I’m trapped… stuck in between my past and my future, and I don’t know which one to choose or which way to go. I remember everything that happened to me. It’s so vivid in my mind. I can still feel my heart beat rapidly for the love I have for Carter, and at the same time I can feel my temperature rise at the thought of his brother, Mecca. I remember Mecca fucking me up. I can still feel the whip of his chain as it ripped through the flesh on my legs. I can still hear the menacing sound of his voice. How in the fuck he caught me slipping, I don’t know, but I can’t let him beat me. He can’t win, but there’s nothing I can do when I can’t even open my eyes. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to wake up. I can’t speak, I can’t move, I can’t do anything, and everything around me is black. I know how I got here, but how the fuck do I get out? For the first time in a long time I’m afraid.

I wish I had my girls with me, because with them, nothing is impossible. With them, we run through niggas like Mecca, collect our paper, and keep it pushing to the next job. But our difference of opinion on The Cartel broke us apart. I did what I thought I would never do. I chose a nigga, Carter, over The Murder Mamas.

I can see the light that so many people talk about before dying, but in my case, it is more like a fire that is waiting to consume me. I’m standing between the gates of hell and my childhood, but they are equal to one another. Either way I go, the pain will be too much for me to handle. My past is something that I don’t want to remember. I forgot about it for a reason. I gave myself amnesia so that I wouldn’t have to relive it, and I left it behind a long time ago. I don’t want to have to repeat it, but I don’t want to die either. I have a choice: I can walk into the light right now and let it all end here. I can submit myself to God’s mercy and face my judgment in that light, or I can face my past and figure out how my childhood affected me and made me into the woman, the killer, the bitch that I am today. Those are my options; face death or face life. That’s a hell of a choice, but I guess it’s my destiny. I’m not ready to meet my Maker. I still have too much to do, and there are so many things left in my life unsettled. There are so many debts that I still have to collect on, and so many that I still owe.

So, I’m going to introduce you to my past. I’m going to let you meet the innocent little girl I used to be before the corruption, the money, the bodies, and the bullshit. Don’t judge me, just rock with my story as I tell it all… the ‘hood, the bad and the ugly. This is me, Miamor, the life of a Murder Mama.

Sitting in the bottom of my closet, I shook uncontrollably. The stench of piss was strong in the air, and my hands covered my ears trying to block out the screams. I was terrified. My heart beat uncontrollably and I closed my eyes from fear. I wished I could disappear and avoid the tragedy that was my life, but I couldn’t. I relived this nightmare every night.

As soon as my mother left the house, I knew what would take place: The molestation; the screams; the feelings of helplessness. It always happened at the same time. Like clockwork at 1:00 a.m., he came like a thief in the night. No matter how much we avoided it, no matter how many times we begged our mother not to stay the night away from home, nothing ever saved us. She always said no. The bitch made us stay there with him, and even though we cried and pleaded, her answer was always no. If she did not know what was going on, she should have. The shit was happening under her own roof, so I could never give her the benefit of the doubt. Fuck her too! She invited him into her home and unknowingly into her daughters’ bed. He was always there, with a fucking grin on his face. We were trapped, and our fates were inevitable.

My sister, Anisa was the victim, and our stepfather, Perry was the bastard who shattered our childhoods. Lollipops and daisies were never a part of our world. All we knew was pain and corruption. It seemed as though abuse and neglect were the only constants in our lives. All we had was each other, and whenever he snatched Anisa from her bed, I always felt her pain.

“Please stop… please, it hurts!” Anisa screamed.

Tears stained my cheeks. I could hear my sister crying, but I couldn’t do anything. I wished that we could switch places; that was how much I loved her. I knew the pain that she went through, and would take it all for her if I could, but I couldn’t. He never chose me. It was always her. She was fourteen, and budding into womanhood early, while I was only twelve and still composed of all elbows and knees. There wasn’t a curve to my body, so he ignored me mostly, but he violated Anisa, which meant he violated me.

I could hear the bed creaking from the other room, the headboard banging against the wall as a constant reminder of the atrocity that was happening behind closed doors. We wanted to tell someone, but who would believe us? Perry was smart. He made sure that he never hit Anisa. He never even left a mark. The sucking he did on her premature breasts was done lightly as to not leave any sign of trespass. We were scared, always walking around on eggshells and feeling like strangers in our own house.

The knocking of the headboard against the wall stopped, and I knew that it was finally over.

I waited in the bottom of the closet just as Anisa instructed me to. She always told me to hide and not come out until she came for me. The closet door creaked open and there stood my big sister. Her hair was wild and her eyes were red from crying. I took her hand and led her into the hallway bathroom. I was used to this routine. She never liked to talk afterwards, and she never looked me in the eye. I knew she was ashamed, but what she didn’t know was that I was ashamed too, because I just sat there and let it happen to her. I locked the bathroom door and ran a tub full of steaming bathwater. Anisa got right in, ignoring the sting of hot water against her bare skin. She hugged her legs to her chest, and I rubbed her hair gently while we both cried silently as she scrubbed her sins away.

The next day when I awoke, Anisa was already out of her bed. I knew our mother was home because I could hear the sounds of Teena Marie blaring throughout the house. Walking into the bathroom, I saw Anisa leaned over the toilet, gasping for air. “What’s wrong, Nis?” I asked.

“Nothing, Miamor. Get out… go and get ready for school,” she said. She barely got the words out before she was throwing up again.

“I’m going to get Mama,” I said. I had never been one of those tattle-telling little kids, but I didn’t know what else to do. I could tell from the way Anisa was sprawled all over the toilet that she needed more help than I could offer.

“No!” she yelled, grabbing my arm to stop me from leaving the bathroom. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and began to cry.

“Anisa, what’s wrong?” I asked.

Anisa couldn’t stop crying. The deep sob that escaped her lips was a cry that was too mature for such a young girl. The cry signified what she had endured and the things her young eyes had seen before their time. She lifted up her shirt, and I noticed a slight bulge in her belly. It wasn’t big at all, but my sister was naturally skinny. Her stomach had always been pancake flat, so the bump seemed out of place on her. I wondered how I could’ve missed it. I had seen Anisa naked plenty of times, and I had even noticed that she had gained a little bit of weight, but the thought of pregnancy never ever crossed my young mind. I was naïve and green to the game. For months, Perry had been raping my sister, and neither of us ever thought of the possibility of a baby.

“I’m pregnant, Mia!” she cried. “I don’t know what to do! I tried to tell him no. He wouldn’t stop.” “We have to tell,” I said.

“Miamor, no! I don’t want anybody to know!” Anisa whispered as she grasped my arm, her teary eyes desperately searching mine as if I could solve this problem. “I have to get rid of it. You have to promise me you won’t say a word.”

I nodded my head, but tears filled my eyes as I watched Anisa lower her shirt. She was pregnant at fourteen by our mother’s husband.

Bam! Bam! Bam! My mother knocked on the door. “I hope y’all ready for school! You better get your asses dressed so you can catch this bus!”

I wanted to open the door and tell my mother everything that we had been through, but Anisa was still gripping my hand. “Don’t say anything, okay?”

As badly as I wanted to tell, I couldn’t. I trusted my sister and was loyal to her. If she wanted me to keep this secret, then I would. I wiped my eyes, flushed the toilet, and sprayed air freshener in the air before opening the door.

We dressed in silence and headed off to school, our souls heavy and our minds on problems that we were both too young to truly comprehend.

Brooklyn born and raised, we kept to ourselves. It was only Anisa and I. We weren’t cliqued up like some of the other bitches in our borough. We had already been jumped on twice behind some beef that Anisa had caught with some girls from her high school, so I learned quickly to stay bladed up. I had seen Anisa put a razor blade in her mouth and carry it around all day without taking it out. I had cut my shit up a couple times trying to be like her, and when they caught us both slipping, she finally taught me how to tuck a blade away in my mouth just in case I ever needed it.

We knew the spots that these girls hung around, and we usually avoided those paths at all costs just to stay out of unnecessary conflict. So when Anisa hit a left and headed up toward their block, I stopped mid-step, not knowing why she would walk right into an ass whooping.

“Nisa, what are you doing? You know if we go that way we’re going to have to fight. You’re pregnant, Nis. We can’t fight them girls off right now,” I said.

“I know. I don’t want to win the fight, I just want to fight,” Anisa said with a determined look in her eyes.

I didn’t understand at that moment what she was getting at, but I soon found out. “What?” I asked in confusion, looking at her like she was half stupid.

“Look, I’ve got to get this baby out of me, Miamor, and I can’t tell Mama. I’m too young to go to a doctor and get an abortion by myself. I know this girl who was pregnant, but she got her ass beat and lost her baby. I got to do this, Miamor. This is the only way. You go the safe way. Get on the bus and go to school. I’ll see you when you get home,” she said. She hugged me and pushed me in the other direction.

Reluctantly, I walked away, confused. My heart kept telling me to go back, but I always listened to Anisa no matter what. I had to roll with her plan. We were both so naïve to think that this homemade method of abortion was the way to go. We had no idea how dangerous it was or the damage that Anisa was doing to her body.

I headed to school, but the thought of my sister fighting alone ate me up inside. After walking four blocks toward the bus stop, I turned around and ran full speed back toward Anisa. It was the first time I had ever disobeyed her. I knew she would be mad, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her fighting without me by her side. That’s how we were. Where one went, the other one followed, and no matter what she said, I couldn’t let her go through this alone. I ran as fast as I could, nearly out of breath when I reached the crowd of girls. I saw the group of girls jumping on Anisa, and surprisingly, she wasn’t even trying to fight back. They were stomping her out under the overpass of the train, and my heart ached as I saw them kicking her repeatedly in her stomach and back.

I pulled my blade without thinking twice. They were so focused on Anisa, that they didn’t even see me coming. “Bitch!” I brought my blade up and sliced one of the girls across her face, then started throwing mad punches to anybody within arm’s reach. Those bitches were twice my size. My little fists didn’t do much damage, but with my sneak surprise I had the advantage. As soon as they realized I was there, it was a wrap. It was one of the worst ass whoppings I’d ever taken, but it didn’t matter. I was there with Anisa. We took that ass whooping together.

The sound of police sirens blaring caused the group of girls to scatter, leaving Anisa lying on the ground and me kneeling beside her with a bloody lip.

“I told you to go the other way,” Anisa groaned as I helped her up. She was lumped up and bruised.

The police officer approached us and hopped out of his car. He escorted us home, where our mother threw a fit and sent us to our room. We both sat impatiently looking at each other, waiting naïvely for something to happen.

Hours passed before Anisa doubled over in pain. “I think it’s happening, Mia!” she whispered, her face contorted in pain.

“What? What do I do?” I asked.

“Aghh! Miamor, I think something’s wrong!” Anisa agonized as she held her lower stomach and crouched down at the side of the bed. A small spot of blood showed through her jeans, but slowly grew to a large stain in between her legs.

“Anisa, what do I do?” I asked. I was panicked. It was the most blood I’d ever seen. It was like her period, but ten times worse, and she was sweating profusely. Her hands were shaking in trepidation.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said as she took her jeans off and put them in a plastic bag.

I helped her across the hall and locked the door. As soon as she sat down she opened her mouth in pain, but no sound came out. She stood, and blood was dripping between her legs, her thighs stained in crimson. The toilet was filled with it, and it looked like blood clots had fallen out of Anisa.

“What do I do? What do I do?” I asked, my voice cracking from concern and my eyes filling with tears. I knew I was in over my head and I wanted to go run for our mother, but I had promised, and even at such a young age, my word was all I had. I never broke it for anybody.

“I don’t know!” she said as she was wracked with more pain. Anisa sat on the toilet as her premature body violently miscarried her baby.

I held her hand tightly as if she was bringing life into the world instead of flushing one down the toilet. I couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t my decision to make and it was already done, so all I could do was be there for my sister. She didn’t ask to be in that situation. Perry had put her in it before her time, so I didn’t judge her for wanting to get rid of it secretly.

Anisa was weak and could barely stand, so I helped her to our room and cleaned up the mess. I gave her two of our mother’s pain prescriptions and washed her up before she fell asleep. This was the first time that I was grateful for my mother’s ignorance. I didn’t want her to come in and find out what we had done.

Just as I went to throw away the bloody towel, my mother was coming up the steps. “Where did all that blood come from?” she asked.

“I… um… I… it was from the fight. I got cut and I had to clean it,” I lied.

“Oh, well, that serves you right for fighting in the first place,” she said. “I was coming to tell you and your sister that I’m off to work. Perry will be home in about an hour. Come lock the door behind me.”

I followed her to the door, and once she was gone, I raced back up to Anisa. She was still asleep. I lay beside her and we wrapped our arms around each other. I knew that we had to get out of that house. Even at such a young age, I was aware of danger. I just felt it in the pit of my stomach that things were never going to get better. With Perry around we would never feel safe, and Anisa had just gone through hell just to hide what he was doing to her. I wanted out. I wanted something better for both me and Anisa, and I promised myself that once we broke free, we would never look back.

Six years of lockup in juvie was too much to even recall. The loneliness, the abandonment, every day spent there took a little bit more of my sanity away. It was bullshit. Day in and day out it was the exact same. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that Anisa was waiting for me on the outside.

My mother tried to come and see me, but I never accepted her visits. I didn’t have shit to say to her because I felt there was no excuse. She wasn’t there for Anisa and me when we needed her most, and as a result, I got locked up and Anisa had skeletons in her closet that she would harbor for the rest of her life. I didn’t fuck with my mother, and I probably never would. All Anisa and I had was each other. That was enough, and she did my time right along with me, keeping my account full as well as visiting me weekly.

I never regretted my actions… not once. That’s part of the reason why they made me do all six years. They had me going to therapy as if I needed rehabilitating. All I had to do was show remorse, and they would have let me go early, but remorse for a mu’fucka like Perry was something I couldn’t even fake. I hated him. He deserved to die, and the older I got, the more I truly understood that I had done the right thing. Nobody knew the connection I had with my sister. Everyone kept saying that my actions weren’t justified because I was never actually raped, but fuck everybody who thought that, and fuck you too if you’re thinking that! Eventually, my turn would have come, and before it did, I erased that nigga from the map. I did what was necessary, and if the tables were turned, I know Anisa would have done the exact same thing for me.

