“Lucky, I have to get out of here. Call me when Ant is home. I need to get a few things in order,” Slim said.
Lucky stood in front of Slim and asked, “I think I caught what the detective was saying to you. Is it the young lady, Trish?”
“Yeah, and I’m definitely going to straighten it out. That and us losing more money. How in the fuck am I supposed to get all of us out of the game, wealthy, if we keep losing money?”
“Handle your business, Slim. But remember, be stern with the men in the crew and gentle with that woman. Don’t let your past cause you to pass judgment on the woman if you know what I mean.”
Slim smiled at the wise man. He knew Lucky was speaking about Lisa and the negative weight he’d carried toward women due to his failed relationship with her. He then hugged his old friend telling him, “What am I going to do when you’re gone?”
They broke their embrace, Lucky nodded out the door telling Slim, “Get the hell out of here trying to put me in a grave already with that bad karma talk.” Lucky’s cell beeped. It was a text from Anthony telling him that he and Tesha were on their way to their house and that he’d see him in a couple of hours. Lucky nodded his head mumbling, “That boy wasn’t locked up an hour and he gots to get some like he’s been down for a nickel.”
Slim laughed then left the club. Once in his car, he dialed his captain and his lieutenants. He had to get some order in his crew and tighten things up so he could get back on track making money and recouping the money he’d lost. But first, he needed to stop at the diner and speak with Ray. He felt in his gut that Ray knew more about the woman he was falling in love with than Ray was saying, and he needed to know because he didn’t want to lose Trish.
* * *
“Ray, if you knew she was seeing Styles, why didn’t you tell me? How do you think that looks with me dealing with someone the narcotics detective has been fucking?”
Ray who was facing the grill, turned with Slim’s plate in his hand. He slid it the short distance to Slim, saying, “Now why you have to go and say it like that? That girl is in love with you, boy. Yeah, she and Styles dealt, but that shit was dead before it even started.”
“Well, he’s pissed and becoming a thorn in my side.”
“Fine as she is, I’d be pissed too! If it was me I might even become more than just a thorn. I’d become the whole damn rose bush.” Ray laughed.
“That shit ain’t funny, Ray!”
“Boy, I’m just messin’ with ya. Eat your steak and eggs and listen while I break down what she got going with that asshole.” Ray poured himself a cup of coffee. “Sharon, take over for a moment,” he yelled to his waitress.
Ray walked from around the counter telling Slim to follow him as he walked to the corner booth. The two men sat, and Ray commenced to tell Slim about how Trish was a regular customer of his. That she had been for years. Her mother used to come in the place to eat, but then she eventually got swallowed up by a Reaper that went by the name of heroin, leaving Trish to fend for herself. Slim was listening, barely touching his food, and he was waiting for Ray to tell him where the connection with Styles was. When he asked, Ray sighed telling him that Trish was dating a young man from the northwest side who was in the game. When Trish was driving her boyfriend’s car, she was stopped by narcotics detectives who recognized the vehicle. They assumed they could get Trish to agree to a search of the vehicle, figuring she didn’t know there were drugs in it. When they searched it, they found enough cocaine to put her away for a long time. She didn’t know anything about her boyfriend selling drugs, so she had nothing she could tell. That’s where Styles came in. After being booked and sitting in a holding cell crying all night, Styles had her pulled from the cold cell and brought to the narcotics office. There was no one in the office at the time and Trish thought that was funny, but when Styles asked her to tell him all that had transpired on the traffic stop, she told him and explained that she was taking the car to her boyfriend. Styles told her that her man had set her up and that the prosecutor was talking about giving her a max sentence and that she was sure to do well over ten years, possibly twenty. Trish was scared, and that’s when Styles told her that he was going to do her a favor and let her go. That he was going to talk with the prosecutor and get her charge wiped away as if nothing happened.
Slim took a sip of his water as he tried to control his anger. He knew what game Styles had pulled on Trish. Faked as if he’d got her from under some heavy charges, then befriended her.
