The Cartel - Ashley Antoinette Snell [73]
Flipping up his cell phone, Carter called his right-hand man. “Yo, Ace, what’s good, baby? It’s about that time. I need you, fam.”
It was all that needed to be said. Ace knew what time it was. He agreed to gather Zyir and be on the next flight out to chop it up with his best friend.
The next night Carter waited patiently as he watched Ace and Zyir emerge through the airport doors. A sense of relief instantly washed over him when he saw the faces of his two most trusted associates. With his own squad in town, he could lay niggas down with no reservations because he had his right and left hand beside him. He greeted Ace first, slapping hands with the one person he had come up in the game with. They were thick as thieves and had taken over their hometown of Flint with relative ease. They were seasoned and thorough. They had been putting in work together for years, and he knew that the transition to Miami would be a smooth one.
“You good, fam? You had me worried on the phone. You ain’t sound right,” Ace commented as they embraced.
Carter nodded his head and greeted his protégé, “Lil’ Zyir, what’s good, baby? I’m glad you came down, fam.”
“My nigga call, I come running, fam. That’s how we do, nah mean? Besides, it’s warm than a mu’fucka down here. It’ll do ya boy some good getting away from that Arctic shit up north.”
Carter walked toward his Range, and they all packed their bags inside before pulling away from the curb, Jay-Z’s American Gangster CD immediately filling the leather interior.
Out of habit Ace punched in the code to Carter’s hidden compartment, revealing three chrome pistols. He removed two, tossing one in the backseat to Zyir.
Carter, Ace, and Zyir were the last of a dying breed and would never be caught without their heaters. Zyir and Ace had the exact hidden compartments in their own whips. The compartments always held three guns, one for each of them in case of emergencies.
“So what’s so important that we had to come all the way down here?” Ace asked, admiring the change of scenery that Miami offered. The palm trees and busy streets seemed worlds away from the dilapidated houses and potholes of his hometown. “It’s nice down here, fam,” he commented as he waited for Carter to reply.
“It’s the same game with a different face, fam. Don’t let this glamorous shit fool you. I’m-a be real honest about the shit that’s going on here. My father—”
“Your father?” Ace asked in astonishment, knowing that his best friend had never known his dad.
“Yeah. That’s how all this started. My father was the leader of a criminal enterprise called The Cartel. Basically they run all this shit down here. Drugs, real estate, politics, anything that happens here, The Cartel makes happen or is a part of in some way.”
“Yo, so these Cartel mu’fuckas on some real organized crime type shit, huh?” Zyir asked.
“Yeah, and business was good, up until my father was murdered by Ma’tee. Ma’tee runs little Haiti, and this nigga ain’t holding no punches. Since killing my father, he’s murdered one of my little brothers and sparked a war that is fucking with my money.”
“Your money?” Ace asked. “You a part of this Cartel shit?”
“I run The Cartel. It’s mine now, which is why I need the two of you here. Y’all know how I move. I trust both of you with my life,” Carter said seriously.
“You know we’re with you, fam, but how is the money down here? We were making at least a hunnid thou a month in Flint. You know how lovely the hustle was there. We had our blocks on smash,” Zyir said proudly.
“A hunnid thou?” Carter raised his eyebrows and looked at Zyir in the rearview mirror.
“Each,” Zyir bragged. “That’s good money, nah mean? Ya boy was eating.”
“Don’t worry about the cash, fam. You gon’ eat. You will make a hunnid thou easy,” Carter guaranteed.
Zyir nodded in approval, but he lost his mind when Carter added, “A week.”
“Nigga, you bullshitting!” Ace exclaimed.
Carter remained silent.
Ace looked back at Zyir and said, “Yo, this mu’fucka is