The day I said goodbye to lockup, I promised myself I would never go back. Doing that much time as a child had turned my heart cold. I had changed, but it wasn’t for the better.

Anisa was waiting at the gates. She had really grown up. As I admired her True Religion jeans, matching top and Zanotti pumps, I knew she was doing well. Her hair was cut short in a bob. Her light skin was radiant, and she had the smile of a woman who had seen no struggles. She looked truly happy, as if she was able to let go of what had happened to her. My big sister was beautiful. She was a grown ass woman now, and I hoped to leave the past behind and be just like her.

I was eighteen, not yet a woman, but definitely not a little girl. I was on my own, and the world was at my feet. All I had to do was conquer it.

“Miamor!” she yelled as we ran toward each other with open arms.

“Hey, bitch!” I replied as we embraced. We hugged and cried in excitement.

“I’m so glad you’re out! I missed you, Mia!” Anisa got teary eyed and put her hands on my shoulders so that she could look me in the eye. I already knew what she was about to say. It was something that had been in the air for a long time.

“I’m so sorry, Miamor. I love you. You’re my sister. I’m so happy that you did what you did. You saved my life. I’m just so sorry that you had to go through all of this behind my bullshit,” Anisa said. “Anything you need, I got you. First thing we got to do is get you out of this bullshit ass jail gear.”

I nodded, and we hugged once more before hopping into the car, leaving skid marks behind us as we sped off. She was whipping a nice little Chrysler 300 with leather seats and tinted windows. It wasn’t a Benz, but the shit was fly and more expensive than the average whip.

We rode into Brooklyn, and the first place we went was to the salon. My hair was long as hell because I kept it braided while I was locked up. When my shit was freshly permed and wrapped, it was down my back, all natural, no weave. My skin was flawless, and my figure was on point. I made sure to work out daily, keeping myself lean and feminine in the process with curves all in the right places.

After shopping and getting me a completely new wardrobe, we headed to the apartment that Anisa shared with her man, Murder. I was tripping at how freely she spent money. She was cashing out on me like it grew on trees, even giving me five stacks to keep in my pocket until I got on my feet. Her carefree attitude regarding money had me wondering what she did, because I knew her ass wasn’t working.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Murder. He’s really good to me… that’s my baby!” Anisa bragged as she smiled and batted her eyelashes.

I looked at her in high regard. At first glance, no one would have ever been able to tell what she’d been through. She was the shit, and I admired her for being so strong. I would have thought she would have never been able to trust a nigga. I sure as hell never would. A man who had watched us grow for years had betrayed us without a thought. If he could fuck us over, then I didn’t put shit past any other nigga out there. Love wasn’t in the cards for me.

“What kind of name is Murder?” I asked.

Anisa laughed and replied, “It fits him… trust. That’s the perfect name for that nigga.”

I shrugged as we parked in her building. “You live here?” I asked as we got out of the car. I looked up at the tall sky rise building.

Anisa answered, “Only the high life, babe. I’ll put you up on game later. Right now, let’s get you settled.”

Walking into Anisa’s crib, weed smoke invaded my nostrils, lifting me into a contact high almost immediately.

“Babe, come out here!” Anisa yelled.

Murder walked into the room with a blunt hanging from his lips, his aura commanding my attention and respect instantly. Anisa had definitely done well. The nigga was fly. His chocolate complexion and lean figure was attractive. He had a ball player’s height, but was a bit on the skinny side. It looked like Anisa weighed more than he did. His face was average, maybe even a little below average, but when I inventoried a man, I considered more than his looks. The jewels that were hanging around his neck indicated his status, and the fact that he had my sister plushed out in a luxury condo was all the evidence I needed to know that he was getting money. How? I didn’t know, but he was definitely papered up. He walked over to Anisa and kissed her cheek with casual nonchalance. He grabbed a couple Heinekens out of the refrigerator and tossed one to me, then handed one to Anisa.

“You must be Miamor. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, his strong New Yitty accent complementing his words.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Not a problem. You’re family. Anisa put me up on everything that happened, and I respect it. You can set yourself up in the extra room.” Murder sat down on the couch across from me and passed me the blunt.

Although I had never smoked weed, I accepted it. I had a lot of adjusting to do and a lot to think about as far as my life was concerned, but I didn’t want to stress it. I embraced the temporary relief and put the blunt to my lips. I inhaled deeply. Big mistake! My virgin lungs rejected the weed instantly, and I coughed uncontrollably as I put my hand over my mouth trying to hold the cough in. My shit was on fire, but I was mostly embarrassed, because both Anisa and Murder were cracking up, having a big laugh at my expense.

“You never smoked before?” Anisa asked as the burning finally eased in my chest.

I cut my eyes at her and shook my head no. Her ass knew damn well I hadn’t done shit before-fuck, smoke, drive, even flirt with the opposite sex. Hell, I just had gotten out of lockup! I was a virgin to everything… green to the game. Everything that the average ‘hood chick had experienced by the age of fourteen, I had never been able to do.

“We about to break you in then,” Murder stated with a small grin.

Anisa and I sat up all night, catching up on each other’s lives, filling Murder in on our childhood and the few good times we had experienced. He didn’t interrupt, but instead passed the weed back and forth while letting us do our thing. He just sat back and observed like a gangster would. The weed had me so relaxed and I knew that I had found my new favorite pastime.

By the time daylight crept through the curtains, we were all fucked up. The time had flown by, our reunion making up for the time we were separated. Smoking and drinking all night had me done, but it was the first time that I had felt comfortable in a long time. I was home, and it felt good… real good.

Months 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.

Anisa’s face popped into my mind, and almost simultaneously, Murder pulled away from me as if she had invaded his thoughts too. “Wait! Miamor, we can’t,” he said out of breath. “We can’t do this, ma.”

I could hear the disappointment in his voice. If we had met in another time or another place, then we would have been so right for each other, but we had not. He belonged to Anisa, and I loved her more than I loved myself. How could I do this to her? I thought as I instantly sobered up, the sting of betrayal causing my eyes to burn with tears as I wiped my lips in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I said with a hint of sadness in my voice. “It should have never gone this far.”

“I know,” he agreed as he rubbed the top of his head. We both knew that we had just fucked up. “I know,” he repeated.

“How do I tell my sister something like this? She will never forgive me,” I whispered. “I’m so stupid.”

Murder pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry about it, Mia.”

I could not stop the tears from coming down my face. “She’s going to hate me!” I cried hysterically.

“Shh! Miamor, Shh! Don’t cry, ma. Your sister loves you. I heard about you every day before I ever laid eyes on you. You are all she talks about. She made me love you, Miamor, before I even knew who you were. We both made a big mistake. That’s it. She doesn’t have to know. I would never break her heart like that. We cannot let this happen again though. It’s not meant to be.”

It was the first time I had let anyone penetrate my heart, besides Anisa, and I did not like the sacrifice it took to love another person. Love costs too much. I learned on that day that it was sacrificial. In order to obtain it, I would have had to hurt someone else-more specifically Anisa-and that was something that I refused to do. My sister had endured enough pain in her lifetime. We both had. And although I yearned to know what happiness felt like, I refused to do it at her expense.

As we got into the car, I cried on the inside. This was one more emotional scar that I would have to deal with.

“Miamor?” Murder called as he ruffled my hair playfully. I knew that he was trying to switch the mood back to what it used to be-playful, brotherly and pure-but I moved my head away from him and didn’t respond as I stared out of the window the entire ride home. I already told myself that any unnecessary interaction between us would have to stop. I had never been naïve. I knew that things would never go back to the way they used to be.

After my birthday, I avoided Murder at all costs. It wasn’t “fuck you” between me and him. I could never hate him, It was more like, out of sight out of mind. As long as I wasn’t in his presence, I would never have to deal with what we had done. So, when he was home, I made sure that I was gone, and it seemed like he was avoiding me too. While I used to see him every day, now I was lucky to see him once a week.

Anisa noticed the change in his presence, but she wasn’t tripping. He was bringing in more money than a little bit, taking any and all business calls that came through for him, and as long as the paper trail didn’t stop, Anisa did not give a damn if he laid next to her at night or not.

Despite our strained relationship, business did not stop, and he still had me count up his paper. He would drop it off on the inside of my door at night while I was asleep. In the morning, I would count it, write the total on a slip of paper and put it all in his safe. It was ridiculous how we were acting, but it was our reality at the time.

Lying in bed, I had not been able to sleep since my birthday

I felt so guilty over what had almost occurred between me and Murder. As I tossed and turned, I knew sleep would not come easy. I threw the covers off of my body and got out of the bed. My head was pounding, so I didn’t bother to turn on the lights. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water.

On my way back to my room, I saw a silhouette sitting in the darkness on the couch. “Anisa?” I called out. I flipped on a light switch and saw her sitting there, anger written all over her face. “Why are you sitting in the dark? It’s 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“I’m waiting for Murder to get home,” she replied coldly. “That mu’fucka cleared out his safe, and I want to know why. He’s barely been here for the past three weeks, and now he moved his money. Ever since I’ve known him, I’ve always had access to his paper. He must have met some bitch who got him open, and I’m trying to find out what’s up.”

I was in shock. It wasn’t even like Anisa to be talking like this. “So you think he’s cheating? Anisa, his ass is not cheating on you,” I defended him.

“I don’t give a fuck about that nigga cheating. He can fuck the entire borough for all I care, but he’s not about to be bankrolling the lifestyle of these busted ass hoes out here. I get the dough. Me, and only me. So when his ass comes through the door, he gon’ have to explain to me why I opened up his shit today and the mu’fucka was on E,” she said adamantly.

Anisa was livid, and before I could respond, Murder entered the condo.

“Where you been?” Anisa asked him. She got straight to the point, and from the look on Murder’s face, I could tell she had caught him off guard.

“Fuck you mean, where I been?” he shot back. “You know what’s up.”

“Yeah, I do know what’s up, and how you been acting lately ain’t it. I went into your safe today, and guess what I found?” she asked. Anisa was on a roll because she didn’t even give him a chance to answer. Her hands were on her hip and her neck was rolling while her mouth spouted words out like they were on fire. “Nothing, that’s what I found. It was empty. Are you fucking with another bitch?”

“Anisa, you’re wildin', ma. I don’t got time for this shit,” he dismissed casually. “I’ve got business I need to finish taking care of tonight.”

“You always got business lately! You never used to hit the streets like this before, and when you were out, the safe was full, not empty! So, you cashing out the next chick now?” she asked.

I could see Murder getting upset, but he was trying to keep his composure. But like every woman does so well, Anisa knew how to push her man’s buttons. “Look. I’m not fucking with another bitch, and you know better than to question how I move. I tried to wife you, Anisa. You said you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to take the risk, talking all that shit about me not being dependable and about you needing a nigga to change before you could commit. Now you in here making a scene in front of lil’ mama? What you want me to tell you, Anisa? You know how I get down. Ain’t shit changed. It’s never been about another bitch. It’s about business!” Murder reached into the duffel bag he was carrying and pulled out a thick wad of rubber banded money. “And since it’s all about the money, here!” He tossed that shit in Anisa’s face, then looked at her in disgust before walking out the door. “I’m out!” The door hit the hinges so hard that it shook the walls.

Anisa threw her hands in the air and screamed in frustration. “Fuck that! I know his ass is up to something!” She grabbed her keys off of the table and looked at me. “Put on your shoes and ride with me for a minute.”

“What? Anisa, I’m not even dressed! Where are we going?” I asked, astonished at how far she was taking this.

“We’re about to follow his ass,” she declared.

I wanted to tell her no, because I knew that Murder was faithful to Anisa. He was never home because of me, but of course I couldn’t tell her that. Anisa was tripping over money, making herself look like a real gold digger, and that wasn’t even her personality. Murder always took care of home. Whatever reason he had for clearing the safe, I knew it was a good one.

“Come on, Miamor!”

I slipped a hoody on over my camisole and slipped into some skinny jeans. I stepped into my flip flops and was out the door. I had never seen my sister and Murder even disagree, so this full-fledged argument was so out of character for them both. I felt like I was the cause of it. Everything was fine before I made the stupid mistake of kissing Murder.

We slid into Anisa’s Chrysler, and just as Murder pulled out of the parking lot, we tailed him, making sure we stayed at least a half block behind him at all times.

“Anisa, are you sure you want to do this?” I asked when I noticed us getting onto the bridge headed out of New York and into Jersey. The look she shot me told me to shut the fuck up and ride, so that’s what I did, even though in my gut I knew that something about the entire situation did not feel right.

“You don’t know Murder like you think you do, Miamor,” Anisa said. “The nigga ain’t the saint that he be trying to make himself out to be. You wanna know why you can’t answer the phone in the house? The type of business he’s into? The nigga is grimy, Miamor.”

“He’s a hustler, Anisa. He’s never done you dirty. How can you say that?” I asked.

“Baby sister, open your eyes. He ain’t a hustler. He’s the one the hustlers call when they got a problem or when they need to make a problem disappear. He’s a killer, Miamor. He would murk yo ass if the money was good. Why the fuck you think his name is Murder?” Anisa stated harshly as she floored the gas pedal, trying to keep up with Murder.

A killer? I thought incredulously. I’m around him all the time. How could I have not known? Why didn’t he just tell me? I’m a big girl. I could’ve handled it.

I was lost in my thoughts and couldn’t picture the attentive man I had come to know killing anybody, but then the look of rage that I had witnessed in his eyes the night of my party flashed through my mind. “I will murder a nigga over you!” he had said. I could hear his words as if he was in my ear whispering them at that very moment. Syllable by syllable, the phrase replayed in my mind. At the time I thought he was being overprotective, but now I knew that he had meant every word he had spoken. It was something flattering about the fact that he would take a risk like that over me. Instead of feeling fear, I smiled, but quickly wiped it off my face so Anisa wouldn’t take notice.

I felt the car jerk as she hit her breaks suddenly, and cut off her headlights. “There that nigga go right there. What the fuck is he doing way out here? He gone make me beat a bitch ass!” Anisa threatened. She was so blind with rage that she was not making sense.

