up her shit, or else she was prepared to go all out.

  The loud banging on her front door almost gave Trina a heart attack. Instinctively, she knew something had happened to her only child. She ran and flung open the door, only to see Monya, Bam, Lil Momma, and Shanine standing there.

  "Where's my child?" Her words were laced with panic.

  "They're gonna jump her!" Monya cried.

  "What? Who? Where the fuck is she and why the fuck are y'all not with her?"

  "It's Shorty Dip and her crew," Monya replied.

  "Shorty Dip from Cypress projects?"

  "Yeah, her," Lil Momma answered.

  "Why the fuck is that grown-ass bitch fucking with my child?" Trina was asking questions as she dressed feverously. "Where's Cartier!"

  "She's in front of my building. We all took off running and we thought she was behind us, but she stayed," Monya explained.

  "You damn right she stayed 'cause a Timmons don't run from no damn bitch! They bleed like we bleed."

  Trina couldn't wait to get her hands on Dip. She and Dip were a year apart and had beef back in the days when they were in high school. Of course, they argued over what women of all ages fight over: a nigga. But they never came to blows. Each woman knew the other could handle her own.

  As they ran down the block, Trina called Monya's mother, Janet, who happened to be her best friend, to meet her in front of the building. Trina didn't hesitate to threaten the Cartel that if something happened to her daughter, she was going to personally whip each and every one of their asses and then make Cartier whip their asses, too.

  As the crew came running down the block, Trina saw a crowd of women surrounding her daughter. She called out, "Dip!"

  Hearing her name stopped Dip in her tracks.

  "Who that?" Dip asked. Shewas confusedwhenshe sawan unrecognizable face racing toward the ruckus. As the crowd drew closer, the face came into foc
us. It was a face she didn't want to see.

  Trina looked up and saw Janet only a few steps behind them.

  "What the fuck is up with you in my daughter's face?" Trina demanded.

  Dip was more than stressed at the newfound news that Cartier was Trina's daughter, yet she had to keep it gangster.

  "Yo, tell your daughter to return the shit that doesn't belong to her."

  Trina looked to Cartier. "You all right?"

  Cartier nodded.

  "Cartier ain't returning a motherfucking thing! Possession is nine-tenths of the game. Whatever my daughter got that's yours is now hers! Let's set it off in this bitch! Cartier, I got this one!"

  As Dip went to reach inside her back pocket for the screwdriver, Trina smashed her in her face with a strong right hook. Dip stumbled backward and the crowd began thumping. Janet jumped on Jacki and then Cartier Cartel took care of Karen and Angie. Punches began flying, hair got pulled, and even a few bites caught flesh. These women were fighting for respect, wasn't given freely or easily in the streets. Trina was trying to damn near kill Dip for fucking with her daughter and settling a score from back in the day. Trina had a lot of pent up anger and knew if she didn't end it today, then this would be an unsettled beef.

  The two-block radius was a tight-knit community, and once word got out that they were fighting outsiders, it was a wrap. On that day, not only did Dip and her crew get the shit beat out of them, but the neighborhood made sure they totally destroyed her Navigator. They smashed all the windows out, kicked dents into her exterior, and slashed all tires. When they were through, the car looked totaled.

  Dip and her crew were literally chased out of the neighborhood. When it was all said and done, Trina and Janet had a chat with Cartier's crew.

  "I'm so disappointed that you girls would leave my baby out here alone," Trina began. "Anything could have happened. She could have been jumped or stabbed. Janet and I never got down like that-"

  "You know that's right," Janet interjected. "If I had a beef with somebody, then Trina had a beef with that same person. And Monya, I'm really surprised at you of all people. You lucky I don't whip your ass right here and now!"

  "Nah, don't do that, Ms. Janet," Cartier defended her friend. "It's all good. I know Monya has my back. She just got spooked. Ain't that right, Monya?"

  "Yeah, you right," Monya answered weakly. She was afraid of her mother, and although Janet stood strong, Monya knew she was embarrassed her daughter had run away.

  Cartier took up for her best friend, because Ms. Janet gave Monya the worst beatings. And Cartier knew Monya wasn't really a fighter. Monya was interested in boys, money, and clothes. If she never had a fight in her life, Monya would be happy.

  Trina concluded, "Well, from now on remember this, y'all crew. Don't let nothing-fear, an ass-kicking, a nigga, money, or bitches-come between the crew!"

  That night when Cartier and Trina were alone, her mother told her how proud she was of her for standing up for herself when nobody else was there to have her back.

  "Ma, I only did what you taught me to do"

  "That don't minimize how I feel. You could have run like the rest of your crew and I wouldn't have known shit. So I know this wasn't about me. I know you did what you felt was right in your heart, and for that I'm really proud of you.

  Trina walked over to Cartier and they both embraced.

  Cartier couldn't explain how fighting on the streets of Brooklyn could bring her and her mother closer, but strangely that was exactly what it did.

  couple weeks after the brawl, Trina took Cartier down to Atlanta for the wedding of one of their relatives. While there, Cartier picked up on a scheme and couldn't wait to put it to use in New York. Cartier knew this could make her and the crew some money. Just thinking about it made Cartier antsy with anticipation. She figured with this newfound knowledge, they could take over Brooklyn first and then the entire city, one borough at a time.

