The Corner II (20 page)

“Yeah, girl. You ought to go holla at a playa. He been talking about your ass ever since that night. Making it hard for another sista to make money. But when you got it you got it, I guess.”  The ghetto fabulously dressed woman, who went both ways, looked Cat up and down approvingly.

Little did Cat know, the whole play was a set up. Bone hadn’t thought about her ass since that night he freaked her. But when he saw her walk in the club with DC and the crew he figured he could use her to push some buttons—namely DC’s.

Kanye West bumped from the speakers, and everyone was heading for the dance floor. Bone saw that DC was deep in conversation with some dude in a Sean John jean outfit and Lucky’s son, Ant, who’d he’d remembered as the guy who’d showed up at the sit down he’d had with Noonie. They were getting their buzz on, chilling, while their girls had been backing that thang up all night and he saw it as his opportunity to fuck with DC.

Bone, a thug who could be real grimy, was rocking Sean John jeans with Timberland boots and a button up shirt that hung out. His shirt had an extra button unfastened to show off his chiseled chest. And the jewelry—well let’s just say that it was obvious he was a baller. Huge diamond in the ear, platinum and diamond chain and cross around his neck and Jacobs on his wrist. It was his club attire because when in the street, it was Lugz boots, baggy jeans and t-shirts, wife beaters or sweatshirts.

He stepped to Cat who was dancing with some average Joe and shoved the man out of the way. The brotha went stumbling to the side, and when he regained his balance he was about to buck when he noticed who had pushed him, so he went walking the other away into the crowd hoping that not too many people saw how he’d been punked.

“Sup Cat?”  Bone said getting in rhythm with her groove.

She looked over at DC, who wasn’t paying attention for the moment and answered, “Nothing, just here chillin’ with my man.”

As he tried his best to keep up with her dancing he asked, “So that lil’ nigga your man?”  They both looked over at DC’s table. DC and John John were too into their conversation to notice what was going on, but Anthony, who always had his eyes peeled, recognized Bone’s move. Noonie, who was farther back, leaned on the bar sipping a Corona with Chantel who was leaning on him with her back on his chest while drinking a sex-on-the-beach, and she noticed Cat just as he did.

Bone was dancing and spitting game at Cat. She knew he had taken over for Sammy and that meant he was paid in full. DC had money, but Bone had
money
being the top dog of his crew but this wasn’t the time or the place for her to try to get with him even though he was making his advance at the moment. She’d have to figure something out, but it was too late, DC had seen the show. The song by T-Pain ended and Bone whispered something in Cat’s ear. She tried to hold back a smile that showed that she liked what he was spitting, but couldn’t. The major player told her that when she was ready to have her own place, car and paper, to call him. That he needed a real woman on his team. She ate that shit up like the trick she was.

Chantel shook her head.

“You know her ass is a trick too, huh?” her man asked her.

She asked Noonie, “Why DC don’t find him some other woman cause she’s gonna end up getting him into some shit.”

Before Noonie could answer, Boogie was passing by and noticed him. “Whad’up Noon?” he asked.

Boogie was cool. He was about the same age as Noonie and was getting money. Noonie really liked Boogie because he was down for getting his money and did it the right way—didn’t step on toes or fuck people over unlike his boss, Bone.

“Shiiit, my nigga, Boogie,” he said as he rose from the bar. He looked proud when he told Boogie, “Ay yo, I don’t think you met my girl, Chantel.”

“Hey, lady, nice to meet you. What you doing with this sorry ass dude?” he joked as he shoved Noonie a bit.

“I’m taking him for all his money,” she teased.

Noonie flicked the platinum and diamonds that hung around Boogie’s neck. “I see business is good.”

“I’m straight. Bone don’t fuck with me too much since I been doing this shit for a minute. I make more money out of all them fools he got working for him so he let me run my blocks and corners the way I see fit as long as he gets his cut. Feel me?”

“Yeah, that gang shit is played.”