As I looked around, I frowned. We were pulling onto a dead end street. There was nothing around us but old, abandoned buildings. “Anisa, I think you’re taking this too far,” I finally spoke up.

“I’m not trying to hear all that. All I know is if he’s meeting a bitch here, I’m gon’ fuck some shit up,” she said.

I sighed and noticed lights approaching from behind

“Get down. Here comes somebody,” she said.

We inched down in our seats until the car had passed us, and noticed that it was stopping directly next to Murder’s vehicle. The brake lights came on, and somebody stepped out of the car. It was hard to see because all of the street lights were busted out in this part of town.

“I can’t see shit,” Anisa whispered. “Can you see who just got out of the car?”

“I can only see Murder,” I replied.

“Fuck this!” Anisa said. She got out of the car and shouted, “Murder, what the fuck is going on?”

“Nigga, you trying to set me up?” I heard a man’s voice yell out angrily.

I scrambled to turn on the headlights because I still couldn’t see what was going on. Finally, I turned the lights on, illuminating the dead end.

Murder reached for his pistol, but before he could pull it from his waistline, the guy Murder had been meeting withdrew first, pointing a chrome.45 in Murder’s face.

“No!” I heard Anisa scream as she ran toward the scene.

“Anisa!” I yelled after her as I got out of the car.

Murder rushed the dude who had to be twice his size, and his sneak attack caused the guy’s gun to slide across the concrete.

“Murder!” Anisa cried out as she watched the two men tussle on the ground

Murder finally pulled his gun, but the dude wasn’t giving up easily. He grabbed Murder’s wrists and used his weight to his advantage as they struggled for power, both knowing that whoever ended up with the steel in their hands at the end was the only one leaving the scene alive.

Anisa ran straight into the confrontation, grabbing the guy by the shirt. He flung her to the ground and muscled the gun away from Murder.

I ran as fast as I could toward them. My flip flops came off halfway there and the gravel dug into the bottom of my feet as I sprinted toward my sister. He had the gun pointed their way, but never saw me coming. I picked up a brick and smashed it against the side of his face with all my might. It was like an ant going against a giant, because although it dazed him, it didn’t stop him from firing the gun. He slapped the shit out of me, sending me flying to the ground. I landed on my stomach, something hard digging into my side as I heard the gun shots ring out.

Boom! Boom!

“No!” I screamed. I felt Murder’s gun directly underneath me and I grabbed it without thinking, and still lying on the ground, I scrambled backwards and fired.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The dude dropped instantly and in the blink of an eye, and behind some beef that I did not even own, I’d caught my second body.

Flashes of Perry came back to me. I started to relive that nightmare all over again… Anisa’s screams in my ear, the baby she had killed because of him… all of the sudden the man lying before me dying was Perry. The dude was scrambling, holding his stomach and choking on his own blood. Shakily, I stood to my feet, walked over to him, and put the gun to his head. I pulled the trigger again and again and again, until the click of an empty chamber forced me to stop, and his blood splatter covered my shirt.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Anisa yelled out. “I’m so sorry, Murder! I’m so sorry!”

I could hear sirens in my ears, but I couldn’t force myself to move. My feet felt like they were made of cement.

“Miamor, help me… he’s shot!”

I was in a daze. I heard Anisa calling my name, but it wasn’t until I heard Murder call me that I snapped out of it. “Miamor!” he called out sternly. I turned my head, my chest heaving, tears in my eyes, and distress in my heart. “I need you, ma!”

His shirt was soaked in blood, and Anisa helped him to his feet. He cringed in pain as her hands searched his body. “Where are you hit?” she asked, the sirens getting clearer.

Murder lifted his shirt to reveal the vest he wore underneath. “It’s just a shoulder wound,” he stated. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,” he said with urgency.

He led Anisa back to her car and put her in the passenger side. She was crying and kept apologizing over and over. “Get in the car, Anisa!” he yelled as he stuffed her inside and closed the door. He then came over to me. The sounds of the police were right around the corner now. I knew they would be here at any minute.

I looked up at Murder. “I shot him!” I whispered. My hands were shaking. The second murder of my life had not been as easy to commit as the first. This one shook me to the bottom of my soul. Did he have kids? A wife? He was somebody’s son. Did he deserve to die? All of these things ran through my mind in a split second.

Murder put his hand on the side of my face. “I know what you’re feeling, ma.”

I couldn’t look him in the face.

“Look at me,” he said. “You did what you had to do. Now, I need you to get your head together and fast. I need you to get out of here. Take this gun and take care of it for me. Listen to me, Miamor, it’s important.” He grabbed my shoulders and stared at me intensely. “No weapons, no body, no murder. I need you to make that happen. I’m trusting you, lil’ mama. I’ll distract the police away from you.”

“You’re hurt! What about you? He’s dead. They’ll arrest you,” I said as I shook my head.

“Just do it!” He pushed me inside the car and hit the top of the roof. “Drive, Miamor. Go now!”

I skirted out of the dead end and took off down the road as I watched him run back and get into his car. I made a right off of the dead end street just as a police car was pulling onto it. Then, Murder turned recklessly to the left and sideswiped the police car purposefully to get them to follow him.

“Oh my God! Miamor, they’re going after him! Why did I do this? This is all my fault! That’s not even me, Mia. I don’t even do shit like this!” Anisa cried hysterically.

“Shut up, Anisa!” I yelled. “What’s done is done. You have to calm down. I have to get rid of this gun, and we need to lay low. I can’t think with you in my ear with all that crying.”

Anisa sat back in her seat and muffled her cries, while I found myself driving back into the city. I worried about going across the bridge and paying the toll. I was paranoid. If by some chance the police had gotten the plate number on Anisa’s car, then they would be waiting for us for sure. If the car got searched, then it would be a wrap, because the murder weapon was under my seat with my prints all over it.

When I came to the toll, I felt like my heart was going to explode. I was sweating, my face was swollen from being slapped to the ground, and I knew I looked a mess. The worker didn’t even look my way as she took my money and allowed me to enter New York.

“Where are we going?” Anisa asked.

“I have to do something,” I replied quietly. “It’s important.” I found myself driving to Queens, to the pawnshop that Murder had taken me to when I first got out. I was surprised that I remembered where it was, but instinct led me there. He had told me to get rid of the gun. This is the only way I knew how to.

It was too early for the pawnshop to be open, so we waited. Anisa eventually fell asleep, but I couldn’t. Not after everything that had gone down. I was wide awake and more afraid than I had ever been. The moon disappeared as the sun kissed the city streets and welcomed a new day. Hours had passed, and when I finally saw the owner approach the pawnshop, I jumped out of the car and met him at the front door.

“I need your help,” I said frantically.

He looked at me curiously, probably wondering what hell I’d been through since my face was bruised and there was still blood all over me. “Murder sent me. I need to get rid of a gun.”

The older man nodded and ushered me inside, then locked the door behind us. I put the gun on the counter the same way I had seen Murder do months before.

“It’s five hundred each gun,” he said.

“I don’t have any money,” I admitted.

“I’m not running a charity, girl. Five hundred is my price,” he stated.

I held the car key to Anisa’s whip in my hand. I held it up for him. “Take the car.”

“For a five hundred dollar debt you are giving me a brand new car?” the man asked suspiciously.

“Look!” I yelled in desperation. “I need to get rid of this gun. I don’t give a fuck about the car. How much is the car worth?”

“I’ll give you ten grand for it,” the man stated. “Fine. Give me $9,500 and make this gun disappear,” I settled.

He nodded, and I followed him to the basement where the barrels of acid were located. After watching the gun dissolve in the acid, I felt relieved.

“You need anything else?” he asked, and motioned toward the wall of guns and weapons.

I nodded. After what I had just done, I didn’t want to be caught slipping. I had no idea what type of repercussions would come from my actions, and I wanted to be prepared. “Give me something small.”

The old man pulled a small black.25 from the wall. “How does that feel in your hands?” he asked.

I gripped the tiny handgun and nodded my head in approval. “I’ll take it.”

I rushed out of the shop to find Anisa waiting anxiously in the car. “Get out,” I instructed.

“What do you mean, get out? What’s happening?” she looked terrible. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and she had bags full of worry.

“I sold your car,” I said.

“What?” she exclaimed.

“Nis, this car can be traced back to that murder scene. It’s not worth it.” I split the money I had left with her. “We’ll take the subway back home. We need to wait to hear from

Murder.”

“How did you know where to go to get rid of the gun?” she asked.

I stopped walking and turned toward her. “Murder taught me,” I replied.

Carter sat inside the Diamond Estate… his father’s home… now his home, and sighed in angst from his current circumstance. He had been released from jail just weeks before because the prosecutor’s star witness, Ace, suddenly had a change of heart. Carter smiled, knowing that Mecca and Zyir had came through for him and got him off the hook. Now that he was out, he had more important things on his mind instead of prison. Mecca sat across from him, cautiously watching Carter.

Both men were silent, each with a different pain in his heart. The war with the Haitians had been won, but at what cost? They both felt like they had given up too much in order to win. Yes, they still had control of the city, but everything that really mattered in life had been destroyed. Their family had been dismantled all for the sake of power.

“Where is she, fam?” Carter asked aloud as he opened and closed the black velvet ring box that contained the engagement ring that he had planned to give to Miamor. It had been months and he hadn’t heard from her. As soon as he was arrested, Miamor had disappeared, and although he could deal with the thought of incarceration and he could handle all of the risks that came with the game, he could not fathom the idea of never seeing her again. He could see her face, her smile, her eyes, as if she had been by his side just yesterday. She was on his brain constantly, and as long as he was unaware of her whereabouts, he would not be able to concentrate on anything else. She was important to him… the only thing he had left to keep him sane. She was the woman who was supposed to be his wife and bear his children. How could she just walk away? He thought grimly. The thought angered and saddened him at the same time.

Mecca stopped himself from smirking. Look at this lovesick ass nigga! he fumed. He was tired of Carter sulking over Miamor. He didn’t feel a need to tell Carter of Miamor’s deception. He had handled that beef personally, and now that she was out of the picture, he was completely satisfied. He had avenged the deaths of his mother and sister. Although vengeance had come at the expense of Carter’s heart, he knew that in time Carter would move on with his life.

“Nigga, you need to take them blinders off when it comes to that bitch,” Mecca stated harshly. “She left you stinking. You haven’t seen or heard from her since the day you were knocked. She was probably a Fed or something. Forget about her. Grimy ass bitch was playing a role to get you caught up. You took the bait. It happens to the best of us.”

Mecca’s words made Carter’s heart throb in agonizing pain. The thought of Miamor’s betrayal was too heavy a burden for him to carry. “Maybe you’re right, bro,” he said with doubt.

“Nigga, I am right. That bitch got you around here fucked up. You a clean nigga. She got you growing beards and shit,” Mecca joked, making light of the situation. “You need to be thinking about keeping the Feds off your doorstep. Just because that snitch nigga, Ace is in the wind don’t mean you’re in the clear. The government doesn’t lose often. You walking free is an embarrassment to them. They’re not done with you yet, so we need to be prepared for whatever they have planned. After your freedom’s guaranteed, the rest will fall into place.”

Carter nodded, knowing that Mecca was speaking the truth. He was focused on all the wrong things. His life was hanging in the wings, and he needed to be at his best in order to overcome the odds that were stacked against him.

Mecca stood. “I’m outta here, fam. I’ll get with you later. I won’t be making too many more trips to this side of town coming to check on you. I still got issues left unsettled,” he said, reminding Carter of his unfinished business with Emilio Estes.

“Keep a body with you at all times,” Carter said with authority. “Don’t be on that Superman shit, Mecca. You can’t go against the Dominican mafia alone.”

Mecca lifted his shirt with one hand, revealing a.380 snub chrome nine-milli, and a.45 tucked against his rock hard abdomen. “Fuck another nigga! I got my bitches lined up right here,” Mecca replied arrogantly. “They won’t catch me slipping again.”

Carter nodded. “I hear you. Be smart and be careful,” he said.

Carter arose and walked around the immaculate mansion. The gray sweats and white T-shirt he wore were very uncharacteristic of him. The fear of the unknown had him out of his element, and he spent his days confined to the house, his thoughts of Miamor driving him insane. He had everything in the world that a man could want-power, money, luxury, but without her, it all held no value. He would easily give it all up to be with her, and had thought that her love for him ran just as deep.

Pouring himself a glass of Remy VSOP, he made his way over to the picturesque window that overlooked the front of the estate. A cable van sat on the street, undoubtedly filled with federal agents who were monitoring his home, trying to build a new case on him. He wouldn’t give them the ammunition they needed to send him away. Prison wasn’t for him. He’d send them to their graves before they shipped him back to prison. He opened the door and walked outside. He acknowledged his armed workers with head nods as he carried the glass of cognac in his hand. Fifty men surrounded the estate, all fully aware of everything and everyone around them, but no one was allowed to enter his home, with the exception of Mecca and Zyir. Carter made his way to the gate and nodded for his keeper to open it. He walked to the edge of the street to retrieve his daily newspaper. A huge picture of his face covered the front page:

“Breeze!” Zyir screamed into the phone as he strained to hear the conversation on the other end of the line. He could barely hear what was going on, but he knew that it was her. He felt it in his gut. She had only said his name, but she was the only person who had the ability to say it so sweetly. “Breeze! Pick up the phone!” he yelled. Tears came to his eyes when the call was disconnected. His heart was beating so rapidly that he had to pull the car over. He hit his steering wheel in frustration. She had called him. He didn’t know where she was or why it had taken her so long to reach out to him, but she was alive, and he had to find her. He picked up his phone and speed-dialed Young Carter.

“Zy, how that money looking out in-” Carter started to speak, but Zyir interrupted him.

“She’s alive, fam! Breeze is alive, man!” Zyir stated, getting choked up. After months of her death haunting him, his faith was restored. Breeze had been the only chick who had been able to steal Zyir’s focus away from his hustle. He had nightmares about her death every night. He felt responsible for what had happened to her, but now he was sure that she was out there somewhere, and out of all the people she could have called, she chose him.

