by K'wan
More silence.
“Okay,” Sharell said, pulling a small Bible from her purse, “you don’t have to talk, just listen.” Sharell proceeded to read a passage from the Bible.
chapter 3
DANNY PULLED the truck up in front of the bodega and killed the engine. He wanted to accompany the O.G. inside, but Gutter instructed him to wait. He never brought people into the stronghold of his partner. After retrieving the duffel bag containing one of the German machine guns, Gutter walked into the store.
Inside, the store was buzzing with activity. People were browsing through the aisles, while others were paying for their purchases. As usual, Roc was at his post behind the counter. Noticing Gutter, he motioned for Hassan to relieve him. The skinny boy still looked the same as he did during their first meeting.
“Al-salaam alaykum,” Roc greeted Gutter, coming from behind the counter.
“Alaykum salaam,” Gutter replied.
“Anwar awaits you in the war room. I trust you remember the way?”
“All day, cuz,” Gutter said, cutting through the aisle. He pushed open the door to the storeroom and proceeded to the freezer. Stepping inside the freezer, Gutter punched the numeric code into the keyboard. It took Anwar awhile before he trusted him enough to reveal the combination. The Al Mukalla valued their privacy, which is why Gutter never brought anyone within their hall with him.
The elevator went dark, but the metal detectors didn’t sweep him this time. He had given Roc prior notice of the parcel he was carrying. He stepped off on the ground floor and made his way down the infamous hall of eyes. The hidden cameras observed his approach, but he didn’t spare them a second look. Approaching the door to the war room Gutter looked at the Arabic writing and chuckled. “Freedom for the sons and daughters of Allah,” he read it out loud. Bush had yet to withdraw the troops so it looked like the freedom wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. Gutter removed his shoes and knocked on the iron door.
After a brief wait, the door clicked partially open. Gutter pushed it the rest of the way and stepped inside. As usual the room was dimly lit. The conference table and sofa were gone, but the desk and vast wall of monitors remained. Sitting cross-legged on a prayer rug was Anwar.
The leader of the Al Mukalla swept his long hair from his face and looked up at his visitor. “Enter and be welcomed, child of the Soladine family,” Anwar said, in a formal tone.
“Greetings, young prince, I come to you in friendship and thank you for your hospitality.” Gutter matched his tone.
“Please, come and be seated,” Anwar said, motioning to an empty space on the rug.
Gutter adjusted the duffel bag and took a seat on the rug with Anwar. “A gift for the birthday boy.” Gutter smiled, handing him the bag.
Anwar smiled and accepted the gift. He examined the machine gun and nodded in approval. “Very nice.”
“I thought you might like it.”
“Indeed,” Anwar said, setting the weapon off to the side. “How goes things?”
“Another day, another hustle.” Gutter sighed. “Things are still a little crazy, but it’s coming together.”
“Glad to hear it.” Anwar nodded. “For a time, we were concerned about the state of our agreement. No disrespect to your comrade Pop Top, but I did not relish the idea of having to do business with him.”
“Top means well, but not everyone is skilled at diplomacy. He’s served his purpose, but I’m back running the show now. I’m gonna do what I gotta to make sure the set flourishes.”
“Indeed,” Anwar agreed. “How’s Sharell?”
“She’s good. She still hasn’t gotten used to the idea of living in Brooklyn, but it’s for the best. I love that girl with everything that I am, so I need to keep her out of harm’s way.”
“As you should. Tell me this though, when are you going to make it official?”
“Come on with that.” Gutter waved him off.
“I’m serious. Even if she wasn’t carrying your child, I think she has more than proven her loyalty and love for you.”
“I plan to marry her one day; it’s just that the time isn’t right yet.”
“Kenyatta, that’s a weak excuse and you know it. Though you lost your way for a time, you are still one of Allah’s children. Living with a woman and giving her a child outside of marriage is an American custom. Being as we are, a wife completes the foundation of life. She is the earth which you have planted your seed in and should be cherished as such.”
“I know, but there’s just so much going on with me right now,” Gutter explained.
