The Cartel - Ashley Antoinette Snell [91]
Carter shook his head. “That wouldn’t be smart, Mecca. You barely survived the first time. I know your record. You ain’t got to prove shit to me, fam, but your grandfather is operating on an entirely different level. If he wants you touched, then you will be touched. Just give things some time to settle down. You talking to the therapists about Money?”
Carter knew that Mecca didn’t want to talk about Monroe’s murder, but he was worried about his brother. He’d noticed the change in Mecca after Money’s demise and thought it might be wise if Mecca could get whatever was bothering him off his chest.
“Fuck these crackers, man, they will never understand,” Mecca replied.
Fabian emerged from his room and into the visiting room. He was eager to see his mother. She had traveled from Virginia just to come and see her only son. He sauntered out of his room with his piss bag taped to his stomach. Walking past Mecca’s table, he stopped mid-step and stared in shock at Miamor. His yellow skin turned pale white as if he had seen a ghost. “Oh shit, man, oh shit!” he stated as he began to cry. He ducked down directly behind Mecca’s chair.
Carter noticed the strange man and frowned. “Fuck is this crazy nigga behind your chair, fam?”
Mecca turned around and looked down at his crouching roommate. “Fuck is you doing, nigga? Is there a problem?”
“Please, man, please, man, just hide me. I don’t want to die, man. Please just hide me,” Fabian begged.
Mecca and Carter looked around the room. There wasn’t one person in the room that seemed to be paying attention to Fabian. They didn’t know that Miamor, who was calmly sitting in the corner, flipping through a magazine, had chopped off his most precious jewels.
Carter shook his head from side to side and stood from the table. All of a sudden, being inside of the hospital was becoming unbearable. These mu’fuckas in here are loony as hell, he thought.
Fabian was so deathly afraid of Miamor noticing him that he stayed crouched to the floor as if he were in the army, and maneuvered his way back to his room. He even missed his visit with his mother because he was afraid that Miamor would see him.
Mecca extended his hand and slapped hands with Carter.
“Stay sane in this mu’fucka, fam. Call me if you need anything, and be careful. Estes got eyes everywhere, nah mean?”
“Yeah, I hear you. Be easy, duke.”
Mecca pulled up his sagging pants and strolled back to his room, where his roommate was hiding out. He looked at the nigga in disgust. He had never even held one conversation with the man. Mecca wasn’t in the hospital to make friends. He simply needed to lay low for a while, so conversing and entertaining niggas that weren’t on his level was pointless. He knew that, once they found out who he was, they would try to get on and would hassle him about being down with The Cartel.
“Is that bitch still out there?” Fabian asked.
“What the fuck? You running from a chick?” Mecca asked. “What, the bitch trying to stick you with child support or something?” Mecca laughed at the sight of the grown man crying before him.
Fabian shuffled to their bedroom and peeked outside in the hallway. Once he saw the coast was clear, he closed the door. “It’s not just any chick,” Fabian explained. “She’s a Murder Mama.”
“Say what?” Mecca had never heard of the group, so he wasn’t impressed.
Fabian went underneath his bed and pulled out a box. Inside of it were newspaper clippings and one photo of the four girls together. “Man, I’m not in here because I’m crazy. I’m hiding from these bitches called the Murder Mamas. They’re some killers, family.”
“Some bitches?”
Fabian nodded as his eyes continued to roam nervously.
“Yeah, nigga! I’m telling you that bitch was here to finish me off. Look, man”—Fabian unzipped his pants and pulled them down, revealing his chopped off genitals.
Mecca turned his head and frowned. “Whoa, fam! Pull up your fucking pants, yo. You bullshitting on that faggoty shit, mu’fucka.”
“I ain’t on no homo shit, fam. Just look at my dick,