“Even family will betray you.”
– Garza
Carter may have been locked up, but he wasn’t dead, and in any circumstance, his survival instincts always kicked in. He was a hustler and could sell whatever, whenever, wherever, and prison was no exception. He knew of the weakened state that The Cartel was in, and he did not want to depend on anyone to keep him afloat, so although they had trapped his body, the feds could not contain his hustle. They had taken him off of the streets, but he had brought the streets to him.
He easily brought his product into the prison, and now he was running a lucrative heroin operation while locked up. The one thing that the game had taught him was that everybody loved money, and as long as everyone ate, things ran smoothly. Using a bitch as a mule was a sure way to get caught, so instead, he put correctional officers on his payroll. They brought it into the prison for him, and Zyir ensured that they were compensated properly with an anonymous wire transfer into each of their personal bank accounts. The guards were making more money working for Carter than they did on their day jobs, which made them compliant with all of his requests.
Carter wasn’t flashy, however. He got money low key, keeping just enough to keep his books full, and then had the rest delivered to Zyir, who was putting it toward his case. He kept to himself, and spent his time reading books. He knew that the only person who truly cared about his freedom was himself, so he educated himself on the law so that the system would not be able to jam him up. He refused to let the feds lock him up and throw away the key.
As he sat silently on his bed, he peeked up at his cellmate. He knew that the Mexican cat did not like him, and the feeling was mutual. Carter would much rather be in a cell alone, but the overcrowding issues of the prison made it nearly impossible. The two never spoke. They kept a respectable distance from one another, always keeping their interactions to the bare minimum. They were a part of two different worlds, and because they had respect for the game that they both played, they had established an unspoken truce. What Carter did not know was that Garza had been watching him, and he had the power to offer Carter what he desperately craved-his freedom.
Carter sat alone at his table in the cafeteria as he ate silently. Although other members of The Cartel were incarcerated with him, he felt no need to be friendly. They were there for his protection and only his protection. He didn’t need another man to keep him company; his thoughts were enough. Miamor plagued his mind, as did the current state of The Cartel. They needed a plug and needed it bad. The low quality heroin he was running through the prison was not potent enough for his outside dealings. Scarcity made it acceptable inside the walls, but on the outside, it was a completely different game. Zyir and Mecca were grasping at straws trying to secure other connects, but nobody was willing to mess with them. Everyone was afraid of the repercussions of being associated with The Cartel. He was carrying huge burdens on his shoulders, and being locked up made him feel powerless. Detaching himself from the outside would be the only way that he would become accustomed to prison, but with Zyir, Mecca, and the responsibilities that came with being the leader of The Cartel it was hard to block it out.
As Carter ate, he watched an inmate approach his table. Carter continued to eat, unfazed as one of the members of The Cartel got up from the table next to him. His goons were never out of arm’s reach.
“Hold up, homeboy,” the loyal affiliate stated as he stopped the inmate in his tracks.
“Yo, I’m not on no beef shit. I know better than to beef with this man. I just came to rap with him for a second,” the inmate stated as he pulled a carton of cigarettes out of the top of his jail jumpsuit. The cigarettes were a sign of respect. In prison, money did not come easy, so the fact that the little nigga had spent a nice chunk of his commissary on them bought him a moment of Carter’s time.
Carter’s goon looked at him for approval, and Carter nodded his head for him to let the boy pass. The goon patted the inmate down for good measure to ensure that the visit really was a friendly one.
“Carter, I’ve heard a lot about you, and I just wanted to personally introduce myself. I’m from Opa-Locka, and when I was on the outside, I was doing my thing thing, you know?” he stated as he clapped his hands together. “I know that’s your territory and all, ‘cause you sent the young goon Zyir through to shut my shit down. I wanted to let you know ain’t no hard feelings or nothing on my end, but I am trying to get on board with your movement. I’m outta here in a few months, and I don’t got nothing to go home to. Like, nothing, fam. So when I say I’m hungry, I mean it. I don’t want to make the mistake of stepping on your toes again, so I wanted to know what I have to do to get down. I’ll put in work any way you need me to,” the guy finished.
Carter continued to eat and didn’t even look up as he said, “What did you say your name was?”
“Ibrahim,” the guy replied.
Carter took his time and gathered his thoughts before he spoke. The uncomfortable silence between the two men made the inmate shift nervously from side to side.
Finally, Carter looked up at the dude. “Sit down, my man. Everybody don’t need to hear what I’m about to say.”