His statement took Carter by surprise. “Zyir, fam, Breeze is…”

“Carter, she called me! She called my fucking phone! She’s alive! I’m on my way to you!” he screamed urgently.

“I’m not at home. I’m leaving my barber now. We don’t need to meet at the house. Feds are crawling all over the place. Meet me at Mecca’s money house. I’ll give him a call,” Carter answered.

Zyir’s stomach was hollow as he raced toward Liberty City where Mecca stashed the drugs and money that he distributed and collected from the Lib City hustlers. He beat both Mecca and Carter there. He scoped the entire block, removed the money he was transporting, and with the duffel bag in one hand and his pistol in the other, he entered the home. He quickly opened the safe and stuffed the money inside. Carter’s rule was to count the cash before putting it away, but Zyir’s head was all over the place. He didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone but Breeze.

He paced the living room floor, trying to play back the pieces of conversation he had heard on the phone. “Where is she?” he mumbled to himself. “Think. What did you hear?” he said over and over.

Zyir was driving himself crazy. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even hear Carter come in. Mecca walked in directly behind Carter and they watched as Zyir talked to himself. Carter noticed the worried look on Zyir’s face. He had seen Zyir sell crack to his own mother and not bat an eye. He knew his lil’ nigga through and through. The look of concern that Zyir held was the same one that Carter felt inside for Miamor. It was then that he knew Zyir’s love for Breeze ran deeper than anyone knew.

“Zyir,” Carter called out, startling him.

“Fuck is up with you, fam?” Mecca asked.

“Breeze… she’s still alive,” Zyir stated.

A look of anger flickered in Mecca’s eyes, and he pointed his finger sternly toward Zyir. “Don’t speak her name, nigga. You didn’t even know her like that. After eight months, you talking about she’s alive!” Mecca said, becoming emotional over his baby sister.

“Fuck you! Bitch-ass nigga!” Zyir yelled back. He didn’t give a fuck. He knew Mecca was a killer, but Zyir had been taught to only fear a nigga who didn’t bleed. “I just told you your sister is alive! Whether you want to believe it or not, she’s out there, and I’m gon’ find her!”

Mecca’s hands automatically rested on his waistline for easy access to his burner, but he had to remember that Zyir was family now. That fact alone kept Zyir breathing after disrespecting Mecca, but he was skeptical, and his doubt showed on his face. “She’s been gone eight months,” Mecca stated sadly.

“She called me!” Zyir yelled.

“She called you?” Mecca answered. “How the fuck you know it ain’t one of these lurking-ass mu’fuckas trying to throw you off and set you up? Huh? Why the fuck would she call you?”

Carter watched the exchange back and forth as he attempted to figure out where Zyir’s logic was coming from. Zyir had never given him a reason to doubt him before, and he was slowly beginning to recall all the time that Zyir and Breeze had spent together.

“It wasn’t nobody else. I know her voice, mu’fucka. She called me. She was crying and she said my name. I’m her man, and she needs me! I have to find her, and I’ll murk any nigga who tries to stop me!” Zyir said through clenched teeth as he looked Mecca directly in the eyes. Zyir was an emotional wreck. Breeze was still alive, he would put his life on it, and he was willing to go against a thousand armies to get her back. She had been out there alone and vulnerable for eight months, while The Cartel had buried her and moved on.

Seeing Zyir’s conviction brought tears to Mecca’s eyes, which he quickly brushed away as he felt his anger rise. He wanted to shoot Zyir’s ass in the foot for fucking around with his little sister in the first place, but he was glad that she had chose a nigga who was built right, one who was willing to go to the ends of the earth because of a phone call. Breeze had chosen a lil’ nigga who Mecca thought their father would have approved of. Mecca nodded his head and looked at Carter, who sat there calmly, grinding his jaw, a clear indication that he was angry.

“We buried her. We counted her out, and she’s been out there all this time,” Zyir said.

“What did you hear?” Carter asked.

“It was muffled, but it sounded like she was talking to a doctor,” Zyir replied.

“Check the hospitals… every hospital in the state if you have to,” Carter instructed to Zyir. “Mecca, you too, but stay out of Florida. Estes is still on your ass. He’s lying low, but that don’t mean he’s gone. You check hospitals in Georgia and Alabama, and even go as far as Mississippi if nothing shakes. If she’s out there, we won’t stop until we bring her home. If anyone hears anything, let me be the first to know.”

Mecca left in search of his baby sister. It had been a long time since he’d prayed, but for this, he closed his eyes and asked God for help. When he was gone Carter turned to Zyir.

“Why did she call you?” Carter asked. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to see if Zyir would keep it one hundred with him.

Zyir rubbed the top of his head, his eyebrows raised in distress. “I was fucking with her, fam,” Zyir admitted.

Carter stood sternly. “And the day she was taken?” Carter asked.

“She was with me,” Zyir admitted. Carter nodded his head.

Zyir could see the fire blazing in his demeanor, but out of respect, he held his tongue.

Carter began to walk out of the house and stopped at the doorway. “Find her,” he said simply, then left Zyir to his thoughts.

Zyir searched high and low, visiting hospitals, spending every minute of his day looking for Breeze. He doubted that she was still in the city. He couldn’t imagine her being so close for this long without word getting back to The Cartel. He started in the surrounding cities. From Palm Beach to Tampa to Orlando and Ft. Lauderdale, he drove for hours, fighting fatigue on a desperate mission to find her. He had a list of over 100 hospitals in Florida. He called some to see if they had any patients who fit Breeze’s description. If there was even a possibility that a patient could be her, then Zyir hit the highway.

After ten hours of disappointments, he had exhausted every hospital on the list, except for the local Miami institutions. He decided to visit Baptist Hospital first.

A tight knot filled his stomach as he whipped his Lexus through the city streets. He was tired, but he couldn’t call it a night. He didn’t have time to sleep. The thought of Breeze suffering somewhere would not allow him to stop his hunt. He had heard the fear in her voice. Wherever she was, she was in danger and she was defenseless. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined the terror she may be going through.

Little did he know, he could not fathom what she was being forced to endure. Her fate was worse than death. Her torture was unimaginable.

Zyir pulled into the emergency room parking lot and jumped out. He walked into the hospital. Doubt and apprehension ate away at him as he approached the nurse’s station.

“Can I help you, sir?” a young black girl asked without looking up from the paperwork in front of her.

“I’m looking for a girl who may have been treated here. Her name is Breeze Diamond,” Zyir stated.

At the mention of the last name “Diamond", the girl looked up. Her eyes scanned Zyir from head to toe. She instantly knew he was a part of The Cartel. Everything about Zyir screamed power, and his swagger made her wet instantly. The young nurse had never had the pleasure of being this close to one of The Cartel’s members. She had only heard about their prestige because their reputation rang loudly in every ‘hood in Florida. The last name Diamond was associated with money in the city of Miami, but it was an exclusive club, and not everyone had access to them. Today must be my lucky day, she thought as she ogled him from head to toe. She put the tip of a pen in her mouth seductively, obviously vying for his attention.

Zyir’s patience was non-existent at this point. He was immune to her flirtation. “Look, bitch, I don’t got time for all that extra shit. Type in the name and see if she’s here,” he said crudely without ever raising his voice.

An embarrassed expression appeared on the girl’s face as she turned toward the computer. “Breeze Diamond,” the girl repeated as she typed the name. She shook her head. “She wasn’t treated here. There is no record of a Diamond being admitted.”

Zyir massaged his jaw line and hit the desk in frustration, causing the girl to jump. His red eyes were filled with worry. “Look, I need to find her. She’s young, light skinned, long curly hair… she has a small mole on the side of her neck and a scar on her collarbone. She may not be here under her name. I just need you to check to see if there’s anybody here that fits her description. Please!” Zyir said desperately. “It’s important!”

The nurse could sense his agony and nodded her head. “Okay. You can have a seat. I’ll check.”

Zyir sat down with his head in his hands. Minutes passed, but it felt like time was frozen still.

“Sir?” the nurse called to him.

He rushed over to the desk.

“We have a Jane Doe here. She came in a few months ago with no ID, and no one has been here to claim her yet. You can take a look to see if it’s who you’re looking for,” the nurse stated with sympathy.

“Thank you, ma,” Zyir stated as he followed her to the elevator and down a long hallway. Zyir breathed deeply. Please, let this be her! he said in his mind.

The nurse stopped in front of a room. “I just want to warn you, she’s in pretty bad shape. There are injuries to her face and body,” the nurse warned.

Zyir wiped his nose and nodded his head to prepare himself for what he was about to see. The nurse opened the door. The room was dark, and the sound of machines beeping was all that could be heard. He stepped closer to the bed, and when the lights turned on, he gasped in shock.

“Is this her?” the nurse asked.

Zyir was at a loss for words as he stared at the woman before him. She was barely recognizable. She looked as if she was hanging onto her life by a thread. He shook his head and backpedaled out of the room. “No, it’s not her,” he said. He rushed out of the hospital and immediately dialed Carter’s number. It was two o’clock in the morning, but it was a phone call that could not wait.

“Hello?” Carter answered groggily.

“Fam, it’s me,” Zyir said.

“Did you find her?” Carter asked.

“Carter, I found your girl. I found Miamor!”

Breeze began to feel better, and Ma’tee had allowed her to roam free in the secluded basement without being bound to the bed. It had been a week since she was at the hospital, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Zyir’s voice. She knew that she had blown the only chance that she had to be saved. She paced the room back and forth as she tried to think of a way out of the clutches of Ma’tee, but she was beginning to realize that she would never escape. He was in complete control, and had become obsessed with her. She broke down into tears as she began to accept her reality. “I would rather die!” she whispered as she felt like giving up on life. She was a Diamond, and she took pride in that name. She would rather die on her feet rather than live on her knees. She, at that moment, gave up on life.

The sound of the door unlocking startled her, and she stared at the steps until she saw the feet of Ma’tee emerging. He walked down, smiling as if he was a husband coming home to his wife.

“I hate you!” Breeze whispered as she backed into a corner, watching him walking toward her. She saw the look in his eyes, and already knew what his intentions were. He came down there for sex. “No, Ma’tee! Don’t do this!” she begged as she held her hands out in front of her.

“Relax, beautiful gal,” Ma’tee said as he licked his lips and thought about how good it felt to be inside of Breeze’s tight wound. He had broken her virginity months ago, but every time seemed like the first time to him.

Breeze learned that fighting back only made it worse for her, so she reluctantly got up and walked toward the bed. Ma’tee followed closely behind her and began to rub her behind. He relieved her of her gown and looked at her naked, slender body as she lay on the bed. Tears were running down her face, but he paid them no mind as he prepared to have his way with her. He dropped his pants and began to degrade her.

Ma’tee went down on her and performed oral sex on her as she laid there not responding to him at all. Her legs shook, not in pleasure but in fear as he ate her out sloppily. Tears ran down her face as she had no choice but to submit to Ma’tee.

Breeze cried as she watched Ma’tee pull up his pants and look down at her. There was no remorse on his face. The fact that he was killing her slowly on the inside meant nothing to him. The sweat from his brow dripped down his dark face, causing Breeze’s stomach to turn in disgust. The sick smile that he wore terrified her. He was so sure of himself… so proud of the sexual acts he had forced upon her. Ma’tee had even gone as far as to ejaculate inside of young Breeze, in a twisted attempt to impregnate her. He knew that a child would join them together forever, and that was his ultimate goal. Without saying a word, he walked away and up the stairs. Breeze heard the sounds of Ma’tee locking the deadbolts that trapped her in the basement.

Breeze sat up and began to cry. She felt so violated and dirty. Ma’tee had degraded her on many occasions, and she was forced to give her virginity to a man that she hated; the same man that was responsible for her father’s death. She got on her knees and began to pray to God, hoping that her father also heard her prayers. She was at a point where she didn’t want to live anymore. Her regard for life was slowly fading.

The longer she stared at the four walls of her imprisonment, the more her mind abandoned her. Breeze knew that if she didn’t find a way out, then she would go insane.

She finished her prayer and got up to walk to the bathroom that was connected to the basement. She stood over the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from her endless crying, and as she stared at the woman in the mirror, she couldn’t even recognize herself. She was not the same girl. The young woman staring back at her was not Breeze Diamond. At that point, she realized that she had not looked at herself in almost a year. Every time she used the bathroom, she would just avoid eye contact with the mirror, almost as if she were ashamed. Ma’tee had stripped her of her innocence a long time ago, and she was not who she once was. The naïveté of a young little rich girl had disappeared. She now knew pain. She now knew what war really was. She now knew loneliness.

“Diamonds are forever!” she whispered as she wiped away her tears and repeated a motto that her father would always say to her as a young girl. She knew that she had the blood of a king, and at that moment, refused to let Ma’tee hurt her anymore.

She glanced over at the corner of the room and saw something that could possibly help her escape Ma’tee grasp. She took a deep breath and walked toward it. She had just gotten an idea.

All with tears in their eyes, Mecca, Carter and Zyir walked down the dirt path that led to their awaiting helicopter. They had just climbed down the mountain, none of them saying anything to each other on their way down. Breeze’s limp, lifeless body was in Zyir’s arms as he carried her with strength, determined to hold her upright and comfortable, even though it was in vain.

The town’s patrons followed as they saw Zyir carrying the dead body. It looked as if a parade was going on, with Carter, Zyir, and Mecca leading the pack.

Mecca held his gun out in the open as he walked in broad daylight, with onlookers looking at them in disbelief. With tears flowing, he promised himself that anyone he saw that resembled a Haitian would die in honor of his hatred for Ma’tee. Mecca was at a point where he didn’t give a fuck about human life anymore. He was already ruthless, but he had crossed the line, graduating to psychotic. He just wanted somebody to pay for all the grief that Ma’tee and his Haitian mob had caused his family. It seemed as if every Haitian resembled Ma’tee, and Mecca wanted vengeance.

He saw a spectator with a head full of dreads on the side of the road, along with the crowd. Mecca was going all out in tribute to Breeze.

