The Corner III (No Way Out) (7 page)

“Trish. She comes in for lunch mostly. Talks a little and then is out. Really nice girl.”

“Damn good looking, too,” Slim added as he stood. He dropped a twenty on the counter then said, “Holla, Ray.”

The sandwich and juice was only five dollars, so Slim had to make a fast exit as always because he didn’t want to give Ray the chance to turn down the fifteen dollar tip.

As Slim headed for the Dan Ryan Expressway he thought about the beautiful woman who’d come into the diner. Thought about how he should have introduced himself. He usually would have, but he wanted to get out of the mode of just macking a woman. He wanted a good woman to come into his life and figured that that woman would eventually come. But then he thought about the innocence the woman at in the diner exuded and thought maybe he should have talked to her.

2

“Their money ain’t as long as mine”—SLIM

LaTanza sat comfortably on the lounge chair as she watched the waves roll effortlessly onto the sandy beach of a resort in Cozumel, Mexico. The moon was shining brightly on the small waves, and she wished she could stay and enjoy the hot weather and nightlife of Mexico. But she had a job to do, pleasure and fun was not priority on her list. She stood and stretched her long, curvaceous body. She was wearing an Aquaclara bikini. One of her favorites by a brother and sister team, Jorge and Liliana Villalobos of Peru.

Chacho Delarosa sat in a chair next to the brown beauty. He sipped on a glass of Patron and lime as he stole glances of her as she stood. The blend, soft leather microfiber, satin and Lycra-tull was like a second skin on her body. The Mexican kingpin had beautiful women around him twenty-four seven and used them like paper towels. When finished, he simply threw them away. But LaTanza was different. She was a beautiful caramel-colored black woman who was strong, beautiful, powerful and rich. And having many connections in the drug trade didn’t hurt. She was the wife of the powerful Carlos Fuentes of Chicago and was running his cartel while he sat in federal prison. Chacho could care less if Carlos was in or out of prison because he was a man who, in his forty-eight years on this earth, got what he wanted—whether it was the easy or hard way.

“Where are you going, Mommasita?” he asked.

LaTanza smiled as she focused on Chacho—salt and pepper hair that was slicked to the back. A goatee that was dyed black and salt and pepper hair on his chest. He was thick around the middle from a life of living and eating well. His Mexican heritage and living in Mexico under the year round intense heat and sun played the part in giving him a dark skin tone, unlike a lot of the Mexicans she knew in Chicago where the heat and sun was intense for only a couple of months.

She told him, “I want to go on the yacht. You promised, remember?”

Chacho looked out into the ocean where his beauty was anchored about three hundred yards from where they were. The sun was setting and the yacht’s lights were glowing from its windows. He sipped his drink as he thought. He hadn’t planned on taking LaTanza on the luxury boat. At least not until tomorrow, but the beauty wanted to get on the yacht named ‘F
lotación Bueaty’
which stood for ‘Floating Beauty’. He started to think with his little head as she leaned over to pick up her drink, a Tequila Sunrise. Her brown breasts jiggled slightly and caught his gaze. She sipped her drink then said, “Chacho, your yacht is so beautiful. I would love to see the inside.”

He rose from his chair and was sitting straight up. The thick platinum bracelet slid forward on his wrist as he set his drink on the small basket weave table. He checked his Rolex watch which was platinum as well. His accent was smooth when he grunted, “Ah, my beauty. Me have business to tend to. Maybe we go on the yacht another time.” 

LaTanza could see lust in his eyes and knew that he wanted her. She’d played a cat and mouse game the past couple of days. He knew that she was in Mexico on business to see what kind of deal she could strike with him. But she wasn’t in control of the city of Chicago and others in the Midwest and until she was he didn’t want to deal with her. Besides, he was already supplying someone who sold in some of the major cities in the Midwest, and to a cartel that was, based out of Miami. They were the real deal, supplying drug crews from Miami to all the movers and shakers up interstate 95 to New York.

LaTanza smirked her full lips at Chacho, telling him, “Well, since we’ve talked business already, I guess my stay in Mexico is over. Until next time.”  With that, she walked away. Slowly, of course, affording Chacho the opportunity to change his mind.

He didn’t. He simply let her walk away even though he wanted so badly to taste her. But he hadn’t made it to kingpin status for nothing. He was a smart man who’d seen it all, and he never let pussy come before his money. So he just watched the woman who wanted to make a one hundred kilo a month deal with walk away to her hotel room to prepare for her flight back to Chicago. She looked so good to him and he wanted her badly, but there were people on his yacht. People who bought five hundred kilos a month and they were in Mexico to see if they could increase the quantity they were buying, so he would have to wait to entertain.

Back in her hotel room, LaTanza stripped out of her bathing suit. It had done its job in showing off what she had to offer the Mexican drug lord. She had no interest in him physically, but knew what was in between a woman’s legs was power and in between a man’s was weakness. If she had to she would eventually bed Chacho and get his nose open. He would then get weak and deal with her on a large scale and then she could expand her empire. She was naked when she lay on the bed. She caressed her breasts and thought about how she missed her husband’s body on top of hers and his manhood inside her wanting walls. She closed her eyes, opened her legs and imagined it was he who was entering her but the man on top of her was much heavier.

