The Corner II (22 page)

“What?”

“Get your act together. This some serious shit, but if you are bored and got somewhere else you’d rather be then there’s the door. We’ll make what decisions we need to make without you, and you’ll just have to deal with the cards you’re dealt.” 

Carlos waited until everyone was served and the maid was gone before he got down to business. He let everyone know the obvious that he was the head of the Fuentes’ family now and that he wanted to make a deal with them. A deal that would guarantee them lower prices on their drugs if they all purchased from the same supplier. And even if they didn’t want to do that, Carlos told them that he was prepared to devise a plan to where they would all have certain areas where they could sell with the agreement that no one will try to serve or take over the other crews’ corners, blocks or neighborhoods. Lucky and Noonie liked the second plan but Bone liked the first. He voiced his opinion that they were all hustlers, and that it wasn’t right to just say that ‘this is your territory and that is your territory’. He joked that this was America and he was an entrepreneur and that was what business was all about, being able to expand and grow. That’s what he and his people were in the game for—to make as much money and have as much power as they could.

Carlos asked Lucky which way he wanted to go. Lucky told him that he couldn’t just drop his supplier and Carlos knew that was a hard thing to do. Lucky also said that he liked the idea of everyone having their own areas without any worry of violence from other crews. All that would have to be dealt with was the harassment of the police and the thing with that was the more money you had, the more cops and politicians you would have to pay off. Bone told them again that he didn’t agree, and that his people were going to keep hold of their spots. When Carlos asked him did they intend on expanding since he didn’t agree with what they were trying to come to terms with.

Bone told the new boss, “I’m a fuckin’ hustler. I’ve been a gang banger all my life never bowing down or taking shit from nobody and ain’t about to do it now, especially since I’m in charge and not Sammy.”

Lucky thought that he might be out of place but went ahead and said, “Nobody’s telling you what to do or trying to take money out your pockets. We just trying to make things less violent and trying to get everyone fed.”

Bone stood saying, “Looks like y’all in cahoots with each other to keep ol’ Bone where he’s at.”

Carlos who was fed up with Bone said, “It would be best if you sat and it sounds as if you have plans to try to take some shit over? Are you planning on expanding to some of Lucky’s territory? Or mine? From the way I see it somebody’s already trying to move in on the Fuentes’ seeing as how we had to lay the Boss, my father, to rest.”

“Ay, playa, you think I had something to do with your old man’s death? If so say ya peace and make ya move,” Bone spread his arms out as if to say I’m right here.

Carlos told him, “If I knew you had something to do with it you would have been dead days ago.”

Bone didn’t like what Carlos said and the tone he used. He told him that he was done with listening to them and that he was going to do him. Keep things going like business as usual. Before he left, he told Lucky that he was soft in his older age and that he better hope that Slim came back soon or he was going to fuck up what he has by laying in bed with Carlos.

Lucky put his hand on Noonie’s knee when his lieutenant was about to speak. He told Bone that he needed to be wise and not a hothead, or he was going to lose everything
Sammy
had built. Bone told Carlos thanks for the drinks. And with that the gangster and his partner walked out of the house and to their vehicle. Lucky told Carlos that he’d get back with him and that he’d keep an eye on Bone because the gangster was sure to do something stupid since he was pissed.

Carlos told Lucky to think about what he said, that they could make a lot of money together. Lucky told him that he’d think about it. He knew what he wanted to do and that was to go with Carlos’ plan, but Slim might have a different idea, and he had to okay it with him before he did anything. He told Carlos that he’d get back with him on it and promised that he and his people would keep it business as usual. Carlos gave Lucky a hug and a bottle of fifty-year-old Scotch and a box of Cuban cigars. Lucky and Noonie left the home and got into the Escalade where Frank and Jamel were waiting. The men drove away from the estate and Frank asked was everything all good.

“There might be a problem,” Lucky told him.

Frank asked, “Carlos was on some bullshit, huh?”