“Speaking of which, how are you?” Anwar questioned.
“I’m fine,” Gutter shrugged. “Still got a few aches, but I’ll be okay.”
“Not your physical, my brother, your soul. I see much unrest in your eyes. The devil tries to worm its way into your spirit and you welcome him with open arms.”
“It ain’t like that, Anwar. It’s just that a lot of shit has to be made right before I can move on.”
“And what constitutes making it right? Since you’ve come back on the scene, much blood has been spilled in the streets. The murderers of your brother are dead and gone, yet you carry on the siege. Will it take your own death to end it?”
“If need be,” Gutter said very seriously. “Lou-Loc was the only friend I ever had. They cut him down like a dog in the streets. I can’t let that shit ride. They gotta pay!”
“Kenyatta”-Anwar placed his hand on Gutter’s forearm-“I understand your need for vengeance, but what about your need for peace? How can one pay a debt that has no denomination? You have swimmed through rivers of blood to reach this point. You have money and an army behind you. I implore you to abandon this quest before it consumes you.”
“I wish I could,” Gutter said, trying not to get choked up, “but I can’t. These busters gotta feel what I feel. I wanna hurt them, Anwar.”
“Gutter,” Anwar said, using his street name. “Your father and his father before him were both very wise men, but I fear the trait wasn’t passed along to you. Only a fool has everything, but still feels it isn’t enough. You must ask yourself, are you killing for vengeance or is it something deeper than that?”
Gutter felt his anger clawing its way to the top. He was sure Anwar saw the rage flickering in his eyes, but he still sat motionless, staring at the ganglord. Had this been anyone else, Gutter would’ve pummeled him for speaking so freely. But the man sitting before him wasn’t anyone else. He was the prince of a city within a city. More important, he was right. The killing would have to end at some point, but it wouldn’t be today.
“I gotta go,” Gutter said, rising to his feet. He made for the door, while Anwar remained seated.
“I’m sorry, Kenyatta,” Anwar called behind him. “Not sorry for expressing myself, but for the conflict that continues to poison your soul. May Allah walk with you on whatever road you choose.”
GUTTER WAS tight when he left the bodega. Leave it to Anwar’s little philosophical ass to rain on a nigga’s day, Gutter thought to himself. He understood what Anwar was saying about losing focus, but why didn’t Anwar understand what he was saying? Anwar was beginning to sound like Sharell.
Just thinking of his boo drained some of the anger from his face. If nobody was in his corner, she was, even when he was on his bullshit, which was most of the time lately. Still, she rode with him and had been just as solid as when he’d met her.
He and Lou-Loc had only been in New York for a few months and still trying to get the lay of the land. It didn’t take them long to open up shop and get a short crack flow popping out of this base head’s house on Lexington. It was the first of the month and they had sold out of product just after sundown. Being that they wouldn’t be able to re-up until the next day they decided to hit the party scene and blow some of their newfound wealth.
They tried to hit up some popular spots in Midtown, but because they were dressed in boots and jeans instead of button-ups and loafers it didn’t
go too well. They ended up rolling through this spot on Eighth called the Sugar Shack. It was a small spot, but the atmosphere was mellow. There were some birds in the joint, but for the most part it was a light crowd. Gutter was about to suggest that they bail when the night suddenly started looking up.
Lou-Loc was leaning against the bar, jabbing with a thick Spanish chick while Gutter played the cut, brooding over his Heineken when Sharell walked in with two of her peoples. Gutter could tell they were squares by their conservative dress, when most of the other chicks were in man-catching gear. Still, all three chicks were fine and Gutter was lonely. As they passed he tried to capture them with his alluring green eyes, but the first two passed without giving him so much as a glance. It was the last one who looked over at him. The look couldn’t have been for more than a heartbeat, but in that heartbeat something passed between them.
“Say, cuz.” Gutter tapped his partner. “Check them joints right there.” He nodded toward the trio that had taken one of the tables in the back.