“A little, but we got each other’s back.”

“Yeah, I feel you. But your dude be trippin’.”

Chantel knew Noonie was about to get into Bone’s move on the dance floor with Cat, so she knew it was time for her to leave. She never hung around when Noonie talked business, so she headed back to the table where DC was giving Cat an ear full. She was surprised that he hadn’t slapped the shit out of her for playing him like that in front of his peeps. She had backed that ass up into Bone’s crouch too many times. If it weren’t for the jeans they were wearing, one would have sworn they were actually fucking.

Boogie grabbed the two Coronas he’d told the waitress to bring. He gave her a ten and nicely waved her off, letting her know to keep the change. “I know Bone be wildin’ out sometimes, but that’s that griminess in him. Robert Taylor project born and raised. That fool is BD fo’ life.”

“Yeah, but just like a few minutes ago, he was all up on DC’s girl. That nigga just trying to start some shit.”

“You know how that shit goes. Sammy took that plea for ten so he gotta lay it down for a minute. Bone is in charge and you know he ain’t like Sammy who likes to avoid conflict if possible. That nigga Bone is straight Gorilla. And about DC’s woman, that ho, excuse the language but I call ’em like I see ’em, she was out on the dance floor with her ass all on his dick. She’s the one that needs to be checked. Men are men, homeboy. Besides, your girl did a strip show for us one night a couple months ago and she and Bone got down. He didn’t know she was DC’s woman, and she was there to get paid.”

Noonie knew Boogie was right. Cat had played his boy and every man knew that one of the
man
laws were to—check the ho, not the game.

Boogie continued, “Besides, you never know what that niggas planning now that Fuentes is dead.”

“What?” Noonie almost chocked on his Corona.

Boogie realized that it was new news for his old friend. He said, “You ain’t heard. We got the news about a couple of hours ago.”  He took a swig of his brew. “He, his bodyguard and right hand man, Antonio, got murked. Word is some young broads took ’em out. Any other details ain’t out there yet.”

Noonie shook his head, swallowed the rest of his beer, and then said, “Boog, I gots to roll. This some serious shit you know?”

“Shit, your peeps don’t know?”

“I’m ’bout to hit my man right now.”

“A’ight, and Noonie.”

“What?”

“If shit comes to crews bumping heads, holla at a playa first. We got love for each other, and you and me might be able to work some shit out.”

“No doubt.”

With that Boogie patted his short natural and headed back to where his partner was standing so they could canvass the club for a couple of honeys to pull for the night. Noonie picked up on what Boogie was saying. That basically if push came to shove that the two of them could work together. They had been cool back in school and kicked it from time to time. They were in rival crews as far as getting money but never had beef with one another.

“You be on some straight bullshit, ho,” DC told Cat who had her full lips twisted up like she wasn’t trying to hear what he was talking about. “You can play like you don’t hear me if you want. But your bullshit’s ’bout to end.”

She poured some of the Cristal as she sucked her teeth then blew him off by saying, “Whatever.”

“Whatever? Bitch I’ll—” DC was about to slap the shit out of her when Noonie grabbed his arm before it could go forward to meet her jaw. He told him to chill. He looked at Ant telling him that they needed to go outside.

“A problem?” John John asked. His heater was in Tracey’s purse.

“Not like that. We’re straight, just follow me.”

The three stepped outside. The bouncer nodded at them letting them know that everything was all good. He was on their payroll. If shit jumped off he’d start letting off, shots with the nine he was packing.

Once they were away from the door, Noonie told Ant to hit Lucky up. While he was dialing, Noonie advised them that he’d found out that two Latin women killed Freddy Fuentes earlier in the day. Ant had reached Frank and when he started telling Frank what they’d heard, he told him that Lucky had found out about thirty minutes ago and was trying to confirm it, and that they’d call back when they had more information. Noonie knew that this could cause a problem especially if the Fuentes’ didn’t know who made the hit. The young men tried to figure out what was going on. Ant voiced that maybe it was Bone who made the hit. But even though DC hated Bone especially after his play tonight, he told Ant that he thought Bone was too stupid to make the hit. Noonie added, yeah, that he was a hot head who worked off impulse and wasn’t creative enough to get close to the elder Fuentes. They decided to head back inside the club and get their women. It was time to leave and find out what was going on in the streets.