“Nah, his old man’s death seems to have mellowed him out. He wants to make money without any problems. It’s Bone who might fuck things up.”

“Yeah, we were wondering what was up when we saw him and his boy leave out without everyone else following.”

Lucky continued to look out the window at the orange, brown and yellow leaves that were falling from the trees that lined the long driveway as he mumbled, “Like I was saying, there might be a problem.”

*     *     *

“So what do you think I’m paying you for?  I need you to find out who this Angelina bitch is and where she lives!”

Styles answered LaTanza, “Maybe you need to hire a private investigator. I’m a narcotics cop. I can work magic sometimes, but unless the bitch sells drugs, causes people to bleed profusely or just straight up into some gangsta shit, it’s going to be hard for me to find out who she is, especially with no record and no last name!”

She yelled, “You know you are starting to be real fucking difficult to deal with!”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about your ass,” he laughed. “Look, if Carlos was fucking around with this chick, I know you said you didn’t want anyone following his ass ’cause he’d pick up on it, but I got a guy who could do that shit for you. Carlos or his bodyguards would never know he’s being tailed. If he’s fucking around, most likely the guards ain’t with him, seeing as how your mean ass got him pussy whipped.”

Desperate, LaTanza told Styles, “Give me the man’s name and number.”

“Now, once you find out, you gotta let me know ahead of time when you want to set your husband up.”

“I will.”

Styles chuckled, “The Queenpin, huh?”

“Call it what you want. But this shit’s personal.”

“Why you tripping over him getting a little ass on the side. He got your ass living like a fucking queen and you going all sideways over some other bitch getting a little taste?”

“Don’t worry about that. As long as you get paid you cool, right?”

Styles grinned, “You know that’s right, two hundred grand to bust Carlos Fuentes. Shiiit, I’m getting paid, and it might get me promoted so I can eventually take your goodie-goodie ass sister’s place as lieutenant.”

“Just handle your business.”

LaTanza hung up the phone. She thought about how Carlos was fucking around on her and might have a child outside of their marriage. The goosebumps rose on her arms, and she began to feel flushed. She began to feel angry and wanted to kill her husband for cheating on her. For doing what he’d promised he’d never do—break her heart like her family did. Now he had to pay, and the empire his father built was going to be hers and her daughter's. Fernando relayed to her what Rios had told him about the meeting with Lucky and Bone, and she was pissed that Carlos was about to become content with what he was making. And being content would leave the door open for some other strong crew to move in so she knew she had to do something about that.

*     *     *

“Fuck them niggas, and them fucking Spic muthafuckas. I ain’t trying to join no fuckin’ forces and give up what’s all mine,” Bone spat. “I know what they plannin’. They gonna try to squeeze us out since Sammy’s gone.”

“Fuck that shit,” Dre, one of Bone’s top men, said. “Nigga we just need to turn up the heat on them fools. I say we start taking over their spots that borders ours. Hit two of their spots at the same time. Some straight calculated shit. And let’s hit that soft ass nigga DC first. I ain’t like the way he was mean mugging when we were at the club and his bitch was all over your dick.”  The young man puffed on some hydro while giving Bone a questioning look.

“That sounds like a plan, and I believe I got your way in so give me a day or two,” Bone answered.

“Once again it’s on,” Dre’s crazed ass laughed.

*     *     *

“Where you at?” DC asked Cat who hadn’t been at the apartment for over four days. One would have thought that he wouldn’t have given a fuck after the way she had played him weeks ago at the club, but she kissed up to him and put the sex on him and she was back in good graces. But the fact of the matter was that Bone had rented her a spot of her own that was furnished and he dropped her some mad loot. All she had to do was give him all the info he wanted and give him the pussy how he wanted and they’d be all good.

“Nigga, it’s over so can you please quit calling my cell?”

“Bitch, I bought you that cell. I’ll have the muthafucka turned off.”

