The Corner III (No Way Out) (33 page)

“Nah, bruh. We grind so that we don’t have to grind. You see what I’m saying?”

Reese grinned. “Like them niggas who work all their lives in some factory or office? Say like twenty-five or thirty years and then retire?”

“Basically,” Slim said thinking Reese was seeing his point.

Reese downed his beer and walked over to the bar to get a stiff one. As he poured the Hennessey he said, “Nah, bruh, that’s where you’re wrong. Funny thing is, I was sitting here one night doing nothing but flipping through the channels waiting on this one freak to fall through. I got a phone call, so I stopped clicking the remote and landed on one of them cable news stations. When I got off the phone they were talking about that same shit you talking about. Muthafuckas retiring. And you know what they said about that shit, my nigga?”

“What’s that?” Slim asked sounding a bit irritated that Reese was giving his analogy on the subject.

“They said that when a nigga been doing something all their life. I mean like clockwork. For years they get up in the morning with the same routine. They punch that time clock and go home to their wife or no one but their fucking dog or cat. The same routine, then they finally retire. Get that gold watch or whatever it is white folk give out when you retire and then you wake up the next morning and the next and the next after that and find that shit is different.”

“Reese, what’s your point?”

“The report said that most people end up dying just months retiring. The dream of just kicking back and not having to grind may have sounded good, but in all actuality when you stop doing what you’ve done all your life you’re shell shocked.” He walked toward Slim and stood over him while holding his liquor. “It’s all you know. It’s all you’re used to, my nigga!”

“That may fly for normal nine to five folk, but we’re out here hustling and risking our lives. Common folk don’t have that kind of stress. Ever since we were teenagers we had to worry about getting killed, robbed, beat down or knocked by the police. Shit, I’m surprised we didn’t have grey hair at the age of twenty-two,” Slim said as he stood to fix him another much needed drink. He tossed the beer bottle in the small garbage can. As he poured, his cell that was on the table rang. Reese picked it up and handed it to him.

Slim saw the two letters and knew it was Dmitri. His brow furrowed at why the Russian would be calling him at damn near one in the morning then figured that maybe he’d found out about Bone and LaTanza.

Slim answered, “Dmitri, my friend.”

“Slim, how are you tonight?”

“Making it. Just chillin’ with one of my partners and you?”

“Taking care of business, my comrade. I’m always taking care of business, and that’s what I’m calling you about, business.”

Reese watched and listened as Slim talked to the Russian.

Slim asked, “What do you need?”

“To meet.”

“When?”

“Now, meet me at the meat market in an hour. I’ll see you there.”

Before Slim could say another word, the phone went dead.

Reese asked, “What he did he say?”

Slim was looking down at his glass, thinking. As if an answer was floating on the 90 proof.

“He wants to meet right now.” Reese glanced at his Feldo v1 watch. “It’s almost one in the morning. You think he knows about LaTanza getting out?”

“I bet he does.”

“I’m going with you,” Reese said as he pulled his .45 colt and an extra magazine from under the sofa.

 Slim smiled, saying, “Be easy, cowboy, you can pack the heat, but he’s not going to do shit to us. We still owe him lots of money. I’m sure this meet is to get business straight.” Slim pulled his 9mm Glock from the small of his back and checked to ensure there was a round in the chamber.

Reese let out a slight laugh. “And what’s that for?” he asked as he watched Slim put the weapon in his waistband and his jacket on.

“Just in case, homey.”

*     *     *

Cookie was traveling south on Interstate 57 and was passing the city of Effingham and had a ways to go before she was out of Illinois. She didn’t need to stop for gas yet, she needed some coffee. Her eyes were getting heavy, and she cursed, wishing that she’d taken the nap Shaun had suggested when he left. She had got wrapped up in a movie, figuring she’d drink an energy drink and all would be good. When she saw the Shell station’s sign up ahead, she decided that she would top off on gas, get some snacks and a thirty minute nap.

She stopped at pump number nine, and before she got out, she set the alarm on her iPhone so she could get a little sleep. She went inside, bought some Skittles, a bag of cool ranch Doritos and an Arizona Iced Tea. As she pumped her gas, she thought about heading to the rest area she’d passed about ten miles back, but figured that would be stupid. To head there to lay her head, she’d be adding twenty miles of driving and couldn’t do that since she wanted to sleep for a bit. She decided she’d park in one of the parking spaces on the side of the station since she was planning on sleeping only thirty minutes.

Cookie stretched out in the backseat, using her coat as a blanket. The engine was running, and the heat was on low. Her cell was on the floorboard and as soon as she closed her eyes it started ringing.

“Who the fuck is this calling me at damn near two in the morning?” she hissed.

*     *     *

Teresa was a nervous wreck. Her man had been cheating on her. All that flowed through her mind was visions of him with a white woman. She wondered was her foreign sex better and if Shaun liked the fact that she was of another race. She wondered was it something she wasn’t doing when she failed to realize that she was simply with a man who loved sleeping with different women. And even though Teresa was hurt, she felt as if she’d done wrong by calling the FBI. Shaun was part of a crew and by getting the feds involved could mean things could come back on her. She had delivered drugs for Shaun and could be implicated if he decided to flip. But she knew Shaun wasn’t cut like that—he wasn’t a snitch, but she felt as if she’d done the wrong thing and had tried reaching him several times, but he never answered his phone. She figured she’d call Cookie. She usually transported the drugs, so she knew Cookie would know the number of the phone they used when traveling.

