The Corner III (No Way Out) (8 page)

Excitement was in Slim’s voice, and Noonie noticed a glow on his face that he’d never seen before. A smile formed on his face knowing that his boss never showed any excitement toward a woman.

“Yes, Marcellus, it’s me, and how are you?” she asked shyly.

“I’m fine,” he said then his brow furrowed. “How do you know my name?” Slim asked knowing that no one ever called him by his real name.

She whisked stray stands of her jet black hair from her face as she balanced the tray of champagne in the other as she said, “Ray told me while I was in there this morning.”

“Oh,” was all Slim said not wanting to press the woman. He made a mental note to remind Ray not to tell anyone his real name, because if a person didn’t know it, he didn’t need to know it.

Trish noticed the manager and got back to work.

“Congratulations on the birth of your child,” she said as she poured Noonie some of the fine champagne.

“Thank you, ma,” Noonie said as he picked up the flute. He waited for his friends to get their glasses filled then raised his flute in the air. “To my son, Nomar.”

“To Nomar,” everyone said in unison.

Trish walked away to attend to other customers, and Slim noticed when she looked back to steal a glance at him—he couldn’t help but smile.

The men finished off the champagne and joked with Noonie about him being an old man and tied down. That Chantel already had him henpecked and that Noonie Jr. was going to keep him occupied.

Noonie laughed, saying, “That’s okay, that’s my baby, and that’s my little man. Anyway, I’ve been thinking. It’s about time we all thought about settling down. I mean, not necessarily to a woman. Well, for me it is. Chantel and my little man are my life. But, yo, this game is gonna catch up to us.”

Everyone at the table was quiet. Nothing was heard but the bass and lyrics from Ludacris’
Splash Waterfalls.

Reese broke the silence by laughing, “You hear this nigga? Talkin’ ’bout getting out the game. Shiiit, not me. Women, money and in it to win it.”

Shaun who was light skinned, about six feet and average build. Sporting a short natural and an always razor-trimmed goatee, said, “Nah, wait a minute, Reese. I can feel Noonie. When I had my son, shit changed for me. I got out the game for a minute ’cause I had to be there for shorty. If his mom wouldna booked to Oregon, I probably would be working a nine to five. Shit, when she took my little man, I said fuck it and hit these streets hard when ya’ll put me on.”

Anthony said, “Well, you showed your love when you did what you did by saving Chantel and Tesha’s life at that gas station when those niggas tried to slump them.”

Noonie said, “That’s what I’m saying, all good things don’t last forever. Shit, our girls could have been killed. Chantel lost a baby then, so I’m lucky for what God has given me.”

Anthony said, “We’re here to party, not to get all serious and shit.” He waved at Trish, “Ay.”

She walked to their table and asked, “More champagne?”

“Reese said, “Nah, tell ’em we want a bottle of Remy XO, and some Heineken for everyone.”

“Coming up, fellas.”

As she walked away, Anthony said to Slim, “I see ya, homey. Quit bullshittin’ and holla.”

Reese added, “Shit, she knows you got money. It won’t be hard. That’s what I’m talking about, we could pull any chick up in here. That’s what they in here fo’, to get paid fast.”

Slim said, “Nah, Reese. That’s where you’re wrong. I met her at Ray’s a couple of mornings ago. Well I didn’t actually meet her. I was talking with Ray when she walked in. Heard her convo with Ray. I think she’s just working the tables.”

Slim didn’t know if what he was saying was true. He just heard the innocence in her voice when she and Ray talked. Saw the gleam in her eyes when she said she was writing a book. So he hoped what he was thinking was true.

Trish arrived with their drinks. When she walked off, Slim left his partners behind and caught up with her. He didn’t want to put her on front street by trying to talk to her while in front of his boys. He wanted her to know that he was sincere.

“Excuse me, Trish. I know you are busy and most of your work is done on tips but before the night is over, could I have a moment of your time? I would just like the chance to get to know you. No game involved,” he told her.

She read the honesty in his face. Not like the liquored up rap that most men threw at her. She knew she worked in a place where sex sells, and if she hadn’t seen him with Ray and the next morning Ray telling her that Slim was a good man, she would have just blown him off.

“Look, I can’t talk now,” she looked nervously at the table of narcs. “If you really want to talk to me, meet me where you know I will be, Marcellus.”

Slim knew where she meant. “Cool,” he said.

She walked to a booth of six men, and Slim went to the bathroom to relieve himself. He made a mental note of her look at the cops and wondered which one she was involved with. He was so intrigued with Trish that he’d worry about that later.

When Slim had walked over to talk to Trish, he hadn’t noticed the three men when they walked into the club, a black, Puerto Rican and white—Styles, Rivera and Spivey. Three of Chicago’s finest. Narcotics detectives who were known as cops who got the job done by any means necessary. They were also known on the streets as officers that didn’t play. They walked in the place with their chest stuck out. Knew no one could fuck with them and they did just about what they wanted to. Reese noticed the one he knew as Styles. He was brown-skinned about six feet, thick and bald-headed. He was the leader of the group of detectives, and it showed. The men seated themselves in an area that was marked
reserved
. They were dressed in casual jeans and fancy button downs that cover their pistols that were sure to be in tucked in their waistbands at the small of their back.

A couple of the girls made their way to the men, and it was obvious to Reese that they were tricks who spent a lot of money in the joint.