“Do it nigga. I don’t need any of your shit. My nigga I used to fuck wit’ outta the joint and we back together,” she lied. It wasn’t about some dude from back in the day, it was about Bone, but she was told not to let DC know about them and she didn’t.

“You ain’t nothing but a trick. I don’t even know why I fucked with your ass. I should’ve fucked you up that night at the club when you disrespected me. Grinding your ass all on that nigga, Bone’s, dick. But I guess that’s what I get for fuckin’ around with a stripper bitch.”

Click!
She hung the phone up on his ass.

DC walked to the bedroom as he scrolled through his phone’s address book for Greg’s number. He was inside the closet that used to be a walk-in when Greg answered, “What up?”

“It’s me, DC.”

“I know nigga, what’s really going on?”

“I need you to get over here to my place—”

“Which one fool,” he asked seeing as how DC had more than one spot.

“The one I had Cat staying at. That bitch done went south and she knows that I keep kilos stashed at this ’fucker and I just picked up some so I gotta move ’em.”

“Nigga, yo…stupid…ass had that amount of dope stashed at a crib where some ho was staying?”

“Cuz I ain’t got time for that lecturing bullshit. She back with her nigga who was locked up. He out and probably ain’t got shit and these keys could be a come up.”

“You think she’d roll like that?”

“Can’t take a chance. I gotta move ’em,” he said into his blue tooth as he used a drill to unscrew the screws to the panel on the wall.

“How many you gotta move?” Greg asked as he got up off his couch to grab his .40 cal Glock and hoodie.

“Seven.”

“Seven! You had that much shit in a crib with a bitch. Nigga, I’m on my way. I’m about to call Jamel so he can roll. You fuckin’ slippin’.”  Greg called Jamel who was at Doc’s on 87
^th
and had just ordered a fish sandwich and small order of shrimp. The place was packed as usual seeing as how they had the best fish sandwich on the south side. Greg told him that he needed him to roll with him to take care of some shit. Jamel’s girl was sitting in his Chevy Trailblazer yapping on her cell while using her luscious lips to do a number on a Charms Blow Pop when she saw him come outside the store without a bag in his hand. Moments later he closed his phone and put it in the pocket of his White Sox fleece jacket. He stepped back into the crowded restaurant and grabbed his sack from the counter. He got inside his truck and told his girl, an eighteen year old who he was planning on digging out, that he had to take care of some shit. She pulled a shrimp out of the bag and damn near burned her tongue when she bit into it. He told her to take the truck back to his apartment, and he’d be back later. She was cool with that seeing as how she was going to take it for a spin over to her girl’s house on Avalon Street to show off. Jamel ate as much of his sandwich as he could while he waited for Greg, who lived in a quiet neighborhood on 93
^rd
and Green.

The Explorer pulled up behind the white Trailblazer. Jamel gave his young tender a kiss and copped a soft squeeze of her breast. He told her to be ready when he got to the apartment then jumped out to get in with his boy so he could see what was so urgent.

“Whad up, my nigga?” Jamel, who was only nineteen but making his way up the ladder quickly in the game, asked while trying to talk over the bass of Rick Ross’ cut
The Boss
.

“We got a fuckin’ problem.”

Jamel pulled up his black sweatshirt exposing his pistol. “We gotta handle some shit?” the eager young gangster asked.

Greg pulled out onto 87
^th
and headed east toward DC’s spot on Cottage Grove. Jamel took off his Sox cap and Greg noticed the pattern of his braids. “Damn, who hooked you up?”

“That bitch Cee Cee. You know how she gets down. But if that ho keep taxing a nigga I’ma have to just sport my fro.”

“Shit, she gots to get that money to the house. You know that bull dyke yellow ass Patrice don’t be bullshittin’.”

Jamel cringed, saying, “You know I can’t stand the sight of two ugly ass broads fuckin’. But anyway what’s that nigga, DC, got poppin’?”

“He got seven kilos at his spot—”

“The one off Cottage Grove where he got that trick bitch layin’ up at?”