Cartier Cartel Page 3

  "Bounce?"

  "That's what he said."

  "He probably going to meet some bitch," Barn said.

  "Why the fuck would he be going to meet some bitch when he's with a bitch?" Cartier snapped, in defense of Monya. "Look at Monya. Ain't too many females out here prettier than my homegirl."

  "Exactly. Ain't no other bitch out here prettier than me!" Monya ran her hands through her hair. It was something she did when she was nervous or embarrassed. "He know he want this. Besides, we ain't even fuck yet. He probably had to go and take care of business."

  "That sounds about right," Cartier agreed.

  "Well, what about the money she spent on her hair? Is he gonna give that back?" Lil Momma couldn't believe that they were taking up for him. "And her nails? She spent all her money trying to look cute for him and he's talking about he had to bounce."

  "Don't be stupid," Cartier snapped. "She would play herself asking for seventeen dollars back!" She paused and looked at Monya. She was steamed. "He gotta know he can't just disrespect you like that. Did you tell that motherfucker that your time isn't to be wasted?"

  "Nah, I didn't say shit," Monya replied weakly. "I was so stunned that he was ushering me out of the car. What do you think I did?"

  "You ain't do shit!" Cartier blasted. "That bitch-ass nigga think it's like that 'cause he got money. I can't wait until we get our own rides so we can stunt on people too."

  Cartier looked off and began thinking. Although they were doing well with boosting, it was just enough money to get by. Plus, she was tired of boosting. She knew they had to do something to make more money, but she didn't have a clue what that could be. They could only go boosting on the weekends, and after they divided the clothes and sold what was left, they only made a couple hundred for themselves. After manicures, pedicures, doobie wraps, lunch money and taxicabs, none of the five could save any money.

  They all decided to go to the Magic Johnson Cineplex on Linden Boulevard in the East New York area of Brooklyn. After the movie, they all walked to the Lindenwood Diner one block over and ordered seasoned crab legs and shrimp Caesar salad. It wasn't until a few guys from their neighborhood walked in that the real fun began.

  Jason, Maurice, and Wonderful made their way over to the crew. Over the past year, Jason had come up in the drug game. For years, he had sold hand-to-hand, but now it seemed as if he was pushing weight on a small level. At nineteen, although he was considered ruthless, he had a soft spot in his heart for Cartier. Jason had a light complexion and loved dark-skinned girls with thick thighs. Not to mention, he loved girls with sassiness. He deemed Cartier his perfect match.

  "What's up, ma?" Jason asked Cartier as he slid into the booth next to her.

  "Jason, what you doing here?" a surprised Cartier asked.

  "I came here to see you," he replied and licked his full, juicy lips.

  Giggling, Cartier replied, "No, you didn't

  Jason didn't miss his opportunity. He moved closer and draped his arm around her neck. The other crew members had broad smiles on their faces. They all felt Cartier should hook up with Jason, but for some reason she wouldn't. She was more interested in his man, Wonderful. Cartier had no idea that Wonderful thought she was ugly. Although he would fuck her, that was as far as Wonderful would take it with her. In fact, he didn't find any of the Cartier Cartel attractive. Bottom line, he loved Spanish girls and had no interest in sistas.

  Internally, Cartier was hoping Wonderful was getting jealous over the fact she and Jason were flirting. She stuck her fork in her shrimp and fed it to Jason.

  "Damn, ma, this shit is good. Excuse me, waiter," Jason began. The waiter quickly came over and gave Jason his attention. "Let me get another order of the shrimp Caesar. What y'all niggas want?"

  "I'm straight," Maurice said. He was the broke one out of the crew and sometimes, Jason could flip. Sometimes, Jason would pay for Maurice, other times he'd leave him hanging.

  "Yeah, order me one, too," Wonderful replied. Jason and Wonderful were best friends like Cartier and Monya. Jason never screamed on Wonderful or tried to play him.

  "Yo, give me three orders of the shrimp Caesar salad," he looked to Maurice, "Motherfucker I know you hungry ... and let me get three double shots of Hennessy."

