𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬: 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐊𝐇𝐈

E P I L O G U E

● E P I L O G U E ●

SHE sat in the backseat of an all black Maybach watching the streets of New York City passing her as she mentally prepared for what she had planned to do since she was a little girl. Her eyes glossed over the slick black streets until the car came to a stop and the door was opened for her by suited security dressed in all black. Brooklyn stepped out of the car one Louboutin pump at a time and slowly stood up, receiving a respectful nod from security and smoothed out her white Versace pant suit, brushing her hands over her legs first and then touching the lapels of her matching suit jacket.

There was still mist in the air so one of the security had an umbrella opened for her and walked with her to the door of the building, stopping when she got inside. She was dressed immaculately from head to toe in clothes that were so expensive and rare that she couldn't begin to list the prices - - all she knew was that it cost a hell of a lot to be Brooklyn Mekhi. "Hello Ms. Mekhi," she heard as the door was opened for her and a drink was placed into her hand, three ice squares a little lime and a whole lot of cognac, "Your drink."

She nodded to the woman, "Preciate it," she said, and got on the elevator, taking a sip of the drink and nodding again, "Not bad Priscilla," she looked over and smiled, staring forward when the elevator stopped on the correct floor. She walked out, sipping the drink and hearing sounds coming from one of the rooms that was up ahead. She handed Priscilla her drink and opened on of the doors, smelling the smell of Cuban cigars and smirking, "You're always up to somethin' nigga," she said coming up behind Carti Jr who was standing at the floor to ceiling window looking out at New York City with his youthful teenage eyes, "Let me get one of those cigars."

"I was killin' time waiting on you and shit," he reached for the box and opened it, "These are the best fuckin' cigars known to man - - straight from Cuba, imported 100% authentic."

"We'll see about that shit," she chuckled, holding it and turning around so that Priscilla could cut off the tip. Brooklyn held it in her mouth and leaned a little, "Light me up," Carti flicked the lighter and watched it burn, "Aight - - aight not bad lil' nigga," she chucked and jiggled her wrist, her father's gold Rolex falling down against her forehand, "He in here?"

"Yeah," Carti said nodding, "He's here. Picked him up as soon as they released him from Riker's. How'd you pull that shit to begin with?"

"Connections," she shrugged and took a long toke of the cigar and then let the smoke slowly billow from her lips, "You know me."

"The girls know about this?"

"I figure they been through enough with the whole thing," she said, speaking of Zyair, Khloe, and Kayden, "Kayden's worrying about art school, Zyair busy with her modeling shit, and Khloe just had her baby and shit - - you know her husband nosey as shit, I didn't want him asking her questions and shit plus you my right hand in daddy's business so I figured me and you could handle this ourselves and let the chips fall where they may."

"Word," he nodded and turned his eyes away from the city, "Well I been waiting for this shit ever since the day you told me."

"Shit," she sucked her teeth, "I been waiting since I was a lil' girl and I found the shit out," she shook her head and tossed her long curly hair behind her back, "Let's do this shit and be out. I got a flight to Japan to catch in an hour - - big business deal with Hiroshima."

Carti turned on his sneakers and walked out of the room, Brooklyn following after, and they walked from one room to the next finding their prize tied to a chair with duct tape over his mouth. Brooklyn grabbed the Ruger from Carti and stood in front of the chair, "Take that fuckin' tape off his bitch ass, Carti," Brooklyn said and Carti ripped it off, seeing his pained face knowing he wanted to scream, "Well we meet again, don't we? Fifteen years later we meet a - - fuckin' - - gain," she chuckled, "Look I don't have a lot of time but I do have a lotta anger."

"The fuck are you talkin' about Brooklyn?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about uncle Judas," she laughed, "Uncle, huh? Nigga you ain't no muhfuckin' kin to me or my brotha'," Brooklyn pointed to Carti, "Or my fuckin' sistas' - - nigga really, you ain't shit but a lil' traitor and I know you are cause that night you tried to fuck my motha' I saw you and I heard you," she tensed her jaw and pointed the gun at him, "You had no loyalty to my fatha' and you took him away from me and well now it's my turn to take some shit away from you. I feel you rotted in prison long enough for me to bring it all to a fuckin' close now."

"You didn't know your fatha' as well as you think you did."

"Shut the fuck up," she smacked him with the end of the pistol, "What I know is you fuckin' used my motha' and now she's fuckin' crazy in a damn psychiatric hospital and you fuckin' killed my fatha' - - you manipulated everybody to your advantage and you still ended up assed out."

"And what about why I did it - -,"

"The fuck if I'm worried about why you did it - - you did it. Now admit that shit to me - - admit to me that you killed my fatha'."

"Brooklyn you - -,"

"ADMIT. THAT. SHIT. RIGHT. NOW."

"Fine," he said, knowing he was a dead man anyhow, "I admit it. I killed Carter. I used Destini to my advantage and persuaded her to help me."

"Great," Brooklyn said and pulled the trigger, watching as Judas's brains splattered all his body and the back wall. She smirked to herself, shooting another round off until she emptied the clip onto a corpse, "Glad that you complied," she said smartly and backed away, standing next to Carti.

"Daddy would be so proud," she said licking her lips and nodding as she and Carti looked at Judas's mangled body. She opened the door and walked out with Carti, seeing security waiting there and said, "Clean this shit up for me Rocky," she looked over at her brother deciding to take him along to Japan with her for the business deal, "Lil' bro and I got a fight to make."

"Before that," he smiled and handed Brooklyn a champagne flute, "Let's toast. To daddy and to family," the glasses went clink as they toasted, "Rest in peace pops," he said nodding and kissing his rosary, "And grandma Billie."

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