by K'wan
“Cuz, I think I just met my future wife,” Lou-Loc said with a smile.
“Future wife? What about your current wife?”
“I ain’t wetting Martina, cuz. You had to see this broad, Ken. She was all that.”
“So you mean to say a bitch you ain’t even bone yet got you open like that? Cuz, we should’ve kept calling you Crazy Lou because you are outta ya fucking mind,” Gutter shook his head sadly.
“You don’t understand, Ken. It’s like a feeling you get when you know you’ve found someone who’s right for you, like God patting you on the shoulder telling you it’s alright to love this one. You feel me nigga?”
“Hell nah. You sound like you been reading one of them romance novels or some shit,” Gutter laughed.
“I’m trying to have a moment wit a nigga and you acting all stupid and shit,” Lou-Loc snapped.
“My bad, Loc. A’ight, so run it down to me, what’s her name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s she from?”
“I don’t know.”
“She got any kids?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Gutter says putting the top back on his bottle. “You talk’n that true love shit, and you don’t know jack about this girl? Youz a weird ma fucka, Lou.”
“Whatever, G. I need you to do me a favor?”
“What?” Gutter asked suspiciously/
“Call Yvette and have her run a plate number for me?”
“Lou-Loc, you my bluest home boy, but don’t get me caught up in this I spy shit wit you.”
“Nigga, the one time I ask you to do me one and you bitch’n bout it?”
“A’ight, stop crying, damn,” Gutter pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Hello?” spoke a female voice on the other end.
“Yvette girl, what’s up?” Gutter said jovially.
“Who is this, Gutter? Don’t what’s up me, nigga! You had me waiting for yo funky ass all that time, and you ain’t never show. What’s up wit that?”
“Girl, I got locked up. I was fucking with Hollywood and Rob and them in Yonkers and the police stopped us and found a gun in the car. Nigga ain’t even let me know he was riding dirty,” Gutter lied. “I spent the whole weekend locked up in Yonkers on some bullshit. I know you salty, but I promise to make it up to you.”
“You better!” She snapped.
“Say, peep game, baby. I need a favor.”
Yvette sucked her teeth. “You niggaz is all the same, wanting something for nothing.”
“It ain’t for me, it’s for Lou-Loc. He needs you to run this plate number for him.”
“Is that right?” she asked in a slick tone. “Well if he wants me to do something for him, I need him to do something for me. My girl Sharon has been checking for that nigga for a hot minute, but he act like he don’t know. I’ll run the plate for him on my lunch break, but he gotta go on a double date with me, you and her.”
Gutter was hesitant. Sharon had the body of a porn star, but a face that only a mother could love. Lou-Loc knew she wanted to put it on him which is why he had been ducking her for the last few weeks. He wouldn’t like the terms of the deal, but it was his favor so Gutter agreed. “A’ight, he’ll do it. Handle that shit for me right quick and hit me back,” he hung up with out saying goodbye.
“What’d she say?” Lou-Loc asked excited.
“Oh, you straight. She gonna hook you up in a few and get back.”
“Cool homey. Good looking on that, G.”
“You my peoples, Lou.”
“Oh, one more thing, G?”
“What’s that, homey?”
“What exactly did you tell Yvette I was gonna do?”
*
After Yvette got back to Gutter, he began to relay the information to his crime partner. “The vehicle is registered to Ms. Satin Angelino. She’s twenty one, never been married, and ain’t got no kids. Her last known address is down in the village and her bra size is...”
“I get the point, nigga,” Lou-Loc cut him off. “Cuz, I need to get on this ASAP. I need that chick like a junkie needs a fix and I’m gonna pull out all the stops to get her.”
“I believe you, but this brings me back to the million dollar question; what’s Martina gonna say about all this? What are you going to do, go home and tell ya wife, ‘baby I know we been together for almost two years, and you a few months pregnant, but I’ve fallen in love wit a broad I hardly know?’ Martina’s crazy ass ain’t hardly having that.”