Feeling as if Carter was about to put him on, the guy smiled as he took a seat across from the hood legend. Carter’s name indeed rang bells in and out of prison. Anyone in the game knew exactly who he was.
“You said my li’l man Zyir shut your shit down?” Carter asked.
The dude nodded and replied, “Yeah, he told me I was out of bounds. That those blocks were already spoken for.”
“And what did you do to handle that situation?” Carter asked.
“I didn’t mean no disrespect, fam. I moved my operation to a different block,” he replied.
“See, that’s where my problem lies, Ibrahim. Do you think I got where I am by letting other niggas run me off the block?” Carter asked. “Now, if you had blazed on my li’l nigga, maybe then we would have something to talk about. That would have showed me you had heart, but you didn’t. You let another man, who bleeds just like you bleed, stop you from getting money. I can’t afford to have any weak links in my chain, Ibrahim.”
With that said, Carter resumed his meal as he waited for Ibrahim to dismiss himself. The conversation was over, but Carter knew there would be more to come. Many men had approached him since he had been locked up, and it was always the same story. Everybody wanted to be put on, but Carter didn’t rock with new niggas. He knew that if he let too many people into his circle, it would not seem exclusive. Everybody in the hood wanted to be a part of something, but unfortunately, not many fit the bill to be a member of The Cartel. Carter definitely had no use for a scary nigga. He only wanted the elite.
The inmate nodded his head, his ego slightly bruised as he stood to his feet. He slowly slid the cigarette carton over to Carter.
“For your time,” he said respectfully.
Carter nodded his head and stood to his feet as he headed back to his cell. He handed the carton to Garza as soon as he entered. Carter didn’t smoke cigarettes, and although he never spoke to his cellmate, he always passed the unwanted gifts along to him.
“How did you end up in here?” Garza asked. Carter looked up in surprise. They had never engaged one another before, so the question was completely unexpected.
“An associate of mine found himself on the wrong side of the law. It was a person who I thought I could trust, someone who I grew up with. He was like family.”
“Even family will betray you,” Garza interrupted as he lit a smoke.
“So I learned,” Carter replied with a chuckle. The situation was comical to him. He had done nothing but show Ace love, but the first chance Ace got, he had stabbed him in the back-and plunged the blade deep. Carter knew that once Ace took the stand and testified against him, that it would be all the jury needed to hear to convict him.
“I’ve been watching you, observing how you move. I’ve seen how the men in here treat you,” Garza replied. “Even the guards march to the beat of your drum. It would be a shame to see a man of your talents end up in here because of a snake. It seems that your problem could be handled if you knew who to ask for help.”
“I don’t ask for help. Anything that I can’t do on my own is not worth doing. I’ve never owed anyone anything a day in my life,” Carter stated surely. He did not know what Garza was getting at, but already he did not like the sound of it.
“That is the problem with your kind.”
“There’s not another man like me. I don’t have a kind,” Carter interrupted sternly.
“I do not mean any disrespect, but the Blacks don’t know how to form alliances. Someone with your mentality could be very valuable. The way that you move product is a skill that not many people have. The power you have over others is rare as well. I’ve done my research on you and The Cartel. If you are willing to extend a hand of friendship, I know some people who can help you out of your predicament.”
Carter’s interest was piqued. “Nobody does anything for free.”
“A partnership between the Diamond Cartel and the Garza Cartel would be payment enough. We have the product that you need, and you have the influence that we need in the South. Together we would be unstoppable.”
“Until one party becomes envious of the other,” Carter protested.
The old man shook his head as he continued to smoke. “That will never become a problem for us. I can guarantee that my people are not in it for the limelight, only the money. As long as the money is correct, there will not be a problem. This could be a beautiful thing if you are willing to expand your horizons.”
“I don’t work underneath others,” Carter insisted.
“Not under others, Carter, with others. There is a difference Working with my people, your reach will be limitless. Mexico is not like the United States. In my country, we are above the law,” Garza explained.
“Why are you still in here? If it is so easy to make my case disappear, why not do the same for yourself?” Carter asked. Although the deal was appealing, he was skeptical to trust Garza’s word too quickly. He wanted to cover all of his bases.
“I chose my own destiny. I’m an old man. An organization of my family’s magnitude leaves a lot of bodies in its path. Someone has to be held accountable for those. I took responsibility because I saw the bigger picture. I’m in here for twenty different counts of confessed murder. I have lived my life and done my part so that my family’s reign could go on. What I’m offering you is a deal too sweet for any man to refuse.”
Garza extended his hand, and Carter reluctantly accepted. “Nothing will be set in stone until a face to face is held. I’ll send my right hand, Zyir, to meet with your people,” Carter stated.
