The Corner III (No Way Out) Page 4
“Yeah, a black chick. Man, you gotta see this hoe. She can put her body in all kinds of positions. That’s why they call her Pretzels.”
Chavez glanced at Jimmie and a grin formed on his face. “Tony, stay close. I’ma hit you in a bit.”
“King Love, bro.”
Chavez ended the call then smiled at Jimmie. “I thank you, bro. It was forced, but you came clean. But I’mma have to kill you.” He glanced at the area where Jimmie’s penis used to be. “You ain’t no good without your dick.”
Jimmie knew he was going to die, that’s why he lied. He knew it was Bone’s people who’d killed Chavez’s babies’ momma, but he wasn’t going to give the spic, who he knew was going to kill him anyway, the information, so he lied. One, to protect Bone who’d always been good to him and two, because he knew Slim was more equipped to handle Chavez. He didn’t care for Slim but wanted to make sure Chavez got his and going after Slim’s people, Jimmie figured that he’d get just that.
Chavez put his knife up to Jimmie’s jugular vein. “When I was a kid, my grandmother used to tell a story. Whenever someone died, when a life is taken one is brought into this world.” Chavez brought the knife to Jimmie’s throat. “So look at it this way, Jimmie, there is a baby being born right at this moment.”
Chavez sliced Jimmie’s throat and his pain was over.
* * *
“Push, Push. Come on Chantel, I can see the crown,” the East Indian doctor said calmly as Noonie looked on nervously.
“Ahhh,” Chantel shouted and then she became quiet.
Seconds later there was the sweet sound of a new life, cries from a baby. The umbilical cord was cut and the nurses took the baby and began cleaning him off as the doctor took care of Chantel.
Anthony and Tesha nervously sat in the waiting room. They had arrived at the hospital about thirty minutes after receiving the call from Noonie. They were both sleeping and when they received the call they both jumped into warm-up suits and were out the door.
Tesha looked at her watch then asked, “Did you reach Lucky?”
“For the third time, yes. Damn, and I thought I was the one who was nervous,” Anthony joked.
“We’ve been here for over two hours. I need to go talk to somebody,” she said as she stood and began to walk out of the waiting room.
Anthony stopped her. “Look here, baby. Just sit and wait. I know you’re nervous because she lost the first baby. Hell, everyone is, but everything’s going to—”
“Tesha Smith?” a nurse said as she entered the waiting room.
“Yes, yes, that’s me. Is everything okay?” she asked nervously.
“Everything is fine. Mr. and Mrs. Rodriquez are waiting for you to come and see their baby boy,” the nurse said pleasantly.
“Yes!” Anthony said as he pumped his fist as if Derrick Rose had hit a game winning shot.
The nurse smiled then said, “Right this way.”
* * *
Jamel parked the Escalade in the east parking lot of the hospital. Dressed in slacks and a button-down, Lucky stepped out of the passenger’s side and had a big smile on his face. He was overjoyed that Noonie and Chantel were having a baby. He looked up at the stars and thought about how God is good. Chantel and Noonie had lost a child and here they were less than two years later having their first son.
“Don’t forget the flowers,” Lucky told Jamel.
Jamel, who drove for Lucky, reached inside the driver’s side door and retrieved the flowers from the bench seat.
Jamel asked, “Lucky, you must’ve known they were gonna have the baby tonight. What you do, buy the flowers earlier today?”
Lucky smiled at the youngster. He loved having Jamel, who was only twenty, around. He felt the young man had potential to do something with his life so he kept him close. “Son, I cut them out of my garden after I called for you to pick me up.”
Lucky’s house was plush. Thirty-nine hundred square feet brick home in the suburbs. Huge, beautifully landscaped yard with a large in-ground pool in the back. And to top things off at the home was Miss Joplin, a southern lady in her fifties who did all the cooking and cleaning for Lucky. She made sure he was well taken care of. She also assumed the duties of making sure that he was doing what he was supposed to do as far as his health. After being diagnosed with cancer, he was forced to change his diet and lifestyle to help with the biggest fight of his life.
