Bobby bounced up and he put his gun in Sly’s eye. “I’m gonna stay here and keep Jelinda company until y’all get back. Give you a reason to behave yourself.” He said, and I wondered what I was going to do with Sly while Bobby fucked his woman.
&
nbsp; When Bobby moved his gun away from Sly’s eye, he pointed it at Jelinda. “Don’t think I won’t kill this bitch.”
I pushed Sly toward the door again. “Let’s go, Sly.”
We left his apartment and I sat in the back seat with my gun to his head while Sly drove back to Romans. I got a slice with sausage and extra cheese and we watched the Lakers play the Trail Blazers.
When the game was over, I took all of Sly’s money, which I could have done after he stopped taking bets, and then we drove back to his apartment. When we got to the apartment, I could hear them laughing. Sly looked at me and stepped a little quicker.
He put his key in the lock and we went in. they were right where we left them, sitting on the sofa. Only difference was that Jelinda was no longer wearing a lace camisole and those coochie cutters. Now she had on a red silk robe.
Bobby stood up. “Took y’all long enough,” he said, and we walked out. As we walked down the hall, we could hear Sly asking her what she was doing in that silk robe. I held out my hand and Bobby gave me a pound and winked his eye.
“What you wanna do now?” I asked Bobby when we got in the car.
“Let’s roll by Roscoe’s.”
Roscoe Simeon owned a strip club called Passion, where he ran gambling in the basement. He was one of the people that we didn’t have to threaten, beat or kill. When Nick and Jamaica paid him a visit, he rolled over quick. “I don’t want no trouble with André or Black,” he said. “That nigga’s crazy.”
When we got inside, the place was packed. There were three women dancing naked on stage and men were standing around the stage dropping money on them like it was water. It was like that all over the club.
Just about every woman in the house was either naked doing table dances or they were leading some man to the VIP area for a private show.
“This is what I like to see,” Bobby said.
“What’s that? Naked women?”
Bobby laughed. “Is that what you see? ’Cause all I see is money up in here.”
I laughed, but he had a point. This was our spot now, and that money was ours. “I hear you,” I said, and we stopped at the bar to get a drink and I saw somebody that I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Mike, Bobby. What’s up?”
“What’s up, J.R.?”
His name was Jasper Robinson. He ran a club called J.R.’s and like Roscoe, he ran his gambling operation in the basement. He was into numbers, bookmaking and had a few other things going. I wanted a piece of his action, but him and André were old friends, and we had sort of a mutual respect for one another, so we left him alone.
“Where you been hiding?” I asked.
“I had some things going on,” J.R. said. “So I had to lay low for more than a minute. But I’m back now.”
“Sometimes you gotta go back to the crossroads, get yourself together,” Bobby said as the bartender brought us our drinks.
“Sure you right, Bobby,” J.R. said, and all three of us raised our glasses and drank to that.
“It was good seeing you two. You should drop by the club; let me buy you a drink.”
“We’ll do that,” I said. We shook hands and me and Bobby headed for the gambling room.
On the way there, I looked around to see if I saw Roscoe anywhere, but I didn’t see him. I asked one of the dancers if she had seen him and she told me that Roscoe was in his office.
“You go ahead, Bobby.”
“Where you going?”
“To the office. I need to holla at Roscoe for a minute.”