The Cartel 2: Tale of the Murda Mamas (4 page)

BOOK: The Cartel 2: Tale of the Murda Mamas
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“No!” I said defiantly, my tears no longer willing to hide. “I’ll do it, Anisa. He can take me this time.” Snot dripped down my nose as Perry forcefully grabbed me from the bed, carrying me out of the room by my waist kicking, and screaming.

“No! Let her go!” Anisa screamed as she fought him. “Please! Stop it … she’s too young!”

Perry turned around and backhanded Anisa into the wall and threw me to the ground. “Bitch, get your ass up and let’s go!” he yelled at her. I crawled over to Anisa and we huddled in the corner.

“Anisa, don’t go!” I whispered.

Perry loomed over us as he unbuckled his pants and pulled out his oversized penis.

“Miamor, go get in the closet,” Anisa whispered. I shook my head no.

“Just do it!” she yelled in between her tears.

Anisa left with Perry, and I climbed into the closet, covering my ears while crying uncontrollably. This had to stop. I couldn’t understand why this was happening to my sister. It all seemed so unfair.
“Agghhh!”

The scream sent shivers up and down my spine. I had never heard my sister scream like that. Something was different this time. She needed me.

“Aghh. No! It hurts! Please!”

I thought of all the blood I had seen earlier. All of it had come out of Anisa. I never wanted her to go through that again. I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I ran out of the closet and into my mother’s room.

Anisa was lying there with a pool of blood underneath her while Perry was on top, humping furiously like a dog in heat. It was a sight that petrified me. I thought he was killing her. “Get off of her!” I yelled as I rushed at him and began hitting him. I felt his hand cross my face as he backhanded me to the floor, his wedding ring leaving an imprint in my face.

“Miamor, help me!” Anisa cried.

I ran as fast as I could to the downstairs closet. I knew it was where my mother kept her shotgun. She didn’t know that I knew, but I did, and I needed it more than she ever would.

“Mia!”

I closed my eyes at the blood curdling cry. Anisa needed me. I pulled out the double barrel shotgun, but couldn’t find the shells as I looked frantically, hands shaking, as I could barely hold up the big gun. Tears clouded my vision as I ran into the kitchen. The headboard was banging loudly against the wall, creating a sickening scene in my head as I pictured Perry molesting Anisa. I tore every drawer out of the cabinets before I sent a box of shells scattering across the floor. My shaky hands barely allowed me to load them into the chamber. I had played with the gun enough to know how to use it with expertise. I was only able to load one shell in. I couldn’t waste any more time trying any more than that.

I raced up the stairs and burst into the room. Anisa’s hand was outstretched for me as Perry was on top of her. She needed me. Without hesitation, I lifted the shotgun and fired. The blast sent me flying back against the wall.

Perry grabbed his chest as the buckshot filled him. His chest looked like Swiss cheese and he tried to gasp for air.

Anisa jumped out of the bed, blood dripping from her womb down her legs, but before she could reach me, she collapsed. My heart felt as if it was going to burst. I had never been so afraid in my entire life.

I picked up the telephone and dialed 911.

“Hello, 911 Operator. What is your emergency?”

I was out of breath, and I breathed into the phone as I watched Perry’s life slip away before my eyes. “He … he raped my sister! I shot him! Please, we need help!”

I then crawled over to Anisa and put her head in my lap. “It’s going to be okay, Nis. They’re coming,” I sat in the room with my sister until help arrived. I wouldn’t leave her side until she opened her eyes. “I got him, Anisa. He won’t hurt us anymore,” I said when she finally looked at me. Anisa didn’t respond, but from the look in her eyes, I knew that she had heard me.

Once the police arrived and I told them what happened, they handcuffed me and put me in the back of a police car.

I knew that I was in trouble and would probably be going away for a while, but Anisa was safe, and that’s all that mattered. I would have done the same thing if I had to do it over again. Nobody could hurt us anymore, and I felt that it was worth it. So, when I went before a judge and told him that I would do the same thing, he said I had no remorse, and was a menace to society. He remanded me to a juvenile facility until my eighteenth birthday. Bitch ass nigga! After getting the news, I looked at my mother, and she had tears in her eyes, but I knew they were for Perry and not for me. I rolled my eyes at her and then I turned to Anisa and smiled. “I love you Nis!” I mouthed.

