The Corner III (No Way Out) (21 page)

Lucky was watching Slim and could see the worry lines on his face and it wasn’t from them losing over four hundred thousand dollars. Lucky was about to say something to Slim when his cell rang. He immediately thought it was Anthony, but when he saw the screen of his phone, he saw it was Fight Doctor.

“Fight Doctor, what’s going on, my man?” Lucky asked trying his best to sound upbeat.

“A whole lot. I got two fights scheduled for the next two weeks,” Fight Doctor said.

“Two fights in two weeks, isn’t that a lot?”

“Nah, Jamel will knock them out in the first round. We do those two fights and my man up north has a white boy who they think is the second coming of Arturo Gotti. They are willing to fight Jamel.”

“What’s good about that?” Lucky asked. His concern was for Jamel’s long term future.

“Trust me, Lucky. I know what we got in the boy, and what I’m banking on is that his skills catch the eye of some of the popular promoters that are going to be there watching the white boy.”

Sounding excited, Lucky said, “Let’s do this, Fight Doctor. I’ll tell Jamel.”

“Good, good. And let him know he needs to be in the gym tomorrow at six in the morning. I have some things to go over with him and to start the pre-fight training. Let me go, Lucky, I have some things to take care of.”

“See you in the morning.”

The men hung up from each other, and Lucky stood from the barstool. He told Slim the news then headed to the office to relay the information to the one person who needed to hear it the most. When Lucky told Jamel, the young man jumped up and down then went into a short shadow boxing routine as he told Lucky he was going to make him proud by knocking the men out in the first round. Lucky chuckled at the young man’s excitement, telling him to simply win the fight.

“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.