Reese nodded toward the men as he said to Ant, “Those them narcs who work our area. You think they fucking with us?”

“Nah, not at the moment anyway. I saw them clowns sitting in a Tahoe when we pulled up,” Ant said as he sipped the Heineken he had clutched in his hand. “Noticed the white boy when he let the window down to throw out his cigarette. I remember him from when they raided one of our spots about six months ago. He didn’t have on a mask. So I figure he’s just a narc and don’t work undercover.”

Reese kept his Evo phone on the table but tilted it. He watched as the screen came into focus and snapped the picture as the three detectives toasted their drinks.

When Slim returned, Anthony said, “We got some narcs up in here.”

Slim said, “I noticed them. Ain’t nothing to worry about. I spoke to the manager, and he said that they come to party every now and then. He said that the Hispanic cat and the white boy fuck around with two of his strippers. Said they must have hit a lick because they always come and spend when they do.”

Noonie asked, “He told you all that?”

Slim grinned, poured himself and his friends a shot then held his up as he said, “Their money ain’t as long as mine.”

*     *     *

LaTanza looked like a sophisticated businesswoman as she walked confidently through O’Hare International Airport. Her cream-colored pantsuit and Stuart Weitzman pumps made her look and feel like she was somebody—which she was, a woman who was putting together a master plan of controlling the drug trade in the Midwest. When her husband, Carlos, was incarcerated, she took over the duties of running the Fuentes’ family. Even though Carlos was calling most of the shots from jail, he was passive. Only doing enough to keep his people fed, but once his wife got the taste of power and money, greed and the ability to control set in, and she wanted nothing to do with sharing. Carlos had made a pact with Lucky and Slim that they wouldn’t war. That they would stay within their respected areas and violence would be kept at a minimum. Carlos knew that with his family and Slim’s on the same page, they could keep Bone under control, because even Bone’s wild self wouldn’t dare to take on the both of them.

A man exited the seven series BMW and opened the door as cabs and shuttle busses zoomed past him. He stepped around to the passenger’s back door and opened it. “No bags, Mrs. Fuentes?”

“No, Rafael,” she said as she stepped in.

“Welcome home, Mrs. LaTanza,” Chavez said as he leaned to give his best friend’s wife a respectful kiss on the cheek. “Everything go well?”

“It was okay, but not as we planned,” she told Chavez.

“I talked to Carlos while you were gone, he needs you to visit him asap.”

“Did he say about what?” she asked.

Chavez fingered a Cohiba cigar as he answered, “Nah, but I guess Lucky went to see him. From the way Carlos talks, I think the old man is ready to get out the game.”

LaTanza looked at Chavez, “He told you that?”

“Nah, you know he doesn’t tell me too much. I’m just figuring because he wants me to slow down on my hunt,” Chavez said as he took out his butane lighter.

LaTanza had a scowl on her face. “I know you’re not going to light that in this car.”

Chavez loved to smoke cigars and had forgotten that LaTanza didn’t like for him to light up while they were in tight confines such as a car. He smoked them a lot when he was in deep thought, and LaTanza knew what he was thinking.

She said, “I heard through the grapevine that you killed a young man that might be connected to Bone in some way.”

The gangster in him answered with an abrupt, “Your point?”

“Easy, Chavez, I know you
need
to do what you have to do, but check with me first when going after Bone or Slim’s people. We have to look at the bigger picture,” she told him.

“With all due respect, the bigger picture for me is to avenge my hija and hijo’s mother’s death,” he said as he looked away and out the window. He usually got glassy-eyed when talking about Victoria. She was the one good thing in his life, and he hated that his children were going to have to grow up without their mother because of the game—the game that he is in. He felt as if he was the cause of her death, so vengeance would be his, and he wouldn’t rest until he got it.

LaTanza placed a comforting hand on his thigh and patted it. “I can’t say I know what you are feeling, but I do know that if it was Carlita, I would do the same. Just try to keep me up on what you are doing so it doesn’t interfere with what we have going with controlling the Midwest.”

Chavez turned, and a grin formed on his face. “I’ll do my best, Mrs. LaTanza.”

She smiled, saying, “Good.” She was happy with that answer because she knew what type of man Chavez was, a stone cold killer and she was happy to have him as her right hand man.

They continued to talk about business and life as they headed south on the 294 expressway. They were the perfect combination for controlling a drug crew. She was smart, witty, patient and ruthless. He was smart, relentless, ruthless and loyal. They were the perfect combination.

They arrived at LaTanza’s Romeoville home. The sun was about to set, and she was glad to be home. Her maid, Consuela, opened the front door and Carlita was standing with her excitedly, waiting for her mother. LaTanza was about to get out of the car when Chavez said, “LaTanza.”

Sounding a bit irritated because she was ready to enter the comforts of her home, she asked, “What, Chavez?”

“Carlos has been my man since we were kids. You know that. When I went with him to kill your stepfather—”

“You mean the rapist bastard my mother married?” she said with channeled anger.

“Yes, that bastard. I knew then you were the one for Carlos. I love him and will kill for him. Hell, have killed for him. So what I’m saying is, I’ll never betray him. I’m going along with your plan because it is for the good of all of us, our families. I will spill blood for that and for you and Carlita. I promised Carlos that I would take care of the two of you. And I do feel that your plan is best for all of us
and
Carlos when he gets out—whether he understands that or not.”