“Apparently you still ain’t understanding me,” Lou-Loc took the bottle of liquor from Gutter and took a shot, “To you, shorty just another face in the crowd. To me she’s the only face. Don’t get me wrong; Martina’s about to be my baby’s mama and all, so you know I got nuff love for her, but I ain’t in love with her. To be truthful with you, cuz, our lives are going in two different directions. I wanna do something with this writing shit besides writing obituaries for my fallen comrades,” Lou-Loc took a sip of the bottle.
“Here we go again,” Gutter snatched the bottle while Lou-Loc was in mid-gulp, causing liquor to trickle down his chin. “Cuz I ain’t off that preaching shit today.”
“Fuck you, Gutter,” Loc-Loc wiped his chin, “ain’t nobody trying to preach. Dig, I ain’t saying it like I’m an angel or nothing, because we all did dirt. I’m just trying to do something positive with my life to offset some of that negative, feel me?”
“Yea, I feel you what you’re saying but what you keep forgetting is that the streets are all that some of us know. This shit we do put food on a lot of niggaz tables.”
“That’s true, but on the flipside for every table that we put food on out here we take if off three more. You know as well as I do, most fiends will sell their own children for a blast of that shit we serving.”
“I understand what you saying, Lou, but a motherfucker gotta eat. A lot of soldiers from our side as well as the other side come from fucked up homes with no daddy, and little to no income. How can we expect them not to take to the streets when they people starving? You of all people should know that, cuz.”
Lou-Loc looked at him sideways. “I know you ain’t even trying to run that shit on me, Gutter? Yeah, I did what I had to do when my daddy got killed and my mama died, but you had a family so what the fuck is your excuse? Shit your grandfather was a college professor.”
“Yea,” Gutter said lighting a cigarette, “Gramps was a professor, but he was also a revolutionary. When the Soviet Union tried to bully their way on to Islamic soil, Gramps was right there fighting alongside the Muslims. Being an American citizen, he didn’t even have to get in the fight but he did, because Islam teaches us that our brother’s fight is our fight.”
“That was Gramps for you. He was a real gangsta.”
“On Crip he was and they respected him for that. I remember the reception we got when my aunt Rashia took me to Islamabad to visit his crypt. The way those folks treated us and carried on about him, he must’ve been an OG or some shit. I couldn’t speak their language very well back then, but from what I was able to pick up, ‘Kenyatta Hamid Soladine, Sr. was an important man. He gave it up like a G.”
“But your grandfather wasn’t just fighting for the hell of it. He had a purpose when he picked up his gun and took it to the streets. What’s our purpose? Don’t get it twisted, I’m bout this Crip business wholeheartedly and I always will be, but sometimes I feel like what the fuck is the point?”
Gutter laughed as if it wasn’t even a question. “Power, cuz. One day Crips is gonna rule all this shit.”
*
For the next block or so, neither man spoke, each lost in his own thoughts. Lou-Loc glanced across the street and noticed a circle of young boys wearing red bandannas. Trapped in the center of the circle was a young white girl. Something about the girl reminded Lou-Loc of Tina. She had the same attractive features, except her hair was brown. Watching them harass her built a fire in Lou-Loc’s s
tomach. He didn’t know the girl from a hole in the wall, but seeing the young black boys gang up on her infuriated him. Before Gutter had even realized his partner was gone, Lou-Loc was half way across the street.
One of the boys noticed Lou-Loc coming in there direction, and stuck his chest out in defiance. “Keep walking, nigga.” The boy snarled.
Lou-Loc held his hands up, palms out. “I don’t want no trouble, Lil homey. I just came to ask y’all to let the young lady alone.”
Two more of the boys flanked the first one on either side. At the sight of his friends, and Lou-Loc’s submissiveness, the first boy’s confidence was boosted. From his rear pocket the boy produced a razor blade and pointed it at Lou-Loc. “Breeze, before I eat your food mutha fucka.”
