The Demise (18 page)

Carter squared his shoulders as his jaw flexed in anger. Every time he thought about Fly Boogie and Miamor, he wanted to body something. “That little nigga knows what you feel like, ma, what you taste like … and yeah, you said he came back for you after I left, but he was checking for you before any of this shit ever popped off. You had his head gone. Lil' nigga had your name tatted and everything and you expect me to believe you wasn't throwing him no pussy? My pussy? You murked Baraka's daughter because I slept with her. She drugged me that night and you never even gave me the chance to explain that to you. You put her in a grave, Miamor! You buried her alive! What you think I want to do to him? Huh? You think I want to shake his hand? You think I want to thank him? It's taking everything in me not to empty one in his forehead. That's how much I love you. That's how crazy I am over you. I understand now, why you did what you did, but us together? We're dangerous. We aren't rational. Our love is too deadly. I couldn't take you back without murdering that nigga. A point has to be made. And if I do that, I jeopardize my son's future. He loses a father. You see my dilemma?”

Miamor was near tears herself just listening to his internal struggle. “You let him have you, now I got to let him keep you and I'mma do me over here.”

“But I love you,” she admitted. It was his turn to wipe her tears, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that his word was final.

“It's too late for us, ma,” he replied.

The bedroom door opened and their son appeared, causing Miamor to turn away to straighten her face. When she turned back around she was smiling brightly. She bent down. “Hey, C.J., someone wants to see you,” she said.

Carter turned around so that his son could see his face. “Dad!” C.J. yelled in excitement as his eyes lit up. Relief flooded Carter as C.J. instantly recognized him. He had been worried that he may not remember him. He had only been five years old when Baraka had taken him, but the time had done nothing to erase his memory. This was his cub, and their bond was instinctive. Carter bent down and picked up his son, noticing instantly that he was no longer a baby.

“Ugh, Dad! I'm not a baby now, put me down!” C.J. said as he kicked his feet. Miamor laughed as Carter placed him on his feet. He was eight and stood before him scrawny but tall. He wore Superman pajamas and had a set of ears on him that made it seem like he could take flight. It was like looking at himself years ago. He was the spitting image of Carter. He held out his hand for his son.

“You're right. You're a young man now.” Carter's son shook his hand as he poked out his bird chest proudly. Carter looked at him seriously. “Did anybody hurt you while you were away?”

“No sir,” C.J. replied.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Carter said sincerely.

C.J. nodded.

“I love you, C.J. My word is bond that no one will ever take you away from me again. I promise you that,” Carter stated.

“I love you, too, Dad,” C.J. said.

Carter nodded toward Lil' Money and said, “Wake your cousin up, get dressed, and come down. It's time to celebrate.”

Carter walked past Miamor and back down the steps. When he appeared at the top, he noticed everyone was looking up at him and they all had glasses of champagne in hand.

“Feels good, don't it?” Monroe asked when Carter descended.

“Like nothing I've ever felt, Monroe,” Carter replied. Monroe handed Carter a flute.

He then grabbed another off the serving tray that one of the lovely servants was holding and handed it to Miamor once she came down. He held his in the air.

“To family. We are whole again and nothing will break down The Cartel going forth. Family, money, and power,” he toasted.

They all drank to that before Monroe added, “Let's break bread. My beautiful, beautiful ladies have set up a champagne brunch on the lawn and a welcome-home party for the boys. The entire city is coming out. Let's have a good time.”

*   *   *

When Monroe mentioned the entire city, he held no punches. When he had come back to Miami, he had built The Cartel back up to prominence. It hadn't ever been so powerful, not even when his father had been alive. He was the king, and every single one of his soldiers came out with their families to celebrate the return of his son. He had hired a full carnival to come out and set up in the vastness of his backyard, but he was careful. Every hood nigga and their baby mama was checked thoroughly before they were granted access to the Diamond estate. Government IDs were taken and photocopied. Monroe would know exactly who came through his gates should he need to reach out and touch somebody after the fact. He had no worries, however. Miami loved him … all of Miami. He was the man, and nobody wanted beef with him. He was a living legend.

