K'wan - Gutter

Though he gave China more grief than anyone else, he was quite fond of the little soldier. He couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t convinced him to go on the hit then maybe the little boy would still be among them, laughing and rolling the blunts. China was yet another name added to the steadily growing list of casualties.

“Damn, I can’t believe the little nigga off’d himself,” High Side said from the crate he was sitting on.

“Yo, the boy was straight laid out!” C-style said emotionally.

“Fuck,” Pop Top growled, slamming his fist into the wall, rattling the cool metal. “If it ain’t bad enough that this Major Blood nigga is picking us off, now you got niggaz cashing in their own chips.”

“Man, I say we move on these niggaz, son. I don’t like the idea of having to constantly watch my back,” High Side said.

“How we gonna move on them when we don’t know where the fuck to find them? This Major Blood nigga is like HIV, every time he shows up somebody dies,” Hollywood pointed out.

“Dawg, I don’t know how y’all feel, but I say we get low until Gutter comes back. He’ll know how to handle this,” Rob suggested.

“Get low?” Pop Top glared at Rob. “Nigga, this is war, ain’t no getting low. Either you a soldier or a pussy? Which one is it?”

“I ain’t no pussy,” Rob said softly.

“Then stop acting like one.” Pop Top went back to his pacing. He hadn’t meant to be so short with Young Rob, but he was stressed the fuck out. Gutter had entrusted him with the well-being of the set and he was letting the situation with the Bloods get out of control. The local crews were easy enough to deal with, but Major Blood was another story. Whereas the young cats running around New York were wolves, Major Blood was a snake and proving to be more trouble than Pop Top had expected. His rational mind told him to call Gutter, but Pop Top never moved rationally.

“We gotta get a handle on this, cousins,” Pop Top continued. “We’ve fought too hard to get a lock on Harlem to let some out-of-town nigga come through and fuck it up.” He took a minute to light the cigarette dangling between his lips. “I’m gonna put something together to bring an end to this Major Blood nigga, in the meantime y’all just be on point. I want every muthafucka on the set to be armed at all times.”

“That’s how I roll anyway, cuz, you know that.” High Side brandished his pistol. “First nigga come at me sideways is gonna get his muthafucking head popped off.”

“Man, y’all can sit around playing cowboys and Indians, but I’m about to hit the bricks and see about my scratch,” Hollywood said, heading for the door.

“Where the fuck is you going?” Pop Top asked.

“I gotta go meet the boy, Goldie, and open up shop. Pussy ain’t gonna sell itself. Side”-he turned to High Side-“you still coming through later?”

“Hell yeah, nigga. I’m gonna scoop the boy, Kiss, then we’ll push through the spot. I wanna see what you lame muthafuckas is working with anyway,” High Side teased him.

“Fuck you, nigga, just make sure you bring some of that good crack money to spend wit my bitches!” Hollywood shot back before leaving the unit.

“HOW ISshe?” Gutter asked.

“She’s still a little out of it from all the drugs they’ve been pumping into her, but other than that she seems fine,” Sharell said into her cell phone, which was cradled between her ear and shoulder. “I still don’t know how he managed to get her out of the hospital.”

“Cross has a way of getting in and out of places most people can’t,” Gutter told her.

“Who is he? I mean, I know he was a friend of Lou-Loc’s, but he ain’t no gangster.”

“You’re right, he ain’t no gangsta,” Gutter said, thinking about the eerie Cross. “But who he is ain’t important right now, baby. What’s important is that Satin is safe.”

Sharell could sense that he was uncomfortable talking about Cross so she let it rest. “So, when do you think you’ll be back?”

“Shouldn’t be more than a day or so. You know we don’t sit on bodies more than forty-eight hours before entering them into the Mosoleum.”

“Kenyatta, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Gunn. I only wish I could’ve been there for the funeral. Please tell Rahshida I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.

“I will, ma, and don’t trip she understands.” He paused as he watched Monifa walk past the kitchen and give him a look.

“Kenyatta, is everything okay?” Sharell asked.

“Yeah, everything is cool. I’m just tripping off my uncle being gone,” he lied.

“Don’t you worry about that, Ken, he’s with the Lord now. You just be strong, you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you.” His eyes followed Monifa’s every move. He was so engrossed in her that he only half heard Sharell still talking.

“Kenyatta, did you hear me?”

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

“I said I love you,” she repeated.

“Oh, I love you too,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “A’ight, let me go on out here and see about Lil Gunn. I’ll call you later on, okay?”

“A’ight, you do what you gotta do and come back to me in one piece.”

“No doubt, later boo.” He ended the call. He smiled at Monifa, who was watching him intently. Instead of returning the gesture she sucked her teeth and walked out the front door. “Can’t win for losing,” Gutter said as he headed out the back door to the yard.

SATIN SATon the love seat in the plush living room staring out the window at downtown Brooklyn. She thought she had been dreaming that night in the hospital when Cross had come. She was afraid of the dark-skinned man at first, but there was a calming quality to him… almost a familiarity. When she was placed into the back of the darkened van she thought sure that it would be her last ride, but to her surprise he had brought her to Sharell. From what she was able to gather from the conversation he had done it for Lou-Loc. She had no idea what kind of connection the Goth could’ve had with Lou-Loc, but she would look into that afterward. What mattered now was that she was free to raise her child.

“How’re you feeling, Satin?” Sharell descended the stairs. She was dressed in a pair of Bibs and white Air Max. Her stomach looked as if it would burst through the fabric if she moved the wrong way.

Satin smiled up at her. “Considering… yeah, I’m cool.”

Sharell sat on the couch and placed a hand over Satin’s. “Baby, you’ve been through a lot so it’s gonna take some time to heal. And never forget that me and Kenyatta got your back.”

“Gutter,” Satin said out loud, listening to the name that she had heard dozens of times. “It’s funny, because I’ve only heard stories about him and I feel like I’ve known him since forever.”

“You don’t go listening to what people have to say about my Ken, he ain’t that bad,” Sharell joked. “Anyhow, I gotta run out real quick, but I’m coming right back. You sure you don’t wanna come with me and get some air, sugar?”

“Nah, I’m okay, but thanks. I think I’m just gonna stay in and get my head together,” Satin told her.

“Okay, but you know you can’t spend the rest of your days hiding in the house. We still gotta get you to the gynecologist to see about my little niece or nephew, but I wanna speak to Kenyatta and Snake Eyes to see what the legal situation is gonna look like.”

“God, I’ll probably be a fugitive for the rest of my days.” Satin put her head in her hands.

“You don’t go worrying about that, I’m sure Snake Eyes is gonna get the matter cleared up. At the least he can tie it up in so much red tape that the baby will be starting pre-k by the time you go to trial. We didn’t wait this long to get you back, just to have them snatch you away again, Satin. Leave it in the Lord’s hands and everything will be fine.” She hugged her.