Lucky took the flowers from Jamel then said, “Let’s go see the baby.”
The room was full of smiling faces and people taking pictures of the baby as Chantel, who was propped up by many pillows, held her firstborn. Miss Joplin, who was like a mother to all the men in Slim and Lucky’s crew, had jumped in her minivan and headed to the hospital as soon as Lucky told her that Chantel was about to deliver. Miss Joplin was tall, heavy seat and dark-skinned. She loved working for Lucky because she had no family to speak of. When she was a teenager, she had left Mississippi to escape the racism and poverty for the promise of a faster and more promising life in Chicago. Young and naïve, she got caught up in the wrong crowd and soon her so-called boyfriend had her tricking and strung out on heroin for most of the seventies. She eventually got her life together and began working as a cook in a local soul food restaurant and that’s where Lucky met her. He used to eat at the place every Tuesday and Thursday night. Fried chicken, catfish, candied yams, black-eyed peas, fried okra, hot water cornbread, fried corn and fresh peach cobbler just to name some of the simpler foods Miss Joplin could cook. Needless to say, when Lucky bought his home and the soul food restaurant closed, Lucky offered Miss Joplin, who was in her forties at the time, a job as his housekeeper as long as she stayed clean, and that she did and she has been more of a help than he could have ever imagined.
“Chile, watch that baby’s head. Hold him like this,” Miss Joplin said as she imitated holding a baby.
Chantel adjusted her hold then said, “Thanks, Miss Joplin. Maybe I could talk Lucky into letting you stay with me and Noonie for a couple of weeks.”
“That might be a good idea, chile. I love ’em when they’re this size. Eat and sleep’s all they want to do,” Miss Joplin said as she reached for the baby.
“I might be able to survive without you for a couple of weeks,” Lucky said as he entered the room.
“Hey, Lucky, everyone said.
“Congrats,” Lucky said to Noonie as he gave him a manly hug.
“Thanks, Lucky,” Noonie said as he looked at and admired his son as Miss Joplin held him. “That boy is gonna be somebody.”
“Without a doubt. Just make sure you are a good dad, and it will all fall in place.”
Anthony looked at his father and smiled when he heard the words. Anthony hadn’t known his father long, but the past couple of years made up for the over two decades of being apart.
“Son,” Lucky said with a nod.
Tesha hugged Lucky. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he said then patted her belly. “It’s going to be you and Anthony’s turn next.”
Tesha, who secretly yearned to have a child of her own, simply smiled.
“Ah, and the woman of the day. These are for you!” Lucky said as he handed Chantel the beautiful arrangement of flowers.
Chantel sniffed them then said, “Out of your garden, I take it.”
“Of course.”
Miss Joplin handed Noonie his son then took the flowers from Chantel. There was a vase with flowers from the hospital in it so Miss Joplin took the cheap looking flowers out and replaced them with the ones Lucky brought.
Slim, who had been quiet, handed Jamel his digital camera then stood next to Noonie, “Take a pic of the two of us.” He put his arm around Noonie, and the two of them posed with the baby.
After a couple of snaps of the camera, Jamel asked, “What’s little homey’s name?”
Chantel spoke, “Nomar, like his father. Nomar ‘Noonie’ Rodriquez.”
“Jamel said, “That’s what’s up!”
Everyone said their goodbyes and quietly left the hospital. Outside in the parking lot after Lucky and Jamel drove off, Slim and Anthony stood while Tesha sat in the passenger’s seat of Anthony’s E-class that he only drove when going out with Tesha or other special occasions.
Slim said, “Found out who’s killed the two shorties who were in the stash spot.”
“No shit?” Anthony asked.
The two shorties were a couple of eighteen year olds who were in one of the crew’s stash spots when it got robbed. The crew had lost about ninety thousand, but most important, two young lives were taken. Yes, the teenagers knew their risk in the game, but Slim still didn’t like the fact that they were killed. Word on the street was that they had given the men the money and that they wore masks, but killed the youngsters anyway.
“Yeah, and the little bird who dropped the info says it was this independent. Some nigga trying to come up.”