“Isn't this a bit much?” Carter asked as he and Monroe stood on the expansive deck overlooking the party.

“Nah, it's just right, bro. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Nobody here means us any harm. We're back. Find that pretty little thing, Sam, you brought up in here with you, grab a drink, and enjoy your family,” Monroe said. “Where is she, anyway? You know Miamor's ass will have her tied up in a closet somewhere.” Monroe laughed jovially as he took a swig of his Heineken.

“Chill out,” Carter said with a smirk.

Fly walked up with two beers in his hand and offered one to Carter. “Gentlemen—” he greeted them.

Carter looked down at the beer and smirked as he left the offer lingering in the air. Tension filled the space. Monroe looked back and forth between his brother and Fly, and spoke up in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Fly was telling me about this pill shit he into out West. He said it's a lot of money to be made,” Monroe said as he accepted the beer from Fly to save him some embarrassment.

“We don't eat at the same table,” Carter said squinting as he looked out over the yard, keeping his eye on his son at all times. He was overly aware of his surroundings. He couldn't help but feel like there were too many new niggas around him. Carter wasn't about this life anymore. The status, the attention, the crowd … it was all too much for him.

“A lot of things have changed since you've been gone,” Fly said.

“Apparently,” Carter said sarcastically.

“Look, fam—”

“Kill that fam shit,” Carter stated. “The only reason I ain't put your brains on the pavement yet is because of what you did for my son.”

A solid-built goon stepped up wearing a black T-shirt and a gaudy diamond crucifix, putting Carter on the defensive. “What nigga? What you gon' do, big man?” Carter grabbed the goon by his collarbone and applied pressure as he smoothly came off his hip with his burner. He discreetly stuck it in the gut of the man. “You got a problem? Fuck is you, nigga? If this yo' team, Fly Boogie, you need to do more recruiting. You know who the fuck you stepping to?” Carter asked through gritted teeth. He was seeing red, but he spoke in low tones so as to not draw attention to the altercation.

“Whoa, whoa,” Monroe intervened. “We're all on the same team here. Carter, put the gun away, bro.”

Carter calmed down, and Monroe nodded his head at the goon. “Now get your ass out,” he said. The dude began to step off, and Monroe lifted his foot, kicking him in the back and causing him to fall down the stairs. “Fuck was you thinking? Stupid ass mu'fucka,” Monroe stated. He turned to Fly. “Control your people.”

“My apologies,” Fly stated.

Out of nowhere C.J. came running up. “Fly!” he called out in excitement. “What's up, man?!”

Hearing his son's excitement caused a pang of jealousy to stab Carter's heart.

“What's good, lil' man? You having a good time at your party? All this is for you. There are a lot of people that are glad that you're home, man.”

“Yeah! This is dope! You want to shoot hoops with me and Mo?” C.J. asked.

“Yeah, I'll be right there. Let me finish ironing out a few things with your pops,” Fly stated.

“A'ight!” C.J. ran off full speed toward the full-sized basketball court.

Carter was awkward about Fly's relationship with his son, but seeing their interaction softened him a bit. This wasn't about Miamor. This was about what was best for C.J.

“Listen. I realize what you did to get my son back. That alone is enough for me to put the bullshit aside. You respect me, I'll respect you, but I'm good on the business,” Carter said.

“There's money on the floor, Carter. Just hear him out,” Monroe said. “If he take our coke out West and we bring his pill game here, the shit will be crazy. We stand to make a lot of paper. That pill shit is dry out this way. It's an open market, but he can't come here and get no money without our muscle backing him. I need you on this. You can get Estes on board, too. I've got a plug and it's doing the job, but if I had Estes's product … whoo,” Monroe said as he shook his head. Just thinking about the profit had him ready to go all in.

“Estes is your grandfather, blood-born, why you can't get to him?” Carter asked.