Ray said, “You see, Slim. I told her that nigga was on some bullshit, but it was too late. Trish was young and impressionable. It has been two years and that nigga still telling her that her case was tied into an ongoing investigation and that’s why her charges hadn’t been dropped.”
“Ray, did you tell her that he was on some bullshit?”
“Plenty of times. That is, once I found out she was dealing with him. That man has been grimy like that for years, so I knew it was some shit in the game.” Ray shook his head. “Look, Slim, I’m going to keep it real with you. That woman loves your ass. Told me that herself.”
Slim’s face warmed a bit, and he tried not to let it show. He asked, “She really told you that?”
“Hell, yeah. Asked what I thought she could do to get away from Styles.”
“What did you tell her?”
Ray laughed. “Told her to keep seeing you and things will work out, that you’ll find a way to get rid of his ass.”
Slim thought about how Trish was at his apartment waiting for him. His plan was to let her know what he knew and to send her on her way, but talking to Ray changed everything.
Slim had an inquisitive look on his face. “Ray, why in the hell didn’t you tell me about Styles and the shit Trish was going through?” he questioned.
Ray threw his hand at Slim dismissing the question. He then said, “Boy, if I had told you that she was involved with that detective you would have never let that woman in your life. You would have treated her like she was the plague. I knew what was good for you, so I knew what I was doing.”
Slim looked at his watch then said, “Yes, you did, and I’m glad you did.” He stood and so did Ray. “Good looking, my old friend.”
They hugged. Then Ray said. “I’m your friend, but you can keep that old shit.”
Slim laughed and began to walk out of the diner. Ray called for him, and Slim stopped. Ray said, “Treat her right, Slim. If you’ve ever done anything for me, I need you to do that. Treat that young lady right.”
Slim balled his fist and gave his heart a pound with it as he said, “Promise.”
Ray walked to his office and sat for a moment. He opened his desk then pulled out an old worn picture of him and a beautiful woman. A woman he’d slept with a couple of times before she became strung out on heroin, and started tricking. A woman who had a child eight and a half months after he’d slept with her—a child she named Patricia.
8
“Don’t you or any of you niggas question what the fuck I’m doing or you might get slumped, feel me?”—BONE
Bone sat in his basement with Reynard and a couple of his soldiers. They were drinking and waiting for some strippers to arrive. Reynard had just given Bone the word about what was going on in Slim’s crew.
Bone, who was dressed in jeans, a pair of Air Max sneakers and a wife beater said, “Them niggas got more shit going on than a little bit.” He took a hard pull off his blunt and inhaled the powerful chronic. He coughed, and then said, “You see, that’s why you have to have niggas fearing you. When you don’t, niggas in your crew be dropping like flies. Any man with balls will try to take what’s yours, and me…I ain’t havin’ that. No sir.”
Reynard poured a shot of Ciroc and hit it with a shot of cranberry juice. “Do you think it was a good idea teaming up with Slim and them Latin muthafucka’s?” Reynard asked.
Bone patted his freshly done braids that felt as if the hoodrat had done too tightly. He grinned at Reynard saying, “
My nigga, I know you’re still fuming from getting shot up a couple of years ago, but you need to put that shit out your mind.”
Reynard, who was still pissed at the fact that someone from Slim’s crew had shot him up, barked, “Nigga, you wasn’t the one who was laying in that fuckin’ hospital. I want my get back while you doin’ this joining forces shit!”
Bone, who is dark as a boot, smiled showing his strikingly white teeth. He stood and walked toward Reynard. Once he was close enough to smell the vodka and weed that was on Reynard’s breath, he said, “You know you my nigga, but don’t ever question the way I do things.” He put the blunt he had fixed between his fingers and raised it to his lips. He took a hard pull then blew the smoke in Reynard’s face. It was disrespectful, but it was in retaliation for Reynard being out of order in front of members of their crew.
Bone turned to Kenny who was Reynard’s right hand man and someone who Bone perceived to be a flunky. “You feel me, Kenny. Don’t you or any of you niggas question what the fuck I’m doing, or you might get slumped, feel me?” Bone said as he glanced at the pistol in his waistband.
