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”âhe removed his sunglasses and looked Nadia in the eyesâ“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.”
“Check this fly shit, Cross,” Gutter began. “If I had it my way you and me would never see each other again, but I need this solid ⦠. It's about Lou-Loc.”
Cross's sparkling green eyes flashed anger as he leaned in to Gutter. “Dawg, off the strength of my man, I'm gonna allow you to walk out of this place without tearing your fucking head off, but for as long as your asshole points to the ground you'd better never drop his name trying to sway me. He's gone and our debt is settled.” Cross turned and headed back the way he came.
Gutter shook his head in frustration. As bad as he wanted to
put a slug in the back of Cross's head, he was Satin's last hope. “Cross, if you ain't gonna do it off the strength of his memory, do it for his seed,” Gutter blurted out. This got him Cross's undivided attention.
THE FLIGHT
from JFK to Long Beach had been anything but comfortable. Gutter hated to fly, but did so reluctantly when he had to. If they'd driven or took the train, Gunn might've been gone. Flying was definitely their only option.
The trouble started from the moment Gutter got to the metal detectors at the terminal. A beefy, red security officer played with a jaw full of tobacco and glared at Gutter. He produced his identification, boarding pass, and emptied his pockets like everyone else. The guard looked down at his driver's license and read Gutter's full name: Kenyatta Usif Soladine. Glaring at the young man he asked flatly, “You a Muslim?”
“Yes,” Gutter replied politely.
The guard tossed the wallet on the gray table and motioned for Gutter to walk through. Immediately the machine went off. Gutter stepped back through and took off his wide-buckled belt and jewelry. When he made to step back through, the guard stopped him.
“Step over here, you've gotta be specially searched,” he said, motioning toward a small roped-off square.
“Is there a problem?” Gutter asked, still keeping his tone polite.
“I said, you've gotta be specially searched.”
“I emptied my pockets, why can't I just go through like everyone else?”
“'Cause you got your ticket off the Internet. Regulations and all.” The beefy guard smiled wickedly.
Danny was about to open his mouth, but Gutter waved him silent. He didn't want to risk missing the flight due to an argument with the guard. Casting a glare at the guard, he stepped over to the square.
The guard stood in front of him with a wand, shooting Gutter a hateful look. He slowly ran the wand from his feet to his torso. When he got to Gutter's chest, the wand beeped faintly.
“It's lead. I got shot a while back,” Gutter told him.
“Is that right?” the guard said with a raised eyebrow. “Take your shirt off.”
“You can't be serious,” Gutter said in disbelief. “I told you I got shot!”
“Regulations,
sir.
For all I know, you could be concealing a bomb. You can either take your shirt off to prove you're clean, or I can have you detained.”
Gutter could feel all of his blood shooting into his arms. He balled his fist so tight that his knuckles began to crack. A haze of red swept over his vision, as he contemplated putting his fist through the man. He knew if he got into it with the guard, he would surely be jailed. God knew when he would be released, but Gunn might be gone. It took all of his self-control to silence the voice that screamed for death. Ignoring the crowd that had formed, Gutter stripped down to his tank top.
“Lift it,” the guard demanded, giving Gutter a look that made his flesh crawl. Gutter did as he was told, exposing the multiple scars from the shooting. They were all healed, but they had left ugly keloids. “Jesus, you must be one scandalous son of a bitch to make somebody put this many holes in you!”
“Man, are you finished?” Gutter asked, finally having enough.
“Yeah, I'm done, Tin Man,” the guard said with an obnoxious snicker.
Gutter snatched his goods, and moved to find his boarding gate.
The flight didn't go much better than the boarding. The people in the first-class section looked at the two men as if they didn't belong. They ignored the rude stares and made their way to the seats. Once everyone was seated, they went through the usual routine. Emergency exits, how to properly buckle your seat belts, the whole nine. After the mechanical speech, the plane was lifting off.