“He don't want no part of The Cartel if you ain't running it. He's watched everybody around me die. Mecca, Papa, my moms. He said he can't contribute to putting me in the grave. He refuses to play as long as I'm the one calling the shots,” Monroe said. “I can do it with this other connect, but it ain't the same. Quality is off. That's why I need you.”

Carter chuckled. “Cuz Estes don't give a fuck if a nigga put a bullet in me.”

Monroe laughed. “Basically.”

Carter shook his head as he looked around the yard. He spotted Miamor, but didn't see Sam anywhere. “I'm good on that. Maybe you can pull Zyir in. I'm about to go find my lady,” he said, walking away.

*   *   *

Zyir stood in the kitchen gripping the countertop as he stood with his head lowered in stress. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he contemplated his loyalties in his head. Sam entered the kitchen and he looked up, straightening his stance as he prepared to walk out. Out of nowhere she grabbed him, pushing him against the wall with force and taking him by surprise.

“I need to talk to you. Right now,” she said in a hushed tone. She pulled him into the half bath.

“Not here,” Zyir protested as he attempted to get past her.

Sam pulled out a small-caliber handgun and clasped it with both hands, pointing it at him. “Right here, right now,” she stated. “Don't forget who you're dealing with, Zyir. We've been trying to build this case for three years. I finally have every member of The Cartel in one place at the same time. I want everybody in cuffs, including Miamor Jones. You get Carter back into the drug business by any means necessary. Monroe will be easy to nab. He's flashy. I want this Fly Boogie character as well and the big fish of the entire operation, Estes. Without Estes, there is no deal for you,” Sam threatened. “The district attorney on this case lost to Carter Diamond years ago. We can't afford to leave any loose ends this time around. The Cartel will fall with or without your help. The question is, are you going to fall with it? Now I've been on the inside with Young Carter for three years. Three years up in the mountains and nothing, not even a traffic violation. This case isn't made without him. You need to push him back into the game and speed up the process. You either play this my way or you're finished. Your little wifey is finished. I can make this real bad for you and if I even get a whiff of you having second thoughts, I will ruin you. I wonder what Carter and Monroe would think about a member of their own turning state's evidence?”

Zyir felt like the scum of the Earth. The feds had turned him, and Sam was merely an undercover building the case of her career against the entire Cartel.

“Are you threatening me?” Zyir asked, enraged. “Don't fucking threaten me,” he stated through gritted teeth as he pressed his chest against her gun, challenging her. “You better watch who you pull your gun on, Agent.”

“You Cartel men really do have a God complex. You, Carter, Monroe—you're all the same,” she chuckled. “But you're not invincible, and I will destroy you. It's time for you to just deliver on your end. I've flipped dozens of street kings like you. The name of the game is self-preservation. Don't you think for one moment that Carter or Monroe wouldn't do it to you if the shoe was on the other foot,” she stated. “We're running out of time. I need Carter's hands dirty, and you're going to be a good boy and make that happen for me,” she said as she patted his cheek condescendingly before walking out of the bathroom. Her sly smile was infuriating, but what could he do? She had his balls in a vise grip and he had no choice but to do things her way, betraying the ones who had always been loyal to him.

*   *   *

Zyir started to follow her until he heard Carter's voice. He ducked back into the bathroom and pressed his back against the wall to remain unseen.

“I've been looking for you, you a'ight?” he heard Carter ask.

“Hey, yeah, of course. I'm fine,” Sam replied. The sinister tone she had used to threaten Zyir had changed. He shook his head. She was good at playing her role. She deserved an Academy Award for the performance she was putting on for Carter. Everything in him wanted to stand tall and back out on the federal deal he had made, but some things couldn't be undone. He had folded, and no matter what his reasons had been, he would forever be labeled a traitor.

He waited until Carter and Sam went back outside before he emerged from his hiding spot.

In his frustration he punched the wall to blow off some steam, wondering how he had gotten caught up in the first place. Things had spiraled out of control so quickly and now his back was against the wall. He exhaled deeply and then rejoined the party, stepping up to Carter. As soon as he stepped up, Sam dismissed herself, leaving the two with nothing but the opportunity to talk.