Teresa waited, and on the third ring Cookie answered.

“Girl, do you know what time it is?” Cookie asked sounding irritated.

“I know girl it’s…it’s just…that I—”

“Girl, are you okay?”

“No, I’ve been trying to reach Shaun and can’t catch him. He’s not answering and I need to know the number of the phone you use when traveling to Tennessee.”

“Girl, he ain’t with me.”

“What do you mean? I’m trying to catch up with him, he’s on his way to see DC. I have to warn him about something,” she said as the guilt of snitching to the feds was overwhelming her.

“Girl, he’s out with Reese and them niggas. I’m making the run as usual. Oh Shit!” Cookie yelled.

Red and blue lights illuminated the darkness and they had closed in on Cookie quickly.

“Cookie, what’s wrong?”

“Get your hands up! Now, get ’em up let me see them.”

When Teresa heard those words she dropped her cell, and it bounced off the bed and to the floor. The words she’d heard through Cookie’s phone were those of the law. All she could hear were men yelling their police lingo and Cookie begging that they were making a mistake.

Teresa picked up her phone and pressed the end button. She ran to the bathroom and threw up what little food she’d eaten earlier. She was sicker than before and realized she was in trouble. Shaun would have held his own not knowing who made the call to the feds, but Cookie, nah, she would flip in a minute once she realized from Teresa phone call she’d been set her up.

Teresa gathered herself and made a decision to flee. She’d head to her cousin’s house in Silver Springs, Maryland, where she’d be safe. No one in Chicago knew that’s where she was originally from. Everyone knew her as Teresa, her middle name. Her first name was one she seldom used, Esther. A name her mother had given her at birth and that unknown name may be what saves her life.

Teresa scrambled to pack as fast as she could and within thirty minutes she had two suitcases filled with clothes, all of her personal effects and most important, the fifty thousand Shaun had stashed in the hollowed out wall that he’d collected earlier in the day. He was going to drop it off to Reese in the morning, but Teresa figured she’d need it more than he. She was lugging the suitcase out the front door when the porch light shone on a large white man walking up the steps to the house.

Before she could say anything he produced a pistol and said, “Ivan would like to have a word with you.”

She had no idea who Ivan was and couldn’t pick up on his accent, but that didn’t matter, she knew like all people who stayed in the dope game too long—it was her time to pay the piper.

*     *     *

As Reese drove, he and Slim had been talking about what could happen and how to handle different situations, but knew that no matter how they planned, shit changed on the fly because every situation was different. Nevertheless, they were ready for whatever and when it came to getting down and dirty, they had been through the fire with each other several times ever since they were kids. They were no strangers to danger and feared nothing. Not even the Grim Reaper, him damn self.

When Slim and Reese pulled up at the meat market in Ukrainian Village, a neighborhood located west of downtown and south of Wicker Park, they noticed the black limousine parked in front of the meat market that was owned by Koslov—Dmitiri’s enforcer.

Slim’s cell rang.

“Yeah,” he said knowing who was on the other end.

“Park your car, leave the keys and get in the limousine,” Dmitri said as Slim watched Koslov and another large Russian get out of the limo.

Reese saw the men get out and asked, “What’s the deal?”

“I guess we’re going for a ride.”

Trying to stay loose, Reese said, “Good, I didn’t want to stay here at that meat market. I feel better knowing they’re not thinking about using one of those machines in there to chop our asses up.

Slim and Reese walked with confidence to the black limo. Koslov held his palm up signaling for the two men to stop. They did and were searched and their weapons were taken from them and given to the driver. They were then let in and they sat with their backs to the partition and facing Dmitri. Dmitri was dressed in a charcoal grey sharkskin suit and black shirt that was buttoned to the top with no tie. He extended his hand toward the men and they shook it. Slim noticed the Hublot Big Bang All Black Carat watch. Slim had heard of the watch and knew this particular model ran close to forty thousand dollars.

“Thanks for meeting me, Slim,” he nodded toward Reese. “And.”

“Big Reese,” Reese said confidently.

Dmitri spoke in Russian telling Kolsov to get in and the other Russian to follow in the suburban Slim had come in.

They drove off and rode in silence as Koslov poured them all a glass of Vodka. Once each man had a drink, Dmitri asked, “So, my comrade. When were you going to tell me about our partnership going awry?”

“I wasn’t,” Slim said looking the Russian crime boss in the eyes.

“No? We are friends and more important we are in business together, so lying to me is not something a man I need to trust should do,” Dmitri said as his grey eyes, that looked more like eyes of a Siberian Husky, than eyes of a man, never blinked as he stared at Slim.

“We are business partners and friends so I wouldn’t lie to you. I am a businessman, but more importantly I am a man. A real man is a man of his word.”