“I love you too, Miamor! Thank you!” she mouthed back as sincere tears streamed down her face.

Chapter Three
(Miamor)

S
ix years of lockup in juvie was too much to even recall. The loneliness, the abandonment, every day spent there took a little bit more of my sanity away. It was bullshit. Day in and day out it was the exact same. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that Anisa was waiting for me on the outside.

My mother tried to come and see me, but I never accepted her visits. I didn’t have shit to say to her because I felt there was no excuse. She wasn’t there for Anisa and me when we needed her most, and as a result, I got locked up and Anisa had skeletons in her closet that she would harbor for the rest of her life. I didn’t fuck with my mother, and I probably never would. All Anisa and I had was each other. That was enough, and she did my time right along with me, keeping my account full as well as visiting me weekly.

I never regretted my actions … not once. That’s part of the reason why they made me do all six years. They had me going to therapy as if I needed rehabilitating. All I had to do was show remorse, and they would have let me go early, but remorse for a mu’fucka like Perry was something I couldn’t even fake. I hated him. He deserved to die, and the older I got, the more I truly understood that I had done the right thing. Nobody knew the connection I had with my sister. Everyone kept saying that my actions weren’t justified because
I
was never actually raped, but fuck everybody who thought that, and fuck you too if you’re thinking that! Eventually, my turn would have come, and before it did, I erased that nigga from the map. I did what was necessary, and if the tables were turned, I know Anisa would have done the exact same thing for me.

The day I said goodbye to lockup, I promised myself I would never go back. Doing that much time as a child had turned my heart cold. I had changed, but it wasn’t for the better.

Anisa was waiting at the gates. She had really grown up. As I admired her True Religion jeans, matching top and Zanotti pumps, I knew she was doing well. Her hair was cut short in a bob. Her light skin was radiant, and she had the smile of a woman who had seen no struggles. She looked truly happy, as if she was able to let go of what had happened to her. My big sister was beautiful. She was a grown ass woman now, and I hoped to leave the past behind and be just like her.

I was eighteen, not yet a woman, but definitely not a little girl. I was on my own, and the world was at my feet. All I had to do was conquer it.

“Miamor!” she yelled as we ran toward each other with open arms.

“Hey, bitch!” I replied as we embraced. We hugged and cried in excitement.

“I’m so glad you’re out! I missed you, Mia!” Anisa got teary eyed and put her hands on my shoulders so that she could look me in the eye. I already knew what she was about to say. It was something that had been in the air for a long time.

“I’m so sorry, Miamor. I love you. You’re my sister. I’m so happy that you did what you did. You saved my life. I’m just so sorry that you had to go through all of this behind my bullshit,” Anisa said. “Anything you need, I got you. First thing we got to do is get you out of this bullshit ass jail gear.”

I nodded, and we hugged once more before hopping into the car, leaving skid marks behind us as we sped off. She was whipping a nice little Chrysler 300 with leather seats and tinted windows. It wasn’t a Benz, but the shit was fly and more expensive than the average whip.

We rode into Brooklyn, and the first place we went was to the salon. My hair was long as hell because I kept it braided while I was locked up. When my shit was freshly permed and wrapped, it was down my back, all natural, no weave. My skin was flawless, and my figure was on point. I made sure to work out daily, keeping myself lean and feminine in the process with curves all in the right places.

After shopping and getting me a completely new wardrobe, we headed to the apartment that Anisa shared with her man, Murder. I was tripping at how freely she spent money. She was cashing out on me like it grew on trees, even giving me five stacks to keep in my pocket until I got on my feet. Her carefree attitude regarding money had me wondering what she did, because I knew her ass wasn’t working.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Murder. He’s really good to me … that’s my baby!” Anisa bragged as she smiled and batted her eyelashes.