He glanced at her body, and the sight of the red belt marks around her neck made him sick to his stomach. That sight was the most hurtful thing he had ever seen. He knew that Breeze loved herself too much to kill herself. For her to commit suicide, life had to be unbearable. This thought infuriated Mecca and pushed him to his boiling point. He looked back at the dread head and let him have it. Mecca pointed and fired, catching him in the chest. Although the man had no association with Ma’tee and posed no harm, Mecca didn’t care. He was borderline insane at that point. As the thunderous sound of the gunshot echoed through the air, people began to scream in horror and run for cover as Mecca looked for any other Haitian that even resembled Ma’tee.

The gunshots didn’t bother Carter or Zyir. Usually they would try to tame Mecca, but this time they let his rage flow uninhibited. Neither of them even flinched as Mecca let off round after round, while never stopping his slow pace as they walked. They knew that Mecca was creating therapy for himself in some sort of sick way. Who were they to tell him how to grieve? They were both heartbroken, and the only thing on their minds was getting Breeze back to the States for a proper burial.

Zyir cried silently and kissed Breeze on the forehead while she was in his arms. “I love you,” he repeatedly whispered to her as he continued down the trail.

Mecca continued to shoot calmly, with no expression on his face. People were yelling in terror and scattered like roaches as Mecca continued his therapy session.

They reached the helicopter, and the driver was waiting, just as Carter had told him to.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Carter whispered to himself, referring to burying loved ones. It was as if a healed wound was reopened when they saw Breeze’s body hanging from that belt. They had to suffer her death twice, and it was taking a toll on what was left of The Cartel.

They entered the helicopter and the pilot carried them back to the States. The chopper ride remained silent and painful, as tears fell down all of their cheeks.

“What are we going to do?” Anisa asked as she paced back and forth and stared at Murder’s arrest on the TV.

“I don’t know,” I replied, clueless.

The police had Murder in handcuffs, and had confiscated the money he had on him; all the money he had to his name. His head hung low, and he tried to avoid the flash of the media cameras.

My stomach was doing somersaults as I watched in disbelief, and my foot tapped anxiously against the floor. I was pissed at Anisa, but I would never tell her. If she had not gone off on her ridiculous tangent, then none of this would have ever happened. No words needed to be spoken to establish guilt. We were both there, we knew how it had gone down, and she knew that it was her fault. In a zombie like state I walked past her. I was still covered in blood and needed to take a shower.

The eyes of the man that I had killed haunted me. I put the soiled clothing in a plastic bag and stepped under the hot stream of water. It was almost too hot to bear, but I needed it to cleanse myself. I was desperate for the shower to wash away the sins that I had committed that night. The blood ran down my body and turned pink as it swirled down the drain.

Why did this have to happen? I asked myself as my tears kicked in. I cried silently for all that I had lost. After everything that I had been through when I came out of lockup, my life finally felt normal. I had felt like I found a family in Murder and Anisa, but my disillusioned view of safety had come crashing down around me the moment I pulled my second trigger. Two lives had gone extinct behind my actions, and although I would never regret killing Perry, my second murder was weighing heavily on my heart. It was then that I realized I was not normal. I never had been, and after tonight, I never would be.

Scrubbing my skin until it was raw, I washed my body until the water ran cold. I was grateful for the film of steam that covered the bathroom mirror. I wasn’t ready to face myself. I didn’t want to look into my eyes, because I was sure that I would not recognize the girl who stared back at me.

Knock! Knock!

“Miamor, are you okay?” Anisa called through the door.

My hands shook as I picked up the plastic bag filled with my blood-soaked clothes, and I opened the door to let her in. “I’m fine,” I answered. “I need to take these clothes to the incinerator.”

She took my hand, reminding me of how she used to take care of me when we were little, then led me out of the apartment. We entered the room where the incinerator was and I tossed the bag inside. Anisa rubbed my hair and put her arms around me as we both watched it burn.

“Everything is going to be okay, Miamor. We have to move on, and you have to forget that tonight ever happened,” Anisa said.

I looked at her with a blank expression. “What about

Murder?”

Anisa didn’t look at me. Instead, she stared into the fire. “Murder knew the risks of the game he was playing. I knew one day something would go down and he wouldn’t come home. Today is that day.”

I wanted to tell her that today would not have been “the day” if it hadn’t been for her, but I had to take responsibility in the situation too, because I could have stopped it. “We have to help him get out of this, Nis,” I protested.

“There is no getting out of this, Miamor. He got caught. I’m not going to risk you going away again. I can let him go, but I will never forgive myself if I have to see them take you away again. Murder is gone… it is what it is,” she said coldly.

Benjamin Wilkes aka Benny Dough was our first hit. I could never forget his name, because he was getting paper, and being flashy was what he lived to do. All of Brooklyn knew who he was. A big time party promoter in the city, he wasn’t hard to find. We couldn’t have asked for an easier mark. Like clockwork, on Sunday nights he frequented Tenders, a local strip joint. It was ballers’ night, which attracted all the get-money niggas in the ‘hood.

Anisa and I came out shining that night, whipping my Benz up to the club’s valet as if we belonged amongst the ‘hood’s rich and infamous list. Rocking Gucci, diamonds, and Prada, to the naked eye we fit right in with Brooklyn’s elite, but we knew the deal. We were fronting and dead broke, but we were about to put in work. Legs greased, body right, and hair and makeup on point, we slid into the club. Weed smoke was in the air and liquor flowed freely as we found a booth in the corner of the room. The small burner I had purchased from Murder’s gun connect was underneath my dress, strapped to my inner thigh. We didn’t have time to purchase another one, so we rolled with a single pistol, figuring that it would be all the muscle we would need to take care of the job.

Benny Dough was in the VIP section, popping bottles as he and his entourage made the club rain. They were being entertained by three strippers, and even I had to admit that they were some bad bitches. They each looked like they had been ripped straight from the pages of King Magazine. They were the type of bitches that regular chicks loved to hate, and they had his full attention as they danced seductively in front of him.

“We might have some competition,” Anisa whispered in my ear.

I shook my head. “We’re not trying to juice the nigga’s pockets. We’re here for a completely different reason. He’s drunk, and they are the perfect distraction. Let them do what they do, and we’ll do what we do,” I replied. “Let’s go to the bar. We can see better from over there.”

Anisa and I made our way through the darkened club. Our hips commanding the attention of the patrons, the two of us together gained more interest than some of the dancers, but we kept it pushing. It was our first job, and neither of us wanted to fuck it up. Fifty thousand dollars was at stake, and we were about nothing but our paper that night.

“Can I get an apple martini?” I asked the bartender. I never took a sip from the drink, but I held it for good measure. I didn’t want to be the only person at the bar without a glass in my hand. I wanted to blend in while I discreetly watched every move that Benny made. I watched Anisa kill her drink, and I could see that she was nervous, but the liquid courage she’d just consumed would be more than enough to get her through the night. We both prayed that everything went perfectly. We were a far cry from the seasoned killer that Murder was, but we were stepping into his shoes. I crossed my fingers and hoped that things played out right.

I was so focused that I didn’t even notice the dude that had slid into the seat next to me. He turned the swivel stool I was sitting in around so that I was facing him. I frowned, and was about to say something until he leaned into my ear.

“You and yo girl about to rob that nigga or something?” he asked.

His question caught me completely off guard, and my heartbeat began to speed up. Are we that obvious? I thought as I gave him the evil eye and stood to leave.

Dude grabbed my arm gently and pulled me near him. “I respect your hustle, ma. It’s sexy as long as I don’t come into your crosshairs, nah mean?” his BK accent was strong, and his Usher cologne invaded my space while his dark bedroom eyes scanned me from head to toe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I responded shortly as I titled my head to the side and looked up at him. He smiled; I didn’t.

Any other day I might have listened to what he was kicking. The presidential on his wrist indicated that he was worth my time, but I wasn’t there for all that. I really wished the nigga would get out of my space so that I could re-focus, but he wasn’t moving. I looked over at Anisa, who was still on point. Benny Dough had never left her eyesight. I turned back around to the man in front of me. “Did you want something?” I asked him.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Nigga, what’s your name?” I countered.

He laughed and rubbed the hairs of his full beard. “Joell,” he responded. “I own this club.”

I clapped my hands sarcastically and said, “Congratulations! That must impress a lot of women.” I rolled my eyes, hoping that the nigga would take a hint and get lost, but again, he didn’t.

“I just thought I’d tip your hand a little bit and let you know that all eyes are on you. You walk into my strip joint looking good, smelling good… got these niggas watching you more than they watching my dancers, but you got your sights on one nigga. He looks like a mark to me. Somebody like you shouldn’t have to rob and steal to eat, Ms. Lady. You could be very well taken care of,” he said.

“I’m not putting on no show, and I don’t know nothing about all that you talking. We’re just here for the entertainment,” I replied without looking at him. My eyes found Benny Dough, and noticed that he was preparing to leave. He wasn’t sloppy drunk, but I could tell that he was tipsy. I nudged Anisa and grabbed my clutch. “It was nice to meet you, Joell. You have a good evening,” I said with a curt smile.

He leaned back against the bar and watched me walk away. I put an extra switch in my hips just to show him something that he would never get, and walked right past Benny Dough out of the club.

As soon as Anisa and I claimed our car from valet parking, we changed clothes inside, removed our makeup and put on jeans and sneakers. Arab scarves were tied around our necks. We waited patiently, and minutes later, Benny Dough came out of the club with the stripper chicks and two other men following behind him. We were silent and breathing hard in anticipation as we followed him and his entourage to a cheap motel. They were two cars deep, so we made sure that we didn’t tail them too closely. The last thing we needed was for them to get suspicious.

“There are six of them and two of us. You know all of them niggas is strapped. How are we gon’ pull this off now?” Anisa asked.

“We wait,” I said. I wasn’t exactly sure how we would pull it off either. We were outnumbered and outgunned, but we really didn’t have a choice. We were already paid half up front. We had to come through on our end, so it was all or nothing. We watched the room for a half an hour, and suddenly the door opened. One of the guys came out. Anisa went to get out of the car.

“What are you doing?” I whispered harshly as she got out and waved the dude over.

“Hey! I’m sorry to bother you,” she said as she walked toward the guy. “Me and my girl are having some car trouble. It won’t start. Can you help us please?” she asked.

This was not a part of the plan, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. What is she doing? Now this nigga done seen her face and everything! I thought heatedly.

The nigga was a sucker for a pretty face, because he came right over without question and tapped the front of the car. “Open the hood,” he instructed. I did as I was told and then hit the release button for the trunk as well. I saw him lean over to check out the engine, so I grabbed the gun, and got out of the car.

“Show me your hands,” I said as I raised the gun to his head. Surprise swept over his face and he opened his mouth to speak. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, then you’ll shut the fuck up,” I said calmly. The look on his face told me that he was fuming. “Yeah, you fell for the okey doke,” I commented, further pissing him off.

Anisa reached into his waistline and relieved him of his cell phone, the hotel room key, and a black.45. “Thank you,” she sang as she released the safety and cocked it back.

With steel pressed to both sides of his head, the dude became much more humble. “I got a daughter, man!” he pleaded. “I don’t know what y’all bitches want, but you can have it. My whip, money, whatever.”

We didn’t respond, but we took that nigga for a walk to the back of the car. I lifted the trunk. We were moving in sync as if we had been doing this for years. She was the Thelma to my Louise. “Get in,” Anisa ordered.

The dude reluctantly climbed inside, and we closed the trunk. After making sure that he was locked inside, I turned to her with big eyes and whispered, “What the fuck was that, Nis? You’ve got to warn me before you make a play like that! The nigga saw our faces and everything,” I fussed.

“So, we’ll pop his ass so that he ain’t telling nothing,” she responded as she pulled her scarf over her face. I did the same. The only thing that could be seen was our hair and our eyes as we made our way to the door. I put my finger to my lips and then put my ear to the door. The sounds of music could be heard.

Anisa inserted the key slowly, and when the locked released, I rushed inside. “Everybody on the floor! If I have to say it more than once, I’ma leave you stinkin’ in this bitch!” I yelled as Anisa and I pointed our guns around the room.

“What the fuck? Do you bitches know who the fuck you’re fucking with?” one of the guys asked.

Boom!

He fell dead where he stood. I was surprised that Anisa had shot him, but I didn’t show it. I barely even flinched, because I knew in order to stay in control, I’d have to keep my composure. “Now, does anybody else have any more questions?” I asked. “Sit on your hands!” I demanded.

“There’s a nigga-” one of the girls began to speak, but I smacked the shit out of her with the gun.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” I asked. I could see the larceny in her eyes, but I didn’t come there for her, so I kept it moving.

We took the zip ties out of our pockets and began to bind everybody by their hands and feet, but before we could get to the last girl, a nigga came bursting out of the bathroom. He rushed me and at the exact same moment Benny Dough tackled Anisa.

Boom! Boom!

I heard two gunshots go off, and then heard Anisa groaning as I struggled against the dude as we both tried to get a good hold on the gun. He was using his weight as an advantage and had me pinned to the floor, but I was holding on to the gun for dear life. I couldn’t get to the trigger. He smacked fire from my ass, causing the entire right side of my face to burn and stars to appear before my eyes. I knew it was over when I found myself looking down the barrel of the gun.

“Yeah, bitch! Where’s all that mouth now?” he asked.

I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst. I didn’t want to see the bullets that ended my life. I inhaled deeply, gulping in the last bit of air that my lungs would ever taste.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The gunshots deafened my ears, but when I didn’t feel any pain, I opened my eyes. I scrambled backwards until my back hit the wall as I watched the dude fall to his knees as three bloodstains began to spread through the front of his shirt. I expected to see Anisa holding the smoking gun, but instead, one of the strippers had shot him.

“Anisa!” I yelled as I crawled over to her. Her neck was raw from being choked, and she was covered in blood. “Anisa… where are you hit?” I asked as my hands roamed her body.

She coughed and gulped in air. “It’s not mine, Miamor… I’m good.”

I helped her to her feet and retrieved our guns.

The girl who had saved me was cutting the ties from her friends’ hands.

“Thanks,” I said as I looked her in the eye. I had every intention of killing them when I came into the room, but after what she had done, I knew that I couldn’t go through with it.