Takeoffs always made Gutter uneasy. He hated the dropping feeling in his stomach when the plane left the ground. Once they were in the air and coasting, he tried to relax a bit. The flight attendant came through and set two glasses of Hennessey in front of the two men and continued with her rounds. Danny's questions seemed to come without end. Gutter wanted time to think, but the youngster kept at his insistent gibbering. He tried to escape the boy's questions by dozing off, but that proved to be another dead end.
As soon as he went to sleep, he was assaulted by nightmares of his own attempted murder, as well as Lou-Loc's horrible fate. He was able to see with clarity the men who gunned his friend down. He felt everything that Lou-Loc must've felt when it happened, including Satin stroking his head. Gutter didn't fear much, but he feared these dreams. At times he wondered if it was because of the bond he now shared with Lou-Loc and Cross.
For the hundredth time he wondered how his friend and the demon called the Cross had become so tight. Cross was rude, arrogant, and downright creepy, but Lou-Loc had a knack for finding friends in the most unlikely places. For as much as a scumbag as Cross might have come across as, Gutter knew if anyone could complete the task he could.
After a few restless hours the plane began its descent into the land of the heartless. Against his better judgment Gutter lifted the blind and peered outside. The clouds looked like the softest cotton as the aircraft cut through them on its way back to earth. The 110 freeway looked like a child's racetrack from that height. Seeing the California skyline brought a feeling of nostalgia to him. He was home.
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AFTER THE
long flight, everyone wanted to get off the plane. People were pushing and trying to yank bags from the overhead compartment. Gutter and Danny waited patiently until it was their turn to exit the bird, and hurriedly got off.
It was nearly three o'clock when they landed in Cali, but Long Beach Airport was packed. Danny shoved and cursed people on the way to the baggage carousel, while Gutter quietly brought up the rear. Danny began the task of identifying and retrieving their luggage, while Gutter called home to check on Sharell.
The phone rang four times, then the machine picked up. He dialed it again, with the same results. At first he was nervous, but remembering that Mohammad was with her, his mind was at ease. For as soft-spoken as the bodyguard was, he was also a trained killer. Mohammad had been trained from his earliest days in the art of death, and his skills only increased when he was brought over into the death cult Gehenna. If it came down to it Gutter knew Mohammad
would kill or die protecting Sharell, which gave him some solace. Knowing Sharell, she was probably asleep. He left her a brief message, then hung up and waited for Danny. After snatching their bags from the belt, they picked their way to the exit, where someone would be waiting to pick them up.
As soon as Gutter stepped out into the night air he could feel the difference. The weather was humid, with a warm breeze carrying the salty smell of the Pacific Ocean. The strip was filled with taxis and private cars. Drivers stood around, chatting and holding signs with the names of their passengers. None advertised Soladine.
“It's hot as hell out here,” Danny said, adjusting the collar of his button up. “Where the fuck is our ride?”
“Someone will be here,” Gutter said in nearly a whisper.
As if on cue, an electric-blue Lincoln Navigator rumbled up the strip. The windows were tinted, so the occupants were hidden from view. The sounds of the popular group The East Sidaz blasted from the stereo. Tray Dee and Goldie Loc spit pro-Crip lyrics over heavy riffs and Doctor Dreâlike horns. When the truck stopped a few feet away from where Gutter and Danny were standing, the chrome rims kept spinning. Danny reflexively took a step back, but Gutter held his position. One of the customized doors lifted up and out, and the driver stepped around to greet them.
Tears was a year or two Gutter's junior and hailed from Eighty-eighth Street, stomping grounds of the Eight Treys. His skin was the color of night, and his teeth bone-white. Even though he had been banging since before he was technically old enough, his face was still pleasant and youthful. Though from two different sets, he and Gutter had stood side by side in many firefights.
“Sup, fool?” Gutter smirked.
“So, the dead do walk.” Tears smiled. He hugged Gutter then
held him at arm's length and examined him. “Damn, cuz. The homeys wrote me and said you got hit up something terrible, but you look okay to me.”
