The Corner III (No Way Out) (24 page)

Shaun whispered, “Don’t hang up.”

He began to kiss Teresa’s thighs as she kept her phone conversation going and when he reached her love she began stuttering at the tongue lashing he was giving her. He covered her with his lips and moaned as he savored her juices that began to flow, and the vibration was too much for her to handle. Teresa dropped the phone and told her man that she wanted him in her. He stood and she watched him undress. He then slid all of his thickness inside her, closed his eyes, and started to dig deep as he thought about Mariska’s and the way she looked in the window. He pretended it was she that lay on the couch underneath him. She was all that was on his mind the past few hours, and it was her forbidden fruit he wanted to take the chance to indulge in even though he knew what risks were involved.

*     *     *

It was now August a month since Shaun and Reese had picked up the drugs from Ivan, and they did as Slim told them and flooded the streets with the good product which brought the fiends out in full force. Shaun had talked Reese into letting him get rid of the ecstasy, and he agreed since Shaun was more of the club pretty boy type and he’d work well with the white club managers they were dealing with. He had people skills almost as well as Greg, who was still laying in the hospital in a coma.

Shaun was in his Lexus GS heading north on the Dan Ryan Expressway. The cut
Headlines
by Drake was pumping through the premium speakers as he weaved through the light traffic toward the West Loop section of the city. His cell rang, and he glanced at the screen. It was Teresa. He answered, and she told him that she decided that she was going to stay at home tonight instead of going out with Cookie. Shaun told her that he had business to take care of and that he’d be home later. He ended the call and thought about the lie he’d tell her when he arrived home which, if all goes well, won’t be until the morning.

Shaun arrived at the 1100 block of West Randolph Street. After finding a place to park, he looked himself over in the rearview mirror to see if he was good. He patted his natural and used his thumb and forefinger to smooth down his perfectly lined goatee that showed up well on his light skin. He reached inside his center console and grabbed a pill. He tossed the party drug in his mouth and washed it down with the bottled water that was in the cup holder.

Shaun walked inside the Bon V, a popular nightclub that had over 7,500 feet of space to party, and the other two times Shaun had been here, he could see why people came to Bon V, which means “Good Life” in French. And with all the exoticness and sex all over the place, Shaun realized he was missing out on something. He was used to a lot of the clubs that were frequented by only people of his race, which was cool to him, but the clubs downtown were full of young men and women, mostly white, who partied hard. He saw men dancing with women and women dancing with women. There were some black there and the ones he talked to, he could tell had money or were on their way to making money. They realized he had money when he ordered himself a drink, gave the woman a fifty then walked off without getting his change.

After about an hour of dancing, drinking and giving a few women some conversation, he’d seen what he’d come for—Mariska. She was wearing a tight black dress with a pair of Jimmie Choo pumps. The dress was very short leaving little to one’s imagination.

Shaun bought Mariska a drink, and she told him that she wondered if he was going to show. That when she was talking to Ivan and said that Bon V was her favorite Saturday night spot, she was hoping that Shaun had picked up on the hint—which he did.

They danced closely on the packed dance floor where Mariska made sure Shaun felt her Russian body heat. At one point she had her back to him, and as they danced, she grabbed his hands and guided them up her hips and over her breasts so he could feel what she was working with. The techno cut the DJ was spinning had them hot and bothered, but that night Mariska was simply playing with Shaun. Making him hunger for her and giving him something to think about when the night was over and he was on his way back to his urban world and urban women on the south side. They drank and talked that night. She told him she’d met Ivan when she was a student attending Northwestern University. She stated that she didn’t love Ivan that she was with him for his money. She then got straight to the point, telling Shaun that she wanted nothing from him but a good time and sex. That she loved sex with men and women and that she wanted to show him what pleasure was all about. Guaranteed him pleasure he’d never felt before. Shaun felt as if his dick was going to explode as he listened and watch the words flow from her red lipstick covered lips and after another Saturday of partying with Mariska and her friend he was back at the club. Only this time it was with the promise of a night of pure unadulterated sex.

9

  “Bone is no doubt a fierce man, but we’ll get him out of the way”—LATANZA

The summer rolled into the fall, and all was quiet with the three crews. They were making money hand over fist, and Slim was glad there were no waves in the ocean of hustling. To Slim, it seemed as if LaTanza and Bone were happy with their arrangement, but word had gotten back to him that LaTanza was thinking of making a power move. The three crews were seven months into their year deal with the Russians, and Slim didn’t need for any of them to mess things up. He had purchased houses and land in North Carolina, Texas, Arizona, Colorado and Washington. They were places far away from Chicago, and his plan was for all the ranking members of his crew to settle down and live normal, but most important, safe, stress free lives. All the houses had plenty of land and mixed communities. Slim had chosen Colorado for himself and his love, Trish, who he has fallen for. She has shown him that love is an emotion that no one should be without. They had gone to Vegas, Los Angeles and Jamaica in the four months they have been seeing each other. Slim learned that her dream was to be an executive chef, and he planned on sending her to culinary school next year when he retired from the game. He would then use some of his money to purchase a restaurant for her to operate. He had so many dreams for him and his friends that he couldn’t wait for the time to spring it on them.

