Gutter (36 page)

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Authors: K'wan

BOOK: Gutter
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“I got you,” he assured her. In less than twenty-four hours he'd been backed into taking two oaths, and still hadn't come up with a solid plan to deal with Major Blood. Just thinking of the killer who waited for him on the other side of the ocean made him wonder if he'd truly be able to honor his promises.
TITO HAD
once considered himself one of the most down Bloods in New York, but in under a year he had crossed two set leaders into being murdered. El Diablo's death had been business, but Hawk getting off'd was something he hadn't planned on. A shit storm was sure to come when word got out that Major Blood had assassinated him. Major wasn't pressed. He was a master strategist with a killer's mentality with a general who knew the lay of the land and its power structure. Thus Tito became his reluctant right arm.
“T, how long we gonna circle this muthafucka?” Eddie asked from behind the wheel of the car.
“Until he pokes his fucking head out so I can blow it off,” Tito snapped, showing signs of the strain he was under. Major Blood had successfully kicked off a civil war within a war. Not only were they now fighting Harlem Crips, but there was skirmishes breaking out among the Blood sets throughout the five boroughs. With Hawk dead and the governing body seriously crippled, it didn't
take long for things to start falling apart. When the dust finally settled Major Blood planned to rebuild the structure. Gentrification, he called it.
Until that morning everything had been going relatively smooth … but then the phone call had come in. It seemed that someone had rocked his cousin Reckless, cancelling his flight to New York. He and his girlfriend were found shot to death, and their son left an orphan. Tito expected Major to go nuts over the news considering how close he knew the cousins were, but Major Blood didn't. His eyes took on a glint that neither he nor Eddie could bear to look at directly when he simply said, “It ends,” and started popping cats.
Bruticus was dead, and Pop Top had vanished so the lane was wide-open and Major Blood had taken full advantage. High Side was the first to get it, but he was nowhere near the last. For the better part of the day they had been stealing cars and picking off Crip soldiers. So far they'd shot at or killed at least half a dozen men since and that number promised to triple before it was all said and done.
When Major said he did his homework he wasn't lying. Not only did he know who the key players in Harlem Crip were, but he was also able to uncover where Gutter got his drugs. The heroin he sold came from the Al Mukalla and touching them was a suicide run, but he got his coke and haze from the Heights. There was a big head Dominican kid named Rico who had been hitting Gutter off for the last year and a half. It was time to bring an end to their partnership.
“There that nigga go right there.” Eddie pointed toward a group of men who were filing out of a Spanish restaurant, with a chick who was slightly familiar. His mark was a slim kid with dark skin who wore his hair in a throwback, curly fade. He was laughing at
something one of the young ladies with their group had said.
He wouldn't be smiling in a minute
, Tito thought to himself, checking the magazine in the compact machine gun resting on his lap.
“Let me out right here, then go lay in the block until I come around the corner,” Tito ordered before slipping out of the car.
 
 
“SO THIS
is what it's come to, mommy?” Rico asked, almost sounding sad.
“Yeah, Rico, I'm done,” she said. “I can't take this shit no more, so I'm gonna fall back for a while.”
“You and your click have made me a lot of money, ma, especially you. Shit, you flip more weed for me than most of these niggaz do coke.”
“Yeah, it was sweet, but all good things come to an end. I mean, I'm sure the arrangement you have with Gutter is still in good standing, but I ain't fucking around.”
“Gutter.” He shook his head. “It seems like he's more focused on war than money these days.”
“You know how it is.” She shrugged. “But listen, I'm about to get up outta here. I'll drop whatever I got leftover off to you tomorrow. It ain't but a quarter pound or so.”
“I'll tell you what, drop the money off and keep the weed. Whatever you do with it is on you,” he told her.
“Thanks.” She hugged him.
“You take care of yourself, baby girl.”
“I'll try.” She broke the embrace. “Let me get going.” She went to step off the curb but froze. If it's one thing she had learned during her time on the streets it was how to spot a murderer and the man approaching her was just that. She turned to shout a warning to Rico, but it was too late.
