K'wan - Gutter

The news of Satin’s pregnancy was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because she was about to bring a child into the world, but a curse because of the circumstances. A million things ran through Sharell’s mind, but the most relevant thought was how to get Satin out of that hospital. Sharell was a churchgoing girl and a law-abiding citizen, but this was a situation that needed to be handled outside the law. Flipping her phone open, she called Gutter. After the third ring he picked up.

“Baby?” she said, trying to calm herself. “I need to talk to you. It’s about Satin.”

NIGHT HADfallen over the streets, taking with it some of the humidity the day had brought on, but the cool air did nothing to ease the heat building in the pit of Gutter’s stomach. The only time he ever visited that end of Manhattan was to get new tattoos, but even those hadn’t been often since Wiz’s cousin Spider came over from out west. The boy was nasty with the ink.

The news Sharell had dropped on him hit like a ton of bricks. It was bad enough that he had to deal with his uncle’s situation on the West Coast, now he had to deal with Satin. Though he was glad to hear that she was coming back to her old self, the timing was lousy. For as much as he would’ve loved to stick around and deal with the situation personally, the attempted murder of his uncle was top priority.

Lou-Loc would’ve been happy as a sissy in Dick Town to hear that he was about to be a father. He always talked about wanting kids, but he was too deep in the game to really entertain it. The thought of the streets claiming him and leaving his child fatherless was one of the few things that terrified him, and ironically that turned out to be exactly the case. One thing was for sure, Gutter would be damned if he’d allow Lou-Loc’s child to become a ward of the state. He vowed that Lou-Loc’s child would have the same privileges in life as his own seed. The obstacle was that to get Satin out of the hospital he’d have to use unconventional means. This is what brought him dredging through Lower Manhattan in the middle of the night.

Anwar had tracked down the address for him, but even without it Gutter would’ve probably been able to find the run-down West Village bar. Though it appeared to be barely a step above being a shack, the hairs standing up along his arms told Gutter there was more to it. Gutter climbed from behind the wheel of his car and made his way across the street to the hole-in-the-wall. The entire block was empty except for two young men loitering in front of the bar. The first was tall and thin, sporting a thrift store vest over a red T-shirt, while the other was dark and dressed in baggy jeans. Gutter nodded, but they only stared as he entered the bar.

The interior was pitch-black with the exception of the glare from the jukebox and several wall-mounted televisions broadcasting rock videos. There was a light sprinkling of people along the bar or at various tables and all eyes turned to Gutter when he entered.

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the place, especially behind the black sunglasses. A faint light emitted from an old-school jukebox that was belting out something Gutter couldn’t even identify, let alone groove to. He could see bodies moving around in different sections of the bar, but there wasn’t enough light to make out numbers, or sex. Ignoring the lingering stares he could feel on him, Gutter made his way over to the bar.

A withered old man stood behind it, wiping a glass with a dingy towel. He took his time letting his milk-colored eyes wash over Gutter. Had it not been for the intensity of his stare one might’ve mistaken him for blind. After completing his inspection, he shuffled over to where Gutter was sitting and rested his knuckles on the bar top.

“Say, man, let me get a shot of yak,” Gutter ordered.

“We don’t serve no yak here,” the old man said in a raspy voice.

“Then how about a beer?”

The old man looked past Gutter as if he could see something going on in the dark corner that no one else could, then turned back to Gutter. “Listen,” he said just above a whisper. “You’re either not from around here or one dumb son of a bitch. Take an old man’s advice and go get yourself a drink at that spot down the block.”

Gutter leaned in and matched the man’s tone. “I fear nothing but Allah. Now, why don’t you go get me that beer, homey, I’m waiting for somebody.”

The bartender made to say something, but the young lady who was now standing beside Gutter silenced him. She was dressed in ripped jeans and a red satin corset. Her platinum hair was slightly cropped on one side, while the top and back were long. Pale blue eyes moved seductively from Gutter to the bartender.

“Moses, it’s no wonder this bar doesn’t get much business, the customer service sucks.” Even though it was an insult, her voice seemed to ooze sex.

“Nadia, don’t you go starting nothing in my bar. You know what Kane said about not needing the heat.” Moses waggled a gnarled finger at her.

“If you don’t watch that finger you might lose it.” She clamped her pearl-white teeth together. When she was done teasing Moses, she turned back to Gutter. “So, what’s a nice young boy like you doing in a dive like this?” She tried to run her finger along the side of his face, but he grabbed her by the wrist.

“First of all”-he removed his sunglasses and looked Nadia in the eyes-“I don’t allow women to touch me uninvited. And second, I ain’t been a boy in a long time, so why don’t you keep it moving, shorty.”

“Mmm, feisty,” she purred before grabbing his crotch. The pressure was so intense that he couldn’t even cry out. “I think I’m turned on.” She leaned in to lick his earlobe, but paused as if she had just smelled something rank. Using her free hand she turned Gutter to face her and looked into his rage-filled eyes. “Somebody is keeping secrets.” She made to taunt him further, but the feeling of cold steel pressed under her chin gave her pause.

“Bitch, either you let go of my sack or I’m gonna paint the fucking ceiling wit yo brains,” Gutter grunted.

Nadia’s eyes narrowed to slits. “A tough little bastard, huh? That’s okay, I like to play rough.” She smiled, flashing jagged white teeth. The situation was about to turn ugly when a voice boomed through the darkness.

“Some people gotta keep sticking their hands in the fire, even after they know it’s hot.” The speaker came to stand beside Gutter, facing Nadia. He was tall and had shaved his black curls, but still wore the leather duster.

“Cross, how ya doing, baby?” Nadia released Gutter, allowing him to catch his breath. With the fluidity of a cat, she slipped off the stool and looped her arm around Cross’s waist. “I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

“I’m here every night,” he said, totally unmoved by her phony display of affection. “This one is spoken for, you know the rules.”

“I just wanted to play with him, that’s all.” She chuckled, trying to mask the fear beneath the joke.

“I’ll bet,” he said in a humorless tone. “Take a powder.”

“Can’t knock a girl for trying,” she said before vanishing into the darkness of the bar.

When the girl was out of earshot the stranger turned back to Gutter and spoke harshly. “What do you want here, ganglord?”

“I need to speak to you, Cross,” Gutter said.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Cross shot back.

“I need a favor.”

Cross laughed. “You muthafuckas kill me. It’s not enough that I save you from the worms, yet you still come around seeking the devil’s bargain. Gutter, you’re pushing your luck coming in here. Nadia is harmless, but there are others here who might not think my mark is enough to keep you in one piece, and I ain’t about to get my ass tore up trying to rescue you. Take Moses’s advice and get your crack-slinging ass back to Harlem.”