by K'wan
Satin felt as if she was floating. In her heart she knew she had made the right choice. Lou-Loc was the kind of man she dreamt about as a little girl, and now she had him live and in the flesh. The fact that he was a gang member didn’t even bother her anymore.
Satin went into her bedroom and removed her rosary from the vanity mirror. She knelt beside her bed and started to pray. “God,” she whispered, “I know we haven’t spoken much lately, but I need your help on this one. This man that you’ve sent me is all that I’ve ever needed or wanted. I might be foolish for falling for him so quick, but if loving this man is wrong, I’ll be damned if I’ll be right. So if you can find it your heart to make everything okay, let ya girl come out on top.”
*
Lou-Loc stepped from Satin’s building and took a deep breath. He knew it was some bird shit letting Satin see him cry, but fuck it. She had assumed his emotional display was over the conversation they had, but that wasn’t the case. When he went into the hallway, he cut his cell back on and found that he had thirteen voice mails waiting. Eleven of them were from Martina, one from Snake Eyes and one from Cross. He listened to them all and it was the last one that caused him to break down. “The dog was rabid and had to be put down,” was all Cross said but Lou-Loc knew what he meant. Lost in his thoughts Lou-Loc made his way back to where he had parked the car. Just as he reached it a young kid wearing a red hoodie pulled up on a bike.
“You got a light, Blood?” the kid asked him.
Lou-Loc fished his lighter from his pocket with his left hand, and fingered his Glock with the right. “Here you go, cuz,” Lou-Loc said sarcastically when he handed he kid his lighter. He knew from the way the kid was dressed which side he represented, but after the positive meeting he’d had with Satin, color didn’t seem so important to him anymore.
“Thanks, big homey.” the kid said exhaling the smoke from his cigarette. “You better be careful out here with them colors on, dog. This is LC Blood hood.”
Lou-Loc sized the kid up and noticed that he bore a striking resemblance to Satin, but paid it no mind. “Look here, lil homie, I’m from the old school. I wear what I want and go where I please. Niggaz don’t fuck wit me, and they live to see they next birthday, ya heard?”
The kid smirked at Lou-Loc and asked, “You must be a bad man, huh?”
Lou-Loc rolled up his shirt sleeve exposing his tattoo of a six pointed star. “Harlem gangsta, anybody killer coming straight out the jungle, so miss me with that East Coast shit. Y’all niggaz in New York better get a clue because y’all set riding and ain’t even putting it down right.”
The kid puffed up. “What? This is LC homie,” he threw up his hood in an awkward hand gesture.
Lou-Loc gave the boy a comical look and shook his head. “That’s just the kinda bullshit I’m talking about, shorty. You rob a few ma fuckas, or slash some ol’ wine head, and you think that’s gangsta? Where I’m from to be down with a set means more than busting ya gun or just being a hard ass. We took care of each other, and our neighborhoods. Y’all niggaz see an old woman struggling, and instead of helping her, y’all wanna get ya jack on. Y’all dead-rag niggaz got the game fucked up. Take my advice, homie, leave this shit to us grown folks.”
During the whole conversation all the kid could think of was how much hood fame he could gain by killing this O.G. Lou-Loc turned to walk away, and the kid made his move. From under his hoodie, he pulled a .25 and pointed it at Lou-Loc’s back. “Crab ma fucka,” he spat, “I should twist yo shit for coming through here side ways.”
Lou-Loc turned slowly and looked the kid dead in the eye. The kid expected him to be afraid staring down the barrel of the gun, but in Lou-Loc’s eyes he saw emptiness. The cold look in Lou-Loc’s eyes made the kid hesitate, and that mistake cost him. With speed born of a lifetime in the streets, Lou-Loc snatched the hand gun and knocked the kid off his bike and onto the pavement.
Lou-Loc leaned over and grabbed a handful of the kid’s shirt, slapping him viciously across the face. “You think I’m some buster ass nigga who’s scared of this lil pop shooter? Mutha fucka I am death on two legs,” he snarled. Lou-Loc gave a cautious look around to make sure nobody was watching before he finished the kid, but when he looked up he saw Satin’s bedroom light come on he thought better of it. “You gotta be the luckiest nigga in the world, shorty so make sure you count your blessings before your head touches the pillow tonight.” Lou-Loc stuffed the gun in his pocket and released the kid. He was going to let it be, but as an after thought he kicked him in the side of the head. “If I ever see your mark ass again it’ll be a bullet hole in your head instead of a sneaker mark, bitch!”