“I will phone home tomorrow to let my brother Felipe know to expect him. This will be a beautiful thing for everyone involved.”
“Only time will tell,” Carter responded. He knew that getting in bed with the Mexican drug cartel could prove very wise. He just had to ensure that everyone understood the terms of the agreement, because if something went wrong, Carter was almost certain that The Cartel would not be able to withstand another war.
Mecca could not take it anymore. Watching his back every second of every day was becoming too much to bear. He knew that there was only one way to dead his beef with Estes. He had to go see his grandfather. The same man who had sent the killers to his front door was the only one who could call them off. He hoped that he could reason with Estes and that he would remember that Monroe was not his only grandson.
He had made a mistake by killing Monroe, and it was a regret that he would live with for the rest of his life. Estes’ vengeance was not necessary. The burden was already heavy enough, sometimes too heavy for him to carry.
As Mecca ventured on his grandfather’s side of town, his instincts sharpened. He kept his eyes in his rearview and one hand on his pistol. He never wanted to be caught slipping again, so he stayed ready, safety off. It would be the wrong day to run up on him unannounced. He knew that he would never make it through his grandfather’s door with a gun, so he hoped that Estes did not have him killed on sight.
Mecca had love for no one besides family. He remembered the Christmas holidays and the many birthdays that had been spent in his grandfather’s presence. How long ago that seemed now. How easily they both had forgotten.
It seemed to Mecca that Estes placed more value on his relationship with Monroe. The little boy that respected his grandfather simply wanted to be loved, but the grown, cold man that Mecca had come to be wanted to place his grandfather in the dirt.
As he finally neared Estes’ home, he parked at the public beach and decided to walk along the sand behind his grandfather’s house. The fact that Estes’ house sat directly on the water helped Mecca go undetected. The many people that were enjoying the sun allowed him to blend in, and as he neared his grandfather’s home, he noticed that Estes was outside sitting on his patio. A few feet away from him, a woman stood in a sundress and large sunhat, holding a child in her arms. Estes seemed to be distracted by the woman’s presence as Mecca approached.
He wished that he had brought his pistol with him. It was the first time he had seen his grandfather so relaxed. There were no bodyguards in sight, and it would have been the perfect time to end their beef once and for all, but Mecca knew that he did not have time to go back to his car. He had to try to reason with Estes.
Mecca watched the woman go inside, and Estes’ eyes were so focused on the woman that he never saw Mecca walk up.
“Hello, Grandfather,” Mecca greeted in a low, steady tone.
Caught completely off guard, Estes turned around to find Mecca standing before him. He half expected to be shot instantly. Mecca lifted his arms and shirt and then said, “I’m not strapped.”
“Why not? I would not have extended you the same courtesy,” Estes replied as he pulled a.45 from underneath the table. It had been resting in his lap, but Estes immediately showed his cards to let Mecca know that he was constantly aware of the business he was in.
“You’re still alive,” Estes observed as his eyes roamed his grandson cautiously, surveying him to see if he was injured.
“Diamonds are forever,” Mecca replied.
“Tell that to your brother,” Estes shot back. He clicked off his safety as his finger gripped the trigger of his gun. “You’re a snake, Mecca. You’re a traitor. You killed my grandson.”
“Am I not your grandson, Estes?” Mecca asked.
Estes fixed his mouth to respond, but was interrupted when Leena emerged from the house with her son in one arm and a bowl of fruit in her hands. She was so busy trying to balance everything without dropping it that she didn’t look up. When she finally did, both she and Mecca got the surprise of their lives.
“Leena?”
Her name fell out of his mouth without him even knowing it, and the sound of his voice caused her to drop the glass bowl in her hands, causing tiny glass fragments to explode on the ground. Her heart beat in fear as she instinctively gripped her son in protection.
Mecca’s eyes widened as if he were seeing a ghost. He had shot her himself. For all this time, he had thought that she was dead. Now here she was, standing before him, as beautiful as he remembered. His gaze went from her to the child in her arms. He looked like a tiny replica of Mecca, but deep in his heart, Mecca knew that the little boy was not his seed. Mecca was sterile, and the child in Leena’s arm was his nephew. It was Money’s son, and that fact brought the betrayal that he had felt rushing back to him.
Tears came to Leena’s eyes as she saw Mecca’s expression go from sad to angry. She knew him, and felt as if he would explode at any moment. Estes didn’t hesitate to chamber a bullet in his gun. He, too, recognized the look in his grandson’s eyes.