I looked at her in high regard. At first glance, no one would have ever been able to tell what she’d been through. She was the shit, and I admired her for being so strong. I would have thought she would have never been able to trust a nigga. I sure as hell never would. A man who had watched us grow for years had betrayed us without a thought. If
he
could fuck us over, then I didn’t put shit past any other nigga out there. Love wasn’t in the cards for me.

“What kind of name is Murder?” I asked.

Anisa laughed and replied, “It fits him … trust. That’s the perfect name for that nigga.”

I shrugged as we parked in her building. “You live here?” I asked as we got out of the car. I looked up at the tall sky rise building.

Anisa answered, “Only the high life, babe. I’ll put you up on game later. Right now, let’s get you settled.”

Walking into Anisa’s crib, weed smoke invaded my nostrils, lifting me into a contact high almost immediately.

“Babe, come out here!” Anisa yelled.

Murder walked into the room with a blunt hanging from his lips, his aura commanding my attention and respect instantly. Anisa had definitely done well. The nigga was fly. His chocolate complexion and lean figure was attractive. He had a ball player’s height, but was a bit on the skinny side. It looked like Anisa weighed more than he did. His face was average, maybe even a little below average, but when I inventoried a man, I considered more than his looks. The jewels that were hanging around his neck indicated his status, and the fact that he had my sister plushed out in a luxury condo was all the evidence I needed to know that he was getting money. How? I didn’t know, but he was definitely papered up. He walked over to Anisa and kissed her cheek with casual nonchalance. He grabbed a couple Heinekens out of the refrigerator and tossed one to me, then handed one to Anisa.

“You must be Miamor. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, his strong New Yitty accent complementing his words.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Not a problem. You’re family. Anisa put me up on everything that happened, and I respect it. You can set

yourself up in the extra room.” Murder sat down on the couch across from me and passed me the blunt.

Although I had never smoked weed, I accepted it. I had a lot of adjusting to do and a lot to think about as far as my life was concerned, but I didn’t want to stress it. I embraced the temporary relief and put the blunt to my lips. I inhaled deeply. Big mistake! My virgin lungs rejected the weed instantly, and I coughed uncontrollably as I put my hand over my mouth trying to hold the cough in. My shit was on fire, but I was mostly embarrassed, because both Anisa and Murder were cracking up, having a big laugh at my expense.

“You never smoked before?” Anisa asked as the burning finally eased in my chest.

I cut my eyes at her and shook my head no. Her ass knew damn well I hadn’t done shit before—fuck, smoke, drive, even flirt with the opposite sex. Hell, I just had gotten out of lockup! I was a virgin to everything … green to the game. Everything that the average ‘hood chick had experienced by the age of fourteen, I had never been able to do.

“We about to break you in then,” Murder stated with a small grin.

Anisa and I sat up all night, catching up on each other’s lives, filling Murder in on our childhood and the few good times we had experienced. He didn’t interrupt, but instead passed the weed back and forth while letting us do our thing. He just sat back and observed like a gangster would. The weed had me so relaxed and I knew that I had found my new favorite pastime.

By the time daylight crept through the curtains, we were all fucked up. The time had flown by, our reunion making up for the time we were separated. Smoking and drinking all night had me done, but it was the first time that I had felt comfortable in a long time. I was home, and it felt good … real good.

*   *   *

The ringing of the phone the next morning was like tiny bombs going off inside my head, and when it didn’t stop, I figured that Anisa and Murder were just as hungover as I was. Forcing myself to get out of bed, I got up and made my way to the living room. “Hello?” I answered.

Before the caller could respond, Murder appeared behind me and snatched the phone from my hand. He hung it up quickly without even seeing who was calling. “Don’t answer the phone, and don’t use this phone. I handle business, and business only on this line,” he said. His tone was stern, and I wanted to ask him who the fuck he thought he was talking to, but I held my tongue. He was letting me stay at his house and had welcomed me with open arms, so I didn’t want to create conflict over something petty. I frowned, but before I could say a word, he went into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. He peeled off five hundred dollars and held them out for me. “Take this and get a cell phone today. Nobody uses this phone, a’ight?” he said as he softened up his tone. I guess he realized that he had been kind of harsh.

