The Corner III (No Way Out) (2 page)

Slim stated, “He’ll warn Giadano.”

“Don’t worry, my comrade. That’s the beauty of it. I didn’t need this man to get to Giadano. I simply wanted to prove a point to the Italians—and you three.”

*     *     *

Slim gave Jamel a pound of the fist as he entered Lucky’s home. “What’s up, Jamel?”

“Nothing much, Slim. Lucky’s in his study. He’s waiting for you,” Jamel said as he closed and locked the door.

Slim didn’t smell any food. Something he was used to when he came to Lucky’s home. Ms. Joplin, who worked for Lucky, was the keeper of the thirty-nine hundred square feet suburban home. She cleaned, ran errands, kept Lucky company and most important, cooked. She was from Mississippi and had been cooking all her life.

“Where’s Miss Joplin?” Slim asked as they walked from the foyer through the living room.

“I know what you’re thinking Slim. I said the same thing when I got here. She went with Chantel to the doctor about the baby.”

Concerned, Slim asked, “Is there a problem?”

“Nah, a regular appointment. She was over here last night talking about it and you know how Miss J is. She never had kids, but she said she raised over ten brothers, sisters and cousins so she’s like doing that ‘filling a void’ thing or something,” Jamel said as he rubbed his stomach. “And she was going to fix me some black-eyed pea soup and some cornbread.”

Slim laughed. “What do you know about that?”

“Enough to know that frozen pizza I’m about to fix ain’t gonna do any justice.”

Slim patted the youngster on his shoulder and before entering the study he said, “You’ll survive.”

Slim walked in the study, and Lucky’s back was turned to him as he looked out the bay window into his plush backyard that had a pool, basketball court, garden and pond. Slim saw the smoke that was permeating the air above Lucky’s head.

Slim said, “You know you shouldn’t be smoking that.”

Lucky took a hard pull then said, “Yours is on the desk in the box. And what’s going to happen? I’m going to get lung cancer on lung cancer?”

Slim picked out a cigar and cut the tip with the cutter that was beside the box. Before he lit, he said, “Nah, but remember, you’re going to beat that shit. That is how we are, we overcome adversity!” Slim puffed several times as he held the flame of the lighter to his cigar.

Slim sat on a leather sofa that was facing the side of Lucky’s desk. He held the cigar in front of his face and nodded his head in favor of the robust flavor then puffed again.

Lucky smiled. “I remember the time when you wouldn’t have even been around someone smoking a cigar. Now you’re smoking them yourself.”

“Only when I’m feeling good.”

“I guess that means there is good news about the meeting with the Russians,” Lucky replied as he sat in his swivel chair. He reached for the ashtray that was on his desk and put his cigar out. He’d only smoked a quarter of the cigar. He had cancer and needed to be as healthy as possible, but cigars were his vice. He also used the flavorful tobacco to calm his nerves, and Slim’s meeting with the Russians was something he was worried about.

“All was well. And I think our problem with the Giadanos is about to be solved,” Slim told Lucky without going into details.

“How are things with Bone and that Mrs. Fuentes?”

Slim puffed. “It went well. We are going to get thirty percent a piece, bring that to ninety percent.”

“Where is the other ten going?”

“Since there is a group of three of us, we have agreed with Dmitri to go on a yearly deal. At the end we evaluate our partnership and if we want out, that ten percent of all we were due to make off everything goes to the Russians as a penalty for getting out of the deal.”

“Damn, they’re operating like them motherfuckers on Wall Street.”

“Without a doubt, but we will make damn near three times as what we were making between getting drugs from the Italians and the Columbians.”

Slim watched as Lucky said nothing and lit another cigar. He knew Lucky was tired and didn’t fully agree with dealing with the Russians, but he also knew that it was the best way to make enough money in a shorter period of time. Slim still had hustle in him, and Lucky wished there was a way he could get that addiction out of him. Lucky had seen the light. When you’re told that you were living on borrowed time, it was hard to see things in any other light than to get prepared for your time to meet your Maker. Lucky’s idea was for Slim and him to make enough money so they could retire and leave Chicago and all of their enemies behind. Lucky also wanted to make enough money so that all the people who worked for them could get away. It would be their choice, but Lucky’s idea was to sweeten it with property out west and south. Places where no one in the city would figure they would go. He would then offer them all a substantial amount of money because he knew most hustlers lived in the moment, spending money as fast as they got it because they had the means to get more. Slim was on board with the idea and was making it happen.

Lucky puffed, tilted his head back and blew the smoke in the air. He wheeled his chair toward Slim. He leaned forward and with seriousness in his eyes he told Slim, “I want you to consider running that one year and get out because if I’m dead in a year, I’m out the game. If I’m living, I’m out the game, and I’m taking that young man in that other room, Miss Joplin, Chantel, Noonie, Tesha and my only son with me. I haven’t talked to them yet, but I’m sure they will be on board. Anyone else who wants out, I’m all for helping. But you are the main one. They all listen to you, and you are like a son to me, so I want your word that you will get out also.”

“I can’t promise you that, but I’m considering it. Just like the ones who are willing to go, I have to be here for the ones who are hesitant,” Slim told his friend.

