by K'wan
“Everybody wanna blame the set for what I’ve become but what I didn’t realize until last night was that the monster has always lived here.” He pounded his chest. “Long before I smoked my first enemy, I was a fucking abomination… death is a part of me. Mo, it ain’t no secret that I was born into this life, but never forget that this life does not define me!”
She broke away from him and took a step back. As she stared at him that loving fire that used to burn between them dwindled to a smolder. If she hadn’t been convinced before, she knew then that their era had truly come and gone.
“I gotta go, Rah is waiting for me.” Monifa turned to head for the limo, but his voice gave her pause.
“Will you come say goodbye to me at the airport?” For a minute he thought she was going to stop, but it was only a break in her stride. They had already said their goodbyes and Gutter knew it, but he just wanted to be sure before he closed his heart off to her.
FIFTEEN MINUTES later Gutter had reemerged from the house, trading in his sweatshirt and jeans for a beautiful three-piece, charcoal-gray suit. He could’ve rode in the limo with his family, but just then he wasn’t feeling much like family, he was feeling like a wolf and needed to be among his pack.
“If it’s one thing I can say is that you Soladine niggaz clean up pretty nice,” Stacia cracked from the bottom of the porch steps. She was dressed in a tasteful skirt and blazer set, her eyes surprisingly clear.
“I thought you pushed out with the rest of the fam?” Gutter said, hugging her.
“Nah, you know yo peoples is Holy Rollers and I’m trying to smoke a joint before the ceremony. Set it out, I know y’all got that,” she joked.
“Fo sho.” Gutter smiled. For the next few moments Stacia was quiet. He could tell there was something on her mind, but she struggled to find the words. “Sup, Stace?”
“I don’t know, man. I’m just thinking about my baby’s daddy and how much I’m gonna miss him,” she admitted.
“Shit, you and everybody else in the hood,” Gutter said.
“But not like I will, Kenyatta,” Stacia told him. In all the years Gutter had known her it was the first time she’d ever called him by his government. “Me and your uncle might’ve fought like cats and dogs, but Big Gunn was my first love. You see this figure”-she ran her hands down her sides. It wasn’t a seductive gesture, more of a visual aid-“I had to love that muthafucka to let him put a baby in me. But that was a long time ago.”
“My uncle was crazy about you too. Remember how mad he used to get whenever you stepped out with your girls?” Gutter recalled. Stacia had been one of the baddest bitches on the set in her day and Gunn was a nut over her.
“Yeah, he was a fool about this.” Her face brightened. “If a nigga even looked at me too hard, Gunn was ready to go to the pistols.”
“I guess it runs in the family,” Gutter joked. Stacia smiled but her face darkened a bit. “What’s really on your mind, Stacia?” he pressed.
“Listen… I’m sorry about what happened to Rahkim. He was a fool, but I still loved him like a brother.”
“Rahkim went out like a warrior,” Gutter said, trying to push the visions of his mercy killing from his head. “It was an honorable death.”
“Honorable? Baby boy, ain’t no honor in getting your shit pushed in,” Stacia told him. “Rahkim was just a shade over thirty, with no kids. The only thing to mark his passing will be the mural somebody paints for him in the hood. I can’t really see the honor in that.”
“Here we go again with this shit.” Gutter sighed.
“Oh, nah, I ain’t wait around to preach to you. Now, I’m sad for that baby having to grow up without his parents, but my baby gotta grow up without one of his. My biggest regret was that it was Reckless y’all killed instead of Major. But I’m sure that problem is gonna work itself out before too long.” She stared at him and he just nodded. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, thank you. Not necessarily for killing them children, but for keeping my child from becoming a murderer. Lord knows if y’all hadn’t rode on them busters, Tariq was gonna get ahold of a gun and do something stupid.”
“Come on, Stacia, you know I ain’t trying to let Lil Gunn get caught up in this shit,” Gutter assured her.