“Ahhh, that’s it Fernando,” she moaned as her bodyguard entered her.

“I’ve missed you,” Fernando whispered as he picked up his pace.

“I know you have and I’m going to make you come many times tonight.” She looked him in his eyes. “You are on my team, aren’t you? I can trust you to the fullest, right?”

He dug deep into her velvety love, saying, “You know I’m down for you. I’ve proven that haven’t I?” he said with a couple of hard thrust.

Fernando was referring to him setting up Carlos Fuentes’ father to be killed.

She hooked her legs around his and fucked him back. Not sexed him. That wouldn’t do to keep him under her spell. It had to be a good fuck.

“Yes you have and I love you for that, now fuck me hard. I want us to come together.”

LaTanza felt him swelling and his thickness was well welcomed. Carlos had been incarcerated for almost two years and LaTanza promised herself and her husband not to sleep with anyone and she considered herself to be sticking to her promised since she only slept with men when it came to business. When it came to her becoming the Queenpin.

*     *     *

Love and Happiness pumped through the speakers of Baby G’s Chevy Malibu, a discreet vehicle that he liked using when he was on a mission. He sat in darkness on the corner of 80
^th
and Langley and watched from his rearview mirror at the C-class Mercedes as the man inside waited. Once he got impatient, he stepped out of his car. His cell phone was up to his ear, and he looked angry as he walked to the home he was parked in front of.

Baby G killed the music that was playing low, pulled the slide to his .45 Colt back a bit to ensure that he’d racked a round in the chamber. He was always careful like that. He then stepped out of his car. The dome light didn’t illuminate because he’d taken the bulb out so he wouldn’t be seen getting out. He gently closed the door and headed toward the man. He thought about how the city made it easy to do a killing by not replacing the street lights in a timely manner.

“Bitch, what’s taking you so long,” the man barked into his phone.

The woman on the other end said, “I’m inside waiting for you! I’m looking out the window and don’t see you.”

“I’m knocking on the door now, bitch!” he barked.

“Well, you knocking on the wrong door, cause I don’t hear shit and don’t see you. And make that the last time you call me a bitch!” she spat.

He told her the address she’d given him while they were at the club two nights ago. He’d partied with her and later that evening she’d given him the best head he’d had in his life, and that brought him here from the west side to the southeast side.

She said, “You wrote the wrong address down, stupid ass!”
Click
she hung up on him.

“I’ll kill that bitch,” the young gangster spat as he turned and walked back to his car. He was then surprised by a man in all black. He was about to go for his pistol, but it was too late.

Baby G had his pistol pointed at the man as he asked, “Cain, you sent them little niggas into our stash house, who you work for?”

Cain was a gansta who was an independent and was trying to come up. Slim’s crew had never heard of the young gansta, but when Baby G got finished with the one youngster who had robbed them, he gave Cain up.

“Fuck you, nigga! Figure it out,” Cain barked knowing who was standing before him and why. He then spit on Baby G.

Boom, boom, boom, boom.
Baby G shot Cain in the head and chest then walked away as he wiped blood and the spit from his face. Baby G knew Slim wanted information from the man before he was killed but after getting spit on; Baby G had no room for talking.

*     *     *

Slim, Anthony, Noonie, Shaun and Reese, all dressed in expensive jeans, silk blend camp shirts, button-downs and dress shoes, stepped out of the black BMW 760. They were parked in the reserved parking space in the front of
RITZ
, a gentlemen’s club in downtown Chicago. The four well-dressed men walked toward the entrance. Reese’s six foot three two hundred and fifty-five pound frame leading the way. Other men who were waiting to get inside the well-established club were cutting their eyes. Jealousy oozed from their pores, directed at the men with obvious power and clout, as they passed them by to be let in by the doorman without waiting.

The manager was at the long L-shaped bar talking to one of the barmaids, a tall, brown-skinned sista with a blown out hairdo that made her look even taller. He noticed Slim and immediately put out his cigarette in the ashtray and headed Slim’s way.

“Slim, how are you? You should have told me you were coming. I would have had a—” He saw one of his assistants, a young white man who didn’t look old enough to be in the establishment. He snapped his fingers at the man then waved for him to come. “David, clear an area up front near the stage for five.”

Slim said, “No need. We’re cool blending in.”

“You sure, I can—”

Slim raised his hand stopping the manager, who knew big money stood before him. “We’re fine, just start the liquor coming because my boy just had his first son!” Slim said while lightly punching Noonie on the arm.

“The place is yours. Whatever you need and we have a good show going on tonight. A few new girls since you were here last.”

Slim hadn’t been to the gentlemen’s club since Antwan’s, who is now in Detroit hustling for Slim, birthday which was seven months ago.

The men had Heinekens, Hennessey and Moet. They had seen a couple of girls strip, but it wasn’t a big deal to them. They all had women and could get just about any woman they wanted. They were in the club because of the atmosphere—not to trick.

Waitresses changed, and Trish was now working Slim and his crew’s table. When she stooped at their table with a bottle of Dom Perignon, Slim’s back was to her as he talked to someone he knew who was passing by, and when she spoke, her voice was like music to his ears. Knowing the voice he immediately turned. When Slim and Trish locked eyes he said, “You’re the lady from Ray’s the other morning.”