  The waiter took the order and didn't bother to ask for identification. He didn't want any kind of altercation with the young gangster. He knew asking for a simple ID card could lead to a beat-down or the end of his life. It was that serious in the hood.

  "Order me a shot of Henny too," Lil Momma asked Jason. When he didn't acknowledge her request, she barked, "Oh it's like that?"

  "Stay in ya lane little girl," Jason replied and then playfully plucked a toothpick at her. Only Lil Momma didn't find anything funny.

  As the night went on, Jason would allow Cartier to take sips of his Hennessy, and before anyone knew it, she was tipsy.

  "Do you know that nigga named Wise?" Cartier asked Jason.

  "Wise from Queens?"

  "Cartier!" Monya wanted to keep her friend quiet, but Cartier wasn't having it.

  "What? Jason peoples. Besides, we don't know shit about that kid."

  "Oh, Monya, you frontin' on me?"Jason asked.

  "Nah, it ain't even like that," Monya replied. "Wise and I are only friends."

  Cartier turned her body toward Jason. As she spoke, he couldn't help but want to take her home and eat her pussy. Jason loved to eat pussy. It gave women the most pleasure and he had made a concerted effort at being the best. Additionally, he believed eating pussy could compensate for his small dick. The girls he was with didn't consider him to be packing, and Cartier looked like she could handle a big dick. He was almost sure she wasn't a virgin the way she and her crew ran around. Word on the street had them boosting and running around all the boroughs thinking they were cute.

  "So that punk ass comes around supposedly to take Monya out to eat and five minutes later, he's out, talking about he had somewhere to go!"

  "Damn, Monya. You running niggas out of town like that?" Wonderful asked.

  "Whatever."

  "You sure ya breath wasn't lightin' up the car?" Wonderful joked.

  Everyone began making jokes at Monya's expense. She glared at Cartier, who then tried to redirect the conversation back to her original question.

  "But what's up with him? He got a girl or something?"

  "I ain't into snitching on a nigga," Jason began. "But that nigga be getting rep from his uncle. He run around here like he thorough like them real niggas in Fat Cat's crew. And who's to say he really blood to one of those niggas?"

  "He got money?"

  "I don't give a fuck what that nigga got and don't got!" Jason was suddenly upset at Cartier's interest. His jealousy took over and he forgot that the questions were in her friend's best interest. Not hers.

  Cartier rolled her eyes, "Calm the fuck down."

  "Calm me down-"

  Cartier playfully slapped his face.

  "You lucky I don't hit girls, 'cause I don't let nobody be touching my face."

  "Please, you know I will fuck a nigga up"

  "Word? I heard how you and your crew put in work on those old broads."

  "Nah, that was her moms out there getting busy," Wonderful interjected.

  "What? It wasn't only my moms ... that was me too!" Cartier was insulted. "And my crew. We were all out there thumping."

  "Yeah, give my girl her props," Jason said defensively.

  Wonderful looked to Barn, Shanine and Lil Momma who had basically sat quiet throughout the whole meal.

  "Y'all was out there thumping too?" he quizzed the three girls but only Bam nodded her head. "Why y'all so quiet?"

  Lil Momma snapped, "I don't talk when my throat is dry," and the whole table erupted in laughter.

  After they finished eating, Jason paid the check for everyone and they all squeezed into his green Nissan Pathfinder. When he pulled onto the block and dropped off the girls, he called out to Cartier.<
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  "When you gonna give me the digits?" he asked.

  "What? You know you're like a brother to me," Cartier replied coyly.

  "Fuck that brother shit. You know how I feel about you. Let's make it official."

  Cartier truly didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was always good to get a free meal, free ride, or sound advice and she didn't want to ruin that.

  "I'm not looking for a man right now, but when I do, it will definitely be you."

  "I like that answer, ma"

  Cartier exhaled. "Goodnight"

  "Goodnight, wifey."

  ith a silk scarf tied tightly around her head, Cartier headed out to the corner store to buy her mother a pack of Newports and a sour pickle. It was eleven o'clock in the morning and she had every intention of going back to sleep. Every Saturday morning, her mother woke her up early to help clean up the apartment. The routine was always the same. Her mother would wake up and put on all her favorite music from the late sixties and seventies: Aretha Franklin, Prince, Diana Ross, and Donna Summer. To make matters worse, her mother didn't have CDs. She had vinyl albums.

