K'wan - Gutter

During the ride to the airport, up until just before takeoff, Lil Gunn bombarded Gutter with questions about New York City and the game. When the plane took to the skies all questions ceased, and a look of panic came over the young man’s face. Gutter was sitting next to Lil Gunn, who was a nervous wreck. Every time the plane lurched he looked as if he was going to be sick. When the Boeing finally bounced roughly on the airstrip he heard his cousin whisper a prayer of thanks that he hadn’t perished in the air. Had he gripped the armrest any tighter it was sure to come off.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” the captain’s voice began over the loudspeaker. “We’re now arriving at JFK. The time is four thirty, with the weather being a warm seventy-three degrees. At this time you may power on cell phones and electronics. Once again, thank you for flying JetBlue.”

“I never thought I’d be so fucking happy to see the ground,” Lil Gunn huffed.

“Buck up, lil cuz. You’ll get used to it after a while,” Gutter told him.

“Man, fuck that. I ain’t never getting on a plane again. The next time we hit the West we’re driving and I don’t care how long it takes,” Lil Gunn declared.

Gutter laughed and powered on his cell. The digital screen alerted him that he had five new voice mails and two text messages. The homeys, no doubt, wondering if he made it back yet. They were going to send a convoy to receive him, but Gutter declined, assuring them that he’d get with them later the following evening to discuss plans to deal with Major Blood. On his first night back, he intended to devote himself to making sure Sharell was good. Before he had a chance to check the messages the phone was vibrating.

“Speak,” Gutter answered.

“Kenyatta?” Sharell asked in a shaky voice.

“What’s good, baby? I just touched down. Is everything okay?” he asked. She was silent for a minute. “Sharell, you there?”

“Yeah… how was your flight?”

“It was a’ight, but I think Lil Gunn might’ve shitted his pants,” Gutter joked, but the laugh she gave him was half hearted. “Sharell, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I was just worried. How’d things go in California?”

“Not good, but I’ll explain it all to you when I get out there. Sharell, I need to talk to you. Some things are about to change, but for the better.”

“I need to talk to you too, baby,” she told him, her voice still wavering a bit.

“Sharell, what’s wrong with you? Is Pop Top still there with you,” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes, he’s still here, with Hollywood. How soon do you think you can get here?”

“Me, Danny, and Lil Gunn are about to hop in a cab as soon as we grab our bags,” he told her.

“Baby, you’ve been gone for a while and we need to talk about some things,” she tried to choose her words carefully, but her nerves were affecting her thinking. “I need a few minutes alone with you before you get back to business.”

“Sharell, I know you so I know when something is wrong.”

“Gutter, this thing with these people you’re warring with has me scared, please just come out here, Gutter.”

Gutter? Sharell never called him Gutter. Something was off and though he didn’t know what, he intended to find out. “Okay, baby,” he said in a neutral tone. “I’ll send Danny-Boy and Lil Gunn back to Brooklyn to grab some of our personal items. They can meet us in Long Island afterward.”

“Please hurry, Gutter,” she pleaded before the line went dead.

“What the business is, cuz?” Lil Gunn asked, noticing the grim expression on Gutter’s face.

“I don’t know yet. Yo, Danny”-he turned to face his protégé-“I’m gonna get the Charger from the parking lot and I want you and Gunn to hop in a cab to Harlem. Round up the troops and some straps and meet me in Long Island ASAP!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Danny asked, ready to spill more blood.

“I ain’t sure just yet, but I know something is funny. I gotta go check Sharell.”

“Loc, if you’re about to walk into a situation I’m coming with you,” Danny said.

“I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but if something is popping, we’re gonna need more than just the.40 caliber I got stashed in the car. Just get to me as soon as you can,” Gutter said, unbuckling his seat belt and bull-rushing his way down the aisle.

“YOU DIDgood, baby girl,” Major Blood sneered. He was standing directly across from Sharell. Satin sat in the chair in front of him with a gun pointed at her head. “In a few hours all this will be over. Play your cards right and you might live through it.”

“You think he’s gonna go for it?” Pop Top asked from the kitchen doorway. He was chomping on a turkey sandwich.

“Oh, he’ll go for it. Even if he does suspect something, he ain’t gonna come in here dumping all crazy with his bitch in the house.” Major Blood nodded at Sharell. “You made the right choice, Top. Better to live as a traitor than to die as a martyr.”

“Pop Top, I always knew you was a scandalous muthafucka, but I never figured you for a rat, cocksucker!” Hollywood barked. He was sitting in a wooden chair near the front door.

Pop Top grinned before slapping Hollywood on his bandaged face. “Shut yo pussy ass up, nigga. Fuck you and fuck Gutter. That nigga got our soldiers dying in the streets over his bullshit. I’m trying to bring the glory back.”

“Glory?” Hollywood snickered through bloody lips. “Nigga, not only are you a fucking turncoat, but you’re delusional too. I might die in this house today, but best believe your ass won’t be too far behind. Gutter is gonna waste you, faggot!”

Pop Top went to swing on Hollywood again, but Major Blood stopped him. “Enough of this bullshit, Pop Top. Gutter will be here soon and we’ve got plans to make. Tito,” Major Blood called to his general who had come to join him after the hit on Rico, “everything set up?”

“Yeah, I got a few nigga spread around the house and a lookout on the corner. As soon as Gutter gets here, we’ll know about it,” Tito informed him.

“Excellent. Eddie”-he turned to his other general-“take all three of these bitches down to the basement”-he motioned toward Satin, Sharell, and Hollywood-“and sit on ’em. Anybody get fly, you know what to do.”

“I got you, Blood,” Eddie said, hurrying to do as he was told.

Major beamed at his perfectly laid plan. “Now, all we gotta do is wait for the guest of honor so we can get the party started. I always fill my contracts.”

GUTTER BURNEDup the Long Island Expressway like a man possessed. For the last twenty minutes he had been trying to contact his crew with no results. High Side, Bruticus, C-style, nobody was picking up. He even tried to call Pop Top, only to get the voice mail. He tried to tell himself that he was just being paranoid, but in his heart he knew something was wrong. The next call he placed was to Danny, who confirmed what he’d already suspected, knowing Major Blood and how he operated. Bruticus and C-style were dead and Harlem was in chaos, which only confirmed Gutter’s suspicions that a bad situation had gotten considerably worse. Danny, Gunn, and several more homeys from the set were hot on his heels. They were scheduled to arrive moments after Gutter, but he couldn’t wait for them. He had to get to his wife.

Gutter was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he almost missed his exit. He almost caused an accident as he cut across three lanes and took the ramp at twenty miles above the posted speed limit. The Charger fishtailed; through the grace of Allah he managed to get it under control before wrecking.