Gutter

by K'wan

  Immediately after speaking to Hollywood, Gutter called Pop Top and demanded to know what was going down.

  “It’s blue, cuz, I got it under control,” Pop Top assured him.

  “Nigga, how the fuck is it blue when three of my homeys got dropped since I been gone?” Gutter demanded.

  “Man, B. T. was a straight bitch from the jump and as far as the other two… they were just casualties of war. Shit happens, man, ain’t no need to worry,” Pop Top said as if it were nothing.

  “See that’s your problem, cuz, you don’t worry. You got a nigga like Major Blood picking off soldiers left and right and you don’t see a need to worry?”

  “Man, that nigga ain’t special. He bleed like everybody else, Gutter.”

  “Dawg, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, Major Blood ain’t like everybody else. This nigga is bad news. That little tit-for-tat shit you’re playing with him is not only getting us hot, but it’s getting niggaz killed.”

  “G, it’s under control. Don’t trip, I’m gonna put a lid on it, no problem,” Pop Top said, getting tired of talking to Gutter.

  “Muthafucka, is you crazy? This shit is all over the news! Son, you got the police on us, the sets on us, and if you fuck around the Feds might not be far behind!” Gutter barked.

  Pop Top sucked his teeth. “Man, what you tripping for, cuz? You left me to run the set while you handle ya little family problems, so let me do my thing.”

  “Top”-Gutter sighed-“I left you in charge because I thought you’d keep it running while I had to dip to the West. As soon as Major Blood popped up you should’ve called me and I could’ve gave you the four-one-one on that buster.”

  “I’ll take care of him.”

  “You know what, don’t even sweat it, Top. I got something more important that I need you to take care of. Niggaz tried to get at Sharell last night.”

  “What? Is she okay? Who needs to die, cuz?” Pop Top asked.

  “Kick back, man. I’m gonna be home tomorrow to take care of all that shit. Right now she’s good, Roc got her stashed away at my house in Long Island. I need you and some of the homeys to go out there and help out,” Gutter told him.

  “Come on, cuz. I ain’t no babysitter, I’m a field general, I belong in the trenches, you know that,” Pop Top protested.

  “Top, right now what’s going on in the trenches ain’t important. I’ll see to that when I get back. I need you to tell the homeys to fall back until I get there. Major Blood don’t play like everybody else, and I don’t wanna lose no more soldiers, Top.”

  “This is some bullshit, man. In one breath you tell me to keep up the war effort and in the next you tell me to run from Major Blood like I’m some fucking pussy? I ain’t wit this shit, cuz.”

  “Loc, fuck what you wit!” Gutter shouted. “I’m asking you to do me this solid, and you’re giving me grief? Check this shit, Top, you’re leading the set in name only. I’m the iron fist behind Harlem Crip. Now, if you can’t do me this solid, cool, I’ll get somebody else. But make no mistake, my nigga, I won’t have you questioning my actions. Dig me?”

  “Whatever, man. I got you,” Pop Top said, and hung up the phone.

  “Silly muthafucka,” Gutter spat, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

  “You a’ight, G?” Snake Eyes asked, climbing out of his car. Gutter had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed him pull up.

  “Yeah, I’m straight.” Gutter pounded his fist. “Just tripping off this nigga Pop Top. That muthafucka act like he run Harlem, homey.”

  “Well, for a good while he did. You know what they say about when a dog tastes blood, cuz. You might wanna keep your eye on that dude.”

  “Man, Top crazy as hell, but he ain’t stupid.” Gutter waved him off. “You send that bread off for me, my nigga?”

  “Yeah, man.” Snake Eyes handed him a Western Union receipt.

  “Rob’s sister is handling all the arrangements. She say that Ms. Lucy too broke up to do much other than cry, so she on it. I think they’re gonna have the services tomorrow.”

  “Damn, that was quick.”

  “I know, but they wanna get it out of the way, homey. I can only imagine what those women must be going through,” Snake Eyes said sadly.

  “Muthafucking Major Blood,” Gutter spat. “It wasn’t enough that that crazy bitch Ruby took my lil homey off the set, but then this nigga Major Blood had the nerve to go at my bitch? Man, that’s gonna be the first nigga I see when I get back to the Coast.”

