The Cartel - Ashley Antoinette Snell [84]
“Good evening, Estes,” Polo said loudly as he stuck his hands in his white linen pants.
Estes signaled for his henchmen to pick up the anchor so that he could take off.
“Polo,” Estes said, not even giving him the respect of looking him in the eyes. Estes started the boat and pulled off.
Polo sat in the seat uncomfortably and wondered where Estes was taking him. He slightly moved his hat off his head, but not all the way off. He didn’t want the small .22 caliber pistol he had under the hat to fall.
After a ten-minute ride, Estes finally stopped the boat, and all they could see was water. There was no sign of anything else but the royal blue Atlantic Ocean.
Estes turned to Polo and took a deep puff of his cigar. “You wanted to talk, right? Talk,” he said coldly.
“First, we need to get at the—”
“That’s already taken care of. The entire Haitian mob is dead. There will be no more bloodshed. The only one left is Ma’tee, but we cut his legs from under him. He has no money or no army, and most likely Miami won’t see him again.”
Polo was surprised at how quickly Estes moved. Estes was two steps ahead of him, managing to wipe out the whole Haitian mob with ease. He knew that Estes was the boss of all bosses, and it was another day at the job for him.
Polo continued, “Yeah, I wanted to discuss a few things. You know, since Carter died, I’ve been the one you’ve supplied. The way I see it, I’m not getting any younger, and the game has changed. I’m trying to make an exit and give this game up for good.”
“You’re a smart man.”
“I really have faith in Young Carter, and I was wondering—”
Estes raised his hand to stop him from talking. “Let me tell you something. I never liked you. Hell, I never liked Carter, but I gave him the connect because my daughter was in love with him, and I wanted him to be able to provide for her. So, you see, this is where it all stops. No more product for The Cartel. I want nothing to do with you people. The connect died with my grandson,” Estes said as he looked past Polo.
Naturally Polo followed his eyes and saw that two boats were approaching. “Oh, so that’s how you gon’ play it, huh?” Polo asked in disbelief as he nodded his head repeatedly. He was ready to go for his gun, but he saw the two boats pull up, one on either side.
Estes stood up and began to unzip his pants. He unleashed his small tanned penis and began to urinate on Polo’s shoes.
Polo quickly moved his feet, and it took all of his willpower for him not to go for his gun and shoot Estes in the face. He felt totally disrespected, but he knew that he would only be committing suicide if he did that.
One of the men picked up a small one-person rowboat and tossed it in the water.
“Now get the fuck out,” Estes said calmly as he turned his back to Polo.
Polo clenched his jaws so tightly, it began to hurt as he realized that Estes was going to make him row all the way back to shore. Swallowing his pride, Polo stepped onto the small boat, staring a hole through Estes the whole way down.
One of the henchmen tossed Polo a paddle, and they all pulled off, leaving Polo alone in the middle of nowhere. Polo, his ego bruised beyond repair, knew at that moment it was time to leave the game alone. He was tired of everything that came with it. If that would have been five years ago, he would have gone out guns blazing for the stunt that Estes pulled. But Polo had matured and knew that he would’ve started a fight he could never win.
Carter would have to find his own connect and start from the ground up. In the meantime, Polo had some serious paddling to do.
Chapter Eighteen
“Ain’t shit changed! You know the deal, so stop playing yourself.”
—Miamor
Miamor’s hands shook uncontrollably as she chopped the peppers and onions on the cutting board. She took a deep breath. Why am I so fucking nervous? she questioned silently as she worked swiftly, following the recipe book to a tee, trying to complete the meal she was preparing for Carter before he arrived at her house. Her eyes darted towards the clock. She didn’t have much time. She