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Authors: K'wan

BOOK: Gutter
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The cops were so pissed that they took him from the precinct and drove around Harlem for hours to make it harder for the lawyer to locate him. The bullshit part of the whole thing was the fact that they had picked up several of the Crip leaders also, and thought it would be funny to release everybody at the same time. There was almost a full-scale riot between the two factions right in front of the precinct. Hawk was lucky to slide out before anything serious
jumped off, but it still didn't change the fact that Major Blood's cowboy-ass antics had brought unnecessary heat down on him.
“Man, this nigga done stirred up more shit in two days then Cisco did the whole summer.” Red tossed a newspaper across the room to Hawk. All throughout it were details about the murders. Crips killed Bloods and Bloods killed Crips. Murder was an everyday thing in New York City, but when it involved the two rival gangs it narrowed the list of suspects considerably. There had been seven murders reported over the last three days and more coming in.
The most tragic piece was the one about a woman getting shot in Harlem. Hawk had warned Ruby over and over, but she wouldn't listen. He should've known that her hatred of the Crips and love of Supreme wouldn't let her sit by and watch, but he never expected this. Major Blood was proving to be more of a detriment to them than an asset.
“This muthafucka is over the top.” Hawk flipped the paper closed and tossed it onto the floor. “What the fuck were they thinking about calling him in?” Hawk wondered out loud.
“Dawg, you know the phone is gonna be jumping in a minute. When the big boys feel all this heat they're gonna need somebody to point the finger at,” Shotta told Hawk.
Hawk knew he was 100 percent right. He was responsible for Major Blood while he was in the city and though he had not ordered the murders personally, he would surely take the blame for not keeping the killer on a shorter leash.
“Man, I knew that muthafucka was gonna be trouble the minute he showed up in New York,” Red said. “Son, them Cali niggaz don't know how to chill the fuck out, now when his ass is long gone we still gonna be catching the flack.”
“Don't even trip,” Hawk said, grabbing his car keys off the coffee table. Next he went to the closet closest to the front door and retrieved his Glock from the iron box where he kept it. “We gonna go see Major Blood and have a little chat. We out.” Hawk led his crew from the apartment.
 
 
“WHAT THE
fuck is wrong with your face?” High Side asked, noticing his partner's sudden mood change when he got off the phone.
“Man, this bitch-ass nigga Gutter is tripping,” Pop Top told him. “Old fag-ass nigga Hollywood went and dry-snitched, now Gutter on some next shit.”
“Dawg, you know how me and you do, but I think Gutter should've been told about this shit a long time ago,” High Side admitted.
“So now you sucking Gutter's dick too?”
High Side narrowed his eyes. “Man, watch yo fucking mouth. Cuz, all I'm doing is pointing out the obvious to you. We was having a hard enough time with all the different red sets popping up and this Major Blood nigga ain't do nothing but make it worse. Maybe we need to kick back until Gutter gets back?”
“Fuck all that shit, Side. When Gutter's ass was laid up, Lou-Loc put me in charge of Harlem, now I ain't good enough to run it?”
“Dawg, that was before Major Blood came on the scene putting batteries in niggaz backs,” High Side pointed out.
“Man, fuck Major Blood and fuck Gutter. Them niggaz don't run Pop Top.” He spat on the ground.
“So what you gonna do now?”
“This nigga screaming some he need me to go watch his bitch out in Long Island,” Pop Top said, clearly not feeling it.
“Damn, nigga, you ain't never strike me as the babysitting type,” High Side teased him.
“Nigga, fuck you!”
“Man, fall back you know I'm only fucking wit you.” High Side laughed, but Pop Top didn't.
“Well, don't fuck wit me, I done had enough of that shit to last me a lifetime. That fool got me tight, son. This nigga from Cali and act like he know what it is in New York 'cause he been here a few years. Shit we was born and raised in New York!”
“Man, go ahead wit that shit, Pop Top. Gutter is running the show and that's just the way it is.” Unlike Pop Top, High Side didn't have delusions of grandeur. He was good with the few corners he'd been given and didn't really care who was at the helm.
“But it ain't gotta be, son,” Pop Top said, with a wicked plan forming in his head.