Lou-Loc kept his hand on the girl’s thigh and leaned over to his friend. “Who, them square bitches?”
“Yeah, man. Yo, I think I’m about to move on baby girl in the green sweater.” He rubbed his perspiring hands against his jeans.
“Man, that broad ain’t fucking wit yo old thug-ass. Kick back, cuz, I’m ’bout to see if baby here got a friend.” He jerked his head toward the girl he was talking to.
“Man, fuck that bitch; I need you to help me break the ice with baby girl,” Gutter said, not really caring if the current object of Lou-Loc’s affection heard him.
“Man, you tripping. I ain’t ’bout to go over there looking in no projects when I got prime real estate right here.” He traced his finger down the girl’s arm, causing her to giggle. Lou-Loc was about to lean over and whisper something in her ear when Gutter grabbed him roughly by the arm. He was surprised to see the seriousness in Gutter’s eyes.
“Cuz, you know I wouldn’t even put you out there unless it was serious,” Gutter told him.
“Damn, you really snagged, huh?” Lou-Loc shook his head.
“Nigga, I ain’t asking for your firstborn kid or no shit like that. All I want you to do is go over there and ask honey if I can speak to her for a minute.”
Lou-Loc twisted his lips. “Dawg, not only do you want me to smile and nod for these lame hoes, but you got me on some high school shit at that?” Gutter’s eyes were almost pleading now. Lou-Loc whispered something to the girl he had been talking to. From the way she stormed off you could tell that she didn’t take rejection well.
“A’ight, loc, I got you on this here, but I ain’t tricking no bread on getting these chicks faded. You got the crush, you buying the damn drinks.” Lou-Loc swaggered over to the table.
Gutter fumbled around on the bar stool, trying to find a cool-ass position while Lou-Loc approached the table. The girls looked up at him with everything from lust to disgust as he spoke, moving his hands to punctuate his words. One girl, who Gutter would later come to know as Lauren, rolled her eyes while the other two broke out into a fit of laughter. Gutter felt like he had played hisself and wished he’d listened to Lou-Loc. The girl in the green sweater tugged him down by the arm and whispered something in his ear. Lou-Loc shrugged and made his way back to the bar with a smirk on his face.
“What she say, cuz?” Gutter asked, trying not to make eye contact with the girl in the green sweater because she and her friends were staring over at them.
Lou-Loc took his time before answering. “She say that I need to take you home.”
“What?” Gutter looked confused.
“Home girl said that anybody who is still sending his friend to step to girls for him ain’t old enough to be in no bar.” Lou-Loc slipped and let out the laughter he had been holding.
“Fuck you, Lou-Loc.” Gutter shoved him.
“My fault, man, but you should’ve seen your face when I told you you’d been shot down!”
“I ain’t stunting that broad.” Gutter tapped the bar to get the bartender’s attention.
“G, why you just go over there and holla at her?”
“Why, so them bitches can get another good laugh off me? Nah, I’m good.”
Lou-Loc stopped laughing. “Cuz, I know you ain’t scared of no broad? Oh, hell nah, not big muthafucking Gutter from Harlem! Nigga, fuck licking your wounds about this shit, you want shorty then you go get her. You know how we do it on the left, cuz.” Lou-Loc knew just the right things to say to get his friend motivated, because right after Gutter downed the shot of Crown Royal the bartender had set down, he was on his feet and on his way across to the spot where the three girls were sitting.
Gutter’s heart was slamming against his chest so rapidly that it’s a wonder it wasn’t visible through his shirt. Lou-Loc and Crown Royal had put the battery in him, but he was already committed to the move so he couldn’t back out. All eyes were on him as he crossed the room, but when he arrived at the table only the girl in the green sweater kept his gaze.
Gathering his courage Gutter said, “Sup, baby, they call me Gutter. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink of something?”
“No the hell he didn’t,” Lauren said.
“Tired, tired, tired,” the other girl mumbled.
Green sweater turned around in her chair and looked Gutter up and down. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Fo sho,” he said, figuring he had her.
“Are you a virgin?”