“I know that, Gutter. You think if I didn’t I’d let you take my only child clear across the ocean? Rahshida was down with the game, but her heart wasn’t in it like ours. I know how strong the devil’s call is, so I understand a little better. Gutter, I know who you are and what you represent, but I also know that you’re a good young dude. Tariq needs a strong male figure in his life to save him from what’s waiting behind door number two.” She motioned toward the men gathered at Gutter’s back. “Gutter, my soul died with Gunn and all I got left is my heart.” She pointed at Lil Gunn. “Just promise me you’ll show him a better way.”
“I’ll do my best, Stacia,” he said.
“When it comes to mine, your best ain’t good enough. I need to know that I’m doing the right thing by letting Tariq go back east with you. If I’m sending my son to join your army then I might as well let him stay here and die with me. I need you to give me your word that you won’t let him fall into this hell?”
“On my uncle, Stacia. Lil Gunn ain’t gonna get swept up in this bullshit,” Gutter vowed.
“Then it’s settled. When you fly back to New York his little ass will be on the plane with you. Remember now, Gutter, you promised to take care of my boy.”
“I got you,” he assured her. In less than twenty-four hours he’d been backed into taking two oaths, and still hadn’t come up with a solid plan to deal with Major Blood. Just thinking of the killer who waited for him on the other side of the ocean made him wonder if he’d truly be able to honor his promises.
chapter 41
TITO HAD once considered himself one of the most down Bloods in New York, but in under a year he had crossed two set leaders into being murdered. El Diablo’s death had been business, but Hawk getting off’d was something he hadn’t planned on. A shit storm was sure to come when word got out that Major Blood had assassinated him. Major wasn’t pressed. He was a master strategist with a killer’s mentality with a general who knew the lay of the land and its power structure. Thus Tito became his reluctant right arm.
“T, how long we gonna circle this muthafucka?” Eddie asked from behind the wheel of the car.
“Until he pokes his fucking head out so I can blow it off,” Tito snapped, showing signs of the strain he was under. Major Blood had successfully kicked off a civil war within a war. Not only were they now fighting Harlem Crips, but there was skirmishes breaking out among the Blood sets throughout the five boroughs. With Hawk dead and the governing body seriously crippled, it didn’t take long for things to start falling apart. When the dust finally settled Major Blood planned to rebuild the structure. Gentrification, he called it.
Until that morning everything had been going relatively smooth… but then the phone call had come in. It seemed that someone had rocked his cousin Reckless, cancelling his flight to New York. He and his girlfriend were found shot to death, and their son left an orphan. Tito expected Major to go nuts over the news considering how close he knew the cousins were, but Major Blood didn’t. His eyes took on a glint that neither he nor Eddie could bear to look at directly when he simply said, “It ends,” and started popping cats.
Bruticus was dead, and Pop Top had vanished so the lane was wide-open and Major Blood had taken full advantage. High Side was the first to get it, but he was nowhere near the last. For the better part of the day they had been stealing cars and picking off Crip soldiers. So far they’d shot at or killed at least half a dozen men since and that number promised to triple before it was all said and done.
When Major said he did his homework he wasn’t lying. Not only did he know who the key players in Harlem Crip were, but he was also able to uncover where Gutter got his drugs. The heroin he sold came from the Al Mukalla and touching them was a suicide ru
n, but he got his coke and haze from the Heights. There was a big head Dominican kid named Rico who had been hitting Gutter off for the last year and a half. It was time to bring an end to their partnership.
“There that nigga go right there.” Eddie pointed toward a group of men who were filing out of a Spanish restaurant, with a chick who was slightly familiar. His mark was a slim kid with dark skin who wore his hair in a throwback, curly fade. He was laughing at something one of the young ladies with their group had said. He wouldn’t be smiling in a minute, Tito thought to himself, checking the magazine in the compact machine gun resting on his lap.
“Let me out right here, then go lay in the block until I come around the corner,” Tito ordered before slipping out of the car.
“SO THIS is what it’s come to, mommy?” Rico asked, almost sounding sad.
“Yeah, Rico, I’m done,” she said. “I can’t take this shit no more, so I’m gonna fall back for a while.”
