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on their arm.
Besides the females, they had what she wanted-success.
    For Cartier, selling drugs was the next logical step in the Cartel's
progression. If done properly, then she and the crew could make more money
than they'd ever dreamed of having. And yes, the money was appealing. She
was the breadwinner in the family now, and taking care of Trina and her new
sibling were her responsibility now.
    Cartier shook her head as she thought about the baby's daddy bouncing
before the baby was even born. It was the way of the hood. Like Trina,
Cartier wanted the baby to have everything she never had. She and the
Cartel had already stolen four garbage bags worth of baby clothes, from
newborn to twenty-four months. The doctor said her mother was having a
girl and her mother chose the name Prada. They also began to steal a few
items from Babies "R" Us. Cartier didn't really care for the store. She had
gotten knocked twice trying to roll out a high chair in a shopping cart. Each
time she was fingerprinted, but let go because of her age. On her third try,
she got it. She caught the guard slipping and eased out without detection.
Within two months, the baby had enough shit to last two to three years. The only thing her mother would be responsible for was feeding the baby, which
the government would assist with. Between food stamps and WIC, Cartier
thought all should be fine.

    y the time fall rolled around, each member of the crew had officially
dropped out of school. At sixteen, they all functioned as if they were
grown women. Cartier had men coming and going in and out of her small
bedroom and Trina said nothing. History was repeating itself. Trina was able
to have boys sleep over when she was Cartier's age, so it was perfectly natural
for her to allow her daughter to do the same, although truly Trina didn't like
it. It didn't feel right to her.
    One part of Trina wanted to step up and be the parent Cartier never had
and start laying down rules and regulations. But the other part-the stronger
part-felt like Cartier was the sister she never had. By the time Cartier
reached twelve years-old, everyone mistook her for Trina's baby sister, and
when Trina would tell them that Cartier was in fact her daughter, they were
always surprised. Trina did look good for her age. Each day Trina promised
herself she would raise her new baby the right way. Her second child would
not only go to school each day, she would graduate and go all the way to
college. That was Trina's only wish.
    Trina watched as her first born walked around the house cleaning up for
her impending company and was somewhat proud of her accomplishments.
Cartier had grown so much in the past year and a half, and although she wasn't
heading to college, Trina was still proud of the newfound independence
Cartier exuded.
    "Who's coming over?"
    Cartier stopped in her tracks to respond. "The Cartel. We have a few
things to discuss and they should be here shortly. I just wanted to clean up a
bit and get a few things out the way."
    "OK, well y'all keep it down in here. I'm going to go in my room and get some rest."

    Monya got a tip that there was a small boutique in midtown Manhattan
that was sweet for mink coats and ripe for the picking. In their realm, you
weren't considered fly until you owned a mink coat. It was a sign of opulence
and status.
    "You know doofy Claudia came off the other day with two mink coats,"
Monya explained. "And you know if that clumsy bitch could catch two, we all
could finally get our coats."
    All right, bet," Cartier agreed. "We gotta dress the part and work in pairs.
I'll work with Lil Momma; Monya, you work with Shanine; and Barn, you
can go in solo. Everyone wear their most expensive conservative outfit and
make sure your hair and nails are done. And we gotta wear lipstick and heels
to appear older. We can't fuck this up, because I want my coat."
    It was Cartier's idea to go on a weekday, since the stores were