K'wan - Gutter

ROB STROLLEDacross the avenue, trying to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of the night. Hollywood had his hands full and China was probably somewhere with B. T. Though he was a down soldier, there weren’t that many members of the set he hung out with on his personal time. Rob decided that he would go cop some weed and maybe get up with C-style. It had been a few days since he’d had a taste of that sweet pussy.

After purchasing a twenty of haze, he headed to the store for a forty and some Dutch Masters. On his way out of the store, a passing group of young ladies caught his attention. They had on tight shorts that exposed a good portion of their asses. Rob was so caught up in trying to be cool, that he never saw the two young men run up on him.

When Rob turned around, the first of the young men smashed a fist into his face. Rob tried to fall, but was held up by a second young man, who punched him in the stomach. They gave him a few more good blows, before dragging him to the curb where a green Ford was waiting. The men tossed him roughly into the backseat then climbed in behind him. Before anyone knew what was going on, the car was gone.

In the backseat of the car, the two thugs took turns slapping Rob across the face. The world began to spin but Rob still managed to stay conscious. The beating had stopped and his vision was finally beginning to clear. He looked up and saw a pie-faced man staring down at him.

“Don’t pass out on me now, nigga.” Major Blood poked him with the barrel of his gun. “We got some things to discuss.”

“YOU KNOWwho I am?” Major asked, pacing the parking lot.

“A fucking dead rag!” Rob spat.

“Wrong.” Major Blood punched him in the face. “I’m a fucking headache. Look, lil nigga, I know youz a nobody in the organization, so you get to keep your life… at least for today. I’ve got a special job for you my friend. You get to play the go-between for me and your set.”

“I ain’t doing shit for you, nigga!”

“Wrong again.” Major punched Rob in the stomach, but held him by the jaw so he couldn’t fall. “You’re gonna do just what I tell you for two very simple reasons.” He pulled his gun and placed it to Rob’s head. “For one, you’re a smart kid. For two, you don’t wanna die.”

At the sight of the gun and the cold glare in his captor’s eyes, Rob’s knees began to involuntarily shake. For as hard as he might’ve tried to come across, he was still a child. He felt the water begin to form in the corners of his eyes and prayed the tears would spare him the humiliation.

“You scared?” Major whispered. “Tell me you scared.” He rubbed the gun against Rob’s sweat-covered temple. “Yeah, you scared muthafucka. Fake-ass gangsta. You think wearing that flag makes you a true banger?” He pressed the barrel of his gun deeper into Rob’s temple. “Boy, youz a pussy in wolf’s clothing,” he slapped Rob with his free hand.

Rob’s head snapped back, causing him to lose his balance. He was so hurt and embarrassed that he could no longer keep the tears at bay. If he’d had a gun, he’d have emptied it into his tormentor, but he was unarmed. Moisture ran down his cheeks, but he continued to glare at Major.

“I know that look.” Major leaned in close enough for Rob to feel his breath on his face. “You’re probably thinking how much you’d like to blow my brains out, but you can’t. You got caught without your strap, if you even own one. First rule of thumb in the gang-banging handbook; never get caught without a weapon.” He tapped the barrel against Rob’s skull for emphasis.

“This nigga is a mess,” Tito said, stepping from the shadows. “He’s probably shitted his pants. Faggot-ass crab!” Tito hit him in the ribs.

Rob doubled over in pain. Every time he tried to breathe his ribs throbbed. He knew that he had no wins against the odds, so he didn’t bother to try and scrap back. He did study all the faces and commit them to memory. If he survived the ordeal, they would all answer for what they’d done.

“We should just kill this fool and get it over with.” Miguel cocked the Beretta he was carrying.

“Nah, it’s like I said. He’s gonna be my messenger. Hey”-Major slapped Rob and held him upright-“you listening?” Rob nodded. “Tell your boys that it’s a wrap for Harlem.” Without warning, Major hit him in the face.

Rob collapsed where he stood. The force of his face hitting the ground shook his brain. Spots flashed before his eyes as sweet blackness engulfed him. The last thing he saw was the booted feet of his attackers disappear into the night.

MONIFA WASa five feet nine brown goddess who oozed sex appeal without even trying. She had long dark hair, with flakes of gold scattered throughout it. The lime sundress she wore hugged her hips and plentiful breasts. Her full lips looked as if they couldn’t decide whether to smile or cry at the arrival of the guests. Caramel eyes swept over the trio, but lingered on Gutter.

“Sup,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Same ol.” She stared down at her airbrushed toes, peeking through her sandals. “Heard you took a few?”

“Shit happens.”

Another uncomfortable silence.

“So, you just gonna stand there, or show me some love?” She spread her arms.

Gutter hesitated at first then moved in to accept her embrace. Monifa’s skin was warm against his. When her hair brushed against his face, he could smell the faint traces of jasmine. During the embrace, age-old feelings rushed to the surface.

Monifa and Gutter had been lovers when California was still his state of residence. More accurately, they had been a couple. She lived on 101st and Hoover, not far from Gunn. Though she never officially joined the set, she was a firm supporter of the Crip movement.

During the early days you could always find her at Gutter’s side, rallying the troops and helping him plot on his enemies. Monifa’s little brother, Half, was also a Crip who ran with Harlem. Not long after joining, he was killed in a drive-by shooting. After her brother’s death Monifa began to change. Her love for Gutter was unwavering, but her attitude toward the movement had soured. She was beginning to wonder if the banging was as senseless as her mother always warned her.

The more detached Monifa got from banging, the more entrenched Gutter became. He and Lou-Loc were so intent on coming up through the ranks that gang-banging consumed their every waking thought. If he wasn’t committing murders, he was planning the take over of enemy territory.

The change in personalities put a serious strain on their relationship. Monifa had gotten tired of playing second fiddle to the set, and demanded that he change. Being from California, she understood that he couldn’t just walk away from the gang, but she also knew that he had already proven himself to be a G. It was no longer necessary for him to ride every night. Gutter promised to change, but never really did. The relationship became more and more frayed, but they stayed together. Each knew the other was doing their thing on the side, but publicly they still professed their unity. Then came the murder.

She never really got the full story, but from what she gathered he was being sought for questioning in the murders of two Los Angeles detectives. The whole set was tight lipped about the incident, only telling her that all would be taken care of. One day Gutter and Lou-Loc up and disappeared.

For a while he would send her letters letting her know he was all right. She could never pinpoint his location because the postmarks came from various points on the Midwest and East Coast. Eventually the letters stopped coming and she lost contact with him. About a year ago, she learned from a friend that he had relocated to New York City. She thought about contacting him, but never did. In time she learned not to hate him, but the resentment still lingered. He had left her with a broken heart.