The Corner III (No Way Out) (32 page)

Slim awoke. He raised his torso and shook his head then wiped his face with his hands. His heart was beating fast so he slid out of the king-size bed and went to the bathroom and threw some cold water on his face. He rested his hands on the granite sink as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He smiled then slid off his sleeping pants. He walked back into the bedroom and slid his naked body into the bed. Trish was wearing only a negligee and when Slim pulled the covers back he thought she looked beautiful in the purple silk. He kissed her lips softly. Did the same with her cheek and when he reached her neck, she awoke and placed her hand on the back of his head as he sent love electricity through her body.

They spoke no words. Slim removed the garment then devoured her breasts and she moaned from the pleasure her man was giving her.

Trish guided Slim’s head down and he knew what she wanted. She cooed at the sensuous feeling of him writing his name on her clit as if his tongue was a brush and her womanhood was a canvass and he was Picasso painting a masterpiece.

After spelling his name and writing love letters with his tongue all over and inside her love he came up for air. As he hovered over her, Trish placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled his face to hers. She kissed him hard and it felt as if their tongues were one. She took one hand, grabbed his thickness, and put the head at the opening. She gasped as he slid into her. He stroked slowly making the loving last, and after bringing her to orgasm he thrust hard and deep until he released his love inside her. He gently kissed her face and felt in his heart that he had just created their first child.

He layed on his back and her head rested on his chest. He played in her silky hair. He said, “Trish, I can’t wait any longer, will you marry me?”

It was unexpected for him and her, but it was time.

He continued, “I meant I love you with all my heart and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Marcellus. I knew that I would be your wife the first time we went on a date. When we walked on the beach. Yes, I will marry you.”

Slim kissed her then joked, “Well, you should have told me that back then. We’ve wasted a lot of time.”

They made love again, and Slim told her that in the morning they would go to breakfast and then to the jeweler for her to pick out a ring. Any ring she wanted because the world is hers.

*     *     *

Shaun hung up the phone and turned toward Cookie. Her slim chocolate body was covered with sweat and she wanted more of Shaun’s loving. He wanted to indulge in her warm wet love, but needed to save some of his energy for Mariska. They were going to meet in the early a.m. for a threesome she promised that he’d never forget.

“Damn, Teresa be buggin’,” Cookie said. “She trying to make sure you’re the one taking this shit down to DC.”

“She thinks I’m lying so I can stay here and fuck around.”

Teresa rolled on to Shaun and straddled him. She caressed her small breasts that had thick chocolate nipples and Shaun wanted to indulge in what he called his Hershey’s Kisses, but he needed to get up north to see Mariska and her friend, and Cookie on the road with the drugs to Tennessee.

Shaun edged Cookie off him. “Baby, I got business to handle.” He rolled out of bed and headed for the shower.”

“When I get back from the run, I want you to take me out. We can go up north to some fancy place. I want to feel like them rich white women. The ones whose husbands do all the work, and they sit with their friends and do lunch.”

Shaun turned on the water, and the steam began to fill the bathroom as he brushed his teeth. He thought about how Cookie was straight hood but wanted the finer things in life—like people should. He gargled with the Scope mouthwash as he listened to her babble.

“I could be a soccer mom. You know, take the kids to practice and that kind of shit.”

Shaun laughed. He stuck his head out of the bathroom telling her, “Soccer moms don’t curse, baby.”

“Whatever.”

Shaun got dressed in the button-down and suit he’d hung up in the closet. He was meeting Mariska at an upscale hotel for drinks, then they were going to the penthouse suite for a night of sex. He, her and her girlfriend. He already had the shorty, at the car lot Reese owned, put the drugs in the hiding compartment. It was filled with gas so all Cookie had to do was get in the car and drive, only making one stop to refuel.

*     *     *

Mariska was dressed in a sleek black cocktail dress. She had one leg crossed over the other as she and Shaun sat on the high-back barstools. She was laughing at something Shaun had said. She liked that about him. He was able to make her laugh and as everyone knows, laughter is therapeutic. She’d told Shaun that Ivan was a boring man that all he cared about was how much money he could make. She complained about their sex life, that he couldn’t keep up with hers and that’s why he didn’t mind her lesbian side—he encouraged it.

Mariska glanced at her Cartier watch. Shaun noticed the pink diamonds and knew that the piece had to have cost a grip. He made a mental note that he’d get Teresa one for Christmas next month.

Mariska said, “It’s time. Petra should be ready.

Shaun who had a sexual appetite that matched Mariska’s and over the past four months they seemed as if they were in competition trying to see whose was the hungrier.

As they rode the elevator to the top floor Shaun couldn’t help himself, he backed Mariska to the wall and slid his hand up her sleek thigh to her sex as he tongue kissed her passionately, transferring some of her red lipstick to his full lips. He slid two fingers into her and she moaned. Her Eastern Bloc accent was heavy as it usually was when she was experiencing sexual gratification. They felt the elevator stop and broke their embrace so they could exit the elevator.

