THE SKY
was incredibly blue that morning, seemingly more so than Gutter had ever remembered seeing it. At that altitude the clouds appeared solid enough to walk on, but it was an illusion, as was the temporary peace Gutter felt looking at them. He knew that once he touched down it was back to business.
The flight home went far smoother than the one into Long Beach, but that all depends on whom you asked. Danny-Boy sat directly behind Gutter, trying his best to put the moves on a buxom flight attendant. Though she smiled, Gutter could sense her uneasiness. The innocent part of Danny that first drew Gutter to him was gone, replaced by the taint of a killer and whether he knew it or not, he wore it on his sleeve.
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”âhe turned to face his protégéâ“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.
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“YOU DID
good, 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”âhe turned to his other generalâ“take all three of these bitches down to the basement”âhe motioned toward Satin, Sharell, and Hollywoodâ“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.”
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GUTTER BURNED
up 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.
The Charger moved almost soundlessly through the Long Island streets, ignoring stop signs and traffic signals. It was a miracle that he didn't get pulled over en route, but he had made it to the house without incident. As he slowed near the house he saw Pop Top's Ford in the driveway, along with Sharell's ruined X5. He was so focused on the house that he didn't even notice the young man sitting in the Lincoln watching him pass by.
Instead of pulling up in the driveway, Gutter parked on the street. He scanned the house for signs of movement, but didn't see anything. Checking the clip of his .40 caliber, he slid from the car and moved cautiously up the driveway. Placing his ear to the door he couldn't hear anything, which was strange. Pop Top was a loudmouth by nature, so the eerie silence unnerved him. When he tried the knob he found the door was unlocked, definitely a bad sign. Sliding a bullet into the chamber he walked into the setup.
E
DDIE PACED
the basement floor nervously. Through the small window he could see Gutter coming up the driveway with a pistol in his hand. Shit was about to get real ugly, real quick.
“Why the long face?” Hollywood taunted from the chair where he was tied. He craned his neck and saw the bottoms of Gutter's sneakers. “I see death has come calling.”
“You shut you fucking mouth, crab!” Eddie shouted.
“You know it ain't too late. All you gotta do is cut us loose and I'll see to it that you don't catch the same hell your homeys are about to.”
Eddie looked like he was considering it, then his face went hard again. “I ain't no fucking traitor.”
“Aren't you? You know the word is out about Hawk getting killed in Harlem. The UBN might not know off top, but ain't nothing slow about the big homeys. It's only gonna be a matter of time before they put two and two together and what do you think is gonna happen then?” Hollywood smiled. The whole time he
taunted Eddie, he was working on the phone cord that bound him to the chair.
“Shut up!” Eddie snarled in his face.
“What, you put off by a little truth? Eddie, you and I both know that you're the low man on the pole, and it's usually the low man who gets it the worst. Major Blood has got you in a whole world of shit that's gonna blow up in your damn face. Right now, I'm your only chance. You let us go and Harlem will make sure you get to higher ground before the flood. If not, you might as well put that pistol in your mouth and take the easy way out, pussy, because either way you're done!”
“Didn't I tell you to shut up?!” Eddie lashed out and kicked Hollywood's chair over, which is what he had hoped. The impact cracked the back of the chair and loosened the phone cord that had been binding his arms.
“Hollywood!” Sharell screamed, drawing Eddie's attention to her.
“Everybody shut the fuck up!” Eddie clutched his temples. When he turned back to Hollywood he was shocked to see that not only had the man managed to free himself, but was charging in his direction.
Eddie tried to raise his gun, but a swipe of Hollywood's cast sent it flying across the room. Though Eddie considered himself a tough guy, he couldn't fight worth a damn. Hollywood delivered a crushing blow to the side of Eddie's head with the cast, knocking him to the ground.
“I told you that ass was done!” Hollywood snarled, slamming the cast into the side of Eddie's head. He struck him again and again until Eddie lay motionless, with blood pooling beneath his head.