“I hope you bitches don’t think that y’all are getting what’s in they pockets. This was our lick in the first place,” the girl I had smacked spoke up. “I tried to tell your ass there was a nigga in the bathroom,” she said as she rubbed the side of her face and ice-grilled me. “Now you mu’fuckas done fucked up our money. We won’t be able to get back to the nigga house to hit the safe. It was a hundred thousand in that bitch.”

“One-hundred-thousand dollars?” Anisa asked.

“Yeah, bitch, a hunnid stacks,” the girl shot back.

“If we can take you to the safe, we split the money five ways,” Anisa said.

“Bitch, you killed everybody who knew the combo! Crazy ass bitches!” the same girl yelled.

“Bitch, I ain’t gone be too many more of your bitches,” I said seriously. “Now, can we discuss this somewhere else, before the police come in here and arrest all of us?”

I took a pillowcase off of the bed and tossed my gun inside. I then held it out for the three girls. I knew they were strapped, because the one who had helped me had pulled her gun from nowhere. “We don’t know y’all like that. As long as we talking about getting this money, ain’t nobody carrying burners,” I said. Each of the three girls put their guns inside, and then Anisa followed suit. They reluctantly followed us to our car.

The guy in the trunk kicked and screamed when he heard us start the car. The three girls were in the backseat.

“What the fuck type of shit is y’all into? Y’all got niggas in the trunk?” one of them asked. I looked at them in the rearview, but didn’t respond. We were all silent as we drove to a twenty-four-hour diner, where we came to some type of agreement regarding the money in the safe. Anisa and I didn’t say anything about what we had been paid to do. They didn’t need to know all of that. We just wanted our piece of their pie.

Robyn was the leader of their clique it seemed, and also the one I had smacked. Beatrice was a dark-skinned, weave wearing ghetto chick. I couldn’t read the two of them very well at first, but I was instantly endeared to the third girl, Aries. She was the one who had saved my life that night.

After getting to know one another, we led the girls back out to the deserted parking lot. It was the middle of the night and there was no one around, so we popped the trunk. We all burst out laughing when we saw the dude curled up like a bitch. He was so scared that he had pissed on himself.

“Damn! Me can’t believe me was actually going to give chu some,” Aries stated.

We all pulled our guns back out of the pillowcase since a low level of trust had been established. Aries pointed her gun at the dude. “Get chu bitch ass out de trunk,” she said. The dude climbed out and stared at the five of us standing around him with pistols in our hand. “Chu going to lead us to Benny Dough’s house, and chu going to help us crack de safe,” Aries instructed.

The guy didn’t respond, so Anisa cocked her gun, putting one in the chamber and pointed it at him. “Get in the car.”

Twenty minutes later, we were pulling up to a two story suburban home. “Who else lives here?” I asked.

“Nobody,” the dude responded wearily.

I turned around to look him in the eye. I knew he was afraid. I could hear the fear in his voice. “Remember that daughter you were talking about earlier. Don’t be stupid. We just want the money,” I explained.

He nodded his head and then led us into the house. The guy reached under a flowerpot and grabbed the spare key, then opened the door. He had five bitches with attitudes on his ass, so he knew not to make a bad move. He led the way up the stairs to one of the bedrooms, then removed a painting from the wall.

“What’s the combo?” Beatrice asked.

“I don’t know the combination to that man’s safe,” the guy protested.

I knew he was lying when he said it, so I shot him without hesitation. I was tired of playing games.

“Aghh!” he screamed in agony as he dropped to the floor and held onto his bleeding foot.

“If you want to keep the other one, start talking,” I instructed.

“Ha! Bitch, you really are crazy as hell!” Beatrice laughed out in amusement as she watched the dude hold his foot and cry in excruciation. “I’d fuck with her all day! That bitch ain’t scared to do shit!” she said, meaning it as a compliment.

“Thirty-four, twenty-three, ten!” he yelled. “Fuck!” His screams of pain echoed throughout the house.

Anisa tried the set of numbers and smiled as she opened the safe. “Oh shit!” she exclaimed. “This looks like more than a hundred thou.”

As soon as I saw the money stacks sitting in the safe, I pulled the trigger on that nigga. He had seen my face, and there was no way I could send him home to his daughter in any other way except for in a box. To my surprise, he got hit with three more bullets as well, because as soon as I withdrew, so did Aries, Beatrice, and Robyn. We filled him with lead, filled our pockets with paper, and disappeared into the night.

We all headed back to my apartment, where we decided we wouldn’t spend any money until we heard what the streets would say about the murders. Since we didn’t know one another, we all wanted to be in each other’s presence to make sure nobody fucked up and got loose lips.

I woke up early the next day and maneuvered silently throughout the apartment. I didn’t want to wake Anisa or the new tagalong bitches we had picked up the night before. I didn’t know Robyn, Aries, and Beatrice, but I was grateful that they were there. Things could have gone real bad for us last night, I thought as I shuddered at the thought of how close I had come to death. If it had not been for them, Anisa and I would have both been taking dirt naps, despite that fact I still did not trust them. Respect them, yes… trust them, hell no!

I thought that my heart would be full of dread, but strangely, my conscience wasn’t phased by what I had done the night before. It was like the higher my body count rose, the less it affected me. I was choosing to become a killer. I had made the decision to pick up where Murder left off, all in the pursuit of the American dream, and there was no turning back. It’s just business, I told myself as I made my way to my car.

My black skinny jeans looked as if they were painted on, and the white Marc Jacobs blouse revealed my cleavage and jewels. The white peep-toe Prada heels I wore completed my outfit as I climbed into my car and peeled out of the parking lot. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, not even Anisa. I knew she’d hit the roof if I told her I was going to see Murder, but I had to check on him. Plus, I thought he deserved a cut of the money we’d made last night. I promised myself that I would keep money on his commissary and put the rest of his cut aside until he got out.

I couldn’t understand how it was so easy for Anisa to move on and just forget about all that Murder had done for her, because in the short year that I had known him, he would always be a part of me. I had feelings for him. If it wasn’t for him, I would have been locked up. Instead, he took the heat, and I felt fucked up because I was just getting around to visiting him. My bone-straight wrap and Chinese bangs ruffled as the wind whipped through my hair. I hoped I wasn’t making the trip for nothing. I didn’t even know if I was listed on his visitor’s log, but it was a chance I was willing to take.

I hit a department store first and picked up items that I thought Murder might need; a small care package that could hold him over for a while. Then taking the BQE toward Queens, I exited at Astoria Boulevard, then followed the city blocks until I hit Hazen Street. When I arrived at Riker’s parking lot, I stepped out of the car with the box of personal items in my hands as I made my way to the bus that was traveling over the bridge to the facility.

As soon as I stepped foot on the bus, I knew it was going to be a miserable trip. There were babies crying, ghetto baby mamas arguing and talking cash shit, and tired wives who had done this routine time and time again. I shook my head, knowing that I could never be one of the chicks waiting on the outside. I had done years of lockup on my own as a child. I wasn’t trying to do five more waiting on Murder or anybody else. It was then that I knew that I could not ride out Murder’s sentence with him. When a loved one is locked up, that time affects the inmate and everyone around him.

As I looked at an older woman with a wedding band on her finger, I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you here to see your husband?”

My question caught her off guard, but she shook her head and answered, “No, baby. I’m here for that knuckle head son of mine. He grew up watching me make this same trip to come and see his father, and now he’s landed himself in the same predicament… behind the white man’s walls. Like father like son, I guess.”

The sadness in her eyes scared me, and I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat as I noticed the lifelessness in the woman. She had no hope, no light in her eye. That’ll never be me, I thought as uneasiness filled my stomach. As much as I cared for Murder, I knew that after today I would not come back. The best I can do is letters and make sure his money is right, I thought. I knew it was selfish, but it was real. The truth of the matter was, Murder was not my man, even though somewhere deep inside I wished that he had been.

After practically being molested by the guards and storing my personal items in a locker, I was finally escorted into a waiting room. I sat at the small table, growing more nervous as each minute ticked by. My manicured hand tapped impatiently, as butterflies filled my stomach. I was in the middle of a prison, but I felt as if I was going on a blind date. I rubbed my sweaty hands on my jeans, and then finally Murder came waltzing into view. His swagger was still so on point. Even in the jail hookup he had on he possessed an aura of respect. I smiled as he came near me.

“Hey, Murder!” I greeted as I stood to hug him.

He held me extra tight and extra close.

“My lil’ mama!” he whispered, “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long. It’s been rough. I had to let things die down, you know?”

Murder nodded his head, then motioned for me to take a seat. “I know,” he answered. “Where’s your sister?” His eyebrows dipped low when he mentioned Anisa, as if he already knew the answer to his own question.

“Um, she couldn’t make it, Murder. She told me to tell you-” I was about to make up an excuse on her behalf, but Murder waved his hand in dismissal.

“Don’t do that, ma. You’ve never lied to me before. Don’t start now because of your sister. I know Anisa. A nigga can’t keep her when he’s down; only when he at the top. I don’t want to talk about her,” he said with a hint of sadness in his voice. He touched my chin, making me smile. “You’re here. Let’s talk about that. Why did you come?”

His question had me stuck. Why did I come? I asked myself. I looked him directly in the eyes. The chemistry between our gaze was magnetic. “I owe you,” I said.

“That’s it?” he countered with a boyish charm.

“I was worried about you.”

“Uh-huh,” he responded. “You sure that’s it?”

I hesitated before I continued, but knew that I wasn’t being honest with myself. “I care about you, Murder.”

“It’s a little bit deeper than that, lil’ mama, but I’ll play by your rules. I care about you too, ma. Always have… always will,” he said as he grabbed my hand.

My heart was beating out of my chest. “I’m sorry. I feel like it’s my fault you’re in here.”

“This ain’t on you. These walls ain’t shit to me. In five years, I’ma walk out the same mu’fucka,” he said as he kissed the inside of my wrist.

Seeing him in good spirits felt good. The interaction between us felt so natural… so right. He was my nigga, first and foremost. Murder and I were friends, but the fact that my attraction to him was growing by the second had me thinking about waiting for him; had me wanting to be there for him for those long five years.

“Murder, Anisa will never understand this. She’s my sister, and I can’t pick you over her, no matter how much I’m feeling you,” I told him.

He nodded his head in understanding. “I know, Miamor. I would never ask you to. I know the type of woman you are. You’re loyal, and that’s one of the reasons why I feel the way I do about you. Like I told you before, it’s not meant to be for us, but it don’t stop me from wanting you. In five years, I’ma look you up, believe that, ma. You’re my lil’ mama always. Life moves on, and I would never ask you to wait or to hurt your sister. I’ma come check for you when I’m free though.”

I smiled and pulled my hand away from Murder’s. “I have one more thing to tell you,” I said. He was silent as he waited for me to continue. “I answered your phone,” I said. My words hit him like a ton of bricks, and his face collapsed into a mixture of sorrow and anger. “I’m on that now. Every time, I’ll have your paper put aside for you and I’ll keep your books on full in here. When you get out, you’ll have money waiting on you.”

Murder put his face in his hands and shook his head from side to side. “I didn’t want that for you, Miamor. That’s not for you. You deserve better than that.”

I stood to my feet and wiped the tears from my eyes. “I don’t think a better life is in the cards for me,” I whispered.

Murder stood and pulled me close, putting his hands in my back jean pockets as we hugged. He pulled a picture out of my pocket. “What’s this?” he asked.

I had meant to give it to him when I first arrived. It was a picture of us together on my birthday, holding up bottles of champagne.

He pulled me near him one more time and whispered in my ear. “Be careful. Never think twice about pulling a trigger

Turn your heart cold, Miamor. Think like a nigga, because acting like a bitch will get you killed. It’s the only way you’ll make it. Slump a nigga before he can slump you. No body, no weapon-”

“No murder,” I whispered, finishing his sentence, our lips so close together that they touched when I spoke the words.

He pulled back and looked me in the eye. “You’ve already done your first job,” he said in surprise.

I nodded my head, stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek. “Good bye, Murder.”

He held onto my hand as I walked away, until the distance finally separated us. “Holla at me, Miamor… at least once a month to let me know you’re okay!” he yelled after me.

I nodded my head in agreement, and then walked out of his life.

When I returned to the apartment, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone was silent and staring at me in suspicion as soon as I set foot inside the door.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Robyn asked.

I looked at her like she was crazy, and bypassed her without responding as I went into my room. The silly bitch obviously didn’t know about me, because if she did, she would have known that I would smack fire from her ass for talking to me out the side of her neck.

She followed behind me. “Look, you’re the one who said we should lay low and let the streets cool down before we get to spending money, then when we wake, up you’re ghost,” she said. “What are we supposed to think?”

“I don’t really give a damn what you think. I had to handle something, that’s all you need to know,” I replied.

The girls made their way into my room, and Anisa stood by the door. I could feel her staring at me. I knew she wanted to know where I had disappeared to so early in the morning, but I wasn’t telling. Nobody needed to know. Where I went was my business. Fuck all them hoes!

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” Beatrice stated as she sat on my bed and looked around at everyone in the room. “Y’all didn’t even know about the money in the safe before we told you, so that means y’all were there for something else. We want in.”

“Want in?” Anisa repeated.

“Yeah, whatever y’all got going on, we want in. There is only two of y’all. Without us, things could have turned out different for y’all last night. I don’t know what exactly y’all do, but I know this plush condo and that Benzo you driving don’t come cheap. We want in,” Beatrice asserted.

Anisa and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and as if on cue, the phone began to ring.

Ring! Ring!

I was skeptical at first, but I knew that having more chicks on our team could be a good thing. Our chances of being caught slipping would decrease drastically if we hooked up with Robyn, Aries, and Beatrice.

Ring! Ring!

“A’ight,” I said. “We’re not into the petty robbery game though.”

“We don’t give a fuck what you into it. If it’s about money, then we’re with it,” Robyn spoke up confidently. Ring! Ring!

“We’ll see,” I replied as I stood up and rushed to pick up the phone, with them hot on my trail. I took down the details of the call and turned around to face the group.

“You want in?” I asked.

“We want in,” Aries reiterated impatiently.

