Making his way down the basement steps, he saw the remnants of Miamor’s murder. The floor was painted with stains of her blood, and the entire room only gave him unwanted images of her death. He stood in the middle of the room as he absorbed it all. He could feel Miamor’s ghost lingering over him. It pained him, because he would never even get to lay her to rest properly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered aloud as he turned to leave. As he looked back one last time, he noticed something on the floor. A necklace, one identical to the one that he wore, lay near the wooden chair. He walked over to it and picked up. His hands instinctively went to his own neck to touch the small cross that hung from it. It had been a gift from their father, and because they were the only two left, he knew that it was Mecca’s.
The walls of the basement began to close in on him as his grief threatened to swallow him whole. Not only had he lost his woman, but his brother as well. No matter how he chose to resolve the situation, things would never be the same. With a new connect, things were supposed to be looking up, but deceit was threatening to tear The Cartel apart from the inside out.
His cell phone rang just as he made his exit. He answered it immediately, already knowing that it was Zyir.
“Zy, I got to talk to you about Mecca.”
“I just got off the phone with him. We about to get this money, fam. Mecca’s on his way to the warehouse. Meet me there.”
“I’m on my way, but do me a favor, Zyir. Don’t trust Mecca. Be careful around him. I’ll explain later,” Carter replied in a tone of warning.
“No explanation needed. It wasn’t a day that I didn’t move carefully around him anyway, fam. A nigga with a body count like that you gotta watch, nah mean?”
Carter walked into the warehouse to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Three thousand kilos of cocaine sat lined neatly side by side, one on top of the other, composing a wall of riches before him. The math was easy to do. Flipping that many birds meant that they were about to be stupid rich.
“Yeah, boy, you can crack a smile. No need to be the boss at all times,” Zyir joked as he slapped hands with Carter and embraced him briefly. He missed Mecca with the introductions. He had no desire to show his brother love when all he was feeling in his heart was hate.
“We’re back. I can put this work out a.s.a.p. Let niggas know the drought is over,” Mecca stated.
Carter stared at Mecca for a long time and found it hard to conceal his rage. Fire burned in his eyes, and even the stature of his presence was stiff, cold, as if Mecca were the enemy.
“What’s good, Carter? You a’ight?” Mecca asked. He had no idea that his secret was out, but as he looked in his older sibling’s eyes, he felt that the times of treachery were headed his way.
“Everything’s good. Just thinking about how niggas might want to steer clear of stepping on my toes. I made the mistake of trusting Ace too much. It’s always the closest niggas to you that do the most harm,” Carter replied while never averting Mecca’s gaze.
“Nah, baby, you don’t put in work. You just sit back and drive this ship. Take us to the money like only you can do. Me and Zy can handle the beef. All snake-ass niggas have been taken care of,” Mecca replied.
“It’s always one left hiding in the grass,” Carter responded.
The tension in the room was high and put Mecca slightly on edge. He felt as if he were staring into the eyes of his father. It felt like Carter was looking straight through him, and the only other man who had ever been able to make him feel so transparent was their father.
Zyir was silent because he knew Carter well. He was speaking in codes, and Mecca didn’t even have a clue that the beef Carter had was with him.
Zyir pulled two keys from his pocket and handed one to both men. “I had the locks changed. Only the three of us have access to this building, so each and every bird should always be accounted for,” Zyir stated. “Felipe sent his sister Illiana back to Miami with me. She’s here to protect their investment… a set of eyes for the Garza Cartel.”
“Where is she now?” Carter asked.
“I took her to my crib. I didn’t know if you wanted her to know the location of the warehouse. Three thousand joints are too many to take any risks,” Zyir stated.
“You can show her, and only her, where we keep ‘em,” Carter stated. “She doesn’t need a key, however. If the Mexicans want her here to make sure everything is moving right, then we have nothing to hide from them. It’ll show good faith.”
Carter began to walk away, and Zyir stated, “I know we gon’ celebrate tonight. This is a power move we’re making.”
Carter turned around and shook his head as he looked at Mecca. Disappointment, anger, sadness… it all consumed him simultaneously. Without responding, Carter made his exit. He had thought when he emerged from prison that all of his problems would be behind him, but now the dilemmas in his life seemed even more prevalent than before.
“Fuck is up with him?” Mecca stated.
Zyir feigned ignorance and replied, “I don’t know, but I’d hate to be a problem of his. Just because he don’t talk about it, don’t mean he ain’t about it, nah mean? Carter ain’t about playing gangster. He don’t got to be all extra in order to get his point across. That macho shit is for dumb niggas, and dumb mu’fuckas are the easiest to clip.”
Zyir sat in the apartment like a seasoned chemist as he took it back to his humble roots, cooking dope with ten naked women around him. The titties and ass that were on display were of no interest to him. It only ensured that nobody got sticky fingers. Theft was impossible when you wore no clothes to stash the product. The Cartel took to the streets like never before, and in addition to selling the bricks wholesale, they had chosen to break down three hundred of them.
Zyir was a perfectionist when it came to stretching cocaine, and he was more than willing to put in the work to turn three hundred into six hundred, with the help of the lovely ladies around him. While Mecca thought he was above serving fiends, Zyir wasn’t for turning away a single dollar. He loved money, and while Mecca had the wholesale market covered, Zyir was taking over the streets. He kept it hood and set up his operation on every inner city block in Dade County.
He wasn’t about the gunplay, because he did not need any unnecessary attention from the boys in blue, so instead of forcing his competition out, he played fair and simply offered them an opportunity to work for him. His affiliation with The Cartel put stars in niggas’ eyes and they instantly jumped at the chance just to be down by association. Zyir had so many hustlers working for him that he never personally saw the blocks. He simply organized the operation, supplied the dope, and sat back as the money piled in. Nobody caused conflicts because everybody was eating.
Miami had never seen a movement like The Cartel’s. It was calculated carefully and executed with efficiency. It was all about the money, and the more they accumulated, the more the streets began to forget the troubles that had plagued them surrounding the law.
The Cartel was back and better than ever. They had learned from their mistakes, and this time what they were building was untouchable. The only thing that could tear down their empire was self-destruction.
Chapter Eleven
“Young Zyir is simply a protege of yours. You both are men of little patience, always eager to get to the