When Lou-Loc’s car pulled off, the kid sat on the curb and cursed himself for being so weak. He could’ve made the big time by capping Lou-Loc, but instead, he almost got himself killed. He hated Lou-Loc, and vowed that he would see him again, and the next time, only one of them would walk away.
CHAPTER 16
Lou-Loc parked two blocks from the meeting area. His watch read eleven thirty, so he still had some time before the meeting. Top had rounded up all the troops, and Snake Eyes had picked up his package from Wiz. His lieutenants were on point, and that’s why he chose them. Pop Top was a savage when it came to combat, and Snake Eyes was the voice of reason.
All that was left for Lou-Loc to do was meet Cross to get the details of his stake out and make good on his payment, which was the location of the two virgin girls in the pictures he’d given him at the bar. Lou-Loc still wasn’t comfortable with dealing with his friend’s eccentric taste, but Cross’ kind didn’t deal in money they dealt in blood. The price for doing business with the Gehenna was a blemish on your soul, if you were lucky, but for as much dirt as Lou-Loc had done over the years one more stain on his soul wouldn’t too much matter. Two tears in a bucket. If it got the desired results, it was worth it.
Standing in the shadows of the park Lou-Loc felt Cross’ presence, but didn’t see him, which was a side affect of their strange relationship. It was kind feeling that someone was watching you but you were the only one on the block. Giving substance to his suspicions, Cross came slithering out of the shadows.
“You need to stop sneaking up on people like that, before I shoot you by accident one day,” Lou-Loc joked with his friend.
Cross smiled. “If I had a quarter for every time some asshole has shot me, I’d be a rich man.”
“So, what do you have for me?” Lou-Loc asked.
For an answer, Cross tossed Lou-Loc a paper shopping bag. Lou-Loc peeked into the bag, and almost vomited when he saw the contents. It was a human hand, with a ruby ring on one of the pinky finger.
“That’s what’s left of the gentleman Martina was creeping with. I’m sorry old friend.” Cross said sincerely.
Tears welled in Lou-Loc’s eyes, but he refused to let them escape. His worst fears were confirmed. “A fool for love.” Lou-Loc mumbled.
Cross felt terrible seeing the hurt in Lou-Loc’s face. Even though they came from two different worlds Lou-Loc was the closest thing Cross had to a friend. The path of darkness was a lonely one where friends were hard to come by and even harder to hold on to, but for as long as Cross had known Lou-Loc the young gangster had always been true to him, even after discovering the truth about him. Though they were born to different parents during different times the same blood ran through their veins which only strengthened their bond.
Cross touched Lou-Loc’s shoulder affectionately. “If it makes you feel any better, I took his hand while he was still alive. He suffered a great deal before I released him to death.
This brought a slight smile to Lou-Loc’s face but the pain remained. “Thank you, my friend. Cross, I need two favors from you.”
“Just tell me who and they’re dead,” Cross assured him.
“Not that kinda favor. I have a lot of things I need to do tonight, a lot of bad things. I can get them done on my own but I need that killer edge that only you can help me with, do y
ou understand?”
Sadness came over Cross’ face. “Lou-Loc, don’t do this to me. The more of that shit I give you, the more dependant on it you’ll become. Eventually you’ll be hooked and won’t be able to function without it. I’ve seen what becomes of people addicted to it and it’s not pretty.”
“I understand and I appreciate your concern. Hopefully this will be the last time I have to ask you. The second favor runs a little deeper than that.”
“Well, don’t keep an asshole in suspense, what is it?”
“My nigga Gutter is in Harlem Hospital laid up and sprayed up. He’s in bad shape and probably won’t make it unless I do something.”
“Lou-Loc, giving it to someone as healthy as yourself is one thing, but giving it to someone who is already on death’s doorstep could have unforeseen consequences. If it goes wrong it could mean the death of all three of us.” Cross said honestly.
“Cross, after all you’ve done for me I would never put you in a jam, but that’s my heart in there. If Gutter was to die and I didn’t at least try to do something to help I couldn’t live with myself. That’s my heart lying in that hospital,” Lou-Loc said emotionally. “Don’t make me beg, Cross. I need you to do this for me, will you?”