  In the confines of her bedroom, Cartier worked diligently making boobie bags. The scheme Cartier scoped in the ATL consisted ofboobie bags dismantling the sensormatic alarm box, rendering the alarm system useless. Sensormatics were the alarm items placed on clothes in department stores that had to be removed by the cashier before customers left the store. If they were not removed, the alarm would go off soundly and immediately. With the sensormatic disarmed, they could fill the bag to capacity within seconds, and casually walk out of the store.

  The boobie bag contraption was almost like magic. Cartier took two large shopping paper bags. The first one, she lined it with aluminum foil, taping the foil in place. Once the bag was wrapped, she then slid the wrapped bag into a perfectly crisp large shopping paper bag! It took her three days to manufacture twenty bags before she called her crew up to her bedroom to explain how the bags worked.

  Monya was the first to ask a question. "So you saying that we can drop anything we want inside this here bag without taking off the alarms and when we walk out the front door of the store, the alarm box won't go off?"

  "That's exactly what I'm saying"

  "But how do you know this works?" Lil Momma, who wasn't down with boosting, asked. "This could be an urban legend or some shit."

  "I know it works, because when I was in Atlanta, I saw it for myself, with my own eyes."

  "Jeez, do you know how much money we gonna make?" Monya asked. "If this works out the way I think it will, in a couple years we'll be able to get our own apartments and won't have to live with our mothers."

  "We should all save up our money to buy a five bedroom apartment in the city and go to all the hottest clubs each night and hopefully, meet all the rappers." Lil Momma was fully enthralled in the conversation.

  "What do you mean we? You ain't down," Bam was quick to point out to Lil Momma.

  "If I wanna get down, I can!" Lil Momma challenged. "Right, Cartier? If I wanted to get down, I could?"

  "Listen, we got better things to discuss right now than talk about whether Lil Momma is going to move with us from now on. We gotta make a pact that these bags will be our secret. No one must know how to make them or use them. Understood?" Cartier looked in each one of their faces to get a feel for each girl's thoughts.

  "Understood," they all said in unison.

  t only took a couple of days before the weekend came and the girls went out to test the bags. Lil Momma was a willing participant, but now roles had switched. Cartier and Monya were the ones who went into the stores and gathered the clothing and packed each bag, while Bam, Lil Momma, and Shanine took turns walking out of the stores. Each bag always had five of each item. If there was only four pieces of an item in the store, then that item, no matter how fly it was, had to be left. Every member of the crew got treated equally; that way no rifts or animosity would arise. Within a couple of weeks, each girl had more clothing than they could wear in a month's time. They had a steady stream of customers, and even had the local neighborhood and surrounding neighborhood boys interested in them.

  The one who was most pleased with all the attention she was getting was Monya. Her long, silky hair was now cut into shiny layers, and her light brown, Indian-looking complexion made her look older than her crew. That, coupled with the skintight jeans, high heels, and large, oversized purse she wore, gave her a mature look. Her dainty facial features were complemented by the theatrical hairstyle, and the look enhanced her already sensual personality.

  It didn't take long for Monya to get scooped up by a dude who had his own ride. His name was Wise and he claimed to be the nephew of one of the members of the infamous Fat Cat crew located in Queens. At twenty, he was five years older than Monya. He cruised onto the block with music blaring, in a deep lean in his new peanut butter and chocolate Mercedes AMG with custom bucket leather seats. That car made everyone's mouth drop open with envy. As Monya came switching down the steps of her stoop, her friends were proud.

  Cartier, Shanine, Lil Momma, and Barn couldn't believe Monya's luck. They all figured he had to be a milliona
ire. And they wanted to know what all girls wanted to know; Did he have friends?

  The crewwatched Monya slide into the luxurious ride as the car sat idling. Soon Monya rolled down the window and called, "Cartier, let me holla at you for a second:'

  Cartier hopped up and walked toward the car. She was looking equally cute in her skintight jeans and halter top, all dressed up with nowhere to go. That was their daily routine. She bent down and peered inside only to see one of the cutest guys she'd ever laid eyes on. Wise had a low-cut Caesar with deep, shiny waves. Long sideburns and a thin mustache complimented his smooth, light brown skin. He had small, sneaky eyes and a slim frame.

  "What's up?" Cartier asked.

  "I wanted to introduce you to Wise. Wise, this is my best friend, Cartier."

  Wise did a head nod. "Nice to meet you."

  "You, too," Cartier replied. This was followed by an uncomfortable silence. Cartier ended the awkward moment, "See you guys later."

  Wight!

  Cartier went back to the stoop and told the girls how cute Wise was.

  "I wonder where he's going to take her tonight?" Shanine stated.

  "Monya said they were going out to eat," Cartier said, still admiring his car.

  "In Queens or Brooklyn?"

  "How the fuck should I know?" Cartier snapped.

  Just as a brutal debate was about to kick off, Monya exited the car and began walking toward them. She tried her best to conceal her embarrassment from her friends, while also trying to put on a sexy switch in her hips, just in case Wise stayed around long enough to watch her walk away. He didn't. No sooner had the passenger's door closed than he hit the gas pedal.

  Cartier reacted first. "What happened?" She knew Monya didn't sit in a beauty parlor all morning and put on her tightest jeans and brand new Prada shoes to see this kid for five minutes.

  Monya began shaking her head wildly. "He got a phone call, said he had to bounce, and he'd call me later."