The Cartel 2: Tale of the Murda Mamas (5 page)

I rolled my eyes. She could tell I had an attitude. Anisa knew she was wrong for sticking me with a babysitter, but I obliged and followed Murder out of the condo. We didn’t talk until we got to the parking lot. He tossed me her keys and gave me a smile.

“I’m driving?” I asked in surprise.

“Fuck I look like, your chauffer?” he asked smoothly as he stepped into the car. “Anisa’s your big sister. She’s overprotective. I’ma teach you how to drive.”

I was geeked and all smiles as I got into Anisa’s car. Murder leaned his seat back and put one foot on the dash. “Do you!” he said with a grin.

I turned the ignition and adjusted the seat. Anisa was a little bit taller than me. Once I was comfortable, I put the car in reverse and backed out slowly. My heart was beating out of my chest, only because Anisa’s ass had made me nervous.

“Relax, you’re good, ma. You control the car, not the other way around,” Murder reassured.

I nodded my head, took a deep breath and switched gears to drive before pulling out of the parking lot. Murder was silent as I crept down the streets of New York. Impatient drivers flew past me and I stuck up my middle finger as they drove by, causing Murder to laugh. “What?” I asked as I laughed too.

“Nothing, ma … nothing at all. Concentrate on the road. Fuck whoever’s behind you,” he said.

I put in a CD, and the sounds of R&B filled the car. The music eased some of my apprehension, and I relaxed behind the wheel, as my foot became heavier on the gas pedal. Before you knew it, I was cruising, snapping my fingers to the beat, while Murder rode shotgun, never interrupting my flow. The fact that he trusted my driving made me trust myself, and all of my fears went out of the window. I was whipping through the ‘hood like I had been doing it for years. I was on cloud nine as I listened to Keyshia Cole’s latest joint. I had never been in a relationship before, so I couldn’t relate to the lyrics in the song, but it didn’t stop my head from spinning from the feelings homegirl was screaming through the speakers. I couldn’t see myself giving my heart to anybody, but I was feeling the song as if my heart had been broken a thousand times. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the mall.

“See, it’s easy,” Murder stated. He had to be the coolest nigga I’d ever met. He was so laid back, yet his demeanor was so ‘hood. “Come on, don’t have me in this mu’fucka all day. You can hit up all the shoe shops and shit with Nis. But me and you, we in and out. Cool?”

“Okay,” I responded, but in and out became a day full of me tearing up the mall and Murder carrying my bags. I couldn’t help it. The little shopping spree that Anisa had given me the day before hadn’t quenched my thirst.

Murder wanted to complain, but he didn’t. I could tell from the look on his face that shopping wasn’t really his thing. He allowed me to shop until I grew tired, and I felt like I had a personal bodyguard with me the way he was mean mugging niggas who were trying to get at me.

“You ready to leave?” I asked. “We’ve been here all day and you haven’t bought one thing.”

He sighed and gave me a half smile. “Nah, go ahead. Get whatever you want, ma,” he said. “It’s on me.”

I was like a kid in a candy store, picking up everything that I had neglected to get when I had gone shopping with Anisa. By the time I was done, it was dark outside, and as we walked to the car, Murder asked, “You hungry?” “I could eat,” I responded.

Murder put the bags in the trunk and walked around to the driver’s side.

“I’m not driving?” I asked.

He put his hand up and I tossed him the keys. “Nah, I don’t got time to coach you through it right now, sis. I got to get to my man before his spot close. Then we’ll go grab some food. Call Anisa and see if she’s hungry.”

I called Anisa, and she declined our invitation to dinner. “I don’t feel like getting dressed. Y’all go ahead. Just bring me back something,” she said.

I agreed, and then disconnected the call with her. “She said bring her something back,” I told Murder.

I reached for the radio to turn it up, but Murder popped my CD out and tossed it in the back seat. “Driver picks the music,” he said smugly as he ruffled my hair. I slapped his hand away and laughed as he turned the radio all the way up.