The quiet night burst into colors and screams as Tito cut loose with the machine gun. He showed no mercy as both enemies and civilians fell under the hail of bullets. Rico tried to boat, but found that for as fast as he thought he was there was no outrunning a bullet. His bodyguards tried to draw, but were no match for the skilled killer, and fell along with their boss.
C-style hadn't even realized she was hit until she tried to run and found that her legs didn't work correctly. There was a red spot just above her left breast that seemed to expand every time she took a breath. She tried to steady herself against the window of the bodega, but the blood made it too slick and she fell. Her mind told her that she needed to escape, but her heart and body told her that there was none. She knew that karma would come back on her for the life she'd taken, but she hadn't realized how soon and how viciously. C-style would never get to see the world as she had often dreamt of. She would never finish school, and more important she would never get to be a mother to the life that she had no idea was growing in her belly.
 
 
HOLLYWOOD SAT
at the kitchen table with Pop Top playing Casino and sipping Rémy. They'd just gotten the word about High Side so there was a grimness in the air. Hollywood had been ready to arm up and go after Major Blood and expected Pop Top to feel the same way, but the stand-in general was surprisingly calm over the death of his best friend. He reasoned that the best way to finally put Major Blood down was to formulate a plan and then execute. Until then they were to keep close to Sharell until Gutter flew back that evening.
“Man, I'm ready to waste this muthafucka,” Hollywood said, laying a card down on the table. “It bad enough that he's killing off
our soldiers and shooting up funerals, but then to murk High Side like that … my dude, we need to make a move.”
“Shit, who you telling? Me and High Side came up on free lunch and now he ain't here no more. Man, when we finally do pop off, I'm gonna stink this nigga personally.” Pop Top downed his glass and slammed it on the table. Though he might not have appeared to be, he was grieving over the loss of his comrade. He'd warned High Side to stay off the streets until it blew over, but as usual he didn't listen. Now he was another notch on Major Blood's belt. He hated sitting around on his hands while his people were gunned down in the street, but it was a necessary evil. Once the balance of power was officially shifted over, Major Blood would answer for his crimes.
Just then the doorbell rang, startling them.
“Who the fuck is that?” Hollywood snatched his gun off the table and got to his feet.
“Calm ya scary ass down. It's probably the pizza I ordered.” Pop Top laughed at him. “I got tired of Sharell having to cook for us so I decided to give her a break. Since you're up, go get the door, fool.”
“Fuck you, nigga,” Hollywood said, placing his gun back on the table and heading through the kitchen's swinging door. As he crossed the living room he noticed Sharell standing at the top of the stairs with a worried expression on her face. “Don't worry, Sharell, I got it.” He went to the door. When he opened it his mouth dropped open.
“Sup, Wood?” Major Blood greeted him before knocking him out.
T
HE CEREMONY
was held at a small mosque in the South Central section of Los Angeles, not far from the university. Normally the burial ceremony would've been performed at the house of the deceased, but with the heat and gunplay surrounding Gunn's passing it was decided that it would be best to do it at an outside location. Besides that it was doubtful that any of the homes owned by the Soladine family would've been large enough to accommodate the mourners.
It seemed like most of Southern California turned out to pay their respects to Big Gunn. There were at least a dozen or more different Crip sets in attendance and even a few Bloods had managed to sneak in. The tension ran high, but nobody was tripping. The wire had already been sent out that violence would not be tolerated. Whatever beefs that were active on the streets had no place there, and those who weren't willing to respect it would be punished accordingly.
The imam who performed the ceremony was a former Crip
who was once called Big Droopy, but now went by the name Jamal Ali. He had spilled his fair share of blood as a protégé of Big Gunn's in the late seventies and early eighties until Gutter's father helped him find his way. His voice was just as captivating delivering the Salat Ul Janazah as it had been in battle when riding on his enemies.
The room was divided into two sides; comrades and civilians on one side with family and Muslims on the other. The sons and daughters of Allah stood proudly, arms crossed and facing Mecca, praying along with Jamal Ali. Danny was sitting off to the side, chopping it up with Blue Bird and Tears like they were old friends. Looking at him you'd never even know that he'd been party to a mass murder not even twenty-four hours prior.