  Cartier bought her mother's pack of Newports and bought herself a loose one. As she stood there puffing on her cigarette, she watched as a few neighborhood boys she knew do hand-to-hand transactions. They all stood huddled around talking smack, and when someone came through, one of the boys would step off to the side to serve them. When she thought about it, one of the boys, Kenny, had recently purchased a 1993 Honda Accord. As Cartier walked home, the light bulb went on in her head. She figured that there was a lot more money in selling drugs than in boosting. She also knew the risk would be less. She reasoned with herself that those who bought drugs wanted to get high. And everyone knew nothing could stop a fiend from getting high. Additionally, she and the crew would be able to spot an undercover cop a mile away. Hell, none of the boys on the block had ever been bum rushed by the cops. She knew what they could do, she and her crew could do ten times better. She still needed to think her plan through, but for now, she couldn't contain the excitement she felt in her stomach.

  Diana Ross was belting out tunes from her Boss album, and Trina knew all the words. When Cartier walked in, her mother had a pile of her stolen clothes on her bed.

  "Don't none of this shit fit me," Trina complained. Trina was pregnant and starting to show. Both she and Cartier chose to play dumb.

  Cartier was really disgusted Trina was pregnant in her old age. If her mother chose to keep the child, Cartier would be sixteen years older than her baby sibling. She thought that was ghetto as hell.

  "Then maybe you should lose some weight," Cartier replied, playing into her mother's deception.

  "Maybe you should steal some shit that your momma could fit, perhaps some maternity clothes."

  Cartier didn't miss a beat. "What I look like? Your baby daddy?"

  Trina rolled her eyes and then went and embraced her daughter.

  "Ma, stoooooppp," Cartier said, whining.

  "Give your momma some sugar."

  "No!" Cartier screamed and then giggled. "So, I guess that means you're keeping your baby?"

  "How long did you know?"

  "I'm not stupid. I know what pregnancy looks like."

  "Well, you just better not come up in here pregnant."

  "That will never happen."

  "Well, let's not get carried away. I do want grandbabies. Just not until you're married."

  "Ma, you really want to do this? Have a baby when you don't have a job? And what about the father? What's he saying?"

  "You know he's all excited. This will be his first child."

  "But what about you? Is that what you want?" Cartier wasn't crazy about the situation. Recently, she was the one acting like the grownup. She could only hope the father came through, but her experience in the hood told her that was a long shot.

  "Girl, stop sounding like the mother. I know what I'm doing and I want my baby. You won't understand. I had you too young and I missed out on a lot of things. I took a lot for granted and let your grandmother raise you. I missed your first steps and that hurt. I've already forgotten the scent of a baby that I loved so much. This time I want things to be different. I want to enjoy motherhood and do better. You deserved better than I could give you, Cartier. Hopefully, I can give to your little brother or sister what I couldn't give you."

  Cartier didn't know what to make out of her mother's admission about not really being there for her. She felt something, and it could have been a sting of jealousy, but she hoped it was mixed with the right amount of eagerness about the prospect of having a little brother or sister.

  "How far along are you?"

  "six weeks," Trina replied as she dusted off one of her end tables.

  "Hmmm, you still got time to do the do," Cartier said jokingly referring to an abortion.

  Trina tossed the dirty rag at her and they both chuckled at Cartier's dark humor.

  After they cleaned up the house, Cartier took a look around and decided they needed towels and toiletries. She decided she would put that on her list of things to get when they went boosting this afternoon. But for now, she needed a nap.

  s her mother's belly grew, so did Cartier. She grew up. She saved up enough money to purchase herself a new five-piece bedroom set, one that was made of real wood and sturdy. She also bought two gallons of paint and had the maintenance men paint her bedroom. Next came the new carpet for the apartment. She felt really good about herself. With the summer ending and school rolling back around, her days of going to bed hungry were long gone. She and her crew now had the reputation that Shorty Dip once carried. Her cell phone rang all day with the flyest chicks from each borough wanting to be friends, but mostly wanting to go boosting with her and her crew. But that was a no-go. There wasn't any way they would put another bitch on.

