over, he switched positions with another goon, and then he began to have his way with me. Joell just sat and watched in pleasure as he got his sweet revenge. Tears continued to run down my face, but the yelling stopped as I quit fighting back.
The rape lasted for an entire hour, as his four goons took turns on me, leaving me bloody and sore. It reminded me of the torture that my stepfather used to put Anisa through, and I wished that my big sister was there to save me from this pain. They violated both holes, and left me in agonizing pain, curled up on the bed.
Once they were finished, Joell put a gun to my head and whispered sternly, “Go tell whoever sent you that they shouldn’t have sent a woman to do a man’s job. If I ever see you or any of them other bitches, you’re going to end up like this bitch,” he said as he threw his head in the direction of Beatrice dead body. With that, he left me in the room alone and traumatized.
I weakly looked over at Beatrice and whispered, “Sorry B! I am so sorry!” as the tears flowed.
Things were never the same after Beatrice died. We all were shaken. It felt like everything was falling down around us. We didn’t feel safe in the Yitty anymore, so we all packed our shit and relocated to Miami. We all had aspirations of leaving the foul game alone. With Beatrice gone, we had a piece of us missing. Getting out of New York was mandatory. We had to worry about Joell retaliating even more, and also we had to worry about the Russians. We took their money without completing the job, so we knew that we had created another enemy; an enemy that we couldn’t stand up against. That botched hit taught us that we were not invincible, and at any time we could be gone. I hate that it took me being raped and Beatrice’s death to teach us that hard lesson, but nevertheless, it was taken in heed. We moved with precision and intelligence from that day forward. We buried our girl in the Bronx, her hometown, and never looked back.
When we moved down to Miami, we tried our best to stay straight, but the allure of the game called for us, and when the money was low, we went back into business. We hooked up with a Haitian named Ma’tee, a powerful drug trafficker in Miami, and the rest is history. We never had any problems, except for the day we took on our biggest hit… The Cartel.
Chapter Fifteen
“Have chu heard from Miamor?” Aries asked as she handed Robyn a moving box to carry into their new apartment. They were in L.A., living the life, and after months of functioning out of hotels, they finally decided to move into their first West Coast spot. Their apartment overlooked Santa Monica Beach. They had made sure to get a three bedroom, just in case Miamor decided to join them one day.
“Nah, I haven’t heard from her since we left. She’s too wrapped up in that mu’fucka, Carter. I can’t believe she chose him over us. That’s been our rule since the very beginning; Fuck a nigga! Get your paper! I guess she forgot about all of that,” Robyn stated with a shoulder shrug as they made their way inside.
Aries placed the box she held in her hands on the floor and sat down to go through its contents. She frowned when she opened it to find it full of envelopes that were addressed to Miamor. “Me think chu made a mistake and took some of Miamor’s stuff out of storage. This box is full of old letters to she,” she stated.
“It’s probably just old letters from Murder,” Robyn said. “I probably grabbed them by mistake. She stayed writing that nigga back in the day. You would have thought
Aries had never met Murder, but she had heard a lot about him. “Miamor used to talk about he all de time,” she recalled.
Robyn nodded her head as she continued to unpack boxes and rearrange their place. “Uh-huh. Between me and you, I think they had a little thing for each other. It was like after that shit happened to her and Beatrice, she wasn’t really worried about no dudes. I think that rape fucked her head up more than anything. Then, when she met that nigga, Carter, she was on some other shit; talking that love bullshit.”
“Me don’t trust de’ nigga, Carter. Me think Miamor is in over she head,” Aries stated. “She might need us.”
Robyn waved her hand in dismissal. “I ain’t worried about Miamor. She made her decision. Nobody forced her to stay back in Miami. She can take care of herself.”
Aries opened up one of the letters and read the intimate words that Murder had written Miamor. It was obvious to her that Miamor and Murder had been close. In his letter, he expressed his concern for her, and also expressed how he wished he could take care of both Miamor and Anisa. It seemed like he was the only other male attachment Miamor had ever had.
Aries went into her room and pulled out a piece of paper. Robyn appeared in her doorway and asked, “What are you doing, girl? We still have so much stuff to unpack out of the car,” She came in and flopped down on Aries’ bed.
“Don’t chu think it’s strange that she hasn’t even called us? We haven’t gone one day without talking since de’ day we met. Now all of a sudden, Mia just falls off the map. Me gut tells me something is wrong,” Aries said.
“You’re right,” Robyn stated.
“Me think me’s going to write Murder and let he know what’s up with she,” Aries said.
“What is he going to do? He’s locked up,” Robyn replied.
Aries showed Robyn the letter she had just read from Murder. “According to this, he will be out soon. Maybe he can talk some sense into she.”
“A’ight, girl, go for what you know,” Robyn stated. She hugged Aries and left her to write her letter.
Murder walked on the platform of his tier, his khaki jail pants hanging slightly off of his behind as he strolled toward his cell. He received much love from the other inmates, but he didn’t deal with many. His business was still popping in prison. He survived in the joint by murking niggas who stepped out of line. He was paid with cigarettes, drugs, shoes, clothes, books, and basically whatever else an inmate had to offer. It was far less than what he had killed for while he was on the outside, but behind the walls was a completely different world. Something as simple as a pack of cigarettes could be as worthy as gold in prison. He entered his cell just as the bars began to close.
A CO walked by. “Brown, you’ve got some mail,” the fat white guard said as he stuck a single envelope through the bars of his cell.
A look of surprise crossed Murder’s face. He only received mail from one person, but he hadn’t heard from her in years. Miamor was the only person who had ever contacted him while he was locked up. He opened the letter and read:
Murder knew exactly who Aries and Robyn were. Miamor had told him all about them in some of her letters. He was now worried about Miamor. He didn’t know what was going on, but he fully intended on finding out. He was up for parole, and would be out the joint in a couple of weeks. He wrote Aries back and asked her and Robyn to meet him in Miami. He had done five years easily, but now that he knew Miamor was in danger, the next two
