LaTanza could see lust in his eyes and knew that he wanted her. She’d played a cat and mouse game the past couple of days. He knew that she was in Mexico on business to see what kind of deal she could strike with him. But she wasn’t in control of the city of Chicago and others in the Midwest and until she was he didn’t want to deal with her. Besides, he was already supplying someone who sold in some of the major cities in the Midwest, and to a cartel that was, based out of Miami. They were the real deal, supplying drug crews from Miami to all the movers and shakers up interstate 95 to New York.
LaTanza smirked her full lips at Chacho, telling him, “Well, since we’ve talked business already, I guess my stay in Mexico is over. Until next time.” With that, she walked away. Slowly, of course, affording Chacho the opportunity to change his mind.
He didn’t. He simply let her walk away even though he wanted so badly to taste her. But he hadn’t made it to kingpin status for nothing. He was a smart man who’d seen it all, and he never let pussy come before his money. So he just watched the woman who wanted to make a one hundred kilo a month deal with walk away to her hotel room to prepare for her flight back to Chicago. She looked so good to him and he wanted her badly, but there were people on his yacht. People who bought five hundred kilos a month and they were in Mexico to see if they could increase the quantity they were buying, so he would have to wait to entertain.
Back in her hotel room, LaTanza stripped out of her bathing suit. It had done its job in showing off what she had to offer the Mexican drug lord. She had no interest in him physically, but knew what was in between a woman’s legs was power and in between a man’s was weakness. If she had to she would eventually bed Chacho and get his nose open. He would then get weak and deal with her on a large scale and then she could expand her empire. She was naked when she lay on the bed. She caressed her breasts and thought about how she missed her husband’s body on top of hers and his manhood inside her wanting walls. She closed her eyes, opened her legs and imagined it was he who was entering her but the man on top of her was much heavier.
“Ahhh, that’s it Fernando,” she moaned as her bodyguard entered her.
“I’ve missed you,” Fernando whispered as he picked up his pace.
“I know you have and I’m going to make you come many times tonight.” She looked him in his eyes. “You are on my team, aren’t you? I can trust you to the fullest, right?”
He dug deep into her velvety love, saying, “You know I’m down for you. I’ve proven that haven’t I?” he said with a couple of hard thrust.
Fernando was referring to him setting up Carlos Fuentes’ father to be killed.
She hooked her legs around his and fucked him back. Not sexed him. That wouldn’t do to keep him under her spell. It had to be a good fuck.
“Yes you have and I love you for that, now fuck me hard. I want us to come together.”
LaTanza felt him swelling and his thickness was well welcomed. Carlos had been incarcerated for almost two years and LaTanza promised herself and her husband not to sleep with anyone and she considered herself to be sticking to her promised since she only slept with men when it came to business. When it came to her becoming the Queenpin.
* * *
Love and Happiness pumped through the speakers of Baby G’s Chevy Malibu, a discreet vehicle that he liked using when he was on a mission. He sat in darkness on the corner of 80th and Langley and watched from his rearview mirror at the C-class Mercedes as the man inside waited. Once he got impatient, he stepped out of his car. His cell phone was up to his ear, and he looked angry as he walked to the home he was parked in front of.
Baby G killed the music that was playing low, pulled the slide to his .45 Colt back a bit to ensure that he’d racked a round in the chamber. He was always careful like that. He then stepped out of his car. The dome light didn’t illuminate because he’d taken the bulb out so he wouldn’t be seen getting out. He gently closed the door and headed toward the man. He thought about how the city made it easy to do a killing by not replacing the street lights in a timely manner.
“Bitch, what’s taking you so long,” the man barked into his phone.
The woman on the other end said, “I’m inside waiting for you! I’m looking out the window and don’t see you.”
“I’m knocking on the door now, bitch!” he barked.
“Well, you knocking on the wrong door, cause I don’t hear shit and don’t see you. And make that the last time you call me a bitch!” she spat.
He told her the address she’d given him while they were at the club two nights ago. He’d partied with her and later that evening she’d given him the best head he’d had in his life, and that brought him here from the west side to the southeast side.
