The Corner III (No Way Out) (17 page)

Lucky said, “Jamel wanted to fight someone with the same speed but in a higher weight class. This is his first fight. Three rounds. He said he was going to let the guy hit him to get the feel of being hit again.”

Slim asked, “He used to box?”

“A few years ago, then he got in the game.”

“So this is why he hasn’t been around.”

Lucky replied, “I told him he’s done with the streets. That boxing is his life right now.”

Ding, ding!
The bell sounded for round two.

Jamel danced the ring as the young man charged like a young Mike Tyson. Jamel’s trainer yelled, “Now!”

Jamel switched his fighting style from a right-handed fighter to southpaw, the boxing term for a lefty. The young man was hit with a combination to his body and head gear that left him dazed. Jamel toyed with him by peppering him with right-handed jabs. His opponent covered up, then Jamel paused his onslaught and the man unconsciously opened his guard, and that’s when Jamel hit with a left cross that sent the young man to the floor. Jamel jogged backwards to his corner as the referee helped the young man up. Fight Doctor stepped into the ring and pulled the defeated fighter’s headgear off. He checked the young man for injuries then told his corner man, “He’ll be okay.”

Fight Doctor looked over at Lucky who was trying to hold back his smile. He then walked over to Jamel. “Good job, son. Now go get cleaned up so I can get out of here and catch the evening service of church.

Slim’s grin was suspicious as he looked at Lucky.

“What?” the old man asked slyly.

“So, this is what you have been up to. Why I haven’t seen you around.” He waved his arm around the place then said, “You had Jamel in training. For how long?”

“Not long my friend. We ran into Fight Doctor, and I found out Jamel used to box until he turned to the streets. Fight Doctor said he was the best he had, and now I see why.”

“Yeah, the boy got skills,” Slim said as he looked into the ring at Jamel who was getting grilled by the trainer for pausing when he had the fighter on the ropes. Even though Jamel pummeled his opponent in quick fashion, he was still rough around the edges.

“He does, and this is all he’s doing besides driving for me, understand?” Lucky said without divulging too much information in front of Slim’s friend.

“It’s done.”

Fight Doctor leaned over the ropes telling Lucky, “The boy is good. Let’s keep doing what we’re doing, and I’ll get his first fight scheduled for the end of the month.”

“Let’s do it,” Lucky told him.

Fight Doctor headed to the showers, and Lucky turned his attention to Trish. “So, do you like boxing?”

“I sure do. It’s good he’s a righty and can switch to southpaw and fight with power. That will handcuff a lot of boxers,” Trish said.

“Damn,” Slim and Lucky said in unison.

Slim’s cell rang and as he was unclipping the iPhone from his hip, he asked her, “How do you know about boxing?” He saw Reese’s name and the 9-1-1.

“I love the sport so I watch it a lot, but I’m starting to get into that MMA stuff,” she answered.

“I have to take this,” Slim said then walked away for privacy.

Lucky used the opportunity to talk to Trish. He knew Slim better than anyone, so he knew Slim was feeling Trish, and he needed to get to know her himself—due to the business they were still in.

“What’s up?” Slim asked.

“Man, we got a problem.”

“What kind and my line is safe,” Slim told him. He changed the chip in his phone earlier in the morning before he left for church.

“One of our soldiers killed that one soldier, Parker, and we—”

“Why are you calling me with this shit. You were supposed to handle that anyway, he got caught or something?”

Reese’s voice sounded troubled when he said, “Nah, it was in the evening at a carry-out. He did it without us setting it up so it wouldn’t come back on us and…”

Slim turned his back to everyone and in a pissed tone, but keeping his voice down so Trish or anyone in the gym could hear him, he said, “You know that’s going to bring heat on us, right?”

“Yeah, I could do that nigga…”

“Nah, hold that talk. Look, where is this kid at?”

“Greg got him. Little nigga nervous, but he’s a soldier.”

“Good. I’ll hit you within an hour, meet up with you so I can holla at Greg and this nigga before I make a decision,” Slim said then hung up the phone. He was pissed, but tried his best not to let it show. He wasn’t going to tell Lucky what went on. He saw how much of a high Lucky was on from Jamel’s fight. He didn’t want him to worry. He liked the fact that his friend had something to get his cancer off his mind.

Lucky said, “Slim, I like this young lady. She knows her boxing history. She says she used to be a tomboy, and I don’t see that.”

Trish blushed.

Slim said, “Lucky, we have to run. I have something I have to take care of.”

“I’ll be out of here as soon as Jamel showers. Fight Doctor has to catch the evening service, and I have to get some rest. I couldn’t sleep all night thinking about that boy’s fight.”

“Are you surprised? Did you like what you saw?” Slim asked.

“I was impressed, but not surprised. That boy trains like an animal. He has instincts. God given talent.”

The men hugged.

Lucky hugged Trish and when they broke their embrace he told her, “I plan on seeing you again.”

“Me too,” she replied.

*     *     *

With Slim’s condo being in the River North section of the city, it was closer to the gym than Trish’s house, so he drove her there and told her to take his car. She did and was happy to drive the STS. She also knew that she would see him again soon so he could get his car. She hoped it would be tonight and would kill the time by cleaning her home and taking a nap.