Cancer was still making a home in Lucky’s body, but the strong-willed man barely thought about the life threatening disease. He was too busy relishing in Jamel’s success as a boxer. The young man had won nine fights without taking a loss. Eight of them were by knockout, and he had a big fight coming up with the Mexican he’d beaten years ago before he quit boxing. The same Mexican who had made it to the Pan Am games. The Mexican’s name was Poncho Perez, and he had a professional record of twenty-one and two. Jamel swore to Lucky and Fight Doctor that the man would have three losses when he was done with him. The fight was in a week at the River Boat casino in Buffington Harbor. Jamel was lucky to get the fight, managing to climb over a couple of fighters who should have been next in line to fight Perez, but after the Mexican heard Jamel running his mouth in a local magazine about how he whipped him back in the day, Perez relished the moment to fight Jamel. The entire crew couldn’t wait. They had their tickets and were ready to root their little homey on.

Bone’s crew was full of street gangsters and were used to banging. Robbery, fighting, stealing, killing and of course, hustling was their game, but being connected in a roundabout way to two of their rivals left them with not much to do. They would occasionally find something to get into, especially with people not connected to Slim’s crew or The Fuentes’. But they were getting restless, and some of them were getting the feeling that they weren’t getting their due share. That most of the profits they were spilling their blood for was going into Bone’s pockets. They were fed that theory by Kenny, and Pookie, a skinny former basketball star who blew out his knee and got caught with two ounces of weed in his dorm while playing ball at Oklahoma State. Once back on the block on the west side of Chicago while at a pick-up basketball game in one of Reynard’s controlled neighborhoods, Pookie was slam dunking and putting on a show. When Reynard asked him to play on his basketball team that played pick-up games in the city for money, Pookie told him that was cool, but he also wanted to get put on. That he knew many cats who smoked bud back in college and someone who could get the green off. Reynard fronted Pookie five pounds, and two days later Pookie was back with his money. From that point on, Pookie was a good earner—on the court and the streets. Since then, Pookie has been loyal to Reynard and would follow him just about anywhere.

Reynard had been approached by a Hispanic man one night who gave him a briefcase with fifty thousand in it. All the man told Reynard was “For you and not Bone. Compliments of the Fuentes’.”

Reynard didn’t know what to make of it, until he received a phone call from the head bitch in charge, LaTanza. She told him that there was more money where that came from if he was in charge. Reynard was smart enough to know where she was coming from and couldn’t wait for her to contact him again. He was loyal to Bone, but there was always room for change. Especially, when the leadership at hand was not ruling the way he should be and may needed to be ousted like the Libyan leader, Muammar Gaddafi.

LaTanza was sitting back keeping a low profile. She knew her sister had her hounds out trying to find whatever dirt they could since she and Carlos killed
her
father. LaTanza thought it was funny that her sister would always be one step behind her since she had Detective Styles in her back pocket. It was an ace card in her hand, and she kept a good poker face when it came to Detective Styles working for her. LaTanza also had plans of breaking off from the deal with the Russians whenever Chacho decided to supply her and give her his buyers in all the other states in the Midwest since he hadn’t been able to find a good earner. He has had two different men in that position ever since he killed Antoine Villarreal for cooperating with the United States government, but the men were found to be incapable of handling the job. So soon, Chacho would have to call LaTanza. He knew she was ruthless and would make money. She only had two strikes against her—she was a woman and black. But like all racial and gender barriers, they would be broken so that Chacho could get back to making large amounts of money in the Midwest.

*     *     *

Noonie was laying on the twin bed sleeping lightly. He had just fed his son about an hour ago and had fallen asleep shorty after putting him in his crib. Chantel was in their bedroom catching up on some reading. Noonie had been a lot of help to her; he hadn’t been in the streets much since their son was born. He was a two months old, and all he did was eat and sleep. Miss Joplin told her that most women think that this is the hard part, but in reality it isn’t. She told Chantel that when they were infants all they did was eat and sleep. That it was up to the woman to get on the baby’s schedule if her time permitted it, and with Chantel being at home all day, it afforded her the time to do just that. Get on her son’s schedule.

Chantel had just started re-reading novel she’d read a couple of years ago, an erotica
Lies, Lust, Consequences
when she heard Noonie’s ring tone. She leaned over to the nightstand and looked at the screen. Greg’s name appeared. She waited until it finished ringing before she headed to the baby’s room. She didn’t want the rapping of Rick Ross to wake the baby. She threw the comforter off herself and headed to the baby’s room. When she stepped inside, she noticed Noonie sleeping peacefully. She thought about waking him but decided not to. She clicked on the nightlight then turned off the ceiling light. She closed the door partially then headed downstairs to get some butter pecan ice cream to indulge in as she read her book.

“Thanks,” Noonie said as he took the ice cream from Chantel when she entered the bedroom.

“I thought you were sleep,” she said as she watched her man lick some ice cream from the spoon. She smiled at how the color of the butter pecan matched the hue of his skin.

“I was, but you know I sleep lightly.” He grabbed the book off the bed. “Now you know you shouldn’t be reading this type of stuff,” he said as he kissed her on the forehead.

“You’re right because it makes me horny as hell.”

“Just say the word, ma. Just say the word.”

Chantel reached in her pocket. “Oh, yeah. You had a call.”

He looked at the screen then saw that he had a message from Greg. He was about to check it when Reese called. “Whad up, big boy?” he asked.

“Nigga, you,” Reese said. “You on lockdown or what?”

“Nah, just chillin’. What y’all fools got goin’? I hear the music.”