I handed her a piece of paper that had the name of our next hit on it. “Murder that nigga. It needs to be done quickly and quietly,” I instructed, and then walked away, leaving them to their thoughts.

Anisa followed behind me, and once we were in my room alone, she closed the door. “Are you crazy!” she asked.

“They want in, so let them prove that they can handle it. If they fuck up, we will handle them,” I responded. “Just relax.”

A year passed, and life was good! Anisa, Beatrice, Robyn, Aries and I were lying in the sun on a cruise ship just off the coast of Miami. We had planned that particular trip to celebrate our success. After Anisa and I got to know the other girls, we knew that they could be very helpful in our newfound profession. Before I even knew it, we established the Murder Mamas. At first it was a little joke, but the name was fitting and sort of stuck. We all even got “Murder Mama” tattooed on ourselves to show our allegiance.

It did not take long for niggas to catch wind of us. We had expanded and took jobs from Jersey, Philly, and even D.C. The word spread quickly in the streets, because our phone constantly rang for new jobs. We only took jobs by referral, meaning you would have to know someone that hired us before to even have a conversation with us about our services. We had a secret society, and the only thing we asked for was trust. We sometimes set up clowns that were stunting too hard and robbed them, but we only did that when we traveled out of town. Our main hustle was murder-for-hire. That’s what paid the bills.

The one thing about killing is; just like everything else you do, the more you do it, the better you get. I believe my heart had grown the coldest of our whole crew. I never thought twice about a murder once it was done. The only thing I thought about was the payoff. Some might call it cold-blooded, but I call it just being Miamor.

We all sat, sipping our exotic drinks and enjoying the sun. I looked over at Beatrice, who lay out on the deck with her big Gucci shades on and smiled. “Bitch, you know you don’t need any more sun,” I joked, referring to her dark ebony skin tone. We all burst into laughter, knowing she was the darkest of the crew.

Beatrice held up her middle finger without saying a word as she smiled and continued to sip her Long Island iced tea. She is what you called “ghetto fabulous.” She originally was from BX, and I loved her style. She always told it how it was, and had a tendency to be loud at the wrong times. But it was what it was; she was my girl… real bitch.

Robyn was kind of sneaky in my eyes, but I dealt with her because she was resourceful. Her ass was like the sibling that you loved because you had to. She was my sister, but I could not stand her ass sometimes. She was a little older than me, about Anisa’s age, and she knew every hustler in every borough. Don’t ask me how, but she always knew who was coming up on the streets and who was next in line to be “the man.” That was useful for us when we occasionally robbed niggas. But we did have one golden rule-never rob or take a hit on anyone we encountered before. It would be too much of a risk for us.

Aries was a sweetheart. She had a heavy Barbados accent, and it was hard to understand her at times, but I managed. She was petite, with beautiful shoulder-length twists in her hair that fit her exotic personality perfectly. She was one year younger than me, and kind of quiet. But don’t let that fool you. Aries was a killer. I noticed that she didn’t hesitate to kill if the money was right. She was the closest person to me, besides Anisa, because we were just alike. She was an asset to the squad for sure.

We all enjoyed the sunrays and sounds of the churning waves as we relaxed and conversed. In the midst of our conversation, the phone rang. We all sat up, recognizing that particular ring. I had all the calls from Murder’s line forwarded to a cell phone used only for our hits. I put my finger over my lips to signal the girls to be quiet before I picked up. They all stared at me as I flipped up the phone and placed it to my ear. I remained silent and just listened.

“I have a job that requires your services. I want you to listen, and listen very closely,” a man said with a deep Russian accent. He continued, “I have a problem that needs to be resolved. I want this done within thirty days. The contract is worth one hundred thousand dollars. Half will be given up front, and the rest will be paid upon completion. You can find the information on the target in locker number 1356 at the Grand Central train terminal, and you can find the key under the station’s bench, eight rows down.”

I quickly reached into my purse and grabbed a pen and a small piece of paper to jot down the information. I just listened and wondered what type of job this was. I never had someone come so organized, and also we mainly only dealt with ‘hood niggas. This was far from a ‘hood guy” that we were used to handling business with. He paused, and there was a brief moment of silence on the phone before he continued.

“I take it that you want the job, since you haven’t hung up,” the Russian said before he let out a small chuckle. “Very well then. The money will be placed in a bag in the locker along with the information. Good day,” he said before he left me with the dial tone.

I slowly closed down the phone and looked at my girls, who were all staring at me, anxiously waiting to see who had called.

“Well what did he say?” Anisa asked as she threw her hands up.

I took my time before I spoke, almost too excited to let the words come out of my mouth. “One… hundred… stacks!” I said as I jumped up and watched as my girls cheered and slapped hands. This was the payday we were looking for. That was about $20,000 apiece. Usually we would have to split $50,000 for one hit. Twenty to ourselves sounded real good. It was the last day of the cruise, and we were all eager to get back to NY to get that money… the Murder Mama way.

“Have chu heard from Miamor?” Aries asked as she handed Robyn a moving box to carry into their new apartment. They were in L.A., living the life, and after months of functioning out of hotels, they finally decided to move into their first West Coast spot. Their apartment overlooked Santa Monica Beach. They had made sure to get a three bedroom, just in case Miamor decided to join them one day.

“Nah, I haven’t heard from her since we left. She’s too wrapped up in that mu’fucka, Carter. I can’t believe she chose him over us. That’s been our rule since the very beginning; Fuck a nigga! Get your paper! I guess she forgot about all of that,” Robyn stated with a shoulder shrug as they made their way inside.

Aries placed the box she held in her hands on the floor and sat down to go through its contents. She frowned when she opened it to find it full of envelopes that were addressed to Miamor. “Me think chu made a mistake and took some of Miamor’s stuff out of storage. This box is full of old letters to she,” she stated.

“It’s probably just old letters from Murder,” Robyn said. “I probably grabbed them by mistake. She stayed writing that nigga back in the day. You would have thought he was her man instead of Anisa’s.”

Aries had never met Murder, but she had heard a lot about him. “Miamor used to talk about he all de time,” she recalled.

Robyn nodded her head as she continued to unpack boxes and rearrange their place. “Uh-huh. Between me and you, I think they had a little thing for each other. It was like after that shit happened to her and Beatrice, she wasn’t really worried about no dudes. I think that rape fucked her head up more than anything. Then, when she met that nigga, Carter, she was on some other shit; talking that love bullshit.”

“Me don’t trust de’ nigga, Carter. Me think Miamor is in over she head,” Aries stated. “She might need us.”

Robyn waved her hand in dismissal. “I ain’t worried about Miamor. She made her decision. Nobody forced her to stay back in Miami. She can take care of herself.”

Aries opened up one of the letters and read the intimate words that Murder had written Miamor. It was obvious to her that Miamor and Murder had been close. In his letter, he expressed his concern for her, and also expressed how he wished he could take care of both Miamor and Anisa. It seemed like he was the only other male attachment Miamor had ever had.

Aries went into her room and pulled out a piece of paper. Robyn appeared in her doorway and asked, “What are you doing, girl? We still have so much stuff to unpack out of the car,” She came in and flopped down on Aries’ bed.

“Don’t chu think it’s strange that she hasn’t even called us? We haven’t gone one day without talking since de’ day we met. Now all of a sudden, Mia just falls off the map. Me gut tells me something is wrong,” Aries said.

“You’re right,” Robyn stated.

“Me think me’s going to write Murder and let he know what’s up with she,” Aries said.

“What is he going to do? He’s locked up,” Robyn replied.

Aries showed Robyn the letter she had just read from Murder. “According to this, he will be out soon. Maybe he can talk some sense into she.”

“A’ight, girl, go for what you know,” Robyn stated. She hugged Aries and left her to write her letter.

Carter’s eyes were bloodshot red as he sat near Miamor’s bedside. His worry for her had taken a toll on his body. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since finding her, because he sat in the rocking chair in her room all day and night to make sure that she was okay. He was grateful that she had come out of her coma, but she was still so weak, and he felt that he needed to be strong for her. He wanted to keep her spirits up until she was fully recovered. He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees as he sighed. He watched her stir in her sleep slightly.

“No… no…!” she groaned while still asleep. She began to struggle and lash out as if she were fighting someone.

Carter stood and approached her bedside. “Miamor,” he said. “Wake up, ma.”

“No!” she screamed as she sat straight up in bed and fought against Carter. It was dark in the room, and Miamor had been dreaming of Mecca killing her. When she awoke and found a man by her bed, she thought that he had come for her again. She was sweating and her breathing was la bored

She was shaking, the terror in her heart paralyzing her while her eyes darted wildly around the room.

“Miamor, it’s me, baby… it’s just me!” Carter said soothingly as he held on to her tightly.

When Miamor heard Carter’s voice she broke down in his arms. “He’s going to kill me!” she sobbed as she held on to him like a frightened little girl clinging to her father.

Concern was written all over Carter’s face. He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes. “Who, Miamor? You have to tell me who you’re afraid of,” Carter said. He was determined that when he found out the identity of Miamor’s attacker, he was going to kill him.

Miamor saw the sincerity in his eyes, which only made her cry harder.

He sighed and pulled her to his chest. “Shh. It’s okay, ma. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I almost lost you once. I won’t lose you again,” he promised.

He scooped Miamor into his arms and carried her to the rocking chair. He sat down with her and stroked her hair while he rocked back and forth.

“I can’t stay here, Carter,” she whispered. She gripped the collar of shirt in fear. She was holding on to him for dear life.

“Shh… I got you, ma. I promise you-”

“Carter, no!” Miamor yelled as she sat up shakily and looked at him with sad eyes. She wanted to be a part of this charade. She wanted to live here with him, but with Mecca around, her life would always be at risk. “I can’t live in this house. I don’t feel safe here. I won’t stay here, Carter. If you try to make me, I’ll run. I’m like a sitting fucking duck in this bitch!” she cried. She had never been this emotional, but since coming out of her coma, her fear had rendered her helpless and feeble. All she did lately was cry. “He can touch me here. I have to go to a place where he can’t find me.”

“Who, Miamor? Who the fuck is after you? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Carter said in frustration. “I’ll handle that nigga. You don’t have to run. You don’t have to worry about it if you just trust me. Give me your burdens, ma,” he whispered as he put his hand gently behind her head and pressed his forehead against hers.

Miamor desperately wanted to give her all to him. She wanted to put her life in his hands, but how could she, when the one man she feared on this earth was Carter’s flesh and blood? She hated Mecca just as much as she loved Carter. If I show him who I really am, I’m going to lose him, she thought as she shook her head and kissed his lips. “I can’t Carter. You would never understand. Just please get me out of here. Right now. I need to feel safe,” Miamor pleaded.

It hurt Carter that after all they had been through, Miamor still didn’t trust him enough to feel secure in his home. He tried to understand where she was coming from. He figured that she was just paranoid from her attack. She was afraid, and he was determined to give her a sense of security. “Alright, ma. Let me get you dressed then we’ll go. We’ll go wherever you want to go,” he assured her. He placed her back in the bed and put a pair of sweat pants on her.

He touched her with such gentleness that it made Miamor yearn for him, not in a sexual way, but in an emotional way. He was so stable. He was always so focused and in control. Every move that he made was calculated concisely. Miamor wanted to depend on him and take his lead, but it could never happen. In the grand scheme of things, they would always be adversaries. Like Romeo and Juliet, their allegiances lay on different sides, while their hearts were in each other’s hands.

“Let me get your pain medication. It’s in the master bedroom. I’ll be right back,” Carter said before kissing the top of her head.

She nodded and watched him disappear into the hallway. This man is my soul mate, but we can never be together, she thought grimly.

She looked over to the nightstand that was beside the rocking chair. A gun lay on top of it. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing in pain as she stood to her feet. Her legs felt like Jell-O, but she used all her energy to make it over to the stand. She leaned against it and took deep breaths as she grabbed the gun. Holding the pistol in her hand caused a wave of relief to wash over her. She gripped it as her head hung on her chest, and she inhaled deeply.

Miamor had been through hell, and she would never be the same woman that she was before. Her body was scarred for life. She would never be able to forget what had happened, because the war wounds would be a constant reminder of her plight. Like a Jew who had been terrorized by Hitler or a slave that had been victimized by their master, Miamor would always remember. She would always feel the pain; she would always harbor fear, resentment, and insecurity… she would never forget. Mecca had changed her life for the worst, and now she had to refocus. She had to retrain her body, and she had to regain composure over her emotions, because she was determined to get back at Mecca. But, she didn’t have a choice but to wait. She had to give herself time to heal.

Carter came back into the room and frowned when he saw Miamor standing. He rushed over to her. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be on your feet,” he said. His eyes went to the gun in her hands. He tried to take it from her, but she shook her head.

“Don’t, Carter. I need it,” she whispered seriously.

Carter picked her up, and with the gun in her hand he carried her out of the room.

All of the luxury inside of the house meant nothing to Miamor. By being there, she was in Mecca’s territory, and she refused to stay. She clung to her man and kept her finger on the trigger of the gun as he carried her outside to his car. After making sure that she was secure in the passenger seat, he hurried around to the driver’s side, and they pulled away.

Miamor had never felt so low as she sat in the hallway of the luxury hotel, pleading with Carter to forgive her. Her ego and principles were thrown out of the window. When it came to matters of the heart, she was willing to look foolish and willing to swallow her pride if it meant that Carter would be with her. She cried her heart out to him through the closed door, but it never opened. He had shut her out of his life, and she had to accept it. She was physically and emotionally spent as she stood to her feet. Using the wall to hold her up, she made her way to the elevator. Her hair was wild, her face stained with dried tears, and she wore nothing but a bathrobe as she made her way out of the hotel. Stares and whispers surrounded her as her bare feet carried her through the lobby.

“Excuse me, Miss,” the maître d’hôte of the establishment rushed over to her with two security guards in tow. “I received a call from the Presidential Suite. I’m going to have to escort you off of the premises.”

The security guards grabbed her arms and she snatched them away. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, making an even bigger scene. She made it outside and walked as far as her feet would take her, but every step felt like a thousand. She was too fragile to make it on her own. She had exhausted all of her energy, and gave up as she fell to the ground to catch her breath, the hot pavement burning her skin. At this point, she felt hopeless. She had given up everything and had betrayed her girls trying to chase a dream. At least before she had them as her family. Now, all she had was herself.