From the number of women who showed out to mourn Big Gunn, you'd have thought he was a pimp. A few of them tried to cut Stacia dirty looks, but they knew better than to trip. Whether she and Gunn were together or not, she was still Queen Bitch. Rahshida sat down in the front with the rest of the fam. Lil Gunn tried to keep up his tough image, but a blind man could see that he was hurting. Gutter sat quietly in the back, wearing his murder ones, taking it all in.
“You, a'ight, loc?” Snake Eyes asked, sliding closer to Gutter on the wooden bench.
“I'm good,” Gutter told him. “How you doing?”
“Shit, you know I'm fucked-up behind this. I owed Gunn more than I'd ever be able to repay.” Snake Eyes recalled how many times Gunn had kept his ass out of the fire growing up.
“As much as you've done for the Soladines I think it's safe to call it square.” Gutter chuckled softly. “So what now?”
Snake Eyes looked at his watch. “From here, I'm gonna ride with the family to Riverside to place Gunn's body in the tomb.
Tears is gonna take y'all to the airport. How does Lil Gunn feel about cutting out early?”
“I think he's cool with it.” Gutter spared a glance at his cousin. “We got a lot to do when we hit New York. There are a lot of things I gotta put in order.”
“You going after Major Blood?”
Gutter was silent for a minute. “I guess.”
“You guess? That don't sound like the warlord I know. You okay?” Snake Eyes asked.
“Honestly, I don't know. Snake, since we were little nappy head niggaz trying to look hard on Crenshaw, all I ever wanted was to be a street legend. I've got money, power, and an army of dedicated soldiers, everything I've strived for, but with all that's happened and impending fatherhood I ain't so sure anymore. Is the price worth the prize?”
“Heavy is the crown,” Snake Eyes remarked.
“You ain't lying about that, brother, but what am I supposed to do? This nigga done killed my uncle; I can't just let it ride. He touched my family, Snake.”
“And you touched his,” Snake Eyes reminded him. “Loc, don't nobody wanna see Major Blood put to sleep worse than me for what he did, but think about what you'd be losing by continuing the feud. My nigga, I watched you go through the motions after Lou-Loc died and again when Gunn was killed. Major Blood took one of yours and you wiped out everybody he had left. What if instead of you killing Major, he kills you, then what? Lil Gunn picks up a strap and tries to avenge your death, starting the cycle all over again.”
“So what you saying, I shouldn't ride for the set?” Gutter asked defensively.
Snake Eyes laughed at Gutter's quick mood change. “Nah, I
ain't saying that. You put in more work for the set than any nigga, red or blue, in the last ten years. L.C. is done, as are most of your enemies, what you got left to prove? Man, let the soldiers deal with that, you've got more important things to attend to.”
“What could be more important than riding for mine?”
“
Living
for yours.” Snake Eyes jabbed a finger in Gutter's chest. “For the last few years you've had a cause to die for, but now you've got something to live for.”
“Snake, you tripping, this don't sound like the homey that smoked that pig with me and Lou-Loc,” Gutter accused.
“Because I ain't that nigga no more, I grew up. I got a big house, a fat bank account, and more pussy than I know what to do with; why the fuck would I wanna keep throwing stones at the pen or the grave? Gutter, ain't a muthafucka living or dead that can question your gangsta or your love for the nation. All blood debts owed have been settled ten times over, except the most expensive one and that's to your wife and that baby she's carrying. You ain't gonna be no good to either of them if you're dead or in the can.”
“I don't know if I can just let go like that, Snake. I got a responsibility to the homeys in New York,” Gutter tried to reason.
Snake Eyes scrunched up his face. “Man, you don't owe nobody a muthafucking thing. You've organized one of the most powerful sets, on either coast, and made all them niggaz hood rich. If they can't maintain without you, then they was some fucking busters to begin with. I love the homeys, Gutter, but I love you more. I've already lost one brother because he waited until the eleventh hour to decide he wanted to get out, and I don't think I could stand to lose another one. Do something with that second chance you've been given.”
“I hear you talking, Snake,” Gutter said, mulling over his friend's words.
“Do more than hear me, Gutter,
listen
. Take some of that money I've been tucking away for you and do something with it.” Snake Eyes stood. “The ceremony will be over soon, so I'm gonna go attend the fam. Listen to your homey, G,” Snake Eyes said over his shoulder as he made his way down the aisle.
