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Authors: K'wan

BOOK: Gutter
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“ARRIVED AT
destination,” the computerized voice of the navigation system informed them.
The residential block looked like something out of
Home & Garden,
with its manicured lawns and SUVs in the driveways. She looked back at Mohammad who was still moaning softly. He was
in a great deal of pain, but at least he was still alive. When she turned into the driveway there were three cars already there, and she could see men moving about in the darkness. She was about to throw the X5 in reverse when she felt something touch her arm.
“Family,” Mohammad breathed softly, leaving a bloody smear on the sleeve of her jacket. He slumped back down to the floor and seemed to go unnaturally still. Satin touched his neck and gave Sharell a sad look.
The one leading the pack had to be Anwar. She had never met him personally, but she knew he was a youthful-looking man and the dark-haired youngster approaching the X5 didn't look to be a day over seventeen or eighteen. Behind him was a stocky brute, wearing black fatigues and the beginnings of a smile on his face. The last man in the group was tall, wearing a black kufi. His dark eyes looked concerned as he scanned the interior of the car. When they were right on top of the car she pulled Mohammad's gun and aimed it out the window.
“You won't be needing that, I am Anwar, prince of the Al Mukalla, I believe you know of me?” Anwar stopped, but didn't back down from the gun. Sharell hesitated for a minute, but eventually lowered the gun and opened the door. The smiling boy-prince extended his hand and helped her from behind the wheel.
The bearded man, who was called Sharif, rushed to the backseat to attend Mohammad. He pulled him gently from the back of the car and placed him on the lawn. Ignoring his bloodstained clothes, Sharif placed his ear to Mohammad's chest. He looked up from Mohammad to Sharell and asked, “How long?”
“A few minutes, if that,” Sharell said with tears now spilling from her eyes. Yet another life had been taken by Gutter's personal war. Mohammad had sacrificed himself to protect her and she
would make sure that he was honored properly. “I'm so sorry for your loss,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Sharif glanced at her, but didn't reply. Instead he looked to Anwar with questioning eyes. Anwar turned to the stocky man, Roc, who shook his head in protest. There was some kind of conflict going on between the men, but Sharell didn't know what it was.
“It was his wish and his right,” Sharif said defensively.
Anwar sighed. “Do what you must, Sharif, but do not let your promises interfere with your duties.”
Sharif nodded. He scooped Mohammad from the ground, and though the dead man clearly outweighed him, he did it as if he weighed little more than a child. As gently as a parent could, he lowered Mohammad into the backseat of a black sedan and got behind the wheel. “I'll have someone here by sundown,” he called to Anwar, who didn't bother to respond. The sedan backed out of the driveway, and disappeared into the night.
“Let's get you two in the house,” Anwar said to the frightened young women. Noticing that Sharell was still holding Mohammad's bloody gun, he offered to take it.
“No, thanks,” Sharell said, making sure a round was chambered. “I think I'll hold on to this for a while.”
G
UTTER PACED
the front yard of Gunn's house, sucking a blunt and swigging a beer. He had always been a notorious pothead, but it seemed like he'd taken to drinking more since he'd been in California. It was probably because of the increased stress he'd found himself under being back on the West.
Shortly after meeting with Trik he got a call from a frantic Sharell. Apparently somebody had tracked her to their hideaway in Brooklyn and tried to kill her and Satin. His boo had put a slug in the intruder, just as he'd taught her, but it had been Mohammad who had saved them. Gutter's heart went out to the young soldier who had laid his life on the line for Sharell. She said that his wounds were pretty serious and doubted that he would make it, but Gutter felt otherwise, even though he didn't say it. He knew things about Mohammad that no one outside of Anwar and Sharif did. In time, Mohammad's body would be whole again, but it was more than he could say for the man's soul.
Gutter wanted to hop on the next thing smoking back to New
York, but Anwar assured him that all was well. Roc and two of his men were with her at a predetermined location. They would stay with Sharell until Gutter could get some of the homeys out that way to post up. She was as safe as could be, but Gutter was still uneasy about being away from her when she needed him most. He had to get home ASAP. He would attend his uncle's funeral, but when everyone left for the burial he and Danny would be on their way to the airport. When he got to New York, heads would roll.
The next piece of business he had to deal with was the poor job Pop Top had been doing with the set. Not long after he spoke to Anwar, Hollywood was on his line. He was about to brush the late-night call off until Hollywood explained that not only was he in the emergency room, but Rob, China, and B. T. were dead. He wasn't moved by B. T.'s death. In fact, he had often wondered at how trustworthy the man was. What hurt him was the fact that they had lost two more men … no, boys, on the front line. It seemed just like yesterday they were getting high together while Gutter lectured them about what it meant to be a
true
banger. He had no idea how he would face their mothers when it came time to bury their sons.
During the course of his conversation he'd also discovered why Major Blood was nowhere to be found. He had all the homeys out looking for him, but nobody was able to turn up anything. The reason for that was the fact that he was in New York killing Gutter's men. Gunn's death settled the old score, but more important it got Gutter to come to Cali. It was all a ruse to get the rooster out of the henhouse while the weasel slaughtered the chickens.
All morning he had been on the Internet, searching news articles online. The numbers of gang-related deaths and arrests were staggering.
Newsday
even added their two cents about the sudden growth spurt of gang violence that had broken out all over New
York. Major Blood had been putting in serious work going at the Crips in New York, but Pop Top had made sure quite a few of theirs would be sidelined indefinitely. The war raged on with both sides taking heavy losses.
Gutter cursed himself for not being there to lead his army. He had successfully turned Harlem Crip into a solid organization, but they weren't prepared to deal with a cat like Major Blood. He killed without thought or remorse and was always willing to go a little harder than the next man. People like Major Blood had no problem killing mothers or other family members just to get his point across. The question still remained: if he was there to kill Gutter then why lure him to Cali while he was in New York?
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. Maybe 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.

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