“Nah.” Snake shifted his weight on the cane. “You know I don’t rock with just anybody. Besides, I ain’t really wanna let niggaz know I was in the town just yet.”
“You see something that I don’t?” asked Gutter.
“We’ll talk about it on the way,” Snake said, heading for the door.
“Where we going?” Gutter questioned.
“Carson. I got some things I want to bounce off you. Besides, I got somebody who I think you’ll wanna talk to.”
“And who the fuck might that be?”
“Just come on,” Snake Eyes urged.
“SO, WHAT’S your take on this, Snake?” Gutter asked from the backseat.
“Honestly, I ain’t come up with much more than y’all did,” Snake Eyes admitted. “I made some phone calls and probed into a few people, but don’t have much to go on. There’s a bunch of rumors, but nothing solid.”
“I heard that some Mad Swans rode down on him, but I ain’t confirmed nothing yet.” Gutter stroked his thick beard.
“Interesting.” Snake rubbed his chin. “I did some legal work for B-Boy. You know Blood, he was claiming the Gardens before them niggaz chased him up out and he started sucking Swan dick. He ain’t denying that slobs did the shooting, but he put it on the hood that his people were clean of the killing.”
“Somebody’s ass is lying and I’m tired of chasing my fucking tail about it. What are the big homeys talking about in the way of payback?” Gutter asked.
“Nothing yet,” Snake Eyes replied. “Nobody wants an all-out war over some knuckleheads tripping, you know how it is.”
“The fuck I do. I know that somebody gonna taste steel over popping my uncle. I don’t give a fuck if I gotta mash on every nigga in every hood to flush that wormy muthafucka out. It’s on a cracking!” Gutter declared.
“I see getting dropped off on heaven’s door hasn’t quenched that thirst of yours.” Snake Eyes commented.
“Don’t start that shit, man. I get enough of it from Anwar.”
“Wise young dude.”
“Fuck you, nigga. This ain’t about me and my business in New York. This is about some slobs touching my uncle, and these old muthafuckas who govern us playing United Nations out this bitch.”
“This shit with Gunn has ruffled quite a few feathers, but all the right moves need to be made to fix it. The old heads is having a hard enough time containing the fighting that’s kicked off since the shit happened. Man, these lil niggaz is out here breaking fool, making the hood all hot and shit. The G’s are just trying to keep the peace.” Snake Eyes said.
“I hear you, Snake, but I’m a warlord. I don’t know nothing ’bout that peace shit. My uncle is a shell of the man I knew, and even if he does live through the injuries, he’ll never be the same. Someone has got to answer for this. A debt is a debt.”
Snake Eyes could’ve argued the point with Gutter until the following summer, but the result would be the same. Trying to change the subject he asked, “How’s Sharell?”
“Man, she’s getting big as hell. I don’t know if she’s having a baby or a damn elephant.” Gutter smiled, thinking about his boo, but the smile quickly faded when his mind went back to Satin.
“Everything all right with the baby?” Snake Eyes asked with concern in his voice.
“Oh, everything is cool with Sharell, but it’s Satin I’m worried about.” Gutter gave him the short version of what he’d learned from Sharell.
“Muthafucka.” Snake Eyes shook his head. “Pregnant? Gutter, why didn’t one of you call me? Dawg, I gotta get the ball rolling to get her out.” Snake Eyes said, pulling out his two-way and scrolling through the numbers.
“Man, you know the laws don’t work in favor of the blacks. They’d have you tied up in red tape for God only knows how long, not to mention the fact that the girl has got that murder beef still hanging over her head. Nah, we need to get her out ASAP, but ain’t no need to trip because I got somebody on the job already.”
“Who?” Snake Eyes asked.
Gutter’s cell going off drew his attention. He glanced at the caller ID screen and smiled when he saw the 347 area code. Before flipping his phone open, he looked to his friend and said, “You don’t even wanna know.”
CARSON WAS a small city situated on the border between L.A. and Compton. It was composed mostly of Samoans and Filipinos, but also hosted a Latino and black population. Though a seemingly quiet town its location and the large mall in its center made it a rest haven for gangs. Since its construction it had been contested territory between the Crips and Bloods. Over the last few years the East Coast Crips had been the controlling faction.
Snake Eyes piloted the Regal down Carson Avenue and banked a left onto Dominguez. About a half mile down they turned into the mall parking lot. The large IKEA sign loomed overhead like an open invitation. The morning sun was still beaming in full effect, so the lot was filled almost to capacity. Snake Eyes parked the car near the edge of the lot and killed the engine.
“Nigga, we got planning to do and you wanna shop?” Danny asked.
“Danny, shut up, please.” Gutter eased out, and joined Snake Eyes. “What’s this all about, Snake?”
“I’ll explain it to you as we walk,” Snake said, cutting across the grass leading to a small walkway. They followed a long wall, which served as the divider between the mall parking lot and a grungy-looking suburb. Below the level on which they stood was a basketball court, which had a crowd of young men gathered in the center. Apparently, two of them were squaring off over a dispute.
“Snake, where are we going, man?” Gutter asked, following him down the stairs.
“Like I told you before we left, there’s someone here who I think you might like to see,” Snake Eyes continued. “It’s a cousin of yours flew in to be with the big homey in his time of need.”
“Snake, I got a lot of cousins in town. What’s so special about this one?”
“Just watch,” Snake Eyes said, leading them toward the crowd.
When they had almost reached the crowd of spectators, one of them branched off and moved to join the trio. He looked to be about seventeen or eighteen years old, sporting a blue Dickies suit and short cornrows.
“Sup, cuz,” Marv greeted them.
Snake Eyes shook the young man’s hand. “What’s going on over here?”
“Shit, De Shawn is going head up with the lil homey from Suicide. He tried to punk the lil nigga, but shorty is getting ’em up like a true G.”
Gutter and Snake Eyes followed Marv to the circle, where onlookers watched the fight and took bets. In the center were two combatants. Both were breathing hard, but neither was ready to give. The dark-skinned combatant had a busted lip and a bruise was beginning to form under his eye. The light-skinned combatant also sported a bruised face, and his nose didn’t seem to wanna quit bleeding.
The light-skinned one shot out a right, which the dark-skinned one feinted and then launched a powerful left. The blow connected, but didn’t drop him. The two men circled each other like angry dogs, every so often throwing a punch. The light-skinned boy outweighed the dark-skinned one, but couldn’t intimidate him.
Growing impatient, the light-skinned one shot out of his corner throwing combinations. The dark-skinned one deflected most of the blows, but still took shots to his chest and head. He staggered back, seemingly ready to drop. The light-skinned one decided to take advantage of the opportunity and move in for the kill.
“Who’s the lil nigga there, Snake?” Gutter asked curiously.
“You mean, you really don’t know?” Snake asked, surprised.
“Nah, cuz. Should I?”
“I would think so. Y’all share the same genes.”
De Shawn came at the dark-skinned boy with an overhand right, trying to knock his head off. The dark-skinned boy waited until the last moment and moved out of the way. The momentum of the swing took De Shawn off balance. When he tried to right himself, the dark-skinned one came in raining blows to the back of his head. De Shawn swayed but didn’t fall. He feebly tried to mount a defense, but a well-placed haymaker ended the fight. He was out cold.
