Cartier Cartel--Part 4 Page 6

  The next day, Pebbles got dressed and told Head she was leaving to get her toes and nails done. It was like last night hadn’t happened and she was no longer upset with him. Before she left, she passionately kissed him goodbye and promised that tonight was going to be another great night for them.

  Head watched her leave. Once the front door closed, he uttered to himself, “What the fuck you hiding from me?”

  Pebbles was going to be gone for a long time with her manicure and pedicure, so Head knew he had time to go snooping around her place. He started with the bedroom. He opened several drawers and went digging through her belongings. Pebbles wasn’t the best when it came to keeping her personal business private. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for. He came across piles and piles of bills and past due notices. He also saw that she was in serious debt and the bank was threatening to take her condominium.

  “Fuck,” he said with frustration.

  You can get expensive manicures and pedicures, but you can’t pay your fuckin’ bills on time? All those big deals she talked about and all her bragging about being hired over one of the Kardashians to promote certain products, and yet she was $15,000 in debt.

  He didn’t want her to lose her place. He needed to stay there. He needed to regroup and rethink his situation, and laying low in lower Manhattan was convenient for him. He placed everything back the way he found it and booked a Lyft.

  As Head was driven through the boroughs in the Lyft, he felt like a mogul. The iPhone was so advanced, everything was at his fingertips. You could move money through bank accounts, pay bills, book flights and hotels, shop online, make business and booty calls—the possibilities were endless. And Head used all the capabilities to help make his life easier. After booking a roundtrip Delta flight to Michigan and a hotel, he called his realtor.

  “David, give me some good news.”

  “Hey, Henry!” Head could almost feel the agent’s huge grin. “Did you get the pictures I sent you?”

  “Nah. When did you send them?”

  “It’s been about an hour now.”

  “Hold on.” Head went to his Gmail account and the email was there. He opened up the attachment and saw lots of properties. “Okay, cool. I got it. I’ll look at them and hit you back later.”

  “We gotta act fast, though,” David said, a touch of pushiness in his tone. “These properties won’t be on the market for long. We should make an offer as soon as possible.”

  “If I like what I see, then I will.”

  “When?”

  “When what, nigga!” Head didn’t like to be pressured, nor did he like that this clown thought he could run game on him. His righteous persona was on pause for a moment.

  “I just wanted to stress that Flint’s real estate is on the rise and properties don’t usually stay on the market for long. But take your time.”

  “I always take what I want! Money, lives, women, bitches, and my muthafuckin’ time. Yo, don’t ever try to play me again. You get one warning.”

  “Sure, Henry—”

  “Mr. Jackson.”

  “No problem, Mr. Jackson. And again, forgive me. I’ll just wait on your call. Have a good day and please note that I meant no disrespect.”

  Head deaded the call and then glared at the driver, whose eyes were shifting from the road to the rearview mirror. He was now terrified of the man who just moments earlier seemed like a respectable businessman. Head peeped the camera on the dashboard most likely recording.

  Head thought quickly. “Pardon me, man. There’s only so many hours in a day and I was running some lines with my producer.”

  “Producer? You in the industry?”

  “I executive produce cable shows. The Wire opened a lot of doors.”

  “The Wire? I loved that show. What do you produce?”

  “You heard of Power?”

  “Power!” the driver nearly squealed his delight. “I love that show. Tommy is my favorite. Some people even say I look like him.”

  Head nodded. “Yeah, I see the resemblance.”

  “I can’t believe this. I knew you were someone important when I picked you up. And I wasn’t being nosy, but not many people can afford to take a Lyft through boroughs and make it a roundtrip.”

  “My lady has my driver and I have moves to make, so thanks for looking out and riding with me for the day.”

  “So back to Power. Did that argument have anything to do with it?”

  “I was going over lines,” he lied. “The writer was complaining that it wasn’t authentic, so as the EP it all falls to me.” Head exhaled his fake frustration.

  The driver turned out not to have an off button. He drove Head to his bank where Head retrieved several bundles of cash, and then he drove him to Green Acres Mall so Head could buy some new kicks, jeans, and a couple more fitted caps. They also stopped by the Cheesecake Factory and finally headed back to Lower Manhattan, and Head didn’t get a moment of silence.

  When Head finally came back, Pebbles wasn’t home. She was still busy dolling herself up with money she should have allocated toward her bills.

  The following day, Head gave Pebbles $20,000, and she was completely shocked by it.

  “You giving me twenty stacks? Really?” she asked.

  “I just gave it to you.”

  “But for what?”

  He didn’t want to let on that he had snooped through her things. He believed that she was going to make the best of the twenty thousand and take care of her bills and her business.

  “For you to do what you want with it. Go and handle your business,” he said to her.

  Pebbles grinned so hard and bright, it damn near took up the entire room. She leaped into his arms and thanked him with hugs and kisses.

  “I love you. I love you. I love you. You’re the best, baby!” she exclaimed.

  “You know I got you.”

  “I know, and I definitely got you tonight,” she replied. “What would I do without you?”

  Find another hustler. Head laughed to himself.

