and made a face. “Am I stupid or what?”
“You’re not stupid, Mo, just a young girl in love,” Rahshida told her. “Baby, I know how you feel about my nephew, but you gotta let it go. He’s a different man than you knew, with a different life.”
“Yeah, a life with his New York bitch.”
Rahshida narrowed her eyes. “Monifa, that isn’t called for. You know you’re bigger than that.”
“Rah, I feel like I fell and bumped my head for the way I’m allowing myself to feel about Gutter, especially after the way he dissed me. There’s something about him that I just can’t seem to let go.”
Rahshida propped her elbows on the table. “For as much of a good man that I know my nephew is, or wants to be, he isn’t ready to let go of his mistress… the set. I pray that he’s grown up enough to do right by that girl, but at the end of the day he’s gonna do what he wants. Monifa, that’s my nephew and I love him no matter what, but he’s still a Soladine man, and the only woman he’ll ever give his heart to totally is the street.” Rahshida nodded outside, to where Gutter was congregating with the homeys. “Let that train go, baby.”
There was so much truth in Rahshida’s words that Monifa only felt stupider for the way she was carrying on. She knew Gutter had a new life and a new woman, but what about old promises? It was clear that that chapter of their life was at an end, but it wasn’t yet closed.
chapter 17
GUTTER’S NIGHT was spent very fitfully trying to sleep. After the heated word exchange, he had retired to one of the upstairs bedrooms. After firing up blunt after blunt of chronic, he fell asleep. During his rest he was plagued with terrible nightmares. It was the same death scene that had played out for his comrade, except he was the one being fired on. It seemed so real, that he thought he even felt the bullets tearing through his skin.
It seemed as if he had only been asleep for a little while when he was awakened by a commotion downstairs. He was irritated about the noise breaking his rest, but grateful for it awakening him from the nightmare. He made his way down the stairs and found a group of spectators crowded around the back door. After elbowing his way through the crowd, he was surprised by what he saw.
Tears, Danny, and Snake Eyes stood among some of the other homeys in a semicircle. In the center of the circle Rahkim and Blue Bird were going head up. Blue Bird was a skilled boxer, but Rahkim was a straight animal. For every blow Blue Bird landed, Rahkim hit him with two. Seeing that exchanging punches was getting him nowhere, Blue Bird changed his strategy.
He rushed Rahkim, trying to scoop him up from the waist, which proved to be his undoing. He was heavier and stronger than Rahkim, so he had no problem getting him off the ground. The only problem was, every time he tried to lift him, Rahkim rained punches on his exposed face. Several vicious blows brought him to one knee. Rahkim hauled his leg back and kicked Blue Bird in the jaw. It was a clean knockout.
“Tears, gimme ya strap!” Rahkim demanded.
“Hold on, cuz,” Tears protested.
“Fuck that shit, I’m ’bout to smoke this dumb muthafucka!”
“Rahkim, what the hell are you doing?” Rahshida cut through the crowd, and stood between her brother and Blue Bird.
“Rah, mind your business. This ain’t got nothing to do with you,” he warned.
“The hell it doesn’t. Our brother is up in there fighting for his life, and you’re out here about to murder a man in his yard. Hasn’t there been enough violence?”
“Rah, this greaseball muthafucka took our nephew, Gunn’s baby boy, on a fucking hit. The shit is all over the hood and the goddamn news!” he explained.
“Oh, my… Tariq, bring your ass here. Now!” she shouted.
“Sup.” He stepped from the crowd with his head down.
“Are you crazy!” She slapped him across his face, shocking everyone especially him. “Why would you let someone talk you into such foolishness? Haven’t you learned anything from what has brought us here?” She shook his arm.
“Yeah.” He jerked away. “I learned a lot of niggaz talk about gangsta shit and codes, but most of ’em is bitches. Some Brims fired on my daddy, and I fired on some Brims. Fuck them niggaz!”
“Watch your mouth, Gunn,” Gutter interjected. “Rah is telling you right. Blue Bird had no right to take you roll’n. Who y’all dump on?”
“Some busters.” Lil Gunn shrugged. “Blue said they was Swans, so we blasted them niggaz. I think one of them was named Shorty.”
“Shorty?” Snake Eyes rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I know that cat. A real loudmouth that’s always itching for a beef. If they didn’t ride on them, somebody would’ve.”
“That don’t change the fact that this nigga was wrong.” Rahkim nodded toward Blue Bird, who was finally beginning to stir.
“Fucking dummies, both of you,” Gutter said. “Who else was down with this lil G ride?”
“It was just me, Blue, and Charlie. We lost him in the battle,” Lil Gunn said sadly.
“Police are supposed to have found the body and linked him to the Crips.” Rahkim added.
“There’s gonna be a shit storm behind this,” Snake Eyes shook his head.
“Who the fuck you telling? This is the reason why this had to be handled with finesse,” Gutter reminded them. “The last thing we need is the LAPD laying their pressure game down on us. It’ll make setting this shit right that much harder.”
Danny added, “Man, y’all got so many sets and gangs out this muthafucka, you really think the police is gonna be looking at y’all in particular?”
“I’m sure of it,” Snake Eyes said. “Like I told you before, this shit is politics. Even though they wear badges, the LAPD is a gang, same as ours. They know what’s going down in the streets, and who it’s going down with. The Bloods are rumored to have shot Big Gunn, and they found Charlie’s body at the scene. Even though he’s with Grape Street, he’s connected to us. It’s only a matter of time before they start snatching Grapes and Hoovers, ’cause we allies for the moment. They’ll be poking around here soon enough and that could be bad business for some of us.” He glanced at Gutter, remembering the murder they had both played a part in.
Before they could ponder it further, one of the nurses attending Big Gunn appeared in the doorway. She was a motherly looking Mexican woman with salt-and-pepper hair. Her face was sullen and blood spatter stained the front of her uniform. Tears twinkled in her eyes, as she motioned for the Soladines to come with her. Once she had led them into the