She said, “You wrote the wrong address down, stupid ass!” Click she hung up on him.
“I’ll kill that bitch,” the young gangster spat as he turned and walked back to his car. He was then surprised by a man in all black. He was about to go for his pistol, but it was too late.
Baby G had his pistol pointed at the man as he asked, “Cain, you sent them little niggas into our stash house, who you work for?”
Cain was a gansta who was an independent and was trying to come up. Slim’s crew had never heard of the young gansta, but when Baby G got finished with the one youngster who had robbed them, he gave Cain up.
“Fuck you, nigga! Figure it out,” Cain barked knowing who was standing before him and why. He then spit on Baby G.
Boom, boom, boom, boom. Baby G shot Cain in the head and chest then walked away as he wiped blood and the spit from his face. Baby G knew Slim wanted information from the man before he was killed but after getting spit on; Baby G had no room for talking.
* * *
Slim, Anthony, Noonie, Shaun and Reese, all dressed in expensive jeans, silk blend camp shirts, button-downs and dress shoes, stepped out of the black BMW 760. They were parked in the reserved parking space in the front of RITZ, a gentlemen’s club in downtown Chicago. The four well-dressed men walked toward the entrance. Reese’s six foot three two hundred and fifty-five pound frame leading the way. Other men who were waiting to get inside the well-established club were cutting their eyes. Jealousy oozed from their pores, directed at the men with obvious power and clout, as they passed them by to be let in by the doorman without waiting.
The manager was at the long L-shaped bar talking to one of the barmaids, a tall, brown-skinned sista with a blown out hairdo that made her look even taller. He noticed Slim and immediately put out his cigarette in the ashtray and headed Slim’s way.
“Slim, how are you? You should have told me you were coming. I would have had a—” He saw one of his assistants, a young white man who didn’t look old enough to be in the establishment. He snapped his fingers at the man then waved for him to come. “David, clear an area up front near the stage for five.”
Slim said, “No need. We’re cool blending in.”
“You sure, I can—”
Slim raised his hand stopping the manager, who knew big money stood before him. “We’re fine, just start the liquor coming because my boy just had his first son!” Slim said while lightly punching Noonie on the arm.
“The place is yours. Whatever you need and we have a good show going on tonight. A few new girls since you were here last.”
Slim hadn’t been to the gentlemen’s club since Antwan’s, who is now in Detroit hustling for Slim, birthday which was seven months ago.
The men had Heinekens, Hennessey and Moet. They had seen a couple of girls strip, but it wasn’t a big deal to them. They all had women and could get just about any woman they wanted. They were in the club because of the atmosphere—not to trick.
Waitresses changed, and Trish was now working Slim and his crew’s table. When she stooped at their table with a bottle of Dom Perignon, Slim’s back was to her as he talked to someone he knew who was passing by, and when she spoke, her voice was like music to his ears. Knowing the voice he immediatel
y turned. When Slim and Trish locked eyes he said, “You’re the lady from Ray’s the other morning.”
Excitement was in Slim’s voice, and Noonie noticed a glow on his face that he’d never seen before. A smile formed on his face knowing that his boss never showed any excitement toward a woman.
“Yes, Marcellus, it’s me, and how are you?” she asked shyly.
“I’m fine,” he said then his brow furrowed. “How do you know my name?” Slim asked knowing that no one ever called him by his real name.
She whisked stray stands of her jet black hair from her face as she balanced the tray of champagne in the other as she said, “Ray told me while I was in there this morning.”
“Oh,” was all Slim said not wanting to press the woman. He made a mental note to remind Ray not to tell anyone his real name, because if a person didn’t know it, he didn’t need to know it.
Trish noticed the manager and got back to work.
“Congratulations on the birth of your child,” she said as she poured Noonie some of the fine champagne.
“Thank you, ma,” Noonie said as he picked up the flute. He waited for his friends to get their glasses filled then raised his flute in the air. “To my son, Nomar.”
“To Nomar,” everyone said in unison.