  He stared at Pebbles for a long moment, seeing how gracious she was for the large sum of money and he said to her out the blue, “You know if we don’t arm ourselves, then we start to harm ourselves.”

  Where did that come from? she thought.

  “What you mean?” she asked him.

  “It’s just something I learned when I was inside. You have to arm yourself with knowledge. Spiritual, financial, and historical knowledge. You understand me?”

  She slightly nodded her head. “I understand.”

  “Educate yourself, baby, because if not, I won’t be around you for long. You won’t hold my attention. More bluntly, your pussy won’t. I need a woman with substance. Truthfully, I don’t know you. All those visits served their purpose, which was to have the prettiest woman sitting across from me for everyone to see. You did that. But now we gotta get our grown on. I don’t give a fuck about Instagram. I don’t give a fuck about who you think is hatin’ on you. And I give no fucks about what brothers tried to holler at you. I want to know YOU. Do you believe in a creator? Are you agnostic? Atheist? Are you a proud black woman or are you consistently spewing those blends like you half African American, half Native American, half Latin American, half Caucasian? Why aren’t you raising your kids? What’s your credit score? What can you bring to my table?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I guess you’re half deaf?”

  Pebbles was now wide-eyed. This money was coming with what felt like an accusatory lecture. Her feelings were hurt and she had no idea why she was being verbally assaulted.

  “Why are you saying this to me? Do you want this money back?”

  “Do you want to give it back?”

  “It’s not cool to answer a question with a question, but no. I don’t.
”

  “Good. We’re making progress. You’re manipulative. Your question about the money was meant to tip the scale in your favor.”

  “That’s not true!” she screamed. “I want this money, but only if you wanna give it to me! It’s not that fuckin’ serious! Damn!”

  Head never raised his voice. “That money was yours when I gave it to you. I gave it to you because I wanted to. You hungry? I bought us some food.”

  Pebbles exhaled. “Yeah, I could eat.”

  7

  Brooklyn wasn’t big enough for Cartier and Head to not run into each other. With winter gone and spring in full swing, there were events and parties throughout the city, and people were out and about enjoying the beautiful weather. It was the season where everything was blossoming. The bright days and blue skies hinted at the summer to come.

  The late afternoon sunshine percolated through Cartier’s bedroom window, making the room glow with a heavenly radiance as she got dressed for a day party at Escape. Barkim and Chemo were coordinating the event, which would last from 5pm to 10pm. Harlem was working today doing bottle service, and Cartier had promised to come through and show her support. Harlem had been working at the club for two weeks now, and she had fallen in love with the job.

  Cartier had a feeling that Head would be there, and she wanted to look her best. She wanted to have niggas’ jaws dropping, including Head’s. She also knew he would bring that bitch, and this time she wanted to maintain her composure and show him what he was missing out on.

  Cartier gazed at herself in the mirror wearing a strapless black Balmain bodycon dress with an aqua colored matte lipstick. With a liquid liner she did a cat’s eye, styled her bob toward the back, and that was it. She looked absolutely stunning. Her Givenchy heels gave her petite frame the height needed to exude confidence and sexuality.

  She thought about seeing if Apple would go with her to this day party, but this was a Brooklyn party although it was being held in Manhattan. Most likely Brooklyn folks would be in the house, and Cartier felt that Apple would bring trouble.

  She strutted out of her building and glided toward her Bugatti. Inside the car, she did one final check of her makeup in the visor, smiled at herself, and uttered, “You go, bitch.”

  She started the car and sped off. She was ready to make an entrance. She drove toward the highway with her music blaring as she sang along with Gucci Mane, Kodak Black, and Bruno Mars to “Wake up in the Sky.” For some reason, Cartier was in a very good mood.

  “What the fuck is a day party?” Head had to ask Chemo.

  “Just come through, bruh. You’ll like it.”

  “Still, what is it? You know I don’t like surprises.”

  “I know. The only difference is the time it starts,” Chemo explained. “It’s for old heads like us so we can still get our shine on and be home at a decent hour. If you’re thirty and above, then you go to day parties.”

  “And what time does it start?” Head had asked him.

  “It starts around five in the afternoon.”

  Head chuckled. “Five? And people really show up? Don’t have me out here looking thirsty.”

  “Shiiit, Barkim and me been making a killing off these parties. Niggas can’t get enough of them.”

  “A’ight, I’ll be there,” said Head.

  “You know I got you,” Chemo had replied with finality.

  Day parties. Head still laughed at the concept. Back in his day, parties didn’t start until eleven or midnight. Times were changing. But the idea of it intrigued him, and he wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Plus, the timing meant that it wouldn’t take much lying for him to go to the party without Pebbles.

  The early hours of these new parties were something that Head figured he could get used to. Even though he seemed against it with Chemo, it was a good concept for anyone in his age range. Thirty and above could go to work, go to the party, and make it home in time to get up the next day. When he was running the streets in his twenties, the Q Club, S&S, The Rink, and Tunnel in Lower Manhattan was where all the hustlers popped bottles and showed off their wealth and where the thorough niggas came with their A-game. You came through in your street clothes with phat pockets. Nowadays, everyone was getting suited up, their hairlines shaped up, mustaches and beards trimmed, and paying their bills with black cards. Dealers now had shell corporations that laundered their money, drove company cars, and the women weren’t just becoming baby mamas. They were holding court on equal terms with men.

