by K'wan
“Could you tell me where I could find the circuit court?” he asked, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
Sharell stopped the ascent of her hand. “Oh, it’s two blocks over,” Sharell said, nodding in the direction of Court Street. She hoped she didn’t sound as embarrassed as she was.
“Thanks, ma’am.” The young man nodded, heading up the block. He gave a brief glance around and took another swig of his beer.
Sharell stood there for a minute trying to compose herself. She had almost shot a man for nothing because of her paranoia, which seemed to be getting more out of control throughout the course of her relationship with Gutter.
God and the church aside, Sharell was a straight hood chick and never forgot where she came from, but she wasn’t used to this. Gutter was a marked man, not only by rival gangs, but the police as well. From narcotics to homicide, they all knew Gutter from Harlem, but had yet to come up with a way to pin him down. Outside of his street name and his gang affiliation, the NYPD had no idea who he was. Even when he was in the hospital it was under a fake name. He was one of their greatest unsolved mysteries, and an embarrassment to the department, which is why he had to be removed from the equation. They had already made it clear that be it by prison or death, Gutter was going down.
Every day of Sharell’s life was spent with the fear that she would be gunned down or snatched over one of Gutter’s beefs. Her friends all thought that she should leave him alone, but love was a muthafucka. She knew he was a bad seed, but she also knew that there was good in him just waiting to be brought out, and that’s where she came in. Though it was going to take some doing, she would peel away the hard layers and expose the jewel beneath.
B-HIGH CHUCKLED to himself as he took another swig of the beer before tossing it into the trash can. For as protected as Gutter thought his wife was he had just proven that anyone could be gotten to if you were patient. He could’ve blasted Sharell right there if he so chose, but Major hadn’t given him the green light. No matter, he would bide his time and appreciate the reward when it came. Thinking back to the sexy pregnant woman, B-High envisioned himself violating her before she died.
AS SOON as Top confirmed the whereabouts of his marks, he contacted his partner in crime, High Side. All of the homeys loved High Side because he was just as vicious as he was loyal. He and Pop Top had come up together and joined the set together. Their bond went beyond just being a part of the same gang.
Next they recruited China. Though China was still fairly new to their gang, he was eager to prove himself. Everyone from the crew dug the little mutt, but steered clear of him because of his ties to B. T. Until then, he had participated in a few petty capers, but nothing heavy. Now it was time to see if he was ready for the next level.
The two men he and his cronies were currently stalking were from the Grant projects, and rumored to be two up-and-coming ghetto stars. They made tons of money for Tito slinging crack up and down Amsterdam Avenue. Top had heard of their exploits, and respected their gangsta. They were young, but would never live to see old age because of the side of the color line they had chosen.
“Yeah, we gonna twist these muthafucking slobs shit,” High Side said anxiously, placing the last bullet into his Uzi clip and sliding it into the machine gun.
“True story,” Pop Top agreed. “These fools act like they don’t know what that C like, but we gonna show they asses who run shit uptown. Say, lil nigga”-he turned to China, who was seated in the back-“you ready to get yo stripes?”
“All day.” China tried to sound confident. The truth of the matter was, he was terrified. As a minority among minorities China had been fighting his whole life, but he wasn’t sure if he had the heart to murder in cold blood.
All three of the men tensed as their marks came out of the barbershop, laughing together. The first was a tall kid with a chipped tooth, who called himself Vlad. The other was of medium build, with a wide flat head. His mother named him Jonathan, but his gang called him Pook. Both men were known for their triggers and their tempers, but when you went against a nut like Pop Top, neither counted for shit.
Pop Top was the first one to step from the vehicle and head across the street. He didn’t crouch, or try to mask his approach, he just walked. High Side walked a little farther north, before crossing Eighth Avenue. His stride was as calm as Pop Top’s, but his eyes made continuous sweeps of the two-way traffic. China brought up the rear, cuffing a shotgun under his Pelle leather.