Jay-Z’s lyrics filled the interior, and no words were spoken, but it was a comfortable vibe between us, and the more I became acquainted with Murder, the more questions I had.

He drove until he pulled up to a pawnshop way out in Queens. I looked around the dark alley we were parked in. A chill went up and down my spine, but I shook the feeling of fear. “Get out,” he instructed. He popped the trunk and pulled out a pillowcase, then entered the building from the rear.

When we got inside, an older white man with wire rimmed glasses sat behind a counter. “Who’s the girl?” he asked immediately, causing my heart to flutter. The old man shot me a look of suspicion that had me feeling out of place.

“She’s good. I vouch for her. She’s my lil’ sister. Don’t worry about her. Let’s just handle this business, just like every other time,” Murder stated with authority.

“You always come alone,” the man insisted, still eyeing me.

I pretended as if I wasn’t paying attention, but I was picking up on it all. I was so aware of my surroundings, that the sound of the seconds ticking by on the clock made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Come on, Schultz, you know me. This ain’t a new routine. I don’t do bad business, and I’d never bring heat to your establishment. She’s with me. She’s cool,” Murder stated, never showing an ounce of intimidation. He put the pillowcase on the countertop, removed three pistols and then placed two thick wads of money next to them. “I need to make these disappear, and I need another one. An automatic.”

The man rose, then locked the front door, flipping the sign to closed. “Follow me,” he said.

Murder grabbed my hand and I reluctantly followed him down a long hallway, then down a flight of steps. It was so dark that I couldn’t see in front of me, and there was a strong pungent smell in the air. I wanted to cough, but I didn’t. My breathing was labored, and I held onto Murder’s hand a little tighter for reassurance.
Where the fuck is this nigga taking me? What type of shit he into? Has Anisa ever been here?
I asked myself as a thousand and one questions plagued my mind. I didn’t know what I was about to see and when the old man turned on the dim light, and I sighed in relief and released Murder’s hand. I felt foolish for letting my imagination run wild. The old basement walls were filled with guns; all types, sizes, and calibers, along with three large barrels that contained some type of liquid.

The man gently placed the three pistols Murder had given him into a metal crate, then slowly lowered them into the barrel. The liquid bubbled and sizzled for a couple minutes before making the guns disappear. He then pointed to the arsenal of weapons behind him and said, “Take your pick. What would you like this time?”

Murder quickly wrapped up his business and led me back out to the alley. Once we were safely back in the car, I turned to him and said, “What was that all about?”

“Don’t worry about it, ma. That’s not for you. The only reason I let you come inside is because it was dark and I didn’t want you in the car for that long. That’s the last thing I need is to fuck a nigga up over you in the middle of Queens. You still hungry?”

“Nah, I’m alright. I’m tired now anyway,” I lied. I just wanted to get back to Anisa and find out what the fuck was up. She knew exactly what Murder was into, and now I was curious too, but before we got out of the car, Murder grabbed my arm.

“Yo, Miamor,” he said.

“Yeah?” I looked back at him and noticed the serious expression he had on his face.

“I know you and Anisa are close and I would never come between that, but I need you to keep what you saw tonight to yourself, a’ight?”

The way he looked at me wasn’t menacing or intimidating, but sincere, as if I held his life in my hands. I knew that it was important to him. I had never kept a secret from my sister in my life. She was my other half, and I owed her everything, whereas I owed Murder nothing. But for some strange reason, I nodded my head in agreement.

M
onths passed, and as Anisa and I grew closer, so did Murder and me. Anisa and I spent day in and day out together. She was my love, and although I wasn’t a little girl who followed everything that she did, I still admired her greatly.