“Man, what kinda shit you talking?” High Side asked in a suspicious voice.
“Check this, all I'm saying is that maybe it's time we had a little more say in the way things are run? I mean, we are from Harlem, ain't we?”
High Side thought on it for a minute. “Yeah, but what's that got to do with it?”
“Man, it has everything to do with it, Side. We homegrown, baby, but Gutter is the one who gets all the props. Check, when him and Lou-Loc first started that unified set shit, who helped them rally the troops?”
“Us,” High Side said.
“And when muthafuckas jump up, who put 'em down?”
“Us.”
“Exactly.” Pop Top slapped his palms together. “We opened the door for a nigga and we can't get a set of keys? Don't get me wrong, High Side, I got love for the homey too, but he ain't the only nigga putting in work.”
“I see your point, but what we supposed to do about it, Top?” High Side asked.
“Fuck you think, nigga? If I can't get a piece up under Gutter, I might as well take the whole pie.” Pop Top flipped open his cell phone.
“Who you calling?” High Side asked.
“Bronx Presbyterian Hospital.”
T
HERE WERE
so many young men gathered in the garage that the door had to be kept open to accommodate them. Weed smoke filled the air while bottles clanged together and weapons were visible on just about everyone. Most of the men, Gutter knew, but the rest had just come to get their pound of flesh.
“Cousins,” Gutter began, forgoing the formalities. “Yesterday we lost a down-ass soldier. A soldier who put many of us on the turf, and handed damn near all of us beat-downs when we were out of bounds. Gunn was not only my uncle, but he played the father figure to a great many of us. We all knew Gunn wasn't in no more, hell everybody on the Coast knew he wasn't active, but that didn't stop that ho-ass nigga Major Blood from laying my folk.” The people who had gone with him to see Trik knew who was behind the killing, but this was the first time Gutter had said it publicly.
“Major Blood?” someone whispered.
“I thought he was in the can?” another voice added.
“Nah, they smoked him for killing Bad Ass!” someone else added to the mix.
“Nah, that fag is alive and kicking, causing me even more grief on the East Coast,” Gutter said.
“Man, I say we mount up for a road trip, loc!” Criminal said eagerly. It had been awhile since he killed something for the hood and didn't know how much longer he could contain himself. Gutter and Rahkim were icons to young Criminal and he was dying to get his stripes up.
“Nah, little cousin, that's a problem that I'm gonna deal with personally. Oh, but before I do, I want that slob to feel what we feel right now,” Gutter said emotionally. “I want him to know what it's like to bury a homey or a muthafucking relative!” he shouted. “Tonight, we rolling through Compton and I'm gonna show these niggaz from the other side how to catch a fucking body. When we bail through, I want any and everything in that hood to lay down!”
The crowd roared at Gutter's proclamation. The sounds of sets being shouted and guns clicking were all that could be heard. They didn't even see Rahshida when she pulled up in the driveway with Monifa. Seeing twenty young men gathered on her property, with Gutter and Rahkim in their midst, meant another mother would be burying her child soon.
“What are y'all doing out here congregating?” she addressed them, putting her shopping bag down on the hood of the car. Monifa came to stand beside her.
“Ain't nobody congregating, Auntie. The homeys just came by to pay their respects to Big Gunn.” Gutter leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She frowned at the smell of liquor coming off his breath.
“Kenyatta, don't play me, all right?” she warned him. “I know y'all ain't fixing to go in them streets and act crazy?” When nobody
responded her suspicions were confirmed. “When are y'all gonna ever learn?”
“Rah, you tripping—” Rahkim began.
“I'm not tripping, Rahkim, you're the one that's tripping. As old as you are and as much as you've been through I'd think you'd be trying to defuse these kinds of situations instead of agitating them. Rahkim, that is not what Islam teaches,” she tried to reason with him.
“Man, fuck that. A nigga blasted on my brother and I ain't supposed to do nothing? We can all be devout Muslims at Gunn's ceremony tomorrow morning, but tonight I'm a muthafucking gangster.” Rahkim stormed past his twin.