Gutter looked at her quizzically. “Hell, nah, why?”
“Because it’s a wonder that you can get a woman to sleep with you approaching her like that. No, I don’t know if you prefer hood rats or ghetto girls, but I don’t fall into either category. So if you’re really trying to get my attention you need to rethink your approach.” Without another word, she turned her back to him and went back to her martini.
“What? Man, fuck this shit.” He stormed away. He was halfway back to the bar when he glanced over his shoulder. Lauren and the other girl were laughing at him, but the young lady in the green sweater was giving him a look somewhere between pity and curiosity. He looked over at Lou-Loc who just threw his hands up. “I ain’t no chump,” Gutter said to himself before busting a U-turn and heading back to the table.
“Excuse me,” he said when he got back to the table. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you ladies, but I just had to come over here and tell you what a vision you were. My name is Kenyatta”-he extended his hand to the young lady in the green sweater-“and you are?”
The girl in the green sweater looked up and smiled at him for getting it right that time. “Sharell.” She took his hand and held it for a minute.
“Well, Ms. Sharell, if I’m not overstepping my bounds, I’d like to invite you to the bar to join me for a drink.”
“I can’t run out on my girls like that,” she answered. His eyes flashed disappointment but it was only for a second before she continued. “But you’re more than welcome to join us.”
Lauren took this time to press her hate campaign. “Sharell, you don’t know this thug from a hole in the wall. Ain’t no way-”
“Lauren, knock it off,” Sharell cut her off. “Gutter,” she called him by his street name to ease some of the tension mounting in his face. “Please pay my friend no mind, she’s off her meds today. You can sit with us.”
“Yeah, especially if you bring your friend with you,” the third girl added.
Lou-Loc was reluctant at first, but Gutter promised him a half ounce of haze for his services so he came over. There was an instant connection between Gutter and Sharell. They were from two totally different walks of life, but their personalities seemed to go together like peanut butter and jelly. The five of them had a good time that night, even with Lauren hating on the sidelines. When the lounge closed Gutter and Sharell went for breakfast, while Lou-Loc agreed to drop her girls off. Gutter had heard whispers that Lou-Loc had convinced Lauren and her friend to get into some fr
eak shit that night, but none of them would ever admit it.
Gutter and Sharell stayed together that night and well into the next day, just enjoying each other’s company. For as much as he wanted to taste Sharell’s fine ass, she made it clear from the gate that she didn’t rock like that. Gutter was so into her that didn’t even matter to him. He was willing to wait a lifetime for her, but luckily they only put off sex for a month, and by then they were an exclusive couple. Gutter had engaged in the random fling, but ever since the night he’d met her, Sharell would always have his heart. The street, however, had a receipt for his soul.
SINCE GUTTER had gotten back in the truck, he had hardly said a word to Danny. It wasn’t usual for him to get quiet after a visit to the suspicious bodega, but this time it was different. He seemed almost hostile. Even when he gave Danny their next destination, there was an edge to his voice.
When they arrived in Fort Greene, Gutter punched in a number on his cell phone. When the caller answered, all Gutter said was, “I’m here,” and hung up. After a few minutes, two young men came walking out of the projects. Danny didn’t know the dark-skinned boy, but he recognized the Puerto Rican.
Louie was a professional thief. He and a few of his associates were former members of the Low Lifes, turned Crips. They made paper hustling other people out of theirs. They robbed everything from stores to supermarkets. It really didn’t make a difference to them. If Gutter was coming to see him, he either wanted something stolen or wanted to purchase a hot item.
“Sup, cuz,” Louie said, leaning into the truck.
“You got that for me?” Gutter asked, lighting a cigarette.
“All day, my nigga. Come on.”
Gutter told Danny to keep the engine running while he followed Louie around the corner. They cut through the projects and found themselves in a parking lot. Louie led Gutter to a gray Honda Accord. The car had seen better days, but it would do.
“Yeah, this should work,” Gutter said, handing Louie a roll of bills. Gutter got behind the wheel and started the engine.