Most days we were shopping or taking day trips to the spa. The notion of getting a job was never an option, because Murder made it clear that his lady didn’t need a job, and said that since I was just like Anisa, he was claiming me too. So I wasn’t to lift a finger. The only thing I did was count his money. The average chick would have been jealous of how close Murder and I had become. I rode shotgun in his car more than Anisa did, but she wasn’t tripping because it wasn’t like that. Anisa never planned on being with Murder long term. She was just ‘riding the wave', she would say. When the ride was over, she was getting off. She would always say that there was no room for love in the life he was living, and since he always said he was never giving it up, they maintained a relationship. They pledged that they would never get too serious. He looked out for her though, and I knew he would do anything for her, because in the short amount of time he’d known me, he gave me his all. He called me his “lil’ mama” and kept me grounded, because he said fucking around with Anisa, I was becoming a diva.

All in all, life was good, but I still had no idea exactly what Murder did to fund the lifestyle. All I knew is that when that phone rang, it meant money. Sometimes after answering it, he would be gone for days, but when he’d come back, I’d have a whole lot of new faces to count—big faces—Ben Franklins.

Before I knew it, I had been out for a year, and my birthday was rolling around. Anisa had spoken to Murder about throwing me a party, and although he wasn’t really feeling the idea, he consented anyway. I was turning nineteen and feeling myself more than ever. The past year of my life had been amazing, and I couldn’t wait to celebrate.

Murder rented out a trilevel loft in Brooklyn and invited the entire ‘hood out to the affair. He even paid Young Jeezy to perform.

As I dressed for my big night, I oiled my body down and applied body shimmer before putting on a chocolate Fendi dress with gold braided straps that crisscrossed in the rear, revealing my toned back. My wide hips, flat stomach, and shapely behind had the dress hugging me precisely. My gold stiletto Zanotti’s and gold matching clutch were the perfect accessories. The dress was short, and completely opposite of my normal attire. I was usually geared, always fresh with skinny jeans and a cute blouse or top with heels, but that night, I was getting my grown woman on from head to toe, leaving very little to the imagination. My hair was curled and hung down my back, while my makeup was professionally done and gave me a dramatic smoky look.

As I sat on the bed and fastened the ankle strap on my shoe, Anisa walked in. Her strut was runway flawless and her dress effortlessly sexy. “You look like a grown ass woman, Mia,” she complimented with a smile.

“I’ve been that, you didn’t know?” I asked with a smile to match.

Anisa pulled a Tiffany box from behind her back and handed it to me. “Happy birthday, Miamor! I love you!”

I opened it and gasped at the diamond necklace and matching tennis bracelet. “Thank you, Anisa!” I said with a big hug.

Anisa laughed and replied, “I had to give you my gift first. Murder’s gift to you is shitting all over mine.”

“I highly doubt that.” I put the necklace and bracelet on just as Murder knocked on the door. I didn’t show it, but I was excited to see what my big bro, Murder had gotten me. I couldn’t imagine that anything topping Anisa’s gift though.

“It’s time to—” he stopped mid-sentence and nodded his head in approval when he saw me, as if my appearance had taken him by surprise. “You look beautiful, sis. Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” I blushed. “Is it time to go?”

He nodded and held out his arm for me. I grabbed it and walked out with him, with Anisa trailing behind us. We were almost out the door when Murder’s business line began to ring. He stopped mid-step.

“Murder, come on! Not tonight!” Anisa said, raising her eyebrows in annoyance.

“You’re right,” he said. He kissed her on the side of the cheek. “It’s about Miamor tonight.”

I let Anisa walk ahead and I whispered to Murder, “Go ‘head and get it. I’ll keep her on ice for you,” I said, knowing that if Murder didn’t answer the call, he would be thinking about the money he had missed for the whole night.

“Cool,” he said almost as if he was relieved, and he rushed to the phone and picked it up.

I talked to Anisa on the way down to the car, and told her that he had to go use the restroom to distract her. Moments later, Murder came rushing down the stairs and caught up with us. He winked his eye at me to say thanks, and we got in his car and headed to the party.

We arrived at the club, and the line was out the door. It was ridiculous the amount of people who had come out. Undoubtedly, they weren’t all there for me. I didn’t fuck with anybody, and I had no friends besides my sister and Murder, but just the fact that the place was packed in my honor pleased me. We stepped out of the limo with a million eyes fixed on us. We bypassed the line and walked straight in, making our way to V.I.P. I felt like a celebrity, and I was all smiles, and so was Anisa.