  Each night from her window, Cartier watched Manny, Reggie, and Kenny sell weed from their stoop. From what Cartier was told, they had some good shit. She watched intently, studying them night and day, and paid close attention to the hours they kept. Everything she saw fed into her method to her madness. Their success became her hunger. She scoped the new clothes and sneakers, the cars, the money, and even the cute chicks on their arm. Besides the females, they had what she wanted-success.

  For Cartier, selling drugs was the next logical step in the Cartel's progression. If done properly, then she and the crew could make more money than they'd ever dreamed of having. And yes, the money was appealing. She was the breadwinner in the family now, and taking care of Trina and her new sibling were her responsibility now.

  Cartier shook her head as she thought about the baby's daddy bouncing before the baby was even born. It was the way of the hood. Like Trina, Cartier wanted the baby to have everything she never had. She and the Cartel had already stolen four garbage bags worth of baby clothes, from newborn to twenty-four months. The doctor said her mother was having a girl and her mother chose the name Prada. They also began to steal a few items from Babies "R" Us. Cartier didn't really care for the store. She had gotten knocked twice trying to roll out a high chair in a shopping cart. Each time she was fingerprinted, but let go because of her age. On her third try, she got it. She caught the guard slipping and eased out without detection. Within two months, the baby had enough shit to last two to three years. The only thing her mother would be responsible for was feeding the baby, which the government would assist with. Between food stamps and WIC, Cartier thought all should be fine.

  y the time fall rolled around, each member of the crew had officially dropped out of school. At sixteen, they all functioned as if they were grown women. Cartier had men coming and going in and out of her small bedroom and Trina said nothing. History was repeating itself. Trina was able to have boys sleep over when she was Cartier's age, so it was perfectly natural for her to allow her daughter to do the same, although truly Trina didn't like it. It didn't feel right to her.

  One part of Trina wanted to step up and be the parent
Cartier never had and start laying down rules and regulations. But the other part-the stronger part-felt like Cartier was the sister she never had. By the time Cartier reached twelve years-old, everyone mistook her for Trina's baby sister, and when Trina would tell them that Cartier was in fact her daughter, they were always surprised. Trina did look good for her age. Each day Trina promised herself she would raise her new baby the right way. Her second child would not only go to school each day, she would graduate and go all the way to college. That was Trina's only wish.

  Trina watched as her first born walked around the house cleaning up for her impending company and was somewhat proud of her accomplishments. Cartier had grown so much in the past year and a half, and although she wasn't heading to college, Trina was still proud of the newfound independence Cartier exuded.

  "Who's coming over?"

  Cartier stopped in her tracks to respond. "The Cartel. We have a few things to discuss and they should be here shortly. I just wanted to clean up a bit and get a few things out the way."

  "OK, well y'all keep it down in here. I'm going to go in my room and get some rest."

  Monya got a tip that there was a small boutique in midtown Manhattan that was sweet for mink coats and ripe for the picking. In their realm, you weren't considered fly until you owned a mink coat. It was a sign of opulence and status.

  "You know doofy Claudia came off the other day with two mink coats," Monya explained. "And you know if that clumsy bitch could catch two, we all could finally get our coats."

  All right, bet," Cartier agreed. "We gotta dress the part and work in pairs. I'll work with Lil Momma; Monya, you work with Shanine; and Barn, you can go in solo. Everyone wear their most expensive conservative outfit and make sure your hair and nails are done. And we gotta wear lipstick and heels to appear older. We can't fuck this up, because I want my coat."

  It was Cartier's idea to go on a weekday, since the stores were always on higher alert on the weekend. They dressed professionally as if they worked in an office building or at some high-end job. They looked the part and easily passed the businesswoman test. From across the street, the girls watched the movements in the store. It was virtually dead, which was what they had anticipated.