  “Yeah, ya boy’s been getting his murder on, but he ain’t try to kill Sharell, this nigga did.” Snake Eyes handed him a folder he had been holding. “You might recognize the little bastard in the picture as B-High, who used to kick it back in the days.” Snake Eyes narrated while Gutter scanned the folder’s contents.

  “Didn’t they cross that nigga out for hitting two of his own?” Gutter asked, glaring at the picture.

  “They tried, but he vanished.” Snake Eyes pulled a small legal pad from his pocket and began flipping the pages. “Spent some time in Miami and at some point slipped into New York. With his track record I’m surprised you haven’t had any trouble out of him before this. Between him, Reckless, and Major Blood, they kept some shit jumping in Compton.”

  “Yeah, we gonna see how much Reckless got jumping after a real muthafucking gangsta touch the turf. After I lay this bitch nigga, I’m gonna grease his faggot-ass cousin, Major.” Gutter tossed the file back to Snake Eyes. “He might not have tried Sharell his self, but that don’t change the fact that he put somebody on the case. That’s my word if them niggaz touch my wife…”

  “Easy, homey.” Snake Eyes placed a reassuring hand on Gutter’s shoulder. “You and I both know that she’s good where she’s at. Nobody but us and Anwar knows where she’s tucked.”

  “Nobody but us and Anwar knew where she was tucked before,” Gutter reminded him. “Cuz, I’ll just feel better when this nigga is outta my city, real talk.”

  “Soon enough, cousin. I’ve made arrangements for the funeral and wake for Big Gunn to go down tomorrow, all in one shot. The family understands about you having to bail early because of the emergency in New York. Speaking of cutting out, what you think about taking Tariq with you?”

  “Who, Lil Gunn? Man, fuck am I gonna do, give him package and teach him to blast muthafuckas? Nah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Gutter laughed it off.

  “Well, I do. Come on, G, look what that nigga is dealing with out here. His mama’s a winehead and his daddy ain’t here no more. Who’s gonna raise him, the fucking streets? You see what happened to us.”

  “Snake, your ass is a lawyer, fuck is you talking about?” Gutter asked him.

  “Yeah, but you went on to become a gang banger, and so did Poppa, Ray, Baby Crunk, and Lou-Loc. Now three of the people on that list I just ran down to you are dead, one is in jail, and the other one is trying to get himself killed. So what’s that telling you, that one out of every six of us will make a little something of their life?”

  “Yo, dawg-”

  “Nah, hear me out for a minute, Gutter. That boy is without a doubt his father’s child; if you leave him here it’s only a matter of time before he falls into the bullshit. I mean, it ain’t like he’s gonna have a whole lot of choices if he stays, G.”

  “Man, we banging in New York too!” Gutter pointed out.

  “Yeah, but not like these niggaz.” Snake Eyes motioned toward the garage, where most of the crew was assembled inside. “Besides, you know when Sharell drops her load this shit is gonna have to slow up anyhow. Get the little nigga outta here before the police or the meat wagon does.”

  Gutter measured his words, wondering if his friend’s suggestion would make things worse or better. He was right when he said that things would change when Sharell gave birth. She had already started tightening the reins, and they’d get even tighter with a new baby. It wasn’t such a bad thing though because Gutter needed to slow down. May
be bringing Lil Gunn to the East Coast would help him do that. He knew how easy it was to be fourteen on the set, with nobody but the hood to guide you.

  “You might have a point, Snake, but who’s to say that Gunn even wants to go?” Gutter asked.

  “He says,” Snake Eyes informed him. “You know me and Lil Gunn are way cool because just about once a month I gotta fly up to get him outta some shit, so he talks to me. His mama ain’t doing nothing but pushing him from the nest and into harm’s way, but you know Stacia ain’t trying to hear she has flaws. I asked the little nigga if he could move, would he? And he say in a heartbeat.”

  Gutter shook his head at his old friend’s cunning. “A’ight, loc. Let me holla at Sharell about it and we’ll see what pops. Right now, I gotta go holla at these niggaz, before Rahkim gets them all hyped up.” Gutter headed for the garage.

  WHEN HAWK was finally allowed to leave the precinct he was less than a happy camper. They had picked him up the previous night and brought him in for questioning on the recent rash of murders. Hawk had been on the police radar as a known gang affiliate and general piece of shit, but until then they’d never been able to come up with a solid reason to pick him up. Apparently they thought that he would be able to shed some light on the rash of gang-related shootings that had taken place over the last few days. Of course, Hawk refused to talk until his lawyer arrived.

  The cops were so pissed that they took him from the precinct and drove around Harlem for hours to make it harder for the lawyer to locate him. The bullshit part of the whole thing was the fact that they had picked up several of the Crip leaders also, and thought it would be funny to release everybody at the same time. There was almost a full-scale riot between the two factions right in front of the precinct. Hawk was lucky to slide out before anything serious jumped off, but it still didn’t change the fact that Major Blood’s cowboy-ass antics had brought unnecessary heat down on him.

  “Man, this nigga done stirred up more shit in two days then Cisco did the whole summer.” Red tossed a newspaper across the room to Hawk. All throughout it were details about the murders. Crips killed Bloods and Bloods killed Crips. Murder was an everyday thing in New York City, but when it involved the two rival gangs it narrowed the list of suspects considerably. There had been seven murders reported over the last three days and more coming in.

  The most tragic piece was the one about a woman getting shot in Harlem. Hawk had warned Ruby over and over, but she wouldn’t listen. He should’ve known that her hatred of the Crips and love of Supreme wouldn’t let her sit by and watch, but he never expected this. Major Blood was proving to be more of a detriment to them than an asset.

  “This muthafucka is over the top.” Hawk flipped the paper closed and tossed it onto the floor. “What the fuck were they thinking about calling him in?” Hawk wondered out loud.

  “Dawg, you know the phone is gonna be jumping in a minute. When the big boys feel all this heat they’re gonna need somebody to point the finger at,” Shotta told Hawk.

  Hawk knew he was 100 percent right. He was responsible for Major Blood while he was in the city and though he had not ordered the murders personally, he would surely take the blame for not keeping the killer on a shorter leash.

  “Man, I knew that muthafucka was gonna be trouble the minute he showed up in New York,” Red said. “Son, them Cali niggaz don’t know how to chill the fuck out, now when his ass is long gone we still gonna be catching the flack.”

  “Don’t even trip,” Hawk said, grabbing his car keys off the coffee table. Next he went to the closet closest to the front door and retrieved his Glock from the iron box where he kept it. “We gonna go see Major Blood and have a little chat. We out.” Hawk led his crew from the apartment.

  “WHAT THE fuck is wrong with your face?” High Side asked, noticing his partner’s sudden mood change when he got off the phone.

  “Man, this bitch-ass nigga Gutter is tripping,” Pop Top told him. “Old fag-ass nigga Hollywood went and dry-snitched, now Gutter on some next shit.”

  “Dawg, you know how me and you do, but I think Gutter should’ve been told about this shit a long time ago,” High Side admitted.

  “So now you sucking Gutter’s dick too?”

  High Side narrowed his eyes. “Man, watch yo fucking mouth. Cuz, all I’m doing is pointing out the obvious to you. We was having a hard enough time with all the different red sets popping up and this Major Blood nigga ain’t do nothing but make it worse. Maybe we need to kick back until Gutter gets back?”

  “Fuck all that shit, Side. When Gutter’s ass was laid up, Lou-Loc put me in charge of Harlem, now I ain’t good enough to run it?”

  “Dawg, that was before Major Blood came on the scene putting batteries in niggaz backs,” High Side pointed out.

  “Man, fuck Major Blood and fuck Gutter. Them niggaz don’t run Pop Top.” He spat on the ground.

  “So what you gonna do now?”

  “This nigga screaming some he need me to go watch his bitch out in Long Island,” Pop Top said, clearly not feeling it.

  “Damn, nigga, you ain’t never strike me as the babysitting type,” High Side teased him.

  “Nigga, fuck you!”

  “Man, fall back you know I’m only fucking wit you.” High Side laughed, but Pop Top didn’t.

  “Well, don’t fuck wit me, I done had enough of that shit to last me a lifetime. That fool got me tight, son. This nigga from Cali and act like he know what it is in New York ’cause he been here a few years. Shit we was born and raised in New York!”

  “Man, go ahead wit that shit, Pop Top. Gutter is running the show and that’s just the way it is.” Unlike Pop Top, High Side didn’t have delusions of grandeur. He was good with the few corners he’d been given and didn’t really care who was at the helm.

  “But it ain’t gotta be, son,” Pop Top said, with a wicked plan forming in his head.

  “Man, what kinda shit you talking?” High Side asked in a suspicious voice.

  “Check this, all I’m saying is that maybe it’s time we had a little more say in the way things are run? I mean, we are from Harlem, ain’t we?”

  High Side thought on it for a minute. “Yeah, but what’s that got to do with it?”

  “Man, it has everything to do with it, Side. We homegrown, baby, but Gutter is the one who gets all the props. Check, when him and Lou-Loc first started that unified set shit, who helped them rally the troops?”

  “Us,” High Side said.

  “And when muthafuckas jump up, who put ’em down?”

  “Us.”

  “Exactly.” Pop Top slapped his palms together. “We opened the door for a nigga and we can’t get a set of keys? Don’t get me wrong, High Side, I got love for the homey too, but he ain’t the only nigga putting in work.”

  “I see your point, but what we supposed to do about it, Top?” High Side asked.

  “Fuck you think, nigga? If I can’t get a piece up under Gutter, I might as well take the whole pie.” Pop Top flipped open his cell phone.

  “Who you calling?” High Side asked.

  “Bronx Presbyterian Hospital.”

  chapter 33

  THERE WERE so many young men gathered in the garage that the door had to be kept open to accommodate them. Weed smoke filled the air while bottles clanged together and weapons were visible on just about everyone. Most of the men, Gutter knew, but the rest had just come to get their pound of flesh.

  “Cousins,” Gutter began, forgoing the formalities. “Yesterday we lost a down-ass soldier. A soldier who put many of us on the turf, and handed damn near all of us beat-downs when we were out of bounds. Gunn was not only my uncle, but he played the father figure to a great many of us. We all knew Gunn wasn’t in no more, hell everybody on the Coast knew he wasn’t active, but that didn’t stop that ho-ass nigga Major Blood from laying my folk.” The people who had gone with him to see Trik knew who was behind the killing, but this was the first time Gutter had said it publicly.

&nbs
p; “Major Blood?” someone whispered.

  “I thought he was in the can?” another voice added.

  “Nah, they smoked him for killing Bad Ass!” someone else added to the mix.

  “Nah, that fag is alive and kicking, causing me even more grief on the East Coast,” Gutter said.

  “Man, I say we mount up for a road trip, loc!” Criminal said eagerly. It had been awhile since he killed something for the hood and didn’t know how much longer he could contain himself. Gutter and Rahkim were icons to young Criminal and he was dying to get his stripes up.

  “Nah, little cousin, that’s a problem that I’m gonna deal with personally. Oh, but before I do, I want that slob to feel what we feel right now,” Gutter said emotionally. “I want him to know what it’s like to bury a homey or a muthafucking relative!” he shouted. “Tonight, we rolling through Compton and I’m gonna show these niggaz from the other side how to catch a fucking body. When we bail through, I want any and everything in that hood to lay down!”

  The crowd roared at Gutter’s proclamation. The sounds of sets being shouted and guns clicking were all that could be heard. They didn’t even see Rahshida when she pulled up in the driveway with Monifa. Seeing twenty young men gathered on her property, with Gutter and Rahkim in their midst, meant another mother would be burying her child soon.

  “What are y’all doing out here congregating?” she addressed them, putting her shopping bag down on the hood of the car. Monifa came to stand beside her.

  “Ain’t nobody congregating, Auntie. The homeys just came by to pay their respects to Big Gunn.” Gutter leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She frowned at the smell of liquor coming off his breath.

  “Kenyatta, don’t play me, all right?” she warned him. “I know y’all ain’t fixing to go in them streets and act crazy?” When nobody responded her suspicions were confirmed. “When are y’all gonna ever learn?”