“Son, I heard they having a locked door up on Webster tonight.” Pook tapped Vlad.
“Yeah, I heard about that shit. That light-skinned porno bitch is supposed to be taking on twenty niggaz in one shot.” Vlad rubbed his hands greedily.
The two men continued to walk and talk, never noticing the trio closing in from all sides. High Side approached from the north, Pop Top from the east, and China closed in from the south. Pop Top drew his weapon and held it at his side, still advancing on the unsuspecting victims. Those who noticed him, moved for cover. It was clear by the look of hatred in his eyes that he meant to do something wicked and no one wanted to be a part of it. Raising his black Glock 19, Pop Top fired on his rivals.
As soon as the first shot was let off, people began to scream and break in all directions, trying to avoid catching a stray. Vlad ducked for cover, while Pook was frozen. High Side didn’t mind this a bit, as it made his job easier. Firing his Uzi from the hip, he tore into Pook’s chest and face.
“Fuck you, nigga!” Vlad wailed, producing a.45 automatic from his belt. He began backing toward the shop, alternating return fire between Pop Top and High Side. High Side managed to duck behind a Volvo, narrowly escaping a bullet. Pop Top wasn’t that quick. He took a slug to the shoulder and went down. Vlad turned and boated in China’s direction.
China watched the whole thing unfold as if in slow motion. Pop Top had collapsed into the street, but he was still moving and there was no sign of High Side. He was alone to face off against Vlad who was charging right at him with a smoking gun. China fumbled with the shotgun and was finally able to establish some type of aim. He leveled the shotgun and pulled the trigger with all his might.
The shotgun seemed to silence every other sound in the world. The screams, traffic, it was all muted under the roar of the gauge. The force of the thing sent vibrations through China’s hands and wrist. The shot came up awkward, but dealt a crippling blow. China looked on in horror as Vlad’s thigh exploded. Chunks of meat flew in the air and smeared whatever they encountered. Vlad was down to one knee, but was still able to get China in his sights.
China saw his whole life flash before his eyes, as he stared down the barrel of the gun, which was pointed right at his chest. When he joined the gang, he never imagined it coming down to this. All he ever wanted was to belong, but he never considered the price. Now he was faced with a mortal decision. It was his life or the life of his enemy. China closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The gun rocked his small hands once again as he staggered back. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, expecting to feel the hot lead piercing his body. Several seconds passed, and still there was nothing. China opened his eyes and dropped to his knees. Tears streamed down his face as he took in the measure of what he had done. It wasn’t the sight of Vlad missing his entire right arm, and part of his chest. It was the sight of the little girl who had been coming out of the bodega lying in a pool of her own blood. The buckshot had passed through Vlad’s arm and hit her square in the chest. She still clutched the bag of nachos she had been eating as her lifeless eyes stared up at China.
“Bitch-ass nigga!” Pop Top shouted, as he limped to the curb. There was blood leaking from his wound, but it didn’t hinder his shooting arm. He leveled his pistol and fired two shots into Vlad’s face.
“We out!” High Side shouted, jogging back to the car.
“Let’s go, lil nigga.” Pop Top limped past China. Seeing that China was rooted to the spot, Pop Top tried a differ
ent method. He grabbed China by the collar and slapped him across the face. “Nigga, unless you plan on spending the rest of your life in the fucking joint, you better get on your fucking feet and move!”
China looked at Pop Top as if he were seeing him for the first time. He looked from the smoking rifle to the two dead bodies, before he was able to stagger to his feet. He still felt like he was trapped in a dream, but he understood the prison time that came with what he had done.
SHARELL WAS just about to find out who the baby’s father was on Maury, when the news came on unexpectedly. A tanned gentleman with mouse-brown hair and almost perfect teeth was covering a gruesome homicide in Harlem. She could tell from the barbershop in the background that he was on 132nd and Eighth.
