This story is a crime drama that takes place in Chicago during the 1990s at the peak of the drug trade.
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Mark O'Neal Books
Mike Cross was living a fast life as a financial analyst for a Fortune 500 company by day and a nightclub owner at night. He craved racy women and the playboy lifestyle despite having a wife at home. His life would change forever when he ran into his college roommate (Dink) one faithful morning, and Dink robbed him for his cash and jewelry.
Mike would cap off his day by meeting the girl of his dreams (Candi), and he would instantly fall in love with her. Will he seek revenge on Dink? Will he begin a torrid affair with Candi? Or will karma finally catch up with him?
“I can not believe this shit!” Mike shouted to himself. “Why-the-fuck is there road construction in the heart of rush hour? Do they even care that some of us still have to go to work? Goddamn.”
Mike Cross decided to exit the expressway at Ninety-Fifth and Stony Island instead of enduring the bumper-to-bumper traffic jam and traveled east on Ninety-Fifth Street to Jeffery Boulevard. He hated taking side streets to work even though he loved passing through his old neighborhood from time to time.
When he was fifteen minutes from downtown, he had decided to stop for a breakfast sandwich and coffee before work. Before the light turned green, he saw his college roommate crossing the street. He turned right on Seventy-First Street and parked his car.
"Dink!" Mike shouted, trying to get his attention. “What's up, man?”
“Mike?” Dink asked, looking in Mike's direction with blood-shot eyes.
“Get in, man. I've got a few minutes to spare, and I can drop you off wherever you need to go.”
“Thanks, Mike, I appreciate it. So, I see you got it goin’ on, man...got a fresh kit on the Beamer...chrome rims and shit. Life must be good, huh?”
“I can't complain, Dink. I got a job as a financial analyst after graduation, and I got married four years ago. We have a house in Richton Park.”
“That’s good to hear, Mike. I'm truly happy for you.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“My baby mama’s house. I got high as hell last night, and I crashed over there.”
“Yeah. I was pissed off because my job is trying to block my unemployment. They say I was drinking on the job...that I basically fired myself. I got drunk and smoked a bag to keep my mind off of it.”
“Yeah...I mean...I had a couple of beers at lunch, and someone smelled liquor on my breath. My boss found out and fired my ass.”
“Damn, man, I sorry to hear that. So, where can I drop you off?”
“I live on South Shore Drive in the high-rise on the corner.”
“I know the one...we used to stay there a couple of years ago.”
“Did you? I didn't know that.”
“Yeah, it was our first place after college. Hey, if you need anything, let me know, okay?”
“Do you have some money? If I don't pay this rent, they are going to evict me on the first.”
“I got you covered, Dink. I’m going to call my assistant and tell her that I'm running a little late. How much do you need?”
“Damn, you got an assistant and shit...lemme hold five hundred. I'll pay you back when I get on my feet.”
“Don't even sweat that, Dink. Consider it a gift.”
“Thanks again, bruh. You are a true friend.”
Mike reached in his pocket and pulled out a gold money clip full of hundreds and twenties. Mike then took the money clip off, counted out five hundred dollar bills and handed them to Dink; but Dink pulled out a pistol from his waist, pointed it at Mike’s head and said, “Give me all of your money, bitch. If you do anything foolish, I'm going to shoot you in the fuckin’ head.”
“What the fuck, Dink?! I thought we were friends, man.”
“You don't mean shit to me, muthafucka...you don't know me anymore.”
“We were boys, Dink...thick as thieves in college. Now, you think you're gangster and shit. Why you buggin’?”
“That was then, nigga. A lot has happened over the years...I gotta do what I gotta do.”
“My mortgage is due...I can only spare five hundred and the rest has to go in the bank.”
“You're lying...I can always tell when you’re bullshittin’, Mike. You were going to give me five hundred with no problem. Give me the fuckin’ bankroll and that fuckin’ Rolex right now or else...."
“Alright! Just stop pointing that fuckin’ gun at me!”
Mike quickly handed Dink the money, and Dink said, “You made a wise decision, Mike. I would’ve hated to splatter your brains all over your beautiful interior.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Mike answered sarcastically.
“Don't get smart, man...and just so you know, I never really liked your ass anyway, pretty boy. I don’t know what all the women saw your soft ass anyway.”
Mike sat frozen, and Dink jumped out of Mike's car and fled down the street. Mike continued to sit with his car in park bewildered and felt like someone literally stabbed him in the heart. He dialed his work number on his cell moments later.
“Hello, Connie, something has come up, and I won't be in today.”