Lucky patted Slim on the knee. “I understand and commend you for that. Just try to make an effort.”

“I will and I’m still setting things up so that it can happen.”

“Also, are you sure about Reese being second in charge? He’s a good soldier, but I don’t know about him running things.”

Slim blew a hard breath. He knew what Lucky was saying to be true. Reese has been on his team since they were in high school, but it was a fact that Reese was more of a gangster and not someone who could run a crew. He liked the glitter of being a baller and the women and power it brought, and Slim wasn’t sure about him being in charge of the crew if something was to happen to Slim.

Slim blew a concerned breath then said, “For now, Reese is to be in charge. Unless something happens, that’s the way it is.”

Lucky said, “Ever thought about Noonie?”

“Reese has been at this shit way longer.”

“That doesn’t replace being smarter, and Noonie is the smarter out of the two. Hell, behind you, he’s
the
smartest.”

Slim smiled and stood. Lucky did the same and Slim gave him a hug. “Lucky, that shit with the Russians has me tired. I had to deal with that damn Bone and LaTanza and then sit and drink vodka.”

Lucky laughed.

“Do you know them Russians can drink that shit—”

“Like water.”

They walked toward the door of the study. Slim grabbed the handle and Lucky stopped him, saying, “Consider Noonie.”

Slim replied, “At one point I did, especially after he took care of DC, who was his partner. That showed his loyalty and strength.” He shook his head. “I really didn’t want for him to have to do that. That is the part of the game I hate, but for the greater good of all of us—”

“It had to be done. But that’s why we need to get out. Blood is on our hands that we can’t wash off, but we can spend the rest of our lives doing right, and maybe He will forgive us, for at the time, it was all we knew. We were a product of our environment.”

“True that. And I’ll keep Noonie in mind, but don’t count on it. If he’s thinking about getting out, it wouldn’t make much sense, with Chantel being pregnant.”

“Yeah, when she got shot up last year she was in a funk. I’m so happy for them.”

“Me too.” Slim stood, “I’m out of here, Lucky.”

They hugged then Slim walked to the front door and Jamel let him out. He sat in his STS for a moment before driving off. He thought about all Lucky said, but the hustler in him told him to get all the money he could, and the deal with the Russians was going to bring the crew more money than they had ever seen. 

*     *     *

Tommy Giadano was in a bedroom on the second floor of an old grocery store west of South Racine Avenue in Little Italy. He was in the bed of a young woman half his age. His eyes were closed, and he was enjoying the ride the twenty-four year old was giving him, but couldn’t concentrate because his cell phone kept ringing. He was pissed at the annoying ringing. He didn’t need that at the moment. It was bad enough that he had to wait for a strong enough erection even though he’d taken a Viagra two hours earlier.

“Fuck!” the gruff sounding man spat as he was about to reach for the phone.

“No, baby, I’m almost there,” Cathy, the young Italian woman lied.

Tommy smiled at what he knew to be a lie, but did as she asked primarily because what she was doing to him felt so good. He grabbed her youthful breasts and played with her pink nipples as she rode harder and before he knew it he was coming inside her.

Fuck,
he thought. He had no plans of sharing his seeds with the jump off. He couldn’t help himself because between the Viagra, ecstasy and Cathy’s youthfulness he felt good and it didn’t hurt that she had been at his beck and call for the past year.

She was still on top of the mob boss grinding away hoping that Tommy would get hard again. She hadn’t gotten hers and didn’t want to have to wait until he left to pull out her Brad Pitt—the name she’d given her sex toy. Tommy was enjoying the feeling and surprisingly felt himself beginning to rise again—that’s when his cell began singing that annoying tune.

Pissed, the husky man pushed Cathy off him as if she were a rag doll. The hairy man grabbed the phone and barked into it, “This better be good!”

“Boss, it is. Gino, he’s…he’s—”

“Spit it out!” he yelled.

“He’s fucked up. The Russians, they did a number on him and tossed him on the curb in front of the social club!”

“What?”

“Yeah, they said it’s for you hitting one of that nigger, Slim’s, spots. They said to lay off him or you’re next.”

“Gino told you this? Lemme talk to him,” Tommy said as he picked up his half smoked cigar.

“Boss, we’ve been calling you for an hour. We had to take him to the hospital. He died of shock about twenty minutes ago.”

“Them bastards! Meet me at Vito’s house in thirty. This shit is about to get messy. I guarantee that!”

Tommy stood from the bed and didn’t see Cathy. The shower was running and whether she was finished or not he was going to tell her to get out so he could get in. He was angry and in a hurry. He stepped into the bathroom and pulled the shower curtain back. Steam flew out of the shower from the hot water that was shooting from the head.

“Where the fuck you at, bitch?”

“">8, Dmitri 8 ">=:89 A:070; 74@02AB2C9B5 8 4> A2840=8O.” Koslov said in his native language as he entered the bathroom, then fired one round into Tommy’s head.

He had told the mob boss that Dmitri and Slim said hello and goodbye.

Koslov walked into the kitchen where Cathy was getting dressed. He admired the young Italian woman’s beautiful body.

“The money is in my account, right?” Cathy said nervously, hoping the Russian had kept his end of the deal.