“Y'all all right?” Hollywood attended the ladies, who Eddie hadn't bothered to tie up.
“I'm good,” Satin told him. “Sharell?” She turned to her friend, who wore a strange expression on her face.
“Something is wrong!” she gasped. There was a gush of fluid and blood spilling from between Sharell's legs.
“She's in labor,” Satin said, trying not to panic. “Shit, shit, shit! We gotta get her to a hospital, but how with those guys in the house?”
“No.” Sharell grabbed Satin by the shirt. “Take the Camry and go for help. Hollywood”âshe turned to himâ“warn Gutter. Don't let them kill my baby!” she pleaded.
“I got you, Sharell. Just stay here. I won't let them kill him,” Hollywood vowed, snatching up Eddie's gun and heading for the stairs.
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GUTTER BURST
into the house with his gun drawn, expecting the worst, but it was surprisingly quiet. He made his way from the foyer to the living room, eyes scanning for enemies, but instead he found Pop Top, lounging on the sofa watching videos.
“What it is, homey?” Pop Top asked, not bothering to get up.
“Top, what the fuck is going on? Where is Sharell and why the hell is the door open?” He relaxed a bit seeing a friendly face, but was still alert.
“That nigga Hollywood probably forgot to lock it when he left. Why the fuck you acting so paranoid?” Pop Top asked casually. From the angle Pop Top was sitting at, Gutter couldn't see the gun in his lap.
“Sharell didn't sound good when she called me, so I thought something had popped off.”
“Man, you know broads be extra when they're pregnant and
missing their man. Put that damn gun away before you shoot a nigga by accident.”
Gutter still felt like something was wrong, but his friend managed to put his mind at ease enough to tuck the gun into his waistband. He was making his way to the living room when the basement door flew open and Hollywood came spilling out, with Satin on his heels.
“Gutter, it's a setup!” Hollywood screamed, but Pop Top was already spinning on them with his gun drawn.
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POP TOP
opened fire with the .45, trying to lay everything in his path. He tried to murder Gutter, but Hollywood ended up taking the initial bullet, giving Gutter a fraction of a second to react. Without even thinking he clapped back with his .40, splitting Pop Top's wig. With the traitor dead, Gutter turned his attention to Hollywood.
“Wood, talk to me?” Gutter cradled his head in his hands.
“I promised her I wouldn't let them get you,” he coughed, dribbling blood down his chin. “I promised” were Hollywood's last words before death claimed him.
“Wood?” Gutter shook him. “Hollywood!” he shouted his comrade's name over and over, but he was gone. “Not another one,” Gutter whispered.
“Oh, God no,” Satin sobbed, startling Gutter.
“Where's Sharell?” Gutter snapped.
“She's in the basement ⦠her water broke.”
“I gotta get to her.” Gutter stood.
“No, there's more of them in the house!”
No sooner than the words were out of her mouth the window
behind Gutter shattered. He looked up and saw three men he didn't recognize barreling down the stairs. Rolling across the living room, Gutter blasted the first invader, sending him spilling down the stairs. Another man pushed open the kitchen door, and was rewarded with a bullet to the chest, sending him flying back the way he came.
“Get out of here!” he barked at Satin, as he laid another man down. The war was on and he had no intentions on taking prisoners.
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GUTTER BACKED
up, still firing the automatic pistol. It seemed like for every man he dropped three more took his place. The door suddenly imploded as the enemies, who were now surrounding the house, sprayed it. Among them he could see Major Blood, smiling triumphantly. It was a smile Gutter fully intended to wipe off his face.
Hollywood lay on his back staring vacantly at the ceiling. If it weren't for the quarter-sized hole in his chest, he could've passed for someone who was just thinking. The whole time he had been down with Harlem he had pledged his life to the set and his reward was to die young, leaving a beautiful corpse. The house seemed to be swarming with enemies and he would be overrun unless reinforcements arrived soon.
“Just a few more minutes,” he whispered, tearing into his enemies.