“There is strength in numbers, and we will get through this as a family.”
– Polo
Polo took a deep breath as he pulled into the South Beach, one of the many suburbs of Miami. As he looked around at the perfectly landscaped lawns and the children playing carelessly in the streets, he realized why Carter had moved his family so far away from the hood. With its gated community and million-dollar structures, it seemed as if it were a million miles away from the grit of the ghetto. Carter, positive that the upscale environment of South Beach would protect his household from the harsh reality that the street life had to offer, had told him that the move would be good for his family, but he was wrong. Now Polo was forced to bury his man.
Polo and Carter had known each other since they were young and hardheaded coming up in the trenches of Dade County. They quickly formed a brotherly bond as they took over the streets and inevitably entered the drug game. The Cartel was what they were labeled, a notorious, criminal-minded organization that was willing to stay on top by any means necessary. Carter and Polo had put in work for many years and worked hard to surround themselves with thoroughbreds that respected the hustle of the streets as much as they did. They earned money, power, and respect.
That is, until the Haitians from Little Haiti discovered the money that was being made and tried to muscle them out of town.
Carter’s demise proved to Polo that the Haitians weren’t to be taken lightly. He just hated that it took the death of their leader to figure that out. Nobody was untouchable. Now he had a nagging pain in his heart, and the stress of retaliation on his brain, but he knew that his hurt didn’t compare to that of Carter’s family.
When he pulled into the driveway to the ten-room, 7,000-square-foot home, he prepared himself for the heartache that he was about to encounter. Polo personally made sure that Carter’s wife and children were taken care of. He knew that they would be okay financially, but he was determined to ensure their safety. No expense was spared when it came to the security of their family. There were about ten armed henchmen stationed outside of the house, and he acknowledged them with a nod as he passed by and walked into the Diamond home.
“Unc Po.” Mecca slapped hands with his father’s best friend.
Polo could tell that Carter’s death was weighing heavily on his heart by the sad look in Mecca’s eyes. Polo then turned to Monroe and pulled him near as well. He held them close, his arms wrapped around their shoulders. All three men had their heads down.
Polo told them, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but it’s gon’ be all right, you hear me?”
Tears formed in Money’s eyes. He nodded his head, praying that his Uncle Polo was right.
Polo whispered in their ears, “You both have to be strong for your mother and Breeze. This is gon’ hit them the hardest. You know how protective your father was of them. It’s time to step up to the plate, twins. You got to pull your family back together.”
Both boys nodded in agreement as they quickly wiped the tears from the eyes. Having been trained by their father to never show emotion, they knew that to cry was to show weakness,
“Where are your mother and sister?”
“They’re still upstairs,” Money stated.
Polo ascended the steps two at a time. He approached the bodyguard that he had hired to stand by Taryn’s side. “Fuck you doing?” he whispered harshly.
The bodyguard quickly snapped his cell phone shut, but before he could put it safely in his pocket, Polo slapped it out of his hands.
“Do I fucking pay you to talk on your cell phone?” Polo pointed his finger in the man’s face. It didn’t matter that he was only 5-8, and that the bodyguard was 270 lbs of pure muscle. “How the fuck you supposed to protect anybody when you’re focused on your fuckin’ phone? As a matter of fact, get your ass out of here. Put somebody on this job that want to make this money, you pussy!”
The man didn’t even protest as Polo lifted his Steve Madden and kicked him in the ass toward the staircase. He looked over the landing and yelled, “Mecca, show that mu’fucka the door and bring one of them niggas up that take this shit seriously.” Polo fixed his clothes and wiped himself down before he knocked lightly on Taryn’s door.
“Come in,” she called out. “It’s open.”
Taryn looked as beautiful as ever standing in front of the full-length mirror in her white-on-white Dolce suit that fit nicely around her slim frame, the skirt stopping directly below her knee and hugging her womanly shape. Her neck was framed with rare black pearls that matched the pearl set that clung to her ears. Her long, layered hair was pulled back into a sophisticated bun. She spared herself of applying makeup because she knew that eventually her tears would ruin it anyway. Her natural beauty was enough to take Ms. America’s crown, and her Dominican features made her look more like a mature model than a mother of three.
“Taryn, it’s time to go,” Polo stated as he stood in her doorway.
She nodded her head and closed her eyes as she said a silent prayer to God. Please give me the strength to get through this for my children. They are all that I have left. Take my husband into grace and take care of him until we meet again. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, trying to hide the shakiness in her voice.