“Yeah, okay,” I said reluctantly.
What the fuck is up with that?
I thought as I made my way back to my room.
I know this nigga don’t got bitches calling here. What else could be so important?
I made a mental note to discuss it with Anisa, and went back to sleep.

I decided to not even bring the phone thing up the next day. Anisa seemed happy, and I wasn’t trying to be the one to break up her happy home. Murder hadn’t really shown me shade. I was just making assumptions, so I swallowed it.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Anisa greeted as I walked into the kitchen. She set a plate of pancakes and eggs in front of me and kissed the top of my head as if I was her child, before taking a seat herself.

“Hey, Nis. I’m so fucked up right now,” I said with a half-smile.

“The food will make you feel a little bit better,” she replied.

“Did Mommy ever try to contact you?” I asked.

“She tried,” Anisa said vaguely. She sighed deeply. “Look, it’s like this. I don’t have any family. Family is there for you. They protect you, and Mommy never did none of that. The only family I got is you.”

“What about Murder?” I questioned curiously. I wanted to know how deep their bond was. I never wanted to see Anisa hurt again … not by Murder or anyone else.

“He’s good to me. I care about him. He makes sure I have everything I need. I’m glad he’s a part of my life, but with him, you can’t really plan ahead. I have to take it as it is today, because one day he’s not going to make it through that door. We both have a clear understanding about where we stand. It works between us because neither of us is looking for love. He doesn’t disrespect me with other chicks or nothing, but if it ever came to that, I’m not tripping. He’s security, and I need that right now, nothing more, nothing less.”

I couldn’t really understand why she had Murder on a short term relationship plan, but I didn’t question her. She knew him better than I did. In any relationship there is baggage, and she knew what Murder was carrying.

“Can I borrow your car?” I asked.

“You know it, babe,” she replied without question.

That was one of the reasons why I loved her so. She wasn’t on no fake shit. What she had, she was more than willing to share with me. It had always been that way. If there was only two pieces of bread left, we split it and made ghetto-one-slice sandwiches. If she came across a dollar, then she changed it out and we both had fifty cents. I knew that she would give me her last, and it made me love her even more.

“Where you going?”

“I’ve got to stop by the mall and pick up a phone. I answered the phone earlier this morning, and Murder kind of flipped,” I said.

“Oh, that ain’t shit. He only gives that number to people he does business with. Don’t worry about it. Even he takes his personal calls on a cell phone. Did he come at you wrong?” she asked, getting defensive.

“No, it wasn’t like that. He just let me know not to answer it. He’s good. I like him. I think he’s cool people,” I said, calming her down.

“Well, I’m chilling today. You can call me if you need me. My keys are on the table. Don’t crash my shit, Miamor! Your ass probably can’t even drive!” she said jokingly.

“Bitch, I got my L’s. I took the class in lockup for having good behavior,” I answered as I went to dress.

“You? Good behavior? I know you’re lying now,” Anisa said. “Not one scratch. Mia! I’m not playing!” she warned, her voice following me out of the room.

She knew me all too well, because there wasn’t a damn thing legal about me behind a wheel, but I was anxious to spin the block. I just wanted to get out and spread my wings.

Putting on brand new Seven jeans, red stilettos, and a white Ralph Lauren top, I dressed and applied MAC cosmetics. I admired myself in the mirror. Everything about me screamed fly, and I knew it. I was only eighteen, so yes, I was arrogant as hell and itching to get into something.

Before I could even hit the door, Anisa stopped me.

“Run them L’s, Miamor. I want to see your license before you hop in my car,” she said seriously as she sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, rolling a spliff. Murder was stretched out on the couch behind her, his hat dipped low, pistol on his waistline, and flipping the channels on the 72-inch plasma TV.

“Anisa, ain’t nobody gon’ crash your car. Stop tripping. I’m just going to the mall,” I pleaded.

“I’ll take her. I’m going that way anyway. I got to pick up a new joint for that job I’m into tonight,” Murder said as he stood.

“Fine by me, long as my shit come back in one piece,” Anisa said. “I’ll teach you how to drive later this week, and take you to handle the official paperwork. The last thing you need is to run into Jake out there with no license. You just got out. I’m just trying to keep you out, sis.”

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