 
 
THE DOORS
to the mosque opened up and people began to file out, some orderly and some not, but all respectful. The LAPD and OSS were posted up across the street trying to be inconspicuous as they snapped pictures. Some of the most notorious gang members in all of California had come to see Gunn off, and they were anxious to match the faces they knew against their extensive database and log the ones they didn't into new files. It was for this reason that some of the more unsavory characters chose to just send flowers as opposed to attending.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Jamal Ali stepped from the mosque leading the procession. As opposed to a coffin, Gunn was wrapped from head to toe in white linen. Three men on each side wheeled the gurney that held one of the Crip's greatest heroes. Rahshida brought up the rear, flanked by Stacia and Monifa. Lil Gunn came out shortly after. His face was as hard as ever, but Gutter could tell from his ashen cheeks that he'd been crying, as was his right. Spotting Gutter approaching the quartet, Monifa turned and went in the other direction.
“Hey, Auntie”—Gutter ignored Monifa's snub and attended to his aunt—“you cool?” He took her hands in his.
“No, but what can we do? My brother is free now,” she said, trying to keep from crying more than she already had.
“That he is,” Gutter said. “Listen, I'm sorry I can't go with y'all to the vault.”
“Don't worry about it, Kenyatta, I know how it is.” She glanced across the street at the police and sheriffs. “They're minding their manners now because they know disrupting the funeral would turn into a riot, but they're gonna swoop down soon enough. It's best you not be here when it happens.”
“I know that's right. Tears is gonna take us to the airport and then come back to the house to join y'all. You need anything before I leave?”
“No, I'm fine, Kenyatta. All I need is some peace of mind.” She sighed. “Nephew, I'm sorry I was so short with you earlier. I've just got a lot on me right now. Two funerals in two days is a little more than I'm prepared to deal with.”
“You sure you don't need me to stay for Rahkim's ceremony?”
“No, Ken. I don't want to chance you getting deeper into this than you already are. If the police don't already know you're in the city, they will before long. The last thing we need is for them to start playing connect the dots and yours might be an extended stay,” she told him.
“True.” He tugged at his beard. “Well, you know if you need anything I'm just a plane ride away. When all this dies down me and Lil Gunn might fly back out here to check on y'all.”
“Don't bother, Ken. After we lay Rahkim to rest I'm gonna have Snake Eyes sell our properties out here and I'm leaving L.A.,” she informed him.
“Auntie, if you're worried about retaliation I can make sure y'all are protected round-the-clock,” he assured her.
“And live like a prisoner in my own home? No thank you. Besides, I'm not leaving because I'm afraid, I'm leaving because I'm tired. Ever since we came to California death has been a constant companion of the Soladines. I need to put this state and all this ugliness behind me.”
“Where will you go?” he asked.
“I don't know. I was thinking about traveling for a while. Maybe visit Algiers for a few months and settle somewhere down south when I come back. I haven't quite made up my mind yet … maybe even take a look around Arizona.”
“Well, if you need anything from me just let me know.”
Rahshida smiled and touched his face. “Kenyatta, all I need you to do is be here for your family. Change the way you're living so your wife doesn't feel the kind of heartache I'm feeling right now, nephew.”
“I've been hearing that a lot lately.” He recalled his conversation with Snake Eyes.
“Then maybe you should try listening.”
“I just might,” he said honestly.
“Well, we've got a little bit of a drive ahead of us so I'm gonna go now, but you be safe, Kenyatta, and know that Allah loves you.”
“I know now.” He hugged her.
“Take care of my nephew, Kenyatta, and don't let it take another death to bring us back together.”
“I got you, Auntie,” he said, trying not to break down himself.
Rahshida wiped her eyes and started in the direction of the limo. Gutter looked over and found Monifa staring at him intently. He started to say something to her, but decided against it. They had said their goodbyes already, so there was nothing more to discuss. That chapter of his life was closed and he needed to focus on the new beginning with his wife and family. After saying farewell to the homeys, Gutter, Danny, and Lil Gunn climbed into Tear's truck and headed for the airport.

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