The newscaster went on to tell the story of a shoot-out that had taken place there not long ago, leaving three people dead, one of which was a little girl. Tears ran down Sharell’s face as a family member tried to console the grieving mother of the little girl. Touching her stomach, she knew she would surely die if something were to happen to her little one. The police suspected that it was over drugs, as usual, but something in the pit of Sharell’s gut told her that it wasn’t. She recognized one of the boys’ names and knew that the shooting was gang-related.
Even on the other side of the country Gutter was still managing to keep the chaos going in New York. She flipped her cell phone open to call him to deliver the news of what he had caused.
chapter 15
WHEN THE two-car entourage arrived back at the house there were people scattered in front of it. Some were standing around laughing, while others were getting in their cars and preparing to leave. Snake Eyes, Danny, and Gutter looked on to see what was going down. Tears stood out front, puffing a cigarette and looking highly irritated. Gutter stepped from the Regal and addressed his home boy.
“What it is, cousin?” Gutter rolled up to the front of the house.
“Man, I’m glad you’re here, G. Yo peoples is in there loc’n.” Tears sighed.
As Gutter listened, he could hear shouting from the partially cracked front door. More and more people began to file out of the house, all wearing looks of frustration or disgust. When Gutter spotted Monifa among them, he grabbed her arm.
“Man, who in there making all that noise?” he asked.
“Who you think?” She sucked her teeth.
In answer to the question, a woman came stumbling out of the house. She was tall and thin, with bleached blond hair. Her eyes were lined in black mascara and partially covered by a pair of dimestore glasses. She had yellow skin that had begun to splotch in certain areas from lack of care. Gutter looked on in shock, while Lil Gunn just turned his head.
“Ol thug-ass niggaz,” Stacia slurred, as she staggered out onto the front line. “Posted up in this muthafucka like it’s some kinda damn clubhouse.”
People laughed or stared at her like she didn’t have any sense, but Gutter just shook his head. It had been quite some time since he had seen Big Gunn’s baby mama, but from the looks of things she was still as wild as hell. Stacia had always been a pretty girl, and still was to that day, but those who knew her back in the day could tell she was slipping. Her clothes and hair were crisp as always, but she looked worn.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said, noticing Gutter for the first time. “Nigga, I heard you was dead and gone. ’Course I’m not surprised to see you here, being that none of you evil green-eyed muthafuckas know how to lay down and die.”
“Nice to see you again too, Stacia,” he said sarcastically.
“I’ll bet. So, what you doing back out here? Them New York niggaz showed you what a real thug was about?”
Gutter started to bark on her, but remembering Lil Gunn was with him he kept it cordial. “Nah, baby girl, business is business like always. I’m the man on whatever coast I stomp through. You ain’t that drunk to where you don’t recognize this Crip’n.” He flashed Harlem, then Hoover.
“Whatever, nigga. Tariq”-she turned to Lil Gunn-“what the hell happened to your face?”
“Nothing, Ma, I fell riding a bike,” he lied.
“Young nigga, who you think you fooling? I ain’t flew here, I grew here. You probably got your lil ass whipped trying to play gangsta. You better quit while you’re ahead, unless you wanna end up like yo daddy. You see that nigga in there knocking on heaven’s door.” She took a sip of her drink.
Gutter immediately checked her. “Hold that shit down, Stacia. Don’t disrespect my uncle like that, especially in front of his seed.”
“Y’all niggaz just can’t handle it. See, I’m a real bitch. I call it like I see it. Big Gunn is always gonna be my boo, but the truth is the light. This gangster shit got him living between two worlds right now. That’s the reason why I moved Tariq away from this shit. I call myself saving him from the streets.” She looked Lil Gunn up and down. “As you can see, that didn’t pan out too well.”
“You need to go somewhere and sober up,” Gutter said, getting frustrated.
“Sober up? Muthafucka, I ain’t even nice yet. Don’t get me started, lil Kenny,” she taunted him. Stacia sat her drink on the floor and scowled at everyone assembled.