Once they were at the door of their suite, Mariska paused before opening it. She pulled a Cuban cigar out of her small handbag. “I’m going to smoke this brown cigar as if I’m sucking your brown penis, all while I watch you fuck Petra. Then once you make her come and only after then, I will join in.”

Shaun’s smile was sheepish. He grabbed her slender hand and placed it on his crotch so she could feel his nine inches of thickness that was harder than Chinese arithmetic. He said, “Then why are we standing in the hallway.”

They entered the suite, and Shaun almost turned as white as his porcelain colored slut when he saw Ivan dressed in grey slacks, black sweater and a grey scarf, and another Russian in dressed in a suit sitting on the large couch with a naked, shivering Petra who was scared shitless.

Ivan, who was holding a chrome Walter PPK that had a silencer attached to it, stood from the leather couch as another Russian came from the side and closed and locked the door.

Ivan pointed his weapon at Shaun who stared at the barrel of the silencer and knew when a man had a silencer on his weapon, his intent was to kill without anyone hearing the blast of the round being fired. Ivan’s face was of steel. He said, “The only thing my mind is torn with is which one of you I’m going to kill first.” He took the sights of his weapon from Shaun and trained them on Mariska. “I think it will be you, whore, he only took my pussy. You took my money and my respect by fucking this black motherfucker.”

*     *     *

Slim had informed Lucky about what was going on with LaTanza and Reynard and that he was waiting for her to give her share of the money to pay the Russians and hopefully Bone’s share. Lucky told him if she doesn’t pay, then they needed to sit down with Reynard, because with him taking over Bone’s crew, it meant that he was taking over Bone’s debt—that it was business.

Slim also laid the news of him asking Trish to marry him. That they hadn’t set a date, but he wanted it to happen as soon as possible. Lucky told him to let her choose the date and to give her as much time as she needs, that a woman’s first marriage is a very special moment.

Later that day, Slim met with his financial advisor and lawyer. The man had made copies of all the paperwork to the deeds of all the homes in the different states. The homes he had purchased over the years for his close friends in the crew. They gave Slim the figures on the clean money he had in various investments, and to Slim, it wasn’t enough for him to feel comfortable, especially if he had to pay Bone’s share to the Russians on his own. When he left the downtown office, he thought about how life was going to be, living it like normal people. He smiled as he entered his Cadillac, and then frowned as his cell vibrated and he checked the number. When he answered, Reese told him they needed to meet.

12

“Even near death the woman has more heart than you.”—DMITRI

Slim and Reese were sitting in Reese’s house. It was in a nice neighborhood and was where he laid his head and made his music. Reese was a good rapper and beats maker and had built a studio in his basement. He made a couple of CDs, but hasn’t put any out. He always claimed that it was only a hobby to him, but the truth was, the gangster was shy when it came to letting people hear his music so only his close circle has heard most of his music.

“So you’re getting married? Nigga, this shit calls for a drink!” Reese said stunned at the news.

“It was bound to happen. I knew I was going to marry her the first time we went on a date,” I never said anything to anyone about it, but I knew it.”

“Really,” Reese said as he poured Hennessy into two glasses.

“Man, she told me the same thing. Said she knew on that same date,” Now how ironic is that shit?”

Reese dropped some ice in his drink and a little cognac spilled on his new Timberlands. “Shit, just bought these joints.” He handed Slim a drink. “Let’s toast.”

They raised glasses and Reese said, “To my boy. May he have marital bliss or however they say that shit.”

“Fo sho’,” Slim said and they downed the brown liquor.

They hugged and Reese told Slim that he was proud of him then reached in the mini-refrigerator to get a couple of Heinekens.

Slim took off his brown suede jacket and shook his head to the music that was playing in the background, an old cut by Mos Def. Slim was wearing black slacks and a black fitted shirt. Slim got comfortable on the leather sofa and took a swallow of his beer and decided that it was time to talk to Reese about the future of the crew.

“I’m out, Reese.”

“You just got here, chill. Wifey gonna be there. My don’t get hen-pecked before you even get married,” Reese laughed.

“Nah, man. I’m about to get out of the game. I about to pay the Russians the money and the penalty to get out,” Slim said as he studied his friend’s expression.

“Is that right? You got a plan for all of us or you just getting ready to ride out?”

Slim sipped his beer and smiled. “I got it all set up. Houses, property and money for everyone. We don’t have to do this shit no more. I mean I have us where we all want to be.”

“And what’s that, homey?” Reese asked trying to suppress his dislike for Slim’s assumption that he wanted to get out the game.

“What you mean? Out and living.”

“Slim, you fail to understand that I’m living right now.”

Slim looked around the room and said, “This ain’t living. With the money you’ve made you should have enough money socked away to live a couple of lifetimes.”

“Well, unlike you, I like my life. I’m a gangster. Money, bitches and action. Doing what the fuck I want to do! That’s what type of time I’m on, feel me?”