Without a second thought, Lou-Loc went into action. With blinding speed he grabbed the boy’s exposed wrist and twisted until he heard the bone snap and the boy dropped the blade. Lou-Loc kicked the boy in the back of his kneecap and sent him down to one knee. The boy’s friends abandoned the girl, and moved to help their comrade but thought better of it when Gutter drew his twin Glocks.
“I twist slobs, young and old, so make a move and imma make you news.” Gutter warned. The boys wisely backed off.
Lou-Loc lifted the boy so that they were nose to nose. “Lil young ass nigga, I should take that shank and fuck you wit it. You know who the fuck I am?” The boy shook his head from side to side. “Then let me introduce you, I’m Lou-Loc, Harlem/Hoover gangsta, any slob killer,” he spat.
“Oh shit!” The boy blurted out. He had heard stories about the executioner from Harlem Crip but never thought in a million years that he would ever come face to face with him. Piss began to trickle down his leg because he knew that he was as good as dead.
“Take them fucking rags off, all of you!” Lou-Loc barked at the boy’s friends. The boys quickly did as they were told. “How old are you, boy?” Lou-Loc asked the boy who he still held in his grip.
“F...fifteen.” the boy managed to stutter out.
Lou-Loc slapped fire out of the boy. “Nigga, you ain’t even old enough to pee straight let alone be out here in grown folk’s business. Y’all need to have ya assess in school somewhere instead of out here trying to rob folks. Now get the fuck outta here,” Lou-Loc shoved him away, “and if I ever see one of y’all pussies out here calling y’all selves gang banging I’m gonna make you eat a fucking bullet.”
As the boy’s made to leave Gutter stopped them. “Hold up,” he walked into the center of their gang, tucking his guns and addressed them. “Make sure that you tell ya peoples that the borough of Manhattan is under new management. Any and all Brims will be executed on sight.” To make sure that they got his point Gutter stole the tallest of the boys in his mouth and put him on his back.
The boys collected their wounded friends and slithered away in disgrace. Gutter threw his head back and had a good laugh at their expense. Lou-Loc on the other hand said nothing. He just stood there fuming with his fist balled.
The girl who the boys had been accosting approached Lou-Loc and offered her thanks. “Thank you so much. I thought those animals were going to kill me.”
Lou-Loc spun around suddenly and grabbed her by the throat, slowly applying pressure. “You think I really give a fuck what would’ve happened to you? What I did was for those kids. You don’t know how tired I am of seeing kids throw their lives away over mark-ass-mutha fuckas like you. There are enough of my Lil brothers behind the wall as it is over some dumb shit and they would’ve been four more, so save your thanks.”
“Well...I...” she started, but was cut off.
“Well you what?” Lou-Loc snapped. “You didn’t mean anything by it? Man, you crackers kill me. And y’all say we got a lot of excuses. Bitch, raise yo ass up outta here, and go back to West End Avenue.”
The girl looked back and forth from Lou-Loc to Gutter. When she looked like she was about to respond, Gutter stepped in between them. “Take a hike, shorty.” He said very coolly. She sucked her teeth, but held her comment and walked off.
“Boy, I was beginning to wonder about you.” Gutter said slapping Lou-Loc on the ass. “Thought them stories about you losing your nerve might’ve been true. The way you wigged out on them slobs removed any doubt from my mind about your OG status.”
Lou-Loc rolled his eyes at Gutter and walked off.
“Fuck is wrong wit you, cuz!” Gutter shouted after him. “A nigga try’n to give you ya props and you get all funny style. Fuck is the deal?”
Lou-Loc turned and looked at his friend with sadness in his eyes. “Animals,” he said softly. “She called them animals.”
“So, what’s ya point?” Gutter asked confused.
“What’s my point? Gutter, we used to be just like them. Is that how people see us, as animals?”
“Lou-Loc, we wasn’t nothing like them lil niggaz. We respected the G- code as well as our elders. These lil bastards don’t respect shit.”
“Fuck the code, Gutter. What about respect for people and life, what happened to that?”