Gutter could feel the fire in his gut expand to his face. Reflexively his hands curled into fists, and he shot daggers at Stacia. Monifa must’ve felt it, because she moved to his side and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Just like that the anger drained away. She could still work that magic on him.
“I ain’t even trying to hear this shit.” Lil Gunn stormed past her and into the house.
“I’m going for a walk.” Gutter turned and headed down the block.
“Hold on, I’ll go with you,” Monifa called after him.
Snake Eyes already knew what time it was, so he took Danny into the house, leaving Tears alone with Stacia. Tears knew her from back in the days, when she used to kick it around Hoover with Gunn and his lot. She was always a little outspoken, but now she was just plain rude. He didn’t really fuck with her back then, but he absolutely couldn’t stand her now.
“Fuck you looking at, Scarface?” she spat.
Tears sucked his teeth and walked toward the house. As he passed Stacia, he swept his foot out and “accidentally” kicked her drink over. “Bitch,” he mumbled, before disappearing behind the screen door.
AFTER CHANGING into a pair of jeans and a black sweatshirt, Lil Gunn came lumbering down the stairs. There were still a few people lounging around the living room and in the backyard. Stacia sat near the kitchen entrance, sipping yet another drink. He scowled at her and went in the opposite direction toward the backyard.
Blue Bird stood off to the side with several other young men and women. The ladies were working the grill and playing cards, while the homeys were gathered around Blue Bird. Though he was a loudmouth, and more often than not a troublemaker, he had his stripes in the hood. Lil Gunn slipped into the crowd, and grabbed a forty ounce from the cooler.
“Look at this lil nigga.” Blue Bird nodded toward the youngster. “Out here trying to drink with the grown folks. Put that forty down, young’n.”
“I got this, cuz,” Lil Gunn said, turning the bottle up and taking a deep swig of the beer.
“You see that boy do that there?” Charlie beamed proudly. He was from Grape Street.
“That boy got it honest.” Blue Bird patted him on the back. “Man, we all rooting for yo daddy. Them Swans disrespected the G, and we got to C them behind that shit.”
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.” Lil Gunn took another swig. “I’m ready to ride on these fools!”
“Shut yo lil ass up. You ain’t ’bout no one-eight-seven,” Charlie teased.
“Fuck you. I’ll dump on any Blood or Crip on any set!” Lil Gunn said heatedly. Gaining the respect of the older heads was crucial to him, so he put an extra production on it.
“Quit talking crazy, killing ain’t for children.” Blue Bird nudged him.
“I ain’t been
a kid since I joined up. I’m ready,” Lil Gunn declared.
“You serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
Blue Bird studied the young man for a moment. He looked into his eyes and saw no fear. The man-child was ready to make his bones.
“A’ight.” Blue Bird nodded. “We ’gon C.”
GUTTER WALKED down the block with his hands tucked firmly in the pockets of his jeans. He was mad, but all of his anger wasn’t directed at Stacia. He knew what kind of woman she was, so he expected her to come out of her face. What really had him uptight was the situation.
His uncle danced on the brink of death, and everything was in total chaos. There were dozens of people visiting him at the house off and on, but they weren’t really helping the situation. Some of them were sincere, while others just talked for the sake of hearing themselves. No one was actually doing anything to make the situation right.
Gunn had love from many sets in California as well as the Midwest, but so far no one had stepped up with a solid plan for retaliation. Even if they had, who would they retaliate against? The word was out that it was the Mad Swans who did the shooting, but no one knew if it was true or exactly who did the shooting. They could ride on the whole set, but that would make things worse. Though Mad Swans and Hoover were from opposite sides there was a mutual respect between their O.G.s and the old-school Hoovers from the seven and the nine. They didn’t have an official truce but had been known to exchange passes. If they went at the whole set without having their facts together it was sure to get real ugly real soon.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Monifa crept up on him. With so many things flooding his mind at one time, he had almost forgotten that she was with him.