Slim was in the passenger’s seat of Reese’s maroon Tahoe. They had just pulled into the driveway of a two bedroom bungalow on 96
^th
Street. It was one of Greg’s rental properties that he had furnished. He did that with some of his houses because he’d read houses sold well when they were furnished.

Slim still had on the slacks he was wearing earlier, but the button-down was untucked—concealing his pistol. Reese was in his normal gear, baggy jeans and a crisp new Rocawear shirt. He and Slim had talked while on the way to the house. They agreed that Feet would turn himself in and claim self-defense, and as long as he kept his mouth shut, they would take care of him. Reese didn’t like the idea. He wanted to kill Feet because he hadn’t followed orders, and now it put the daily operations of their crew in jeopardy. But Slim was the boss, and he had spoken and Reese couldn’t help feeling that his lifetime partner was getting soft.

Once inside the house, Greg paid his respect to Slim.

“Where this little nigga at?” Slim asked.

Greg was standing in front of Slim when he said, “Downstairs, Slim. He’s fucked up over this shit. If you see fit, can you spare him? He’s my nephew.”

Reese said, “You niggas cousins.”

“Y’all just thought that. He’s my oldest sister’s son,” Greg informed him.

Slim said, “Take me to see him.”

Once downstairs, Slim saw Feet sitting on a couch. XBOX controllers and games were scattered next to Feet. Slim noticed the bottle of Remy and the pizza box. When Feet saw Slim walking toward him, he stood.

Calmly, Slim said, “Sit down, Feet, and tell me what happened. Skip all the unnecessary bull because I have shit to do.”

Feet would have liked for Slim to show some emotion, at least that way he would have had an idea of what Slim was thinking.

“Man, Slim, me and Red were at the gamblin’ spot. That nigga got to talking shit when I was leaving and shit got squashed by the old head watching the door. That nigga, Parker, pulled his gun on me talking shit.”

“I thought this shit happened at Harold’s?” Slim questioned.

“It did. Me and Red left to get something to eat. Red was inside when Parker pulled up. He came to my window wanting to continue what had happened at the crap spot. We had words, but I wasn’t trippin’ until he showed his pistol. He went to up his thang and that’s when I let him have it,” Feet said.

He told a half truth and Slim figured as much, but what was done was done.

“I got a lawyer for you. I’m going to send him over here to see you and Greg. What you need to do is tell that story and stick to it. The lawyer should get you no more than fifteen years.”

Slim saw the dejected look on Feet’s face. He continued, “Look, you’re supposed to get got. You didn’t do what you were supposed to, so you told me a half story hoping that I wouldn’t kill you. I will if you don’t go do this time and keep your mouth shut. You feel me?”

“Whatever you say, Slim, and thanks, man. I fucked up so whatever you say.”

“We’ll take care of you while you’re in there. Just stay loyal. I’m going to send a woman over here. You fuck tonight and enjoy it, then Greg and the lawyer are going to take you to surrender.”

Slim could see the dejected look on Feet’s face. He sat next to him and said, “Look here, Feet, the bottom line is that you fucked up. From what I heard, you were an earner, and it’s going to be hard to replace you. Reese told me that you are loyal, and I need you to be that way. Be a man about this shit, and I promise you that you will be taken care of.”

There was a pause. Greg spoke. He said, “Slim, I got people down south. Maybe we can send Feet down—”

“Greg, I feel that this is your nephew, but what about when he gets caught a couple of years from now on some bullshit traffic stop? I can’t help him then. Murder? He’s looking at a lot of time, but with the lawyer I’m hooking him up with, he won’t do a day past fifteen—maybe only ten. He’ll get his charges reduced to involuntary manslaughter or something.”

Surprisingly, Feet who was sitting on the edge of the couch with his head down, stood and spoke. “I’m ready to go do the time, Slim,” he said with a heavy voice. “I fucked up, so I’m thankful for your help. I don’t need a woman tonight. I’m ready to go now, and I will be steady.”

Slim gave him some dap and as he and Feet hugged he told him, “Way to be strong. And we got your back, now and when you get out.”

When Slim and Reese walked down the stairs, Feet didn’t know what to expect. He’d only been in the same room as Slim once and had seen him from afar once in Ford City mall. Both times he had admired Slim’s style and swagger. Feet had dreamed of making his way up the ranks so he could look the same way. But tonight when he thought his uncle was going to have to beg for his life because of his fuck up, he found out why Slim was beloved by all who were close to him. He was a fair man and a man who had a heart. Feet swore to himself that he would keep quiet and do his time.

“Alright, I have somewhere I need to be. Since he’s ready to go, I’ll get someone here with the lawyer so we can begin to put this behind us,” Slim said.

Greg gave Slim some dap then thanked him. Slim told him that he’d be contacting him about some things and then told Feet to take care. He and Reese walked out of the basement with Greg following. They talked for a moment while upstairs then Slim and Reese were on their way.

As Reese drove, Slim dialed the lawyer. “Damn, I hate calling Wiesserman this late,” Slim said as he looked at his watch.

Reese, who had a stoic look on his face, said, “That’s what his ass get paid all that money for. Anyway, don’t you think we’re making a mistake?”