Bone’s partner, Dre, who had a penchant for killing, stood as he gritted at Kenny to let him know the seriousness of the situation. The one thing Bone didn’t tolerate was disloyalty and disrespect and had killed many men who fit in the category.
“I feel you,” Kenny said. He was a killer, no doubt, like most of the gangsters in their gang. All the men were either BD or GD—Black Disciples or Gangster Disciples. They were members of the street gangs that rivaled what most of the soldiers who worked for the Fuentes’ were—Latin Kings.
Bone grabbed the bottle of Ciroc then said, “Let’s roll up out this joint, Dre. These niggas done blown my high.”
Bone and Dre headed up the stairs and halfway up he stopped, saying. “Reynard, make sure I get my money tomorrow from the streets. I need to have that Russian his money so we can get him paid and re-up.”
Once Bone and Dre were gone, Wiz, a soldier who was loyal to Reynard, said, “Man, Reynard, ain’t no need for Bone to be trippin like that. Most of the money be going to him. Shit, I almost got shot when them niggas ran up in the spot when I was making a pickup.”
Reynard, who was in a daze as he stared up the stairs, said, “It be like that, my nigga. Bone know what’s good. Thing is, we are making lots of money dealing with the Russians, but I don’t trust ’em.”
Kenny shook his head and got into the conversation, “Yeah, but I don’t like teaming up with the crews we were banging with. I done lost a lot of homies to the hands of Slim’s people and to them Latin Kings. Now we all in the bed together?”
Wiz said, “For sho’, Reynard. This shit is getting trickier by the minute. When I see one of them Latin bitches, they ain’t wearing a sign that says I’m with the Fuentes’!”
Reynard said, “Y’all niggas calm down. I’m not feeling a lot of this shit like y’all. Shit, I’m still trying to get at whoever put the lead in my ass, for real.”
“Wiz said, “And from what I heard, that nigga Chavez ain’t giving a fuck about a partnership, truce or any of that shit when he finds out who killed his baby momma.”
With that statement, the wheels in Reynard’s head began to spin. He smiled and his demeanor changed. He then said, “Let’s hit the club, my niggas, and the shit’s on me. Y’all been making me mad loot, and I want to show my appreciation for that and your loyalty to me.” He held up his glass for a toast, and the men joined him.
* * *
It was late when Slim arrived home, and the man at the front desk told him that his guest was in his condo. Slim thanked him for letting her in as he asked, then headed for the elevators. As the elevator ascended, he thought about how he was glad that he stopped and talked to Ray instead of heading to Trish’s like he intended to. A bell chimed, and the nickel-colored doors opened. Slim stepped out on the fortieth floor and headed to his condo. He opened the door and when he walked in, he saw Trish sitting at the dining table wearing nothing but one of his ties. His manhood shifted at the sight of her beautiful body. The table was set for two, and the condo had a nice glow to it from the candles that were strategically placed throughout.
Trish stood at the sight of a smiling Slim. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Welcome home, Marcellus.” She tilted her head and kissed him.
Their tongues danced and Slim placed his hand on her waist pulling her to him. He held her tightly and kissed her hard. He kissed her neck breasts and stomach. He teased around her thighs with his lips and between kisses he said, “I know…all…about…Styles.”
“I know,” she said as she savored the kisses he planted between words.
Slim was on his knees. He turned her around so he could lick and kiss her heart-shaped ass. “It’s over with the two of…” he sucked on her ass cheeks and licked at the small of her back. “…you are my woman and I…don’t share,” he said then licked and kissed her ass feverously.
“Okay,” she whimpered. The pleasure Slim was giving her felt so good.
Trish looked down at Slim who was about to taste her wetness. She stopped him. Placed her hands on his cheeks and tilted his head up. He was on his knees looking up at her. She said, “I fell for you the first night I saw you in the diner. I told Ray not to tell you about Styles because I wanted the chance to show you what kind of true love I can give you.”
Slim held onto her legs as he hugged her like as if he never wanted to let her go. “I want you to be mine, and I refuse to share you, feel me?”
