over your head. Your mother didn’t have to worry about shit. She chose to never spend the money on herself. She never had to work another day of her life if she didn’t want to. He made sure of that.” Polo looked in Young Carter’s eyes, trying to read him.
Carter stood up to signal that he was done with the conversation. “It still doesn’t matter. This ain’t home, and first thing tomorrow I’m out.”
Polo stood as well, He shook his head in contempt. “A’ight, I hear you, but now you hear me. There’s a war going on. Your little brothers and your baby sister need you right now. They weren’t raised the way you were. They’re spoiled, and they underestimate the seriousness of what’s going on. This family needs your leadership, your protection. There’s a lot of unfinished business that needs to be handled. Your father’s seat at The Cartel is waiting to be filled.”
Carter’s silence was enough to let Polo know that he was considering his options. He headed for the door. Before he left the room, he said, “There’s a meeting tomorrow night at the Diamond house. Your presence should be felt. If you’re still in town, you should drop in. I’ll be in touch.”
As the door closed behind him, Carter thought of all the times he had wondered about his father. He was going crazy as he tried to recount the endless gifts his mother had given when he was growing up. He remembered growing up in the inner city up until the age of ten. At that time, his mother had mysteriously packed up all their belongings and moved them to the suburbs of Grand Blanc.
That must be around the time that Carter found out about me,
he thought to himself.
A part of him wanted to leave town and never look back, but another part of him wanted to stay. The part that had seen the beautiful face of his baby sister, the part that had witnessed the arrogant swagger of his brother Mecca, and calculating discreetness of his brother Monroe. His emotions were at an all-time high, and for the first time in his life, he was indecisive.
Unable to stay cooped up in the hotel suite, he grabbed two stacks of money and headed for the door. He needed to clear his head. He figured that the best way to do that was to visit the floating casino that sat at the end of the pier on South Beach. He didn’t know that gambling ran through his veins like blood. It was a habit his father also had. What he did know was that it relaxed him, which was just what he needed at the moment.
Carter stood at a lively crap table with nothing but hundred-dollar chips in his rack. The casino was unusually packed for a Sunday night, and every table was crowded with eager participants just waiting to be taken by the house. Carter was lax from the top-shelf Rémy he was sipping on. The liquor and the intense thrill of the game had calmed him down since his earlier encounter with Polo.
“All bets set!” the dice handler yelled before maneuvering the ivory across the table and placing them in front of Young Carter. “Dice out!”
With his drink still in one hand, Carter picked up the dice with the other and tossed them toward the other end of the table with a nonchalant swagger. The dice tickled the fabric as they danced before finally landing.
“Yo! Eleven, yo!” the dealer shouted, indicating that eleven had landed on the face of the dice.
Uproarious celebration erupted around the table as everyone collected their wins and anxiously awaited Carter’s next roll. He had been on a hot streak all night, hitting point after point. His luck was unbelievable. He had held the dice for forty-five minutes, which was almost impossible to do in the game of craps. He schooled the dice against the table with his head down as he watched his hands work their magic. He concentrated heavily on his technique. Every hustler had his own rhythm with the dice, and Carter was no exception.
“Excuse me, can I get in here?”
Hearing the feminine voice amongst the crowd of boisterous
Learning to Kill: Stories