She walked out of the room and down the hallway to her daughter’s room. “Breeze,” she said as she opened the door. “It’s time.”
“I don’t think that I can do this,” Breeze stated, tears running down her cheeks. It was obvious that she had been crying for hours, because her eyes were red and swollen. The distress from her father’s murder was written all over her young face. It was almost as if her legs gave out from underneath her, because she fell onto the bed and put her head in her hands.
Taryn and Polo rushed to her side. Polo knew that Breeze would take her father’s death the hardest. His only daughter, she was his pride and joy, and he had treated her like a princess since the day she was born. Breeze could do no wrong in his eyes, and they had shared a special connection all her life.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Breeze stated. She felt as if the life was being squeezed out of her. “I can’t do this, Uncle Po.” She dreaded putting her father to rest. Never in her nineteen years had she felt a pain so great.
Taryn embraced her daughter as they sat side by side, cheek to cheek. “I know that you can’t do this, but we can,” she stated. “There is strength in numbers, and we will get through this as a family.”
Polo was speechless as Taryn’s words moved him. It was then that he realized that Carter was truly a lucky man to have a woman such as her by his side. He left the room and descended the steps. He waited in the foyer with Mecca and Monroe, and when the two women came down the steps, they all walked out of the house together.
The limo ride was silent as each member of the family tried to wrap their minds around the death of their patriarch. He was the one who protected them, fed them, clothed them, loved them, made all of their decisions. He was their educator and best friend, so without him, they all felt lost.
Dear Carter,
I know that you do not know me, but I know you very well. You are my husband’s son. I have thought about you countless times. If you are anything like your father, I can picture your dark chocolate skin, strong jawbone, and wide, soul-searching eyes. I wish that I could have written you under better circumstances, but I am not contacting you to deliver good news. My husband, your father, has left this earth. He was killed, and although you do not know him, I wanted to give you the chance to say your goodbyes. His funeral will be held Saturday June 3, 2008. I hope that you will join us in celebrating his life. Everyone is expected to dress in white attire. He would not want us to mourn his death, but to come together as a family and appreciate his life. I know that is how he would have wanted to go out.
Sincerely,
Taryn Diamond
Carter folded the letter up and put it in the pocket of his Armani suit jacket. He had received the letter a week ago and was debating whether or not he should actually go to his father’s funeral. He had never known his father, never even heard his voice.
Why am I here? he thought in confusion as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His designer suit was tailored specifically to his six-foot frame, and his broad, strong shoulders held the material nicely. A small gold chain hung around his neck, displaying a small gold cross.
Checking his watch, he realized that he didn’t have much time to get to the church. He reached underneath the hotel bed and pulled out a duffle bag that contained pure white cocaine and two handguns. He figured he may as well drop off some dope to some of his people in Atlanta while in the Dirty South. That way, if the funeral ended up being a waste of time, he wouldn’t have wasted time and money coming to town.
He pulled out his chrome.45 and tucked it in his waist. He rubbed the waves on his freshly cut Caesar and took a deep breath. He had to prepare himself for what he was about to do. He had felt resentment toward his father ever since he was a young boy. He had never understood why he had grown up never knowing the man that helped create him. Although he harbored these feelings, he still felt obligated to show his respects.
A nervous energy filled his body as he headed for the door. It was time for him to say goodbye to a man he’d never met.
As the bulletproof limousine pulled up to the church, Carter’s henchmen walked up and surrounded the vehicle.
“Leave your guns in the car,” Polo instructed Money and Mecca. He opened the door and prepared to step out.
Mecca told him, “The heater staying on my hip, Unc. Them dreadhead mu’fuckas deaded my father. I’ll be damned if they do the same thing to me.” He popped the clip into the chamber.
“First, I’m-a tell you to respect your mother, and watch your mu’fuckin’ mouth, Mecca.”
“Nah, Mecca’s right, Uncle Po,” Money said. “We need to be strapped at all times.”
Polo put his foot back into the car and closed the door so that their conversation wouldn’t be heard. “Okay, listen”-He looked around at the shaken Diamond family- “I know this is hard for you, but you have to trust me. Your father was like a brother to me. I love this family as if it is my own. I would never let anything happen to anyone of you. Now I promised the pastor that I wouldn’t bring any weapons into his church. Your father’s funeral is neither the time nor place for them. Everyone inside of that church is here to show love.”
Mecca and Money reluctantly pulled their guns out of their pants and sat them on the seat in the limo.
