K'wan - Gutter

“Mohammad!” Sharell screamed frantically.

“I’m good,” he lied. “If you have to, go without me.” He slammed the door. Mohammad rolled onto the hood of the car, upper body stretched across. Ignoring the pain that now racked his body, Mohammad drew a bead on B-High.

“Thought you could kill me?” B-High ranted, firing off a shot. “It over for you niggaz, Major Blood is gonna shut this shit down!” He fired another shot. “You muthafuckas…” that was as far as B-High got before a bullet went into his right eye and exited just behind his ear.

Mohammad collapsed across the hood of the car, finally overcome by his injuries. It took the combined efforts of Satin and Sharell to get him into the backseat. Satin sat with him, trying to stop the bleeding, while Sharell hopped behind the wheel and peeled off.

“We’ve gotta get you to a hospital,” Sharell said, struggling to see the road in front of her through the tears.

“No… no hospitals,” Mohammad said weakly. “Here.” He handed her a bloody piece of paper that been in his pocket. “Put that address in the navigation system, that’s our destination.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, jumping on the B.Q.E. at Camden Plaza, heading for the Long Island Expressway.

“The only place where Gutter and Anwar felt you’d be truly safe,” he said, before laying his head back and closing his eyes. His body had long ago gone numb from blood loss, but the first chills were starting to set into his muscles. He knew they were the first icy pulls of death, but he wouldn’t accept it. He would live to see Sharell to the safe house, but when his task was done Anwar and Sharif would honor their promises.

THE HUNTSPoint area of the Bronx was popular for two things: its factories and its sex trade. During the day it was lousy with trucks dropping and picking up deliveries, but when the sun set it got interesting. Whorehouses, strip clubs, and of course your street corner prostitutes, all opened for business when night fell. With all the nightly traffic Hunts Point generated it seemed like a no-brainer what to do with the property they’d purchased up there, they turned it into a strip club. The Blue Light was shaping up to be one of the premier spots in the area and Hollywood wore the fact that he owned a piece of it with more pride than a proud parent.

“Umm-hmm, this is my kind of place!” Dirty Bill exclaimed, eyeballing a chocolate doll strutting past in a black thong and high heels. He had gotten his name because no matter how many baths he took he still looked dirty.

“You know Wood got an eye for these bitches,” Goldie replied. Much like Hollywood he was a young, fly nigga. You could always find Goldie dipped in jewels while the latest in designer wear draped his lanky frame. He was a handsome cat with smooth chocolate skin and could’ve easily been a model, but the streets took hold of him early in life.

It had initially been Goldie’s idea to open a gentlemen’s club, but he didn’t have the capital. Hollywood, already being a part of the circuit, saw the potential in the idea and was quick to offer up what he had in the stash. It took some doing, but the two entrepreneurs managed to get the Blue Light off the ground and the buzz was getting crazy.

“Wood, we sho nuff gonna make some cake off this joint.” Goldie rubbed his hands together.

“That’s the general idea, cuz. Shit, there was times I had to keep these bitches humping around the clock to get that change up, but I can’t even front, this shit was worth it,” Hollywood said, watching the crowd. “I can’t wait till High Side’s and Bruticus’s thirsty asses get here so they can peep this shit!”

“Say, speaking of High Side, y’all heard about that shoot-out on 142nd?” Dirty Bill asked.

“I heard a lil something-something. You know the hood talks.” Goldie shrugged it off.

“Yeah, I heard that nigga, High Side, was out there tearing off slob asses!” Bill said excitedly. “Wood, you know how that nigga be on it, right?”

“Yeah, High Side is a true soldier, but I ain’t heard nothing about him shooting nobody,” Hollywood lied. He knew what had happened as soon as it went down because High Side and C-style had come through his brownstone after the shooting, but it wasn’t his place to tell Bill that.

“Man, do you ever think about anything other than hood politics?” Goldie asked, clearly getting irritated with Dirty Bill.

“Hell nah.” Bill looked at him as if he was crazy. “G, I eat, sleep, and breathe the hood. You gotta keep your ear to the streets if you plan on winning this game, and I’ve always been a sore loser.”

“What’s good, cat daddy?” a Puerto Rican girl with blond hair approached them. She was wearing a white bikini top and a see-through wrap skirt. Even if the material hadn’t been transparent there was no way she could’ve hidden the horse-sized ass beneath it.

“Lexi, right?” Goldie smiled, exposing two rows of gold teeth.

“Ah, so you remember?” She smiled back.

“But of course. You look way different out of your clothes.” Goldie openly eyed her.

“Everything is different when the clothes come off, poppy.” It was only Lexi’s second night at the club so Goldie hadn’t really had a chance to pick her brain yet. Normally either he or Hollywood would handpick the girls who worked at the club, but Lexi had interviewed with Joe and only met Goldie in passing. Joe raved about the girl’s body and seeing her damn near naked Goldie understood why.

“I might just have to see about that,” he replied.

“Mind if I sit down?” She motioned to the vacant stool between him and Hollywood. Goldie nodded. To his and especially Hollywood’s surprise she didn’t sit on the stool, but on Hollywood’s lap. Hollywood acted as if he didn’t even notice her.

“Damn, Wood, you need some help with that?” Dirty Bill rubbed an ashy hand across Lexi’s thigh. She smiled before slapping his hand away.

“You gotta pay to play.” She pushed her breasts together, teasing him.

“If that’s the case then you might as well rise the fuck up off me, because I sure as hell ain’t no trick,” Hollywood told her in an icy tone.

Lexi slid her ass further into Hollywood’s groin. Even though he was wearing his game face she could feel his dick getting hard under her ass. “Baby, just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I would never disrespect a true player like that,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him.

“And what makes you think I’m a true player?” he asked.

Lexi flicked her tongue out then gave him a sly smile. “Everyone knows big Wood from Harlem. My home girl Janice says you’re the man to see if a bitch wanna clock some real paper.”

Hollywood quickly flipped through his mental rolodex and placed a face with the name. Janice was a young bitch he had met a while back at a dive called the News Room off Grand Concourse. She was a young mud-kicker dying to live the fast life, but was lazy as hell so she didn’t make the grade.

“Well, in case you ain’t heard, ya girl fell a lil short.” He chuckled softly.

Lexi turned around and straddled his lap. There was a fierceness in her eyes that stirred something low in Hollywood’s groin. “I said that was peoples, not my style.” She took Hollywood’s hand and placed it on her ass. “Wit all this junk I can’t do nothing but get money.”

Hollywood had to smile at her snappy comeback. “I’ll tell you what.” He eased her off his lap and slid off the stool. “Let’s go on in the office and rap for a taste. Maybe we can come to some type of understanding.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She swayed her big ass toward the office. Hollywood admired her ass for a second before following.