Rahshida let out a deep sigh. “Hasn't there been enough death already?” She was looking at the men assembled. “Criminal, wasn't it your brother who got shot last month at the bus stop? Tears, how did you feel when those boys from Six Duce almost blew your face off in front of your son?” No one responded. “Don't you see it? Us killing them and them killing us is getting us nowhere. The only people that thinking is beneficial to is white folks who don't want you to rise above this foolishness. When it is gonna end?”
“When there's only one side left,” Gunn called from the flowerpot he'd been sitting on. Rahshida hadn't even noticed him until he spoke. There was a coldness to his eyes that she had seen in her little brother's eyes just before someone died.
“And you, Tariq. What are you doing? It's bad enough that I had to lose my brother to this madness. Will I lose you too?” Her voice was heavy with emotion.
“Nah, you ain't gotta worry about Tariq, Auntie.” Gutter put an arm around her. “Tariq is coming back to the Coast with me, I'm gonna make sure he's good.”
A glimmer of hope shone in Rahshida's eyes. “Kenyatta, please
don't let him get turned out to this craziness. Teach him a better way.”
“I'll do my best, Auntie,” he said, looking over at Gunn whose eyes were cold and focused. “I'll do my best.”
 
 
IT TOOK
nearly a half hour, but the young men finally went on their way. Snake Eyes was gone again, this time tracking down a current address for Major Blood. He'd heard through the grapevine that he'd purchased a property on the east side of Compton. Rahshida had taken Lil Gunn inside the house to have a heart-to-heart talk. He'd been elated when Gutter made the announcement that he'd be moving east with him. Gunn saw it as an opportunity to learn the art of gang-banging from a true street legend so naturally he was all for it. What he didn't know was that his cousin had a whole different plan in mind.
Gutter had thought of himself as untouchable, especially after his resurrection, but the man formerly known as B-High had shown him different. The first thing Gutter intended to do when he got back to New York was move everyone out. He had recently closed on the house in Long Island and wanted it to be a surprise for Sharell, but the botched hit sped things up. Now her dream house was a safe house. He realized that he needed to do a better job at keeping his family and his hood separate and Brooklyn just wasn't far enough.
“Can I holla at you for a minute?” Monifa walked up on him.
“Sup, ma?” he asked a little dryly. From the look in her eyes he could tell she had something heavy on her mind and he really wasn't for it at that moment.
“Y'all really riding tonight?”
He looked at her as if it were a stupid question. “Come on, Mo, you know the answer to that.”
“Kenyatta, I understand you're hurting over Gunn, as we all are, but ain't much can be done about it right off. You said it yourself that he ain't even in California so what good will it do for you to roll tonight?” The shameful look Gutter gave her put a nasty thought in her mind. “Gutter, you can't. They're civilians!”
“So was Gunn, he was inactive.”
Monifa gave him a disbelieving look. “Homey, the last time I checked you couldn't retire from this life like a nine-to-five. I'm not saying it was right for Gunn to die, but he knew the risks. If you wanna ride on Major Blood, I feel you … but leave everybody else out of it.”
For a minute Gutter's face softened, but when he saw Criminal standing off to the side waiting to see him his war face came back. “Mo, I hear what you talking, but I ain't got no understanding of that shit right now. They done took the two people closest to me in under a year and if I don't put my murder game down now, these niggaz ain't never gonna learn.”
“Gutter”—she moved closer and spoke in a hushed tone—“you don't have to do it like this. Revenge is one thing, but this … Kenyatta, I can remember a time where there were lines that even you wouldn't cross.”
Gutter took a step back and stared at her. “This is a whole new day, baby, and I'm a whole new man, smell me? It's kill or be killed, ma, ain't no more passes.”
Monifa searched his eyes for some semblance of the youth or innocence that they once held, but all she saw were two pale green pools. No life, no warmth, only color. “You are truly lost, aren't you?”
“Nah, I ain't lost, baby.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I'm just really finding myself.” He stepped around Monifa and went to join Criminal.
Monifa watched him leave and wondered who the man was that she'd just spoken to. Gutter had always been a killer, or at least that's what she'd heard, but even he was within reason. She didn't know the man standing not ten feet away from her and she didn't know the man that she'd given her body to. If Kenyatta Soladine still lurked anywhere inside that shell, he was buried too deep for her to discover. There was a time when she was the most important thing in Kenyatta's life, but to Gutter she would always come second to the set.
