The Cartel - Ashley Antoinette Snell [75]
Miamor held the attention of many of the men in the club. Her black spaghetti strap Prada dress dipped low in the front, revealing her C-cup cleavage and her flat stomach, and silver Choo stilettos accented her shapely, athletic legs. Her healthy hair glistened under the strobe light and was cut in a long bob with Chinese bangs, while her MAC cosmetics complemented her almond-colored skin. The term “Shorty is the shit,” had to be meant for her, because her features always outshined every other chick in her vicinity, and that night was no different.
Miamor watched as most of the women in the club flocked toward the door. She squinted to see who had entered the club that deserved so much attention.
“Speak of the devil,” Robyn commented as she saw what the commotion was all about.
Carter and two other men walked into the club clad in Cavalli jeans and fresh kicks. Carter simply wore a gray Lacoste sweater with a white collared shirt underneath. He was simple, but his jewels stood apart from every other nigga in the club. He was wearing so many karats that he was almost hypnotic as the strobe lights played hide-and-seek with the diamonds around his neck.
Miamor watched as Carter and his friends selected three girls to take up to the VIP section with them.
“That’s why we can’t get shit poppin’, Mia?” Robyn continued as if Carter didn’t impress her. “The nigga is playing you, Miamor. He has your fucking head gone. You sitting up in here turning down mad niggas, waiting on him to call, and he out courting these busted-ass bitches.”
Miamor could feel her temperature rising. She was hot as she watched Carter place his hand on the small of the girl’s back and guided her through the crowd. Is he for real?
“Just say the word and I all over that bitch,” Aries stated.
The sight before Miamor had her tight. She was so upset that she was seeing red, which usually meant blood was about to be shed, but she controlled herself and saved face in front of her girls. “Fuck him. He ain’t my man. The nigga is a job, nothing more and nothing less,” she stated coldly. I can’t believe I was feeling his lying ass, she thought to herself. She wanted to leave the club, because deep inside she knew that her heart was broken, but she stayed. She knew that if she left, she would be admitting that she was falling for him.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Carter was hers. At least, he was supposed to be, and she was jealous that his attention was focused on another woman. Carter was popping bottle after bottle of champagne and had his arm draped around the young woman as if he were proud to have her on his hip. This is bullshit, she thought silently as she inventoried her competition. The girl with Carter was pretty in the voice, but her twice-borrowed dress and Claire’s jewels were a disgrace. This shit is unfucking-believable, she thought.
Her girls looked on in shock. They could tell that Miamor was beyond upset.
Carter was having a good time. His head had been fucked up since arriving in Miami, and it felt good to have his niggas by his side again. For a long time, Ace and Zyir had been the only “brothers” he’d known, and he trusted them whole-heartedly. His love for them ran deep, and they shared an unbreakable bond.
He looked around at the random chicks that Zyir had picked out of the crowd and had to admit he hadn’t been so carefree in a long time. Carter was what some women would call arrogant. He was very selective when it came to who he shared his time with, and it was very rare that he dealt with a lot of women at one time.
It was even rarer to see him in a nightclub, but Zyir and Ace had talked him into it, so he decided to let loose. He told himself that he deserved to relax after all that he had been through in the past couple of months.
Carter noticed that their drinks were getting low, so he leaned over and whispered for Zyir to go to the bar to get some more Moët. Zyir arose and made his way over to the bar. He slid into the empty space next to Robyn and placed his order.
Robyn automatically clocked his pockets when