Trish walked away to attend to other customers, and Slim noticed when she looked back to steal a glance at him—he couldn’t help but smile.
The men finished off the champagne and joked with Noonie about him being an old man and tied down. That Chantel already had him henpecked and that Noonie Jr. was going to keep him occupied.
Noonie laughed, saying, “That’s okay, that’s my baby, and that’s my little man. Anyway, I’ve been thinking. It’s about time we all thought about settling down. I mean, not necessarily to a woman. Well, for me it is. Chantel and my little man are my life. But, yo, this game is gonna catch up to us.”
Everyone at the table was quiet. Nothing was heard but the bass and lyrics from Ludacris’ Splash Waterfalls.
Reese broke the silence by laughing, “You hear this nigga? Talkin’ ’bout getting out the game. Shiiit, not me. Women, money and in it to win it.”
Shaun who was light skinned, about six feet and average build. Sporting a short natural and an always razor-trimmed goatee, said, “Nah, wait a minute, Reese. I can feel Noonie. When I had my son, shit changed for me. I got out the game for a minute ’cause I had to be there for shorty. If his mom wouldna booked to Oregon, I probably would be working a nine to five. Shit, when she took my little man, I said fuck it and hit these streets hard when ya’ll put me on.”
Anthony said, “Well, you showed your love when you did what you did by saving Chantel and Tesha’s life at that gas station when those niggas tried to slump them.”
Noonie said, “That’s what I’m saying, all good things don’t last forever. Shit, our girls could have been killed. Chantel lost a baby then, so I’m lucky for what God has given me.”
Anthony said, “We’re here to party, not to get all serious and shit.” He waved at Trish, “Ay.”
She walked to their table and asked, “More champagne?”
“Reese said, “Nah, tell ’em we want a bottle of Remy XO, and some Heineken for everyone.”
“Coming up, fellas.”
As she walked away, Anthony said to Slim, “I see ya, homey. Quit bullshittin’ and holla.”
Reese added, “Shit, she knows you got money. It won’t be hard. That’s what I’m talking about, we could pull any chick up in here. That’s what they in here fo’, to get paid fast.”
Slim said, “Nah, Reese. That’s where you’re wrong. I met her at Ray’s a couple of mornings ago. Well I didn’t actually meet her. I was talking with Ray when she walked in. Heard her convo with Ray. I think she’s just working the tables.”
Slim didn’t know if what he was saying was true. He just heard the innocence in her voice when she and Ray talked. Saw the gleam in her eyes when she said she was writing a book. So he hoped what he was thinking was true.
Trish arrived with their drinks. When she walked off, Slim left his partners behind and caught up with her. He didn’t want to put her on front street by trying to talk to her while in front of his boys. He wanted her to know that he was sincere.
“Excuse me, Trish. I know you are busy and most of your work is done on tips but before the night is over, could I have a moment of your time? I would just like the chance to get to know you. No game involved,” he told her.
She read the honesty in his face. Not like the liquored up rap that most men threw at her. She knew she worked in a place where sex sells, and if she hadn’t seen him with Ray and the next morning Ray telling her that Slim was a good man, she would have just blown him off.
“Look, I can’t talk now,” she looked nervously at the table of narcs. “If you really want to talk to me, meet me where you know I will be, Marcellus.”
Slim knew where she meant. “Cool,” he said.
She walked to a booth of six men, and Slim went to the bathroom to relieve himself. He made a mental note of her look at the cops and wondered which one she was involved with. He was so intrigued with Trish that he’d worry about that later.
When Slim had walked over to talk to Trish, he hadn’t noticed the three men when they walked into the club, a black, Puerto Rican and white—Styles, Rivera and Spivey. Three of Chicago’s finest. Narcotics detectives who were known as cops who got the job done by any means necessary. They were also known on the streets as officers that didn’t play. They walked in the place with their chest stuck out. Knew no one could fuck with them and they did just about what they wanted to. Reese noticed the one he knew as Styles. He was brown-skinned about six feet, thick and bald-headed. He was the leader of the group of detectives, and it showed. The men seated themselves in an area that was marked reserved. They were dressed in casual jeans and fancy button downs that cover their pistols that were sure to be in tucked in their waistbands at the small of their back.