“It’s that easy for you to shoot me, Estes? Your flesh and blood,” Mecca stated as he looked back and forth between Lena and Estes. Seeing her reminded him of his sins, and his bottom lip began to quiver uncontrollably. He held his arms out at his sides as Estes’ finger rested on the trigger. “Did Money mean that much more? Why is his life more valuable than mine? Huh, Estes? Why does everybody hate Mecca?”
Estes was silent but unflinching as he listened to Mecca break down. “Ever since we were little, everybody always favored Money. Mecca was the bad twin. I was the unwanted seed! My heart was cold before the streets ever got a hold of me. Everybody always loved Money… never me,” Mecca shouted, getting years of pent-up emotion off of his chest.
His words brought tears to Leena’s eyes, because even she had chosen Monroe over Mecca. She had contributed to his hurt, to his isolation.
“There is no excuse,” Estes spoke up, unaffected by Mecca’s outburst. “You murdered your brother. You knew what the consequences would be for your actions. Be a man and take what you deserve,” Estes said without the theatrics. He was calm and sure of his decision as he raised his gun, aiming it at Mecca’s heart. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Leena stopped him.
“Emilio, please don’t,” Leena whispered. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Mecca as her tears began to flow. “There has been enough bloodshed.” Her voice was pleading, and even though she hated Mecca, she did not want to see him dead. He looked so much like Monroe, like her son, and as she read the hurt in his stare, she began to think about Mecca’s pain for the first time since she had been shot.
“Leena?” Mecca repeated in disbelief as he stumbled backward a bit, completely in shock.
Estes stood to his feet and stepped close to Mecca. His gun hung threateningly in his palm. “She just saved your life, son. You are no grandson of mine. You will keep your distance,” Estes said. He did not raise his voice, but his tone was all the warning that Mecca needed.
“What do I have to do to get your forgiveness, Estes?” Mecca whispered so that only the two of them could hear his plea.
“Ask God for forgiveness. I have none to give,” Estes replied.
Mecca stepped back and wiped his face with one hand. “You’ll call off your dogs,” Mecca countered.
Estes looked back at Leena, who nodded her head as she wiped the tears away while holding her son tightly.
Estes replied dryly, “I will.”
Mecca extended his hand to his grandfather, but Estes walked away disgusted. He had no respect for Mecca, and did not want there to be any misunderstandings. Estes would never welcome Mecca back into his family.
Mecca walked away stunned. His mind was completely blown. The mixed emotions that Mecca felt threw him completely off balance. Seeing Leena alive and healthy, seeing her breathing, had taken his mind back to when everything was as it should be. She reminded him of the days that were so carefree, and the baby boy that mirrored him in image made him think of Monroe. He wanted to think that the fresh little man he had just seen was his own son, but he knew better. It wasn’t even possible for Mecca to procreate. He was shooting blanks. It was as if God knew that nothing good could ever come from him.
Leena had given birth to his nephew and had been in hiding, living with Estes all this time. Now that he had seen her, he did not know if he could just walk away. Her affair with his flesh and blood had led Mecca to kill his own twin. Her survival enraged him, while at the same time, it pleased him. He had so many questions that only she could answer.
How long had she and Monroe been fucking? Why did she choose him over me? What the fuck is she doing with Estes? Mecca thought as he sauntered blankly down the sandy beach. These things burned in his mind, and he knew that he would not be satisfied until he got some answers. He got into his car and pulled away, knowing that he would not stay away for long.
Leena watched from the upstairs window as Mecca disappeared up the beach. Fear paralyzed her as she thought of what he might do now that he knew of her existence. Seeing him again terrified her, but when she had looked in his eyes, her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest.
Mecca symbolized so many things in her life. He looked as if he had been through so much anguish since the last time she saw him. He had aged, matured, changed, and she did not know if it was for the better. She saw misery in his stare, and his features were so identical to Monroe’s that she could not help but fall in love at first sight.
She did not know how two brothers who were so physically alike could be so different on the inside. She hoped that Mecca would let her be. She had pieced her life back together seamlessly with the help of Estes, and the last thing she needed was another Diamond brother to come along and tear her world apart.
“Are you okay?”
Leena released Mecca from her gaze as she turned around at the sound of Estes’ voice. She nodded unsurely as she put on a phony smile. “I’m fine,” she replied.
Estes came over to her and removed baby Monroe from her arms. The one year old went to him happily. Estes was the only man that had ever been around her son. He was the only stability in her life, but seeing Mecca had been like a bad omen, and she felt it in her bones that a deadly storm was about to blow her way.