Murder had sat in the car all night watching the hotel, waiting to see Miamor and Carter emerge. He was so close to her, and he wasn’t going anywhere until he brought her home, back to New York where she belonged. He cringed at the way Carter touched Miamor, and jealousy loomed over him like a dark cloud.

When he finally saw Miamor emerge from the hotel alone, struggling, and barefoot, he grabbed his gun and jumped out of the car and ran toward her. His baggy khaki shorts, white T-shirt and red fitted cap represented the complete opposite of what Carter’s poised demeanor did, but the two men had one thing in common. They both loved Miamor.

“Miamor!” he yelled, grabbing her attention.

Miamor didn’t even look in his direction. She heard a man screaming her name and instantly thought of Mecca. She looked around for something to defend herself with, but she could barely scrape herself off of the ground. She frantically tried to hide, but there was nowhere to go. Traumatized and too tired to put up a fight, she screamed when Murder finally reached her. It wasn’t until he picked her up off the ground did she realize that she wasn’t in danger.

“It’s okay, ma. Murder’s back. I’m gonna handle that nigga and anybody associated with him,” he sneered. “Word to my mutha', ma. I’ma cook that beef personally!

Miamor thought that her eyes were deceiving her. “Murder?” she called out as she touched his face. “It’s me, shorty. I got you.”

Relief washed over Miamor and she gave into her body’s urge to rest. She closed her eyes, knowing that she was in the arms of family, and that nothing would happen to her while he was around. It had been five long years since she had felt that safe. It seemed like a lifetime ago since she had felt the secure connection with Murder. But now that she had seen his face again, she realized he was still so prevalent in her life. Even with Carter, there was the constant threat of danger, but with Murder, there were no secrets. No lies dwelled between them. There was only trust.

Murder took Miamor back to the motel room where Robyn and Aries were waiting. It was a far cry from the Four Seasons, but it was how he got down. Murder was not into the glamorous life. He wasn’t a flashy type a nigga. He was a ‘hood nigga and a goon who had established his track record in the ‘hood from the sandbox up. He didn’t need all the extras. He actually found the entire Cartel establishment to be a joke. Those clown-ass niggas on that Hollywood Godfather shit, he thought as he put Miamor down and stared at her. That Rico Suave-ass nigga don’t know how to keep a bitch like Miamor. Shorty a gangsta, not some high society broad.

“What happened to she?” Aries asked as she and Robyn rushed to Miamor’s side and observed their dear friend.

“That bitch-ass nigga, Mecca happened to her,” Robyn stated as she shook her head and wiped away a tear. She and Miamor hadn’t always seen eye to eye. They butted heads more than a little bit, but that’s what family does. Miamor was her sister. They had been through the fire together, and to see her so beat up enraged her.

“That nigga, Carter let the shit happen to her. Mecca’s his brother. He wanted to be her man, so he should have been her man and made sure she wasn’t touched, nah mean?” Murder said. “He gonna feel it too.”

Miamor heard the voices around her and slowly opened her eyes.

“How are you feeling, mama?” Robyn asked.

Miamor smiled slightly and shook her head from side to side. “I lost him!” she whispered.

Aries and Robyn looked at one another, and then back down to Miamor. They couldn’t understand her love for Young Carter, and they were past the point of trying. They were just glad that they had gotten their friend out while she was still alive. They knew that Miamor no longer had the malice it took to kill, so they would handle it for her.

She doesn’t even have to know, Robyn thought. Once Carter and Mecca are out of the picture, she will be able to move on with her life. She’ll be back to her old self in no time.

“Chu have us, Mia,” Aries stated. “That’s all chu need.”

“I’m so sorry for turning my back on y’all. You guys are all I have,” Miamor said.

Robyn knew that Miamor wasn’t herself, because she had never apologized for anything. The new, emotional woman in front of her was not the same girl she had met years ago. She wasn’t the same chick who had cut off a nigga’s dick for money, or the same one who had taught her to shoot a gun properly. Miamor had changed. She was vulnerable. Love has really made her ass go soft, Robyn thought.

“It’s okay, honey. We’re sisters. We’re always here for you. Me and Aries are going to let you get some rest, but there’s somebody else here for you,” Robyn said as she stood. She grabbed Aries’ hand and they exited the room.

Miamor turned her head and smiled when she saw Murder posted by the door, with one foot resting against the wall. He scanned her from head to toe. Neither of them said a word, but they stared intently at each other. They were both surveying the changes they saw in one another.

He finally walked over to Miamor and knelt beside the bed. He grabbed her hand and turned it over to see the tattoo on her wrist. “You still my lil’ mama, huh?” he asked as he kissed the tattoo. He knew what the phrase “Murder Mama” meant. It meant that she was his, and she knew it too.

“Always,” she replied as she touched his face, remembering the bond that they had once shared.

“I missed you, Miamor. I thought about you every day while I was on the island,” he said.

She wiped a lone tear away and gave him a half smile. She used to think about Murder all the time, before she met Carter. “I missed you too,” she responded.

Murder looked at her, and the anger inside of him was evident. It radiated off of him, and because she knew him so well, she was able to read him like a book. His presence was exactly as she remembered it. He was still strong and commanding as he had always been. Prison had done him good. He was solid and strong, his swagger still the same… low key and mysterious.

“I didn’t want this for you, Miamor. This wasn’t supposed to be your life,” Murder stated as he kissed her hand.

“This is all I’ve ever known. Every time I find someone that I love, I realize that fate is playing a sick game with me. I can never have someone to call my own. You belonged to Anisa. Carter belongs to The Cartel. I wanted you both, but neither of you were meant for me,” she said miserably, the sorrow of her broken heart affecting her words.

“I came to take you home,” Murder stated.

“Ha!” Miamor laughed obnoxiously as she shook her head. “Home? I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those. I’ve never been in one place long enough to consider it home. I’ve never felt safe enough to be ‘at home',” she said. “Where’s home for me, Murder?”

“With me,” he stated simply.

Miamor knew that because Anisa wasn’t around, things could be different between them. He loved her. He always had, but she wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl anymore. She was a grown ass woman who had evolved. With her emotions for Carter all over the place, she didn’t know how she felt. When she had come to Miami, she had put Murder out of her mind, but it was obvious to her that he had never forgotten about her. He had come for her after five long years, just as he had promised he would. He never broke his word to her. He would give her the world if he could. Can I offer him the same loyalty in return? she asked herself.

“I don’t know if I can give you what you want from me right now, Murder. I’ve never lied to you, so I do not want to start now. My heart is with someone else,” she admitted sadly. It was something that she did not want to say, but something that he had to hear.

Murder winced and released her hand. He hated Carter for locking down Miamor’s heart. The look in her eye when she spoke of Carter was the same look that used to be reserved for him years ago. “That nigga almost cost you your life, Mia,” he reminded.

“He didn’t know what I was into…”

Murder heard her as she tried to defend him, but he interrupted. “Aw, ma, don’t give me that. The nigga knew what he was into! That’s all that matters. If he’s a boss, then he protects those around him, especially his bitch. You know the game, ma. I know you know, cuz I taught you. You should have murked him, Miamor. Quick, and without a second thought, because that was the job you were paid to do. That was what you signed up for when you picked up that phone years ago. You’re my lil’ mama. You’re Murder’s mama baby, girl. You know what it is between me and you. That’s why you got my name tatted on you.”

Miamor turned up her lips and rolled her eyes as she sneered at him in denial. “We all got the same tattoo,” she defended.

“Yeah, but it was your idea, and it meant the most to you,” he said, knowingly. He smiled and lifted her chin, forcing her to reveal the truth in a smile of her own. After all this time, he still knew her all too well. “Forget about him, Miamor. I’m back now. I cared for your sister, but she’s gone. Everything that stopped us before does not matter now. Nothing is in the way now. I came here for you, and another nigga will never hurt you while I’m around. Get some rest. We are leaving for New York in a couple days.”

We got to dead these niggas,” Murder whispered as he looked over his shoulder to make sure Miamor was still asleep. He, Robyn and Aries were huddled up, putting their game plan in motion. Murder wanted what was left of The Cartel dead. He planned on killing Carter first, and then making Mecca come to them. He was about to set a trap for The Cartel.

Miamor was dead to the world, as she lightly snored in the bed just a couple of feet away from them. The painkillers that she had been taking had her drowsy, and for the past two days she had done nothing but sleep. She was still recovering from a coma, and also from a broken heart. It pained Murder to see her heartbroken over another man. He felt like Carter had stolen what was his. The Miamor he remembered was feisty and was never pressed over a dude. This Carter guy really has her heart, Murder thought as a small streak of resentment ran through his body. He glanced over at Miamor and admired her beauty. Even with the marks and scars on her face, she was beautiful to him. He focused back on Aries and Robyn and spoke.

“We got to handle this dude,” Murder said as his trigger finger began to itch.

“I know, but I cannot get to the nigga. Miamor is not going to help us murk him. She’s in love with him,” Robyn said, trying to explain to Murder how Miamor had changed.

“It’s okay. We are going to make him come to us,” Murder said as he put his plan together in his mind. He felt obligated to kill Mecca and Carter because of all the pain they had caused the only women who he had ever let into his life, Anisa and Miamor. He took the trespass against them personally, and he wasn’t leaving Miami until all scores were settled.

“Grab Miamor’s phone,” he instructed Aries, as he had it all mapped out. Carter was about to die, and then Mecca soon after. He planned on using Miamor as bait.

Robyn walked over to the night stand and sneakily removed Miamor’s cell phone. She walked back over to Murder and handed the phone to him. Murder quickly went into Miamor’s contact list and began to scroll down, looking for Carter’s name. He located it and quickly began to text him in hopes that Carter would think Miamor was texting him.

“I’ma make this nigga come straight to us,” Murder said as he pushed the send button and began to patiently wait for Carter to take the bait. “Now, we just sit back and wait,” he said just before he got up and walked over to Miamor. He stood over her and bent down to kiss her on her forehead. “I’m taking you back home, Miamor. Everything’s going to be alright,” he whispered in her ear as she slept comfortably. “I love you.” Murder had never said that to anyone, besides Miamor. He had never trusted anyone enough to extend something so great, but as he looked down at her, he knew that he meant every word.

“I love you too Carter,” Miamor whispered back, while still in her sleep. It was obvious that Murder was not the man in her dreams. Hearing those words were like daggers through his heart, but he understood. He was just ready to end The Cartel and move Miamor back to Brooklyn, where she belonged.

Carter, please respond. I miss you. I know you’re upset, but I need to see you. Love Always, Miamor.

Young Carter read the words twice before deleting the message, just as he had done all the others. It had been seven days since he’d put Miamor out of his hotel room, and she was constantly on his mind. Every message she sent reminded him of what they both had lost. He hoped the relocation would help give him a fresh start.

The Cartel no longer ran Miami. They were out of the drug business and moving on to new heights in a new environment. All of the death, destruction, and deception would be left behind. Miamor would be left behind. He wished that things could be different, but the truth of the matter was she was untrustworthy. He had done her one last favor by keeping Mecca off of her ass. He felt that he owed her that much. Although she had lied to him, everything that he had told her was the truth. He had indeed fallen in love with her, and because of that, he allowed her to live. Now he could skip town and forget that he ever knew her.

The sound of a door opening and closing indicated Mecca’s arrival. He walked into the house. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he wore a sad expression on his face. Carter had never seen Mecca so humble and serene.

Melancholy filled the room as Mecca looked around at the nearly empty mansion. “I came up in this house,” he said. “I watched Poppa run his meetings out of this house. Me, Breeze and Money used to play in that backyard.” Mecca’s eyes had tears in them as he recalled the fond memories of his family, but he let none fall and kept his head held high, just as his father had taught him to do. He wished that he could rewind the clock to happier times, but nothing could erase the hollow feeling he felt. “I’m the last one standing.”

Carter didn’t respond. He had never known the infamous man who had fathered him, but he respected him all the same. He had grown to love Taryn as much as his own mother, and the deaths of his siblings had destroyed him because he had been robbed of his time with his newfound family.

“It doesn’t feel right leaving all this behind,” Mecca stated.

“We have to,” Carter stated. He extended his hand to Mecca, and they embraced briefly. Carter picked up his Louis luggage, and they both headed toward the door. All of the other contents of the house had already been shipped to Arizona. A new house would be set up and waiting when they arrived.

“Where is Zyir?” Mecca asked.

“He has a couple stops to make, but he’ll be flying back to Flint tonight. The arrangements are already made for him,” Carter explained.

Carter’s BlackBerry rang out loud, and he saw that Miamor had text him again.

Carter, if you ever really loved me, please text me back. I’m sorry for everything. I don’t want to lose you.

Mecca watched Carter as he typed into his phone. I know this mu’fucka ain’t still in contact with that bitch, he thought. Mecca had a gut feeling that Carter was responding to Miamor, and although he had given his word to Carter that he wouldn’t touch her, he had lied. That was an itch that he was determined to scratch. He just couldn’t let his hatred for her go. He had a score to settle, and he had a good feeling that he was going to get a chance to do it before he left Miami. His brother was going to lead him right to her.

Sorry’s not enough. I’m leaving town tonight. Good luck with your life, ma, Carter typed back.

Within seconds, his phone was going off again with another message from Miamor.

Carter, please do not leave me like this. At least give me a chance to say good-bye. Meet with me, Carter. Please. I won’t take up too much of your time. I just want to see you.

“What’s up, fam?” Mecca inquired, trying to sound casual.

Carter looked up at him. “Oh, ain’t shit. Just a little something I forgot to take care of. What time does the private jet take off?”

“Six o’clock,” Mecca replied.

Carter looked at his watch. It was only 3 p.m. That left him with three hours to spare. He thought about never seeing Miamor again, and his stomach turned over. She was right. They did need to see each other face to face before he left. They needed closure.

There’s a warehouse in Opalocka on 27^th Ave. Meet me there in an hour.

Carter instructed Mecca to meet him at the landing strip, and the two parted ways.