“Everything will be fine,” Polo assured them. He stepped out of the car first and held out his hand for Taryn, who graciously accepted. He put his hand on the small of her back and led her through the crowd of onlookers, and her children followed closely behind. They were all surrounded by so many bodyguards, one would have thought that Barack Obama was entering the building.
White on top of white was the only thing that could be seen when entering the sanctuary. Everyone attending the funeral was clad in their best white suits, and there were white bouquets of lilies and hydrangea flowers scattered throughout the room. The turnout was unbelievable.
Taryn immediately halted her footsteps when she saw the titanium and black casket that sat at the front of the church. She looked around the room and observed the extravagant funeral that she had put together, making sure to take care of each arrangement personally. No one knew her husband the way that she did, and she wanted to make sure that his funeral was comparable to none. Carter Diamond was the best at everything he ever attempted, so Taryn made sure that he went out in style.
She slowly walked down the aisle. The closer she got to her husband’s casket, the weaker her knees became, but she had to be strong. She couldn’t let the world see her break. My children are depending on me, she thought.
When she finally reached the casket, her heart broke into pieces at the sight of her lifeless soul mate lying before her. She reached down, grabbed his hand, and kissed his cheek. She whispered, “I will always love you, Carter, always.” She then turned with the poise of royalty and took her position on the front pew as the first lady of the streets.
Mecca’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He had never imagined what he would do if something ever happened to his father. He prided himself on being strong and fearless, but there was no way that he could be strong now. And the sudden loss of Carter made him fear death.
He stepped down the aisle and gripped the sides of his father’s casket when he saw his ashen face. The glow that his dark skin had once possessed was gone, and his eyes were sunk in. He felt the swell of water in his eyes cloud his vision. He closed his eyes to hinder them from falling. He picked the tiny cross necklace off his chest and kissed it. It was the chain that Carter had given all of his children the day that he’d brought them home from the hospital, 14-kt. gold crosses to hang around their necks. The chain had been changed over the years, but the cross was still the original. The children all valued their chains with their lives. Mecca walked over to his mother and sat beside her, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
Monroe stepped toward the casket next. He thought of all the times his father had spent with him. He knew that he needed to absorb all of Carter that he could, because this was the last time that he would ever see him again. He gripped his father’s hand and leaned in close to his ear, as if he could still hear him, and said, “Thank you for everything, Poppa. I’ll remember everything that you taught me. I’ll never forget you.” With those words, Money joined his brother and mother.
Breeze graced the church aisle as if it were a runway. All eyes were on her as she paused midstep. She knew that her life had been changed forever. Her Poppa, comparable to none, was the man of her dreams, and she didn’t want to let him go. She stepped up to the casket as she fought to keep her pain under control. But as soon as she touched his cold skin, she lost it. Against her will, a small cry escaped her lips, and a fountain of tears cascaded down her precious face. She leaned over her father, gripping his hand, and silently prayed for God to take care of his soul. The sight of her so broken-down caused the attendees to break down as well. Her collapse signaled the collapse of the entire church, and wailing could be heard throughout.
Mecca went to her side, to get her to let go of Carter’s hand. “Come on, B.” He gently rubbed her hair and lifted her head. “Don’t hold your head down. Poppa wouldn’t have that.” He smiled at her gorgeous face, and she gave him a weak nod of agreement as she finally left her father’s casket and sat with the rest of her family.
Just as the pastor took his place at the podium, the church doors clanged open. Gasps rang out throughout the church as all eyes focused on the young man who stood in the doorway. Speculative whispers traveled throughout the pews as everyone watched the young man walk down the aisle. From his skin tone, to his confident stride and striking features, he was identical to the man they were there to bury, and one would be able to guess without reading the tattooed name on his neck that he was Carter Diamond’s son. It was almost unnatural the resemblance that the two shared.
Mecca’s eyes followed the man as he approached the front of the church. “Fuck is that?” he hissed.
“The nigga looks just like Poppa,” Money commented in amazement.
“Mommy?” Breeze looked at her mother.
But Taryn needed no explanation. She knew exactly who the young man was. He was Carter Jones, her husband’s illegitimate son.
Polo leaned into her and whispered, “Taryn, I have something to tell you. Carter didn’t mean to-”
Without taking her eyes off the young man, she said, “Don’t worry about it, Polo. No need for you to explain. I know who he is.”
Carter felt the questioning glares of the people surrounding him. He stopped in the middle of the church and stared at the casket up front. His heartbeat was so rapid that he felt sick to his stomach. I shouldn’t be here, he thought.