“I feel where you’re coming from, but those rules only apply to civilians. We ain’t civilians no more and we ain’t been for a long time. Don’t get all wishy- washy on me now, you knew what was up when you got down wit the set. I understand you, Loc, really I do, but I need you to understand me. We’re in hostile times, my friend and ain’t no emotions in war. Its either us or them, cuz. This is banging, full throttle all day every day. Ain’t no vacations or days off, straight like that. Cuz, I need your head to be right if we gonna win this game. Niggaz that don’t think right, they go out like Stan and there ain’t no way I’m gonna let that happen to either of us.”
“You right, Gutter,” Lou-Loc admitted, “but you can’t say I don’t have a valid point.”
“Look, just forget it,” Gutter said, finally tired of arguing. Once Lou-Loc got started, he could go on for hours. Gutter knew that he had shit to take care of. “Let’s just go check Roc, and get faded. After that we can check on ya lil girlfriend.” Gutter capped. Seeing Lou-Loc’s eyes get a little brighter he smiled. “I knew that would pick your spirits up, lover boy.”
“Fuck you, Kenyatta!” Lou-Loc said playfully.
“Fuck you right back, St. Louis.” the two friends shared a hug and a laugh. “You still down for me, Loc?”
“Til the day I leave here, cuz.”
“Gangsta?”
“Gangsta.”
CHAPTER 7
The Cherokee Jeep moved casually through the traffic on the Avenue of the Americas. Satin gripped the steering wheel with a manicured hand, and made the 4x4 do as she wished, very much the same way she did with people. Satin may have appeared innocent and unassuming but she was a very ambitious girl who knew exactly what she wanted out of life and how to go about getting it. It was something she adapted very early in life.
When Satin was very she was very young, she lost her mother to cancer and shortly after her father committed suicide, leaving her and her two brothers in the care of her Aunt Selina. Between her aunt and her older brother Michael, Satin never wanted for anything. Michael was always showering with Satin with gifts that most kids her age could only dream of. It wasn’t until she was older that she realized her brother made his money illegally. This made her more hesitant to accept his gifts, but she still let him do for her when necessary.
When Satin was a junior in high school, she revealed to her family her dream of owning her own business, a publishing house to be exact. Writing had always been one of Satin’s favorite past times so she decided to turn her hobby into a business venture. Satin was a girl who took her writing as seriously as she took her income and for her that was VERY serious.
When she revealed her plan to her family they all laughed at her for dreaming so big. They’re philosophy was that a woman had no place in the business world, especially publishing. Her brother Michael felt that there was no money in books so he refused to give her the seed money to get the ve
nture off the ground but that didn’t deter Satin one bit, in fact it only made her more motivated. After she graduated high school she put college on hold and got an internship with a local magazine while working in Macy’s in the evenings and on weekends. It was while working at the magazine that she deviated slightly from her original dream. While book publishing still interested she decided to go another route and start her own magazine, but not just any magazine, one that catered to the interests of Latino women.
The editor, who was a Hispanic female, was so impresses with Satin’s work ethic and ideas that she hired her as a personal assistant. She even arranged Satin’s schedule so that she could enroll in community college where she would take communication classes and pursue a degree in journalism. Satin became very fond of the editor because she was the only person to ever encourage her to chase her dreams, which she did vigorously. Satin’s mind was on her money twenty four seven, but not that day. She was thinking about the young man she had met at BMCC.
“St. Louis.” she said out loud, letting the name roll around in her mouth and reflecting on the charming young black man. She had been checking for him since the first time she’d seen him, which actually was a few months prior on 125th street. She and her friends were coming out of the bookstore when she spotted Lou-Loc going into the Magic Johnson Theater. He was rocking a powder blue sweat suit with a pair of white on white Nikes. His hair was braided in zig-zag parts with blue rubber bands holding them in place. She remembered the butterflies that were driving her stomach crazy and the feeling of disappointment when a Dominican girl walked up and grabbed him by the arm. She was cute, but didn’t have anything on Satin.