Anthony’s brow furrowed. “Is that right?”
“Seems that way,” Slim said as he eyed a hospital security car that drove past them.
“What are we gonna do about it? You know my Pops is trying to keep the killing to a minimum,” Anthony reminded him.
“Yeah, but this has to be done. As long as I’m in charge and I’m still making money. I have to do what I have to do.” He patted Anthony on the shoulder. “For all of us.”
“You want me to handle it?”
“Nah, got Baby G on it.”
“Then it’ll get done.”
Slim said, “That’s fo’ sho. Well, I’m about to get some breakfast. It’s four in the morning, and I’m hungry.”
Anthony looked back at Tesha who was sound asleep. “We would join you, but I think I better get her home.”
“That’s cool. Outta here, peace.”
They gave each other some dap then slipped inside their cars. Anthony drove off, but Slim sat. He was thinking. Thinking about how it had moved him to see all the joy in the hospital room. How the new bundle of joy brought a smile to his face and touched the emptiness in his heart. He turned the satellite radio to smooth jazz and thought about the women he’d gone through since his only real relationship. The one he had years ago with Lisa. Since then he’d been with women who he never really had a connection with because he was scarred. Felt as if all women were out for his money so he always had his guard up and only had one use for women, and that was sex. But watching the happiness of Noonie and Chantel was a reminder that a man was meant to be with one woman. A woman who was a friend, lover and supporter, and he was determined to get that one day.
* * *
Slim was parked in front of Ray’s, a local restaurant that his uncle used to take him to when he was a young boy. “This here is a greasy spoon, boy. Been ’round for years. They make the best egg and bacon sandwich in the city.” Slim can still remember his uncle saying.
The bell that was tied above the door rang as Slim entered the establishment. There were only a few patrons sitting at the bar and a few young men in a booth. Slim checked them out and his intuition told him that they were harmless.
“Marcellus, how are you?” a heavy-set man wearing a clean, but stained, white shirt and pants with an apron to match. He was standing in front of the grill with a metal spatula in his hand. He was going to work on eggs, bacon, sausage and hash browns at the same time.
“Ray, when are you going to let someone else run this place? You’ve been serving for over forty years. It’s time for you to relax and enjoy your money.”
“And gonna do another forty mo’. Two fried eggs, two slices of bacon, slice of American cheese, mayo, salt and pepper on toasted wheat comin’ up.”
Slim smiled as he sat on the stool at the bar. Ray knew exactly what he ate. He’d been serving Slim for years.
Ray continued, “And speaking of relaxing and enjoying your money, when you gonna do the same…” Ray’s clanked his spatula on the grill then turned and furrowed his brow at Slim, “Feel me?”
Slim knew where Ray was coming from. The older man had been trying to get him to leave the drug game and get into a safer line of work. Slim always listened, but the game seemed to have a hold on him even though he had enough money to last him a lifetime.
“Believe it or not, Ray, I was just contemplating leaving the game. Was thinking on that and other things.”
Ray put together Slim’s breakfast sandwich, put it on a plate and set it along with a large cup of orange juice.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Other things, like what?”
The bell above the door rang and a woman wearing jean shorts, white K-Swiss and a white t-shirt walked in. Her hair tied back in a long ponytail and her skin was a pecan color and smooth. She sat at the end of the bar by the cake tray that had doughnuts and several slices of cake. She reached in and grabbed a glazed one.
“Ray, when are you going to get some red velvet cake?” the woman asked.
Her looks were so beautiful, and she had the body of a dancer. But her voice sounded so innocent. Slim was immediately interested but figured she had a man.
Ray responded, “Girl, I told you this is a breakfast shop. You better take yourself to the cheesecake factory if you want that fancy stuff. Besides, how you gonna sleep eating all that sugar? That’s for folks going to work, not home to sleep.”
“No sleep, Ray. I stay up for about three hours. I shower then sit and type,” she said.
Ray handed her a glass of milk then said, “Type, you in school? That’s good.”
“No, Ray, school isn’t for me. I’m writing a book,” she said with enthusiasm.
