Gutter (6 page)

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Authors: K'wan

BOOK: Gutter
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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 freak 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.
“My sister works at the DMV, so I was able to get you a temp plate,” Louie said, pointing at the orange sticker in the back window. “Just make sure you snatch it out when you dump the car.”
“I got you, cuz.” Gutter gave Louie dap and pulled out of the parking lot. When he pulled up next to the truck, Danny was already reaching for his hammer. “Easy,” Gutter said, rolling down the window. “Follow me. We're gonna park the truck, and then I want you to drive this muthafucka.”
“A'ight, G,” Danny said, putting the car in gear. “Where we going?”
“To bust on some slobs.” Gutter mashed the gas pedal and pulled out.
Danny grinned as he tailed the Honda to the B.Q.E. The crew was dropping bodies throughout the five boroughs, but Gutter mostly pulled the strings. If he was about to ride out, it must be a big fish. Danny didn't care either way. As long as he was getting a chance to earn his stripes, he was wit it.
 
 
“YOU KNOW
I don't be doing this kinda shit,” C-style said, undoing her bra.
“I know, baby, but moms ain't go to work today,” Rob said, planting kisses on her now exposed breasts. C-style was a slim girl, but had just enough of everything in all the right places.
“A'ight, but hurry the fuck up. I don't want nobody to catch us and start spreading rumors about me being a ho, you know it ain't that type of party.” She turned to the staircase wall and braced her hands against it. Had it been anybody else there was no way in hell C-style would've agreed to have sex in a stairwell, but she had a soft spot for Young Rob's handsome ass. She wasn't sure if she'd ever been in love before, but what she felt for Rob was the closest thing to it.
“Baby, I'd put lead to any nigga who ever called you out your name,” he said, slipping her sweatpants down passed her waist.
“Hold up.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “You got a condom on?”
“C, you know I ain't got nothing. We got tested at the same time, remember?” he reminded her.
“It ain't about catching nothing, Rob, but I ain't trying to end up no damn teenage mother like the rest of these bitches.”
“Don't worry.” He kissed her passionately. “I'll pull out when I cum.” Before C-style could protest further, Rob was inside her. Rob was so thirsty to get it going he didn't take into consideration that she was still mostly dry, so it hurt when he first entered her, but once her juices started flowing, it was all good.
Rob humped away like a man on a mission while she tried her best to keep from skinning her face against the concrete wall. Though Rob was well hung and C-style enjoyed their little fuck sessions, he had a lot to learn about tact. He wasn't trying to make it pleasurable for her, just working to get his nut off. She made a mental note to herself to talk to him about it as soon as she got a chance. Before C-style could even tell him to slow down, she felt Rob's body go stiff and him dump out inside her.
“Oh, hell no!” She pushed him off her. C-style looked between her legs and saw semen running down her thigh and into her sweatpants.
“My fault, ma. That shit got so good I couldn't hold it.” Rob was leaning against the wall with his pants around his ankles. His dick was swinging freely with leftover cum dripping from the tip.
“Rob, you are so fucking irresponsible. I told you I don't want to get pregnant!” she barked, taking a sanitary wipe from her bag and trying to clean up the mess he'd made.
“Damn, why you tripping. It's not like I wouldn't be there for you if you got pregnant. I'd handle mine,” he assured her.
C-style gave him an angry look. “Rob, how the hell you gonna handle anything when all you do is run the streets with the set? You ain't even got a job.”
“I sling stones for mine, baby, you know what it is,” he said proudly.
“Rob, your ass is too smart to be so stupid. You think you can play the block forever?”
“Nah, not forever. Just until I get my cake up. Fucking with Gutter we all gonna be rich.”
“Fucking with Gutter you're more likely to end up dead than rich,” she said seriously. “Rob, you know I love the big homey too, but he's gang-banging on a whole 'nother level.”
“So, what you trying to say? You don't think I can hang?”
“Rob”—she touched his face—“I'm not saying that at all. What I'm saying is to get where Gutter is, you've gotta be willing to go to hell and spit in the devil's face. When I look into your eyes I see life and promise, when I look into his eyes I don't see
anything.
”
Rob sucked his teeth. “Whatever, man. One day you're gonna see that your man is just as down as anybody else, you watch.” He pulled his pants up and started walking down the stairs.
“Where are you going?” she asked with an attitude.
“I gotta meet the homeys,” he called over his shoulder. “I'll get up with you later, ma.”
C-style stood in the staircase not knowing whether she should be mad at Rob or herself. He had pulled a typical nigga move, getting his then leaving her without so much as a hug or a kiss, just to go be with the set. Being down used to be fun, but that was before the killing. Gutter promised to bring prominence back to the C-nation, but all he'd brought was death. She and Rob were both down with the movement, but it was Rob's determination to prove himself that scared her. She knew how Gutter and Pop Top broke in their shooters and knew that Rob couldn't handle that kind of pressure.
 
 
HOLLYWOOD STEPPED
out of his smoke-gray Chrysler 300 Limited. The vehicle resembled a Bentley, but the design was more squared.
He fitted it with whitewalls, but left the factory rims on it. He would always tell people that the factories on that particular car gave it nobility. Hollywood had what people would call refined taste. He liked his cars plush, his women seasoned, and his money new. This is what pulled him from between a young girl's thighs to the block.
Hollywood gave himself the once-over in the vehicle's tinted reflection. He ran a manicured hand down the waves that rippled through his dark hair. The laces of his Nike Airs looked as if they had been bleached, while the cuffs of his jeans were perfect. After adjusting the collar on his smoke-gray blazer, he stepped off the curb.
He saw B. T. and a few of the other homeys congregating in front of the store. The timing couldn't have been better. B. T. owed him some money through one of his girls. She had swung an episode with the Crip, but he couldn't pay all of the money. After dropping Hollywood's name, and agreeing to repay the rest, she let him rock. Now, it was a week later and B. T. didn't have Hollywood's bread. The set was the set, but this was business.
Hollywood adjusted the pistol tucked in his pants, near his kidneys, and headed in their direction. As he passed the bus stop, he was confronted with a vision. The young girl was brown-skinned with hair that tickled her shoulders. She had nice round breasts and a shapely ass. She was reading a copy of
Section 8
over her glasses.
“Hey, baby girl,” Hollywood said, easing around the advertisement to stand next to the girl.
She glanced at him with a look of disgust on her face. After looking up and down at him, she snorted and went back to her book. Now someone in the know might've taken this as rejection, but Hollywood always dug deeper than the surface. The fact that she
had even bothered to look him over meant that she was considering it. That was incentive enough for him.
“I didn't mean to come between you and your reading, but I'm a lil lost at the moment,” Hollywood lied. “I just wanted to know if you could point me to building Two Fifty-nine?”
“I ain't from around here.” The girl had a soft voice.

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