Array Ashley: The Last Chapter

“What time do you have to meet the lawyers?” Mecca asked.

“In about an hour. After that, I plan on checking in with Carter. I need to let him know what’s going on, and he’s been asking me to check for his chick, Miamor,” Zyir replied.

“Tell him to stop looking,” Mecca stated coldly.

“What?” Zyir questioned. “You know he ain’t gonna stop looking for her. That’s his bitch.”

Mecca removed the scowl from his face and replied, “I heard she left town, so tell him to stop worrying about a bitch. We gotta keep his mind right so he can beat this case.”

Overwhelmed and worried about the state of his family’s empire, Mecca sighed. “I’ll drop that payment off to the lawyer. You holla at Carter. Let him know what’s been going on. See what he want us to do to stay afloat.”

As Mecca watched Zyir leave, he collapsed back into his father’s chair. The throne that he had sat on for many years seemed too big for Mecca, the responsibilities of heading The Cartel too daunting for a hothead like Mecca. Mecca was built to be in the game. He was a goon, a killer, and his natural born hustle was innate, but being the leader had never been his forte. That role had better suited his twin brother, Money.

The thought of Monroe brought tears to his eyes. He had hardened himself to insanity after he had murdered his brother, but the extreme guilt that still plagued him over his actions always broke him down. On the rare moments when he was alone and had time to reflect, he remembered that fateful night, and he mourned the lost of his other half. Monroe was his only weakness-and his murder was a secret that Mecca would take to his grave.

Zyir sat across from Carter, six inches of glass separating them from one another, and Zyir felt a sense of despair on behalf of his mentor. Carter was his brother, and in a way, the only father figure that Zyir had ever had. It pained Zyir to see him confined, his usual designer threads replaced by an orange jumpsuit.

Carter had taught Zyir everything he knew about the game. Carter had groomed him for this exact moment because he understood that the game did not last forever, and once he met his downfall, he was confident that Zyir would be able to take his place.

“How you holding up?” Zyir asked as he gripped the telephone, obviously uncomfortable within the confines of the federal penitentiary. There was something about being behind those walls that terrified Zyir, despite the fact that his own freedom wasn’t at risk.

“Wipe that sad look off your face, li’l nigga. You look like you’re standing over my casket or something,” Carter joked charismatically while smirking.

Zyir loosened up a little and chuckled a bit before replying, “Just don’t feel right, nah mean? Looking at you through this glass. We working on that as we speak. Got your legal peoples working around the clock on your case.”

Carter respected Zyir for his loyalty and support. Carter wasn’t an optimist, however. He was a realist, and he wanted to prepare his little nigga for his potential conviction.

“Zy… Carter cleared his throat and rubbed his growing goatee as he stared intently at his protégé. You know there’s a possibility that this could all end badly for me.

Zyir shook his head in denial and replied, “Nah, fam. Shit is going to work itself out. Before you know it, you’ll be home.”

Carter nodded his head and didn’t press the issue further. He just wanted to put it out there. He knew Zyir like the back of his hand. He had planted the seed in Zyir’s head, and knew that Zyir would make the necessary plans just in case.

“Why hasn’t Miamor been to see me? I can’t reach her by phone. Have you heard from her?” Carter inquired.

Zyir shook his head. He hated to be the one to tell him the news, but thought he deserved to know. “Mecca heard she skipped town right after your arrest,” Zyir stated.

Carter frowned and replied, “Skipped town?” The news was disturbing to hear. Nothing about it resonated as true in his heart. His case had nothing to do with her, and he knew that the only time a bitch was leaving town was if she was running away with a bag full of money. Miamor never had access to his paper, and he had never involved her in his illegal dealings, so she had no reason to run. It didn’t make sense to him, but he knew that he was in no position to worry about her whereabouts. If and when he got out of prison, he would handle the situation; until then, he stored the information in his mental Rolodex.

After Zyir informed him of the state of The Cartel, their visit was cut short. He had a lot to think about. He had played the game for many years, and now it seemed that it had finally caught up to him. His judgment day had arrived.

Mecca emerged from the family mansion cautiously as he looked around him in paranoia. He knew that his grandfather, Emilio Estes, would not stop until his head was on a platter, and that his power was far reaching. Mecca had no idea who Estes was going to send at him, so he watched his back wherever he went. He slid into his Lamborghini and left rubber in his path as he sped off toward the lawyer’s office.

Alton Beckham was a defense attorney who had been on retainer from the very beginning. A friend to his father, Mecca knew that Beckham was Young Carter’s best chance of getting off. His unscrupulous morals and greed for money were the main reasons why he was so beneficial to his clients.

Mecca walked into his office, where Beckham’s receptionist greeted him. She stood to greet Mecca.

“Hello, Mr. Diamond. If you’ll have a seat, Mr. Beckham has another client in his office, but-”

Before she could even finish her sentence, Mecca bypassed the secretary as if she were invisible and walked directly into Beckham’s office.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Beckham,” the secretary stated as she rushed inside behind Mecca. “I told him he had to wait.”

“I don’t wait,” Mecca stated simply as he took a seat next to the client that was already sitting, with no regard for the meeting that he was interrupting.

Beckham stood up from behind his desk. “It’s okay, Tracy. Mr. Diamond is always welcome.” He then turned to his client and extended his hand. “I apologize, but I’m going to have to cut our meeting short. You can reschedule out front.” Knowing exactly who Mecca Diamond was, the other client didn’t protest before walking out of the room.

Once the office was clear, Beckham got down to business. He loosened his tie and sat back in his plush leather chair as he reached underneath his desk, pulling out a bottle of cognac. He poured two glasses and then held one out to Mecca.

Mecca smirked at the Jewish lawyer before him. “Every time I accept a drink from you, bad news follows.” Mecca was only half joking. He knew that Beckham was a beast in the courtroom, but he was a snake outside of it. He offered his expertise, but it came at a hefty price.

“Carter’s case requires more time than I previously anticipated. The federal prosecutor really has a hard-on for your brother. He’s doing everything he can in order to send Carter away. They don’t just want a conviction; they want a life sentence, and they want to make an example out of The Cartel. In order for me to prepare the best defense, I’m going to have to go up on my price.”

“Don’t beat around the bush, Beckham. The bottom line is money. How much do you want?” Mecca asked. “I brought a payment here for you today.” Mecca placed a money-filled manila envelope in front of the lawyer. “Fifty thousand dollars.”

Trusting his long working relationship with the Diamond family, Beckham did not feel the need to count it. He put it in his desk drawer and replied, “That’s a start.”