  It wasn’t the eighties and nineties anymore; this was the millennium where snitches and bitch-ass niggas were growing popular in the streets, and where fake hustlers and fake niggas were boasting about their fraudulent street credibility and were more popular on social media than in the streets. It all seemed like a lie to Head. He felt that the streets needed some definite correction in this new era—someone had to do something to bring realness and strength back. He saw that things were growing out of control, and it was the reason he needed to network and create a new family and organization—one that couldn’t be corrupted.

  Head’s smooth dark-chocolate skin glowed against his tailored dark blue Tom Ford suit and his gold and diamond cufflinks. His red bottoms brought him up-to-date and kept him on trend. He was fashion forward and he knew that he could fit in any environment.

  He glanced at the time and it was 3:55pm. He wanted to leave before Pebbles came home. She was out and about either getting her hair done or taking care of business.

  Head marched out of the building looking and feeling like he was worth a million and more. He got into Pebbles’ Audi, which Ray had looking brand new again. The bullet holes were gone and the paint job was pristine, and for that, Head gave him a little extra on the side.

  Five minutes on the road, Head’s phone started ringing. He glanced at the caller ID, and it was Pebbles calling him. He knew she was home and wanted to know where he was at. At first, Head was going to ignore her call, but he decided against it. He answered with, “Yeah, what up?”

  “Where are you? I just got home,” she said.

  “I’m out.”

  Pebbles could hear the wind blowing through the phone, indicating that he was driving somewhere. “Oh? Going where?”

  “I gotta go handle some business,” he said.

  “Oh. Business. Okay,” she replied with meekness, pretending to believe him.

  “Yeah. I won’t be too long, a’ight?”

  “Okay. When you get home, just tap me on my shoulder,” she said.

  Head smiled. He knew that was her cute way of saying she wanted to fuck tonight when he got home. Pebbles was definitely tugging at his heart.

  Pebbles pretended to be docile, proper, and business-minded. She rarely raised her voice to Head, and she pretended as if she would fall for anything he told her, including the lies. Every few days he was supposedly handling business in Michigan, but Pebbles believed that to be a lie. Still, she said nothing each time he disappeared. She knew about the ghetto bitch Cartier, and she knew her type. Pebbles wanted to become the opposite of her. She also knew about the day party in the city. Everyone was talking about it, and she was disappointed that he didn’t invite her to go. But the last thing a nigga wanted was a bitch who wanted to argue all the time. That was her strategy—to stay humble and to stay pleasing her man. That was how she would get him and keep him.

  Parking was tight in the city, so Head opted to park in a nearby garage, which cost him a small fortune. Before walking away, he checked his image in the car window and liked what he saw. He walked toward Escape, and surprisingly there was a line of people waiting on the sidewalk to get in the club in broad daylight. Head proceeded forward, knowing he wasn’t going to wait on any line.

  There were two bouncers dressed in all black at the door. One had a list, and the second was doing the security searches. Head bypassed everyone on line
and went straight to the entrance, where the two men gawked at him like he was crazy.

  “Yo. What you need?” one of the bouncers asked.

  “I’m on that list,” said Head.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure, nigga,” Head replied in a stern tone.

  Head locked eyes with the two men. He didn’t want any problems, but if they decided to get stupid with him, then he was going to create problems. The seriousness showed in his eyes. Chemo had invited him to this event, and he wasn’t about to be embarrassed in front of all these people.

  “Yo, he good. Let him through,” Head heard Chemo say.

  Chemo smiled at Head, and the two greeted each other with dap and a brotherly hug.

  “I’m glad you came out,” said Chemo.

  “Yeah, I wanted to see what this shit was about.”

  “You’re gonna like it. It’s different—lots of ladies and lots of fun. This is the new era we’re in, brother. You gotta love it.”

  Head followed Chemo into the club. The moment he entered Escape, everything about it looked natural except the time. The music was blaring, the place was jam-packed, and the bar was swamped with customers trying to get their drinks. The lighting was dim and the VIP area was lit.

  As Chemo continued to escort Head through the club, he saw a sea of faces from his past and briefly wondered which one had just tried to murder him. As he moved through the club greeting those he knew and receiving love and attention from many others, Head couldn’t help but to scan the room for Cartier. They ran in the same circle, and he figured she would be at the party too. But after searching for her for nearly fifteen minutes, there was no sign of her. Fuck! he cursed to himself. She wasn’t there.

  Head had the best VIP table at the party reserved for him, thanks to Barkim and Chemo. They ordered four buckets of champagne, Voss water, Grey Goose, and Louis XIII cognac, and they were surrounded by beautiful ladies. There was conversation, laughter, and flirting, and Head was having the time of his life. He downed some champagne along with the Voss water, and dabbled with the XIII cognac, all while rubbing and massaging the thighs of a beautiful girl sitting on his lap.