 
 
“YOU GOT
that done already?” Gutter asked in surprise.
“Shit, you should've known that wouldn't take long. The biggest problem was having too many volunteers. The hood loved yo uncle, cuz,” Criminal said.
“Yeah, that's all well and good, but I don't need no bunch of ragtag niggaz at my back when I bust this move, C.”
“Kick back, cuz, you know I wouldn't even do you like that. These niggaz is handpicked by me, cuz. Niggaz I ride wit on the regular, I know what they made of,” he assured Gutter.
“That's why I fuck wit you, cuz, you always been a straight rider.” Gutter draped his arm around Criminal lovingly. “Man, you ready to put in some
real
work?”
“Cuz, you know I stay down for that one-eight.” He flashed the butt of the gun jammed down the front of his oversized jeans. “I been waiting for a reason to trip on a nigga anyway, but them touching Gunn means it's no-holds-barred. Man, I'm gonna smoke any muthafucka out there, that's on the turf!”
Gutter smiled at Criminal. Of all the young homeys, he really dug Criminal. He was a loyal soldier and spent more time listening
than he did talking. Not only was he about his business, but he loved the set more than anything. He showed the same kind of vigor about gang-banging as Lou-Loc and Gutter had. If he survived the night he was surely going to become a big man in the hood, Gutter would see to that.
“Sup, locs?” Lil Gunn addressed the two men.
“What it is, lil nigga.” Criminal pounded his fist. “How you holding up?”
Lil Gunn shrugged. “I'll be a'ight, man. Niggaz die every day.”
Gutter placed a hand on Lil Gunn's shoulder. “Cuz, you daddy wasn't just no nigga, he was a legend. You might not have been as tight with him as you should've, but don't never doubt that your father was a great man. Outside of this banging shit, Gunn was a good nigga and did a lot of good for the neighborhood.”
“I hear you, cuz,” Lil Gunn said.
“Man, don't even trip that shit 'cause you know we fixing to ride for the big homey,” Criminal told him, trying to pick his spirits up.
“That's what I'm talking about; I'm ready to blast on something!” Lil Gunn said eagerly.
“Man, you ain't gonna do shit but stay your ass in the house where women and children are supposed to be. This ain't something for kids, man,” Gutter told him.
“Man, Criminal ain't but a year or two older than me,” Lil Gunn pointed out.
“But he ain't my little cousin.” Gutter mushed him playfully. “Dig, I know you can handle yourself, Gunn, but I promised Auntie that I'd try to deprogram some of that street shit outta you.”
“Come on, G, that's my pops!”
“Yeah, and you done already went and made your mark for
him, which I'm still thinking about fucking you up about. Gunn, you're still a shorty, man, no matter how many niggaz you done shot. Enjoy being a kid for a while, because when you blink it'll be all gone, feel me?”
“Yeah, man,” Lil Gunn mumbled.
“Don't feel bad, cuz. Just think, tomorrow night we'll be on in New York City. If you thought L.A. was live, wait till you get a taste of the city. Them bitches love Cali niggaz.”
“Straight up?” Lil Gunn asked excitedly.
“Square biz, loc. Besides, you a Soladine nigga, pulling hoes is in your genes. Now go on in the house and start getting your shit ready. We still got a lot to do before we bail and I still gotta convince ya mama to let you roll.”
“She ain't gonna give a damn. Not having to look after me will just give her more time to get faded.” Lil Gunn stomped off to the house.
“Watch your mouth!” Gutter called after Gunn, who slammed the screen door behind him.
“Man, you really ain't gonna let that nigga get it in for his pops?” Criminal asked.
“Hell, nah, I ain't letting him ride. That there is a child, Criminal, this shit ain't for him.”
Criminal shrugged. “It ain't really for none of us, but it's what we got. Maybe if you let him ride out he'll get it out of his system.”
“Let me tell you something.” Gutter grabbed Criminal by the collar of his T-shirt. “That's my uncle's boy and he ain't gonna fall in line with this dumb shit. If I ever hear talk of a nigga letting Gunn ride again, I'm gonna be a real firm supporter of Crip-on-Crip violence, you understand me?”

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