Murder had an uncomfortable look on his face as he escorted us in. I could tell he was uncomfortable around all the people. His head was on a swivel, and his arm stayed tucked in his hoody, palming his pistol as we entered. That nigga never took a day off! He was always on his toes, and I had to respect it.

The entire place was decorated in turquoise and white. There were already bottles of Cris, Remy Louis XII Grand Cognac, and bottles of Mo spread out in ice buckets around my spot. The music was already at screaming level, and the party was going at full blast.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ma watch the niggas handling my money at the door and make sure everything goes smoothly. You have a good time. This is all for you,” Murder whispered in my ear.

I nodded, and we all sat down to get it cracking.

Murder frequently peeked into the main room and checked on us, and then he would head back to the front door. He didn’t mingle at all. Instead, he sat back and watched me and Anisa do our thing.

I was walking through the party, the DJ plugging my name every few minutes making it known that I was the guest of honor. After that, I was shown mad love. Niggas were pinning money to my dress and buying me drinks, regardless of the fact that I had $500 bottles sitting on ice back at the table.

Anisa and I were doing it big, dancing and getting fucked up. I was nineteen and still a virgin, and the slew on fine niggas in the building had my hormones on fire. If I was a different type of chick, I would have had one picked out for the after party, but Anisa had already groomed me. Niggas treated you how you allowed them to, and I was never going to be anybody’s A.M. jump off, so I kept my raging emotions at bay.

After circulating the building a couple times, I was about $3,000 richer from all of the birthday money niggas had given me. They were all trying to put their bids in to see who I was going to choose, but little did they know, I was going home alone. I didn’t fuck with niggas who paid to play, because a bitch like me wasn’t for sale.

I was tipsy, but Anisa was loaded. Niggas was really on her because she had the body of a goddess, and her dress was barely covering her ass. Her dress looked like it was sprayed on, and the bottom of her ass cheeks kept showing as she constantly had to pull down her dress to cover herself. It was all fun and games, until Anisa broke her own rule and became one of the drunken bitches in the club who ended up getting carried out. I noticed her stumble a little.

“Nis, are you okay?” I yelled, trying to be heard over the music.

She shook her head. “I need some air,” she admitted.

I grabbed her hand and led her to the front entrance where Murder was. He saw me trying to keep Anisa balanced and rushed over to help me.

“What happened?” he asked.

“She had too much to drink,” I explained, while trying to keep her steady. “Maybe we should just go. It’s getting late anyway.”

Anisa shook her head. “No, Miamor, it’s your party. I just need to sleep this off. You stay and have a good time. I can take the limo back home. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, Anisa? I don’t mind coming with you,” I replied.

“No, stay. The night isn’t over yet,” she said.

Murder helped her into the limo and tipped the driver to take her home and make sure she got into the condo safely, then turned his attention back to me. “You good?” he asked.

“I know how to handle my liquor,” I said with a smile. “I learned from the best.” I was referring to him, because he and I had gotten fucked up together plenty of times since I’d been home.

“Go have a good time. I’ll be in shortly. We’re closing the doors in a half an hour,” he said.

I went back into the club and made my way to my table, but was detoured when I felt someone grab my hand. I turned around to the sexiest nigga I had ever seen in my life. No bullshit. His gray eyes penetrated mine and I smiled. “You’re grabbing me like you know me or something,” I said with an attitude as I snatched away flirtatiously.

He held my hand up, and I did a sexy half spin so he could admire what I had on.

Drake’s latest hit came on, and we began to dance. The dude’s hands felt good on my body, and I was beyond intoxicated. Any other day I probably would have smacked the shit out of him, but when my song came on, the liquor told me to make an exception. I was rocking my hips and grinding on him sexily, having a good time, until I felt somebody snatch me up. I looked up to see Murder glaring at the nigga.

“Is there a problem, my nigga?” the dude asked.

“I don’t know. Is there?” Murder asked. The look of rage behind Murder’s eyes surprised me, and told a story all their own.

The dude stepped back with his hands raised in surrender. “No disrespect, fam. I ain’t know she was with you,” he muttered. If he did have a chance with me, after seeing him bitch up so easily, he for damn sure didn’t have one after that.

Murder snatched my ass all the way across the dance floor and into the back of the loft until we were in a quiet room.

“What the fuck? Murder, why are you tripping?” I asked.

“Don’t make me fuck one of these niggas up, Miamor!” he said in an overprotective tone. “Nigga got his hands all over you!” He was yelling, and I had never ever seen him lose his temper. I was speechless. For the first time, I saw a look in his eyes that I had never seen before. I guess I
had
seen it before. It had been there all along, but this was the first time that I had acknowledged it. There was something in the air between us.

“We were dancing, that’s it,” I whispered. “It wasn’t a big deal.” We had spent so much time together before, yet this was the first time it felt awkward. My heart was racing and my palms were sweaty. I was nervous around him, not because I was afraid of him, but because I was afraid of the way he had me feeling. I didn’t want him to be mad at me or to be disappointed in me. I cared a lot about what Murder thought of me. I left the room and chilled at my table, while Murder hugged the bar until the party was over.

After the entire place cleared out, Murder approached me with the last bottle of champagne in his hands. It had a red ribbon tied around it. “You have a good time?” he asked.

I nodded. “I did. You’re too good to me,” I said aloud. “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. It was innocent. You acted like I was fucking dude or something.”

“I know, Miamor. I over reacted. I don’t like the idea of a nigga disrespecting you. I will murder a nigga over you,” Murder said sincerely as he looked me in my eyes. “Pop one last bottle with me?” he asked.

I nodded and gave him a half smile as he filled two champagne flutes. He popped the cork, causing champagne to spill over the top. “Happy birthday, Miamor!” he said. “To you!”

“To me!” I agreed as we raised our flutes.

One bottle turned into three as we laughed and conversed with one another. We were both toasted by the time we decided to leave. In my mind, I went over all of the times I had been around Murder. We had formed a bond with one another and it started out innocent, but as I sat across from him, I felt my heart beating furiously inside my chest. The feelings and thoughts I was having were far from right. They were not the feelings that one has for her big brother, but ones that a bitch had for a nigga she was trying to make her man. I was slowly admitting to myself that I was feeling him in a deeper way, and that fact was tearing me up on the inside.

He held out his hand and I followed him out of the loft. My heels echoed off of the concrete floor, and when I got outside, my mouth dropped open at the sight of a silver SL 550 Benz sitting there with a red bow wrapped around it. I turned around and looked at Murder. “This is my car?” I asked.

He smiled charmingly, and I already knew the answer.

“Oh my fucking God!” I yelled as I ran around to the driver’s side. The keys were already in the ignition, and I admired the custom leather seats and the wood grain dash. He stood outside, leaning on the back door as I explored every aspect of the car. I jumped out and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you … thank you …
thank you!”
I screamed excitedly. “This is too much!”

Murder grabbed my hands and intertwined his fingers with mine. Feelings of guilt instantly came back, because we were both letting the liquor cloud our judgment. He kissed my forehead, something that he had done many times before, but my body had never reacted like this. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and I felt like I had to throw up, while tiny darts of electricity awakened my southern lips. “Murder!” I whispered as I wrapped my hands around his neck.

“What up?” he asked in a low, raspy slur.

I stood on my tip toes and kissed his lips. I couldn’t help it. The voice in the back of my head that was telling me to stop was overpowered by my growing attraction to him. Murder was my brother … literally. He was Anisa’s man. Even the thought of he and I was wrong, but everything about his touch felt right, like his fingers were made exclusively for me. I was so lost in his embrace. He lifted me, his hands supporting my bottom as I wrapped my virgin legs around his back. I had an itch that I desperately needed scratched. I could smell the alcohol in the air, and I moaned as my head fell back in ecstasy as his tongue molested my neck.