A couple of the girls made their way to the men, and it was obvious to Reese that they were tricks who spent a lot of money in the joint.
Reese nodded toward the men as he said to Ant, “Those them narcs who work our area. You think they fucking with us?”
“Nah, not at the moment anyway. I saw them clowns sitting in a Tahoe when we pulled up,” Ant said as he sipped the Heineken he had clutched in his hand. “Noticed the white boy when he let the window down to throw out his cigarette. I remember him from when they raided one of our spots about six months ago. He didn’t have on a mask. So I figure he’s just a narc and don’t work undercover.”
Reese kept his Evo phone on the table but tilted it. He watched as the screen came into focus and snapped the picture as the three detectives toasted their drinks.
When Slim returned, Anthony said, “We got some narcs up in here.”
Slim said, “I noticed them. Ain’t nothing to worry about. I spoke to the manager, and he said that they come to party every now and then. He said that the Hispanic cat and the white boy fuck around with two of his strippers. Said they must have hit a lick because they always come and spend when they do.”
Noonie asked, “He told you all that?”
Slim grinned, poured himself and his friends a shot then held his up as he said, “Their money ain’t as long as mine.”
* * *
LaTanza looked like a sophisticated businesswoman as she walked confidently through O’Hare International Airport. Her cream-colored pantsuit and Stuart Weitzman pumps made her look and feel like she was somebody—which she was, a woman who was putting together a master plan of controlling the drug trade in the Midwest. When her husband, Carlos, was incarcerated, she took over the duties of running the Fuentes’ family. Even though Carlos was calling most of the shots from jail, he was passive. Only doing enough to keep his people fed, but once his wife got the taste of power and money, greed and the ability to control set in, and she wanted nothing to do with sharing. C
arlos had made a pact with Lucky and Slim that they wouldn’t war. That they would stay within their respected areas and violence would be kept at a minimum. Carlos knew that with his family and Slim’s on the same page, they could keep Bone under control, because even Bone’s wild self wouldn’t dare to take on the both of them.
A man exited the seven series BMW and opened the door as cabs and shuttle busses zoomed past him. He stepped around to the passenger’s back door and opened it. “No bags, Mrs. Fuentes?”
“No, Rafael,” she said as she stepped in.
“Welcome home, Mrs. LaTanza,” Chavez said as he leaned to give his best friend’s wife a respectful kiss on the cheek. “Everything go well?”
“It was okay, but not as we planned,” she told Chavez.
“I talked to Carlos while you were gone, he needs you to visit him asap.”
“Did he say about what?” she asked.
Chavez fingered a Cohiba cigar as he answered, “Nah, but I guess Lucky went to see him. From the way Carlos talks, I think the old man is ready to get out the game.”
LaTanza looked at Chavez, “He told you that?”
“Nah, you know he doesn’t tell me too much. I’m just figuring because he wants me to slow down on my hunt,” Chavez said as he took out his butane lighter.
LaTanza had a scowl on her face. “I know you’re not going to light that in this car.”
Chavez loved to smoke cigars and had forgotten that LaTanza didn’t like for him to light up while they were in tight confines such as a car. He smoked them a lot when he was in deep thought, and LaTanza knew what he was thinking.
She said, “I heard through the grapevine that you killed a young man that might be connected to Bone in some way.”
The gangster in him answered with an abrupt, “Your point?”
“Easy, Chavez, I know you need to do what you have to do, but check with me first when going after Bone or Slim’s people. We have to look at the bigger picture,” she told him.
“With all due respect, the bigger picture for me is to avenge my hija and hijo’s mother’s death,” he said as he looked away and out the window. He usually got glassy-eyed when talking about Victoria. She was the one good thing in his life, and he hated that his children were going to have to grow up without their mother because of the game—the game that he is in. He felt as if he was the cause of her death, so vengeance would be his, and he wouldn’t rest until he got it.
The Corner III (No Way Out) Page 5
