Ace returned the smile and shook his man’s hand. He was relieved and surprised by Carter’s reaction. He was sure he was going to spazz out for him having a girl up in his house and pretending it was his own. He and Carter were like brothers and Carter wouldn’t front his man out like that, but Ace surely was going to pay out of his pockets for his little fun.
“I got you, Carter. My fault about this little situation. You know my baby mama be popping up at my crib acting a fool. Anyway, I’m glad you back home, my nigga. Shit been crazy since you left. After I drop her off, I’ll meet you at the spot. I need to pick up anyway.”
“Look, I’ll pick up the cash from the spot. You just get her out of here and meet me there when you finish up,” Carter said as he opened the door and headed out. Just before he closed the door, he turned around and looked at Ace sternly. “Don’t ever bring a bitch to my house, Ace. We got to stay smart, all right?”
“All right,” Ace said just before he closed the door.
Carter drove his black-on-black 2008 Impala down I-75, bobbing his head to rapper T.I.'s CD. He was on his way to visit his candy shop. Having been away for weeks, he knew he had a nice piece of change waiting for him in the hood. Before he left, he had hit all his four head soldiers with a half kilo on consignment. That meant around $40,000 altogether was owed to him.
For years Carter had been dealing with straight blow- raw cocaine-but after he was exposed to Miami’s heroin trade, he wanted in. Monroe and Polo had offered him a position in the business, and the offer was too good to refuse. He told them that he had to return home to handle some business and would return to join The Cartel.
Carter’s soldiers didn’t know, but he was going to refuse the consignment money and give it to them as a farewell gift. He was ready to leave the murder capital that he called home.
Carter pulled onto the block of North Saginaw and Harriet and saw his goons standing on the corner trying to make pay. He crept up the street behind his limo tint and parked on the curb in front of the candy shop.
As soon as Carter stepped out, he shut down the block. It was scorching hot at 96 degrees, and the sun seemed to bounce off his iced-out Jesus piece. Shirtless, his chain hung down to his belt buckle, and all of the tattoos on his ripped body were on display. He wore a Detroit fitted cap pulled low over his eyes, crisp jeans, and butter Timberland, to top it off.
Everyone had their eyes on him, and the hood threw him an onslaught of greetings. Even the small kids playing in the streets stopped and admired him.
Carter proceeded to walk into the candy shop.
“Carter! What’s good?”
“Yo, Carter, glad you home.”
“What up, boy.”
Carter released a small smile and a peace sign as he headed into the apartment projects where the coke was manufactured. He walked up to the fifth floor of the projects. He knocked on the door in a pattern only he and his workers knew and gained entry. When he walked in, the smell of cooked dope filled his nostrils. It was business as usual with topless women cutting up the cooked coke on the round wood table, and naked women with a doctor’s mask scattered over the room, doing their assigned job in the drug operation.
Carter smiled, knowing that his small operation was still running smoothly during his absence. He’d left Ace in charge while he was away, and just as he expected, everything was butter, making the offer that Polo had made him even more tempting.
Carter walked through the house and greeted his workers and henchmen as he made his way to the back where the money was held. He walked into the room and saw one of his head lieutenants, Zyir, a blunt hanging out of his mouth, running money through the money machine.
Zyir was a little nigga. Only 18, he was a smooth-faced, fast-talking hustler at the top of his game. He had been working for Carter since he was 14 and was the one who ran that particular spot. Zyir reminded Carter of himself, and Carter knew that he was the future. He had a certain swagger about himself that typified gangster.
Zyir was so busy staring at the money, he didn’t even see Carter enter the room.
“Family, family, what’s good?” Carter asked as he walked toward the table.
“Oh shit! My nigga. What’s good?” Zyir got up and embraced Carter. “When you get back?”
“I came in last night. How’s business?”
“Up and down. Yo, I got that for you, plus interest,” Zyir said, referring to the weight that Carter had hit him with before he left.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m came to talk to you about.” Carter took a seat. “That’s on you, fam. You don’t owe me anything.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah, you good. I’m outta here for good this weekend. Take it as a gift, nah mean? From now on, you can get the coke from Ace. He got the same connect, and the prices are going to remain the same.” Carter held out his hand.
Zyir shook Carter’s hand. He was happy to hear that he didn’t owe Carter any money, but sad to hear that his man was leaving the city for good. He knew that Flint was losing a thorough dude. Honestly, he didn’t like the idea of buying coke from Ace because he knew how hotheaded he could be at times.
Zyir couldn’t believe that Carter would give up his successful cocaine operation. “Yo, are you really leaving for good?”
“Yeah, fam, I’m done.” Carter knew that the paper he was making in Flint was remedial, compared to the opportunity that awaited him in Miami with The Cartel. He was about to follow in his father’s notorious footsteps. Carter turned to leave, but before he left, he took off his 3-ct. pinky ring and tossed it to Zyir.
Carter loaded his Range Rover with his luggage with the help of Ace and Zyir, as he prepared to leave for Miami. Once the car was loaded up, Carter slapped hands with his crew and told them that he would send for them, once he got comfortable in Miami. Anxious to get back to Miami, he got in the car and pulled off. He tried to convince himself that he was looking forward to getting money there, but seeing Miamor again was definitely a factor in his decision.
Chapter Nine
“We don’t die, bitch!”
– Mecca
When Monroe stepped into the conference room, he was shining like new money. The nervous energy in his stomach quickly subsided as he shook hands with the group of men who had invested in Diamond Realty. His Oleg Cassini designer suit and Steve Madden shoes solidified his position as the new head of his father’s company. He walked, talked, and dressed the part, but he was aware of the skepticism and larceny in the hearts of his business peers. His father’s business partners were not too keen at the thought of him heading the business.
Diamond Realty had been founded from drug money and private investments from the board members. In its seven years of being in business, the commercial and highend residential real estate company had acquired some of the most sought-after properties in Florida and was worth well over a hundred million dollars in equity alone. The company’s worth was growing by the day, and the board members felt that Carter’s position should have been given to someone more qualified than his son.
“Monroe, it’s good to have you on board,” Harper Spokes greeted as he and Monroe shook hands.
“It’s good to be on board, Harper,” Monroe responded.
Harper took a seat at the head of the conference table, sat back comfortably in the chair, and loosened his necktie a bit. “I know that it’s going to take some time for you to get used to the way we do things here. Getting into the swing of things is going to take some time, but I’m willing to teach you everything I know. A little training from me, and you’ll be a pro,” Harper stated confidently. He figured that if he played the role of mentor, it would be easy for him to call the shots from behind the scenes.