*     *     *

Earlier in the day, Styles and Smith had been joined to the hip of two homicide detectives for most of the day. Freddy Fuentes’ death was a homicide, but he was a drug kingpin so the district commander called Lt. Dixon and told her to get a couple of her narcotic detectives on the case also. By the time Styles parked the 300C in front of the restaurant where Fuentes and his men were slain, their bodies had been removed and the scene was beginning to clear. Styles spotted a detective he used to work with years ago and knew that he was the homicide detective who was over the case. Styles sent Smith to ask questions and find out what he could from people who were at the scene while he talked to the detective to see what they had. After greeting each other and asking how the families were, they got down to business. The detective told Styles that a couple of witnesses gave them the description of two women that shot the three men and the description of the vehicle that picked them up for the getaway. They had the two witnesses at the station with a sketch artist trying to come up with a composite. Other than that, that was all they had.

Smith, who was young and eager and the newest member of the unit, had talked with a detective and the two patrolmen who were on the scene first. One of the patrolman told Smith that two of the men had exit wounds that were larger than some of the other wounds. They suggested that a larger caliber weapon was used and that was backed up by one of the witnesses claiming to have seen the driver shot before the women pulled their weapons. Smith knew that meant that there was another shooter somewhere, perhaps a distance away. When Smith went to Styles with the theory, Styles and the fat homicide detective blew the rookie detective off as if he didn’t know what he was talking about. Smith just walked away and continued his investigation while Styles reminisced about old times with the fat lazy Irish cop who was obviously just killing time until his retirement.

Smith stood next to the car that the three dead men had ridden in. He looked in the direction away from where the man, who supposedly got shot first, fell. He was told that the witness said that the driver fell into the car and then to the ground. He noticed a building that had the right height. A man of Fuentes’ status would warrant a calculated hit and Smith’s military and big game hunting background told him that a high-powered rifle with a scope and a person with good shooting skills could make the shot. Especially on a day like today that had virtually no wind.

Smith walked up the street a bit toward the building where the shooter was still laying on the rooftop. He was looking for nothing in particular. He was just thinking about how lazy his partner was and how he had to break away from him somehow so he could get to the station where the two witnesses were. He needed to talk to them so he could ask the questions he needed to ask. He needed to gather better information so he could report back to his boss who had fought to get him in the narcotics unit so she could have someone who would report the proper information back to her, to relay any information on Styles, who she had a hunch was dirty. Smith told Styles that he was going to ride to the station with one of the patrolmen and that he’d catch up with him later. Styles told him to go ahead, seeing as how he needed to get in contact with LaTanza so he could see what the hell was going on.

*     *     *

Carlos sat in his office with Chavez, Rios and Fernando. They were trying to figure out who was behind Senor Fuentes’ death. They wanted someone to blame. Carlos wanted to say that it was Slim’s crew behind it, but Chavez reminded him that Lucky didn’t roll like that. That they needed to look harder at Bone and his people now that Sammy copped a plea and was doing a ten-year bid. Fernando agreed and would have agreed with anything that made sense as long as it kept the heat off him and LaTanza. His cousins had made it to New York without a problem, and he would continue to send them the rest of their money until they received it all. They didn’t know much about whom they hit, why and who was behind the hit. The less they knew the better and Fernando would breath a little better once he knew what LaTanza was going to do about Carlos. Greed and lust was his motivation. The big man feared nothing, not even death. But it didn’t matter who you were when the grim reaper was standing around the corner following your every footstep—it made the toughest man on the planet sweat a little.