“You know I'm made of blue steel. Wounds heal, man,” Gutter replied.
“Shit, in under a year? When I got hit in the gut, it took me six months to get right. I heard you got aired out and left for dead, but I can't see it.”
“You know how niggaz exaggerate,” Gutter deflected.
“Right, right,” Tears said suspiciously. “I hear you kicking up major dust on the East, kid?”
“You know I'm true to this.” Gutter formed a
C
with the fingers of his left hand and placed them over his heart. “We're trying to come up like everybody else.”
“Yeah, getting money and trying to make the funeral director a rich man,” Tears joked. “Dude, what's with you riding on these slobs so hard?”
“It ain't about nothing.” Gutter placed a cigarette in his mouth and fished for a light. “Niggaz touched mine, and I ain't standing for it. We ride on my side.”
“I hear that. Say, I'm sorry about missing Lou-Loc's funeral. County wouldn't give a nigga a pass, ya know?”
“Don't trip. I know you would've been there if you could. Say”âGutter motioned to Dannyâ“this here is Tears from Eight Trey. Tears, this is Danny from Harlem.” The two men nodded. “Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to see my uncle.”
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DANN STARED
out the window like a starstruck kid. This was his first trip to the West Coast. He had heard stories about what California was like, but it was nothing compared to actually seeing it.
They rode down Melrose where there were quiet streets and palm trees. They had rented two suites at the Double Tree Inn, out in Westwood. It was an upscale-looking strip, lined from end to end with different hotel chains. Danny was designated to check them in. Luggage was left in the truck while he got the keys. Danny looked around and thought how overrated Cali was.
After the keys were secured, the trio hit the 405 south, heading to Los Angeles. Danny sat in the passenger seat as Tears gave him a brief overview of L.A. Danny paid close attention to the various monuments, such as the Capital Records building. When they exited the freeway the scenery began to change.
The pleasant suburbs turned into middle-class vinyl houses. From that the landscape turned into liquor stores and shabby stucco houses. Spray paint scarred the walls of supermarkets and other buildings. Even at that late hour, groups posted up on corners and porches, eyeing the truck wearily. Most were young men, drinking or talking among themselves. Danny searched some of their faces and only found the eyes of hardened men on the faces of boys. Some even threw up their hoods trying to gauge a response from the mystery convoy. Danny quickly realized that he had been rash in his assessment of California.
They passed through L.A., and on through Carson, but to Gutter's surprise they hadn't stopped. Tears dipped back around and headed toward Torrance, which was notorious for Blood activity at one time. Most of the houses were dark, save for a few porch lights. Deep within the horseshoe of a nondescript street, they pulled up into the driveway of a small lavender house.
“This is it,” Tears said, turning to face Gutter, who was meditating in the backseat.
Gutter looked around at the scenery in disgust. “Man, y'all got my uncle laid up in a slob city? What the fuck was y'all thinking?”
“It's all good, cuz. Slob activity ain't like it used to be around here. And the few muthafuckas out there that's still connected got a truce with us 'cause we hitting 'em with birds. As long as we ain't trying to move in we got an understanding. Besides, had we kept him at the hospital niggaz might've tried to come back and finish the job. We got medical equipment and round-the-clock nurses on call. He's in good hands.”
Gutter nodded and stepped out of the truck. He looked up and down the block and felt as if he was out of place. He took a few moments and examined the house. It was a two-story house, situated in a still-under-construction housing development. From the average cars in the few driveways, he deduced it was a working-class neighborhood. There were men dressed in blue Dickies and jeans, holding automatic weapons outside the front door. He should've known that the homeys would make sure Gunn was well protected. They started forward when they saw him, but resumed their positions when Tears waved them back.
As he stared at the door his heart began to pound. He had no idea what to expect. He decided to let Tears go before him. Tears knocked on the door, while Gutter waited with anticipation. There was a brief wait and finally the sound of footsteps. The peephole jingled then bolts were slid free. When the door finally opened Gutter lost his breath.