“Really, about what?”
“My life and the things I’ve seen.” She adjusted herself on the stool, and Slim stole a glance at her heart-shaped rear.
“That’s good. I want the first copy. You get that done and you can sit in here and sell anytime you want. Lunch is the best time. I see all these young sisters comin’ in here for lunch sitting and reading,” he told her.
“Thanks, Ray,” she said then downed her milk.
“No breakfast?”
“Nah, not that hungry. Just had to get my sugar fix.”
And with that, the young beauty was gone.
Ray saw the look on Slim’s face. He smiled then said, “A looker, huh?”
“Damn right. Who is she?”
“Trish. She comes in for lunch mostly. Talks a little and then is out. Really nice girl.”
“Damn good looking, too,” Slim added as he stood. He dropped a twenty on the counter then said, “Holla, Ray.”
The sandwich and juice was only five dollars, so Slim had to make a fast exit as always because he didn’t want to give Ray the chance to turn down the fifteen dollar tip.
As Slim headed for the Dan Ryan Expressway he thought about the beautiful woman who’d come into the diner. Thought about how he should have introduced himself. He usually would have, but he wanted to get out of the mode of just macking a woman. He wanted a good woman to come into his life and figured that that woman would eventually come. But then he thought about the innocence the woman at in the diner exuded and thought maybe he should have talked to her.
2
“Their money ain’t as long as mine”—SLIM
LaTanza sat comfortably on the lounge chair as she watched the waves roll effortlessly onto the sandy beach of a resort in Cozumel, Mexico. The moon was shining brightly on the small waves, and she wished she could stay and enjoy the hot weather and nightlife of Mexico. But she had a job to do, pleasure and fun was not priority on her list. She stood and stretched her long, curvaceous body. She was wearing an Aquaclara bikini. One of her favorites by a brother and sister team, Jorge and Liliana Villalobos of Peru.
Chacho Delarosa sat in a chair next to the brown beauty. He sipped on a glass of Patron and lime as he stole glances of her as she st
ood. The blend, soft leather microfiber, satin and Lycra-tull was like a second skin on her body. The Mexican kingpin had beautiful women around him twenty-four seven and used them like paper towels. When finished, he simply threw them away. But LaTanza was different. She was a beautiful caramel-colored black woman who was strong, beautiful, powerful and rich. And having many connections in the drug trade didn’t hurt. She was the wife of the powerful Carlos Fuentes of Chicago and was running his cartel while he sat in federal prison. Chacho could care less if Carlos was in or out of prison because he was a man who, in his forty-eight years on this earth, got what he wanted—whether it was the easy or hard way.
“Where are you going, Mommasita?” he asked.
LaTanza smiled as she focused on Chacho—salt and pepper hair that was slicked to the back. A goatee that was dyed black and salt and pepper hair on his chest. He was thick around the middle from a life of living and eating well. His Mexican heritage and living in Mexico under the year round intense heat and sun played the part in giving him a dark skin tone, unlike a lot of the Mexicans she knew in Chicago where the heat and sun was intense for only a couple of months.
She told him, “I want to go on the yacht. You promised, remember?”
Chacho looked out into the ocean where his beauty was anchored about three hundred yards from where they were. The sun was setting and the yacht’s lights were glowing from its windows. He sipped his drink as he thought. He hadn’t planned on taking LaTanza on the luxury boat. At least not until tomorrow, but the beauty wanted to get on the yacht named ‘Flotación Bueaty’ which stood for ‘Floating Beauty’. He started to think with his little head as she leaned over to pick up her drink, a Tequila Sunrise. Her brown breasts jiggled slightly and caught his gaze. She sipped her drink then said, “Chacho, your yacht is so beautiful. I would love to see the inside.”
He rose from his chair and was sitting straight up. The thick platinum bracelet slid forward on his wrist as he set his drink on the small basket weave table. He checked his Rolex watch which was platinum as well. His accent was smooth when he grunted, “Ah, my beauty. Me have business to tend to. Maybe we go on the yacht another time.”