She guided him up. She was now looking up at him. “I feel you, Marcellus. I want to be yours. I want you to protect and provide for me, and I will love you, take care of you and be there for you in every way imaginable. I will treat you like a king,” she told him.
Slim scooped her in his arms and carried her to his bedroom. Once inside he told her, “And you will be my queen.
* * *
Trish’s back rested on Slim’s chest as they sat in the Jacuzzi tub. They had made passionate love twice and were spent. The feeling that flowed through their bodies was true love, and they relished the moment.
“Oh, this feels so good,” Trish said of the warm water Slim was sponging on her breasts.
“Yes, it does. It feels so perfect with you,” Slim replied.
There was a silent pause for a moment.
“I want to tell you about what happened between me and Styles. I never loved him and he—”
“Don’t say a word,” Slim said cutting her words off as he put a wet finger to her lips. “I know all of what I need to know.”
“But I don’t want you to think that it was more than what it was. I didn’t want to go to jail. And I don’t want to go to jail.” She began to get excited at the thought of incarceration, saying, “And he has those charges hanging over my head.”
The water swished as Slim brought his other arm up and through the bubbles that were as thick as cumulus clouds, and wrapped them around Trish’s thick warm body to calm her. He then ran his fingers down her hair several times as he spoke softly into her ear. “As of right now, don’t you worry about any charges. They were bullshit. I had it checked out earlier today. He bullshitted you into thinking that, then played on your emotions so that you would deal with him.”
After Slim met with Ray and found out about the charges, he figured they were bullshit so he called Lucky and advised him of everything Ray had told him. Lucky said that he’d call a friend he had at the department and see what charges were on Trish. It didn’t take long for the officer to come back with the information, which was nothing. Only an old police report stating that the car was seized, and after an arrest of the owner later in the day by the DEA, he admitted to the drugs in the vehicle after agreeing to cooperate with the government.
Trish shook her head. “I’m a damn fool!”
“No, you didn’t know. Let me tell you something. Fear is an emotion that is stronger than any. It will cause yo
u to do things you normally wouldn’t do. It can also give you strength like you’ve never known. You were scared of going to jail, and he came to you as a savior. No need to beat yourself up about it.”
“I should have known,” she whined.
“Well, know one thing. I’m feeling you and to keep you out of harm’s way, I want you to stay here with me.”
A smile warmed her face. “After the way I made love to you, I would have figured I was staying the night.” She jokingly pinched his forearm.
“I mean, for good. Tomorrow I’ll send someone with you, and you get all of your personal stuff. Don’t worry about any furniture or a bunch of clothes or your old car. I got you.” Slim kissed her on her forehead as he began stroking her soft jet-black hair again.
Trish tilted her head, and they kissed deeply. She thanked Slim and promised to be the best woman she could be. He didn’t say anything. He simply kissed her again, then relaxed as he held her and hoped he was making a sound decision.
* * *
Slim and Anthony were killing time by looking at television and talking. They were in a two bedroom apartment of an older woman who Slim paid the rent for. It was a place he could go when he had meetings with his crew. The apartment was in Calumet City, a suburb of Chicago. Slim sat on the sofa as he looked at Eyewitness News on channel seven, ABC. The reporter was telling the story of a killing on the north side of the city. Slim looked at Anthony and said, “See, Ant. That’s what we as blacks fail to realize. You can kill all you want in the hood when the victim is a nameless, faceless person that no one gives a fuck about. Take your ass up north and kill a white person who means something to someone, and it’ll make headline news.”
Anthony said, “Everyone means something to someone.
Slim took a swallow of his RC cola. “You’re right about that. Everyone has a momma so everyone has someone who gives a fuck about them, but who gives a fuck about some sista in the hood who ain’t doing shit? On drugs, whoring or simply sitting on her ass taking up space in life. Or a man who is running around making babies on every block of the hood. The nigga hasn’t worked or made decent money in years. Swearing he’s on his shit when he’s really a sorry broke mothafucka. They don’t count as someone who gives a fuck about someone. Those white folks up north are connected to someone who means something.”
The Corner III (No Way Out) Page 14