“Lou-Loc,” Cross said softly, “I hope you realize what kind of position you’re putting me in.”
“Thank you so much Cross.”
“Don’t thank me;” Cross cut him off, “I never said I’d do it. Just know that I might never see another night after this one if I do this thing for you. Lou-Loc, you saved my life when my own comrades wouldn’t help me and for this, I owe you a great debt, but let me make something clear to you and never forget it, my friend. Nothing is without its price, especially the gift you are asking for your friend. Always remember what I’ve said to you this night,” Cross closed his eyes and let his thoughts roam. “Damn you, Lou-Loc for putting this load on my shoulder,” he whispered, “and damn me twice, for being your friend.”
*
South of where Lou-Loc and Cross were making their exchange, Cisco sat listening to a young man recounting the events of his run in with the notorious Lou-Loc, of Harlem Crip.
“Are you sure?” Cisco asked the kid while taking a puff of his cigar.
“Yea, I’m sure,” the kid went on, “it was Lou-Loc. When he showed me his crab ass tattoo, I saw his name under the six point star. You shoulda heard how that faggot was talking. He was act’n like LC don’t hold no weight down here. I was gonna clip his ass, but he snuffed me before I had a chance to pull out on him.” He lied.
Cisco absently rubbed the scar on his cheek, and winced from the still lingering pain. “Tell me this, Jesus; if that was Lou-Loc you bumped into, what was he doing nosing around Satin’s building? You think Harlem knows we’re behind the hit on Gutter?”
“Nah, I seen them together before, I think he’s trying to fuck, bro.”
Cisco’s eyes flashed anger. Could Lou-Loc be fucking Satin? Just the though of it sent sharp anger pains through Cisco’s temple. He figured if he couldn’t have her, no punk ass crab would. Then another thought flashed through his twisted mind. What would the rest of the crew think if they found out that their leader’s sister was involved with one of their rivals?
“Jesus, I have a job for you.” Cisco said smiling devilishly. “I want you to keep an eye on your sister, and find out what the deal is with her and this crab. Don’t let her know you’re following her, and do not alert El Diablo to the problem just yet. This may work to our advantage yet. You do this without fucking up, Jesus, and there’s a promotion in it for you.” Cisco saw the greed well up in Jesus’ eyes. He had no idea that Cisco was using him as a pawn.
“Don’t worry, Cisco,” Jesus said heading for the door, “I won’t fuck up.”
Cisco sat back in his leather recliner and clasped his hands together. This was a situation that would definitely require some watching. Cisco giggled like a school girl as he thought of the look El Diablo would have on his face when he broke the news to him.
*
Lou-Loc stood atop the jungle gym, and looked down at the sea of blue clad soldiers. Even though it was dark, Lou-Loc could see each and every member in attendance. He made a mental note of those who didn’t bother to show, and decided they would be dealt with accordingly. At the last minute, they had decided that having all of the homeboys in the park at one time might draw too much attention. They thought it’d be best just to have all of the captains and their lieutenants present, each with a soldier of their choice. Even with this precaution, there were still a good twenty-five of the home boys present. When Lou-Loc’s voice finally boomed out, all became silent.
“I wanna thank all y’all niggaz for coming.” He said addressing the crowd. “We got pressing business to attend to, so I ain’t gonna keep you long. I’m pretty sure all y’all niggaz done heard about what happened to our folk Gutter, so ain’t no need for me to go into detail about the shit. When them faggot ass Brims tried to slab Gutter they played themselves. By them even thinking that they could touch an OG, they disrespected us. They basically said, fuck Harlem, and fuck the whole C-nation. I know mutha fucking well we ain’t going for that shit?”
Lou-Loc had the crowd in an uproar. There were chants of ‘fuck bloods,’ and threats ridding the world of Bloods. There was a wicked gleam in Lou-Loc’s eyes. It had been so long since he had held the reigns of power that he almost forgotten what they felt like. The beast was in control, and it howled for blood. The man speaking to the home boys wasn’t St. Louis Alexander the writer; it was OG Lou-Loc, head buster, and stone murderer.
Lou-Loc waited until the crowd died down before he began speaking again. “Now,” he said waving them silent, “we know it was some Brims that did the shooting, but we don’t know which set exactly or who gave the order, so I say we ride on em all. I want at least one blood on every set dropped every fucking night from now until they give up the shooters and the mutha fucka who gave the order. If they don’t do it in a timely fashion then blast their whole mutha fucking gang off the map!”
The gathering of young men soon turned into a violent mob and Lou-Loc smiled like a proud father as his he knew his words had hit home. These were his children, and if he asked, they would follow him to the ends of the earth.
After the crowd had died down, Lou-Loc motioned for Pop Top and Snake Eyes to join him. “These are the men you will answer to during these troubled times. All you cats already know Top, he’ll be over seeing the troops out in the field, but I want to introduce to my main man, Snake Eyes.”
An unsure mummer went through the crowd as the gangsters took stock of the well dressed man with his walking stick and glasses.
“I know you see him standing there in his shoes, and specks, but make no mistake that he’s one of the most cold-blooded studs you’ll ever meet. He done saved my ass on many occasions back home in L.A., and done dropped quite a few people, so don’t let his appearance fool you. He’ll also be providing legal services for those of you who’ll need it. He’s our minister of defense,” Lou-Loc explained. “These are two of my most trusted partners. You show them the same respect that you would show me. Now, yall niggaz go lay it down. Show these fucka’s that the name Crip still mean something in these streets.” Lou-Loc threw up his C’s and all the home boys responded in kind. The crowd filed out with murder on their mind. The park had emptied out leaving only the three leaders.
“That was one hell of a speech.” Top said patting Lou-Loc on his back. “Shit, I’m ready to go bust on something.”
“It’s gonna be a lot of heat on us, cuz.” Snake commented. “A whole lot of mutha fuckas is gonna end up on the slab.”
Lou-Loc looked at his homey and smiled. “I guess the stock in funeral homes is gonna go up, huh? Remind me to call my broker in the morning.”
Top thought that the comment was funny, but Snake Eyes didn’t see it that way. Unlike everyone else, the murderous gleam in Lou-Loc’s eyes didn’t go
unnoticed by him. It was a look that he hadn’t seen since the night Lou-Loc murdered Stan and it frightened him. “You a’ight, Lou?” Snake asked.
“Never better,” Lou-Loc said, entirely too calm. “You got my package from Wiz?” Snake Eyes handed him a duffel bag and stepped back.
“Yea, I got it.” he said. “Man, those are some strange ass Chicanos you fuck wit, cuz.”
“Nah, the twins is cool and Wiz is just a lil different. Y’all niggaz go home, and get some rest. I’ll call you sometime tomorrow afternoon.” Before waiting for a response, Lou-Loc strolled off into the darkness.
As Snake Eyes watched his friend stroll off, he shook his head. After what happened to Gutter, Lou-Loc’s mood seemed to change. He wasn’t the ambitious young man that the east coast was molding him into. He was the Cali killer that he used to be. One thing was for sure, there would be a lot of black dress buying in Harlem.
*
After Lou-Loc left the park, he headed downtown and rented a room at the Quarters hotel. When he signed in, he used his real name. The reason for this was so he’d have an alibi as to his whereabouts. After checking in, he slipped out the back and headed home. When he got there, he had to pause before going inside the house to gain his composure. The voice in his head was screaming for him to kill Martina and be done with it, but he still had feelings for the girl. That and the fact that he didn’t wanna make her kids orphans. As soon as he walked in, Martina started up.
“Fuck you been?” She snapped. “I been paging you and trying to call you all damn day. Was you laid up wit a bitch or something?”
“I was busy.” He said coldly. Martina wanted to continue the argument, but something in his eyes told her to leave it alone.
Lou-Loc got a can of paint from under the kitchen sink and walked into the bedroom where he proceeded to collect all the jewelry he had brought Martina over the years and stuffed it into his pockets. He paused when he got to the five and a half carrot diamond ring that he intended to surprise her with and shook his head because he had paid a grip for it and she’d never get to see it. Next, he went into their closet and removed all of her furs and leathers. After laying Martina’s goods on the bed, he removed his razor blade and proceeded to slash all of her dresses. DK, Versace, Prada, all turned to confetti. He took all of the clothes he could carry from his side of the closet and placed them in a duffel bag with his jewelry and guns. All of his papers were in a briefcase, so he had all bases covered. Strolling like he didn’t have a care in the world, he went into the living room and placed his bags by the door.