Just as he turned to leave, four men with long dreadlocks entered the room. They were the only ones wearing black. Carter frowned at their blatant disrespect. They bumped him violently as they walked past, but Carter let it ride as he turned his head and watched them continue down the aisle.
Mecca’s temper immediately flared. He reached in his waistline for a pistol that wasn’t there. “Fuck!” he whispered as he began to stand.
Polo grabbed his arm to halt him. “Wait a minute,” he stated. “This is a part of the game.” Polo didn’t expect the Haitians to make their presence felt at the funeral. He had underestimated their coldness.
The church was silent as everyone waited to see how things would play out. It was no secret that the Haitians were responsible for Carter’s death. The dreadheads walked up to the casket and stood silently with their heads down, as if they were in prayer.
Taryn gripped her sons’ hands and let out a sigh of relief.
“See,” Polo said, “they’re only here to represent the Haitians. They’re just showing respect for the deceased. We gon’ handle that, just not here.”
Before the words could reach Taryn’s ears, she was in an uproar as she watched the Haitians hawk up huge gobs of spit and release them on her husband’s body, defiling Carter’s corpse.
“Hawk… twah!”
“Hawk… twah!”
Breeze watched in disbelief as the Haitians raised their feet and forcefully kicked the casket off the table, causing the body to roll out onto the floor. Carter’s head hit the floor hard, causing a loud crack to pierce the air, and the attendees gasped in horror.
Polo, Mecca, and Monroe sprung into action, with the rest of The Cartel behind them.
“Poppa!” Breeze shouted as she rushed toward the front of the church to retrieve her father’s corpse from the floor.
Taryn yelled in alarm, “Breeze!” as she watched her daughter head toward the mayhem.
Suddenly, bullets from an AK echoed throughout the church, Tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat!, little flashes of fire kissing the air, and was followed by the sound of people screaming and running for the exit.
Breeze didn’t care about the gunfire. She just wanted to get to her father. But before she could reach him, one of the Haitian gunmen snatched her up.
Taryn yelled, “Breeze!”
Carter looked in horror at the front of the church. He recognized the young girl from pictures that he had been sent when he was younger. She’s my sister, he thought as he pulled out his.45 without hesitation.
He stood up and scrambled to get between the screaming people as he aimed his gun and released one shot. His bullet hit its intended target, and the man holding Breeze dropped instantly.
Carter’s clip was quickly emptied as the gun battle continued. He was clearly outnumbered, but that didn’t stop him from reaching in his ankle holster and pulling out his 9 mm pistol as the three remaining Haitians shot recklessly, clearing a path to leave the church. Using his natural instinct for survival, he picked up the body of the dead Haitian and wrapped his arm around his neck, putting him in a chokehold from behind. The deadweight was heavy, but it was the only way for him to shield his body from the bullets being sent his way.
Carter yelled, “Y’all niggas wanna clap?” and shot his nine with one hand, while moving toward the Haitians, who were now headed for the door.
Carter’s gun spit hollow-points toward the Haitians as the dead body in front of him absorbed his enemy’s fire. POW! POW!
Just as he reached the exit door, one of the Haitians yelled, “Me going to kill you, muthafucka!” And the three remaining Haitians made a run for it.
Carter continued to shoot until he was sure they left the building. Once he was positive that everyone was safe, he dropped the dead Haitian to the floor and let off his last round into his skull. “Bitch nigga!” He hawked up a huge glob and spat directly in the dead man’s face, returning the favor on behalf of his dead father.
He rushed over to Breeze’s side. Rocking back and forth, she was holding on to her father’s dead body and crying hysterically.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Get the fuck away from her. We don’t know you, mu'-fucka!” Mecca stated harshly as he pulled Breeze off the ground. Her head fell into his chest as he walked her away.
Polo looked around at the carnage inside of the sanctuary. A couple people had been injured, and the church was destroyed. “We’ve got to get the fuck out of here,” Polo stated. “How did they get in?” Polo yelled in anger. He patted the Young Carter on the back. “Come on, let’s go before the police show. Follow me back to your father’s house.”
A look of surprise crossed Carter’s face.
“Yeah, I know you’re his son, but right now that’s the least of my worries. Just follow me back to the house. We need to talk.” With those words, Polo escorted the family out of the church, and they darted inside of the limo.
The Haitians had sent a clear message-They were out for blood, and they weren’t going to stop until The Cartel was out of commission.