“You and your click have made me a lot of money, ma, especially you. Shit, you flip more weed for me than most of these niggaz do coke.”
“Yeah, it was sweet, but all good things come to an end. I mean, I’m sure the arrangement you have with Gutter is still in good standing, but I ain’t fucking around.”
“Gutter.” He shook his head. “It seems like he’s more focused on war than money these days.”
“You know how it is.” She shrugged. “But listen, I’m about to get up outta here. I’ll drop whatever I got leftover off to you tomorrow. It ain’t but a quarter pound or so.”
“I’ll tell you what, drop the money off and keep the weed. Whatever you do with it is on you,” he told her.
“Thanks.” She hugged him.
“You take care of yourself, baby girl.”
“I’ll try.” She broke the embrace. “Let me get going.” She went to step off the curb but froze. If it’s one thing she had learned during her time on the streets it was how to spot a murderer and the man approaching her was just that. She turned to shout a warning to Rico, but it was too late.
The quiet night burst into colors and screams as Tito cut loose with the machine gun. He showed no mercy as both enemies and civilians fell under the hail of bullets. Rico tried to boat, but found that for as fast as he thought he was there was no outrunning a bullet. His bodyguards tried to draw, but were no match for the skilled killer, and fell along with their boss.
C-style hadn’t even realized she was hit until she tried to run and found that her legs didn’t work correctly. There was a red spot just above her left breast that seemed to expand every time she took a breath. She tried to steady herself against the window of the bodega, but the blood made it too slick and she fell. Her mind told her that she needed to escape, but her heart and body told her that there was none. She knew that karma would come back on her for the life she’d taken, but she hadn’t realized how soon and how viciously. C-style would never get to see the world as she had often dreamt of. She would never finish school, and more important she would never get to be a mother to the life that she had no idea was growing in her belly.
HOLLYWOOD SAT at the kitchen table with Pop Top playing Casino and sipping Rémy. They’d just gotten the word about High Side so there was a grimness in the air. Hollywood had been ready to arm up and go after Major Blood and expected Pop Top to feel the same way, but the stand-in general was surprisingly calm over the death of his best friend. He reasoned that the best way to finally put Major Blood down was to formulate a plan and then execute. Until then they were to keep close to Sharell until Gutter flew back that evening.
“Man, I’m ready to waste this muthafucka,” Hollywood said, laying a card down on the table. “It bad enough that he’s killing off our soldiers and shooting up funerals, but then to murk High Side like that… my dude, we need to make a move.”
“Shit, who you telling? Me and High Side came up on free lunch and now he ain’t here no more. Man, when we finally do pop off, I’m gonna stink this nigga personally.” Pop Top downed his glass and slammed it on the table. Though he might not have appeared to be, he was grieving over the loss of his comrade. He’d warned High Side to stay off the streets until it blew over, but as usual he didn’t listen. Now he was another notch on Major Blood’s belt. He hated sitting around on his hands while his people were gunned down in the street, but it was a necessary evil. Once the balance of power was officially shifted over, Major Blood would answer for his crimes.
Just then the doorbell rang, startling them.
“Who the fuck is that?” Hollywood snatched his gun off the table and got to his feet.
“Calm ya scary ass down. It’s probably the pizza I ordered.” Pop Top laughed at him. “I got tired of Sharell having to cook for us so I decided to give her a break. Since you’re up, go get the door, fool.”
“Fuck you, nigga,” Hollywood said, placing his gun back on the table and heading through the kitchen’s swinging door. As he crossed the living room he noticed Sharell standing at the top of the stairs with a worried expression on her face. “Don’t worry, Sharell, I got it.” He went to the door. When he opened it his mouth dropped open.
“Sup, Wood?” Major Blood greeted him before knocking him out.
chapter 42
THE CEREMONY was held at a small mosque in the South Central section of Los Angeles, not far from the university. Normally the burial ceremony would’ve been performed at the house of the deceased, but with the heat and gunplay surrounding Gunn’s passing it was decided that it would be best to do it at an outside location. Besides that it was doubtful that any of the homes owned by the Soladine family would’ve been large enough to accommodate the mourners.
It seemed like most of Southern California turned out to pay their respects to Big Gunn. There were at least a dozen or more different Crip sets in attendance and even a few Bloods had managed to sneak in. The tension ran high, but nobody was tripping. The wire had already been sent out that violence would not be tolerated. Whatever beefs that were active on the streets had no place there, and those who weren’t willing to respect it would be punished accordingly.
The imam who performed the ceremony was a former Crip who was once called Big Droopy, but now went by the name Jamal Ali. He had spilled his fair share of blood as a protégé of Big Gunn’s in the late seventies and early eighties until Gutter’s father helped him find his way. His voice was just as captivating delivering the Salat Ul Janazah as it had been in battle when riding on his enemies.
The room was divided into two sides; comrades and civilians on one side with family and Muslims on the other. The sons and daughters of Allah stood proudly, arms crossed and facing Mecca, praying along with Jamal Ali. Danny was sitting off to the side, chopping it up with Blue Bird and Tears like they were old friends. Looking at him you’d never even know that he’d been party to a mass murder not even twenty-four hours prior.
From the number of women who showed out to mourn Big Gunn, you’d have thought he was a pimp. A few of them tried to cut Stacia dirty looks, but they knew better than to trip. Whether she and Gunn were together or not, she was still Queen Bitch. Rahshida sat down in the front with the rest of the fam. Lil Gunn tried to keep up his tough image, but a blind man could see that he was hurting. Gutter sat quietly in the back, wearing his murder ones, taking it all in.
“You, a’ight, loc?” Snake Eyes asked, sliding closer to Gutter on the wooden bench.
“I’m good,” Gutter told him. “How you doing?”
“Shit, you know I’m fucked-up behind this. I owed Gunn more than I’d ever be able to repay.” Snake Eyes recalled how many times Gunn had kept his ass out of the fire growing up.
“As much as you’ve done for the Soladines I think it’s safe to call it square.” Gutter chuckled softly. “So what now?”
Snake Eyes looked at his watch. “From here, I’m gonna ride with the family to Riverside to place Gunn’s body in the tomb. Tears is gonna take y’all to the airport. How does Lil Gunn feel abou
t cutting out early?”
“I think he’s cool with it.” Gutter spared a glance at his cousin. “We got a lot to do when we hit New York. There are a lot of things I gotta put in order.”
“You going after Major Blood?”
Gutter was silent for a minute. “I guess.”
“You guess? That don’t sound like the warlord I know. You okay?” Snake Eyes asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Snake, since we were little nappy head niggaz trying to look hard on Crenshaw, all I ever wanted was to be a street legend. I’ve got money, power, and an army of dedicated soldiers, everything I’ve strived for, but with all that’s happened and impending fatherhood I ain’t so sure anymore. Is the price worth the prize?”
“Heavy is the crown,” Snake Eyes remarked.
“You ain’t lying about that, brother, but what am I supposed to do? This nigga done killed my uncle; I can’t just let it ride. He touched my family, Snake.”
“And you touched his,” Snake Eyes reminded him. “Loc, don’t nobody wanna see Major Blood put to sleep worse than me for what he did, but think about what you’d be losing by continuing the feud. My nigga, I watched you go through the motions after Lou-Loc died and again when Gunn was killed. Major Blood took one of yours and you wiped out everybody he had left. What if instead of you killing Major, he kills you, then what? Lil Gunn picks up a strap and tries to avenge your death, starting the cycle all over again.”
“So what you saying, I shouldn’t ride for the set?” Gutter asked defensively.
Snake Eyes laughed at Gutter’s quick mood change. “Nah, I ain’t saying that. You put in more work for the set than any nigga, red or blue, in the last ten years. L.C. is done, as are most of your enemies, what you got left to prove? Man, let the soldiers deal with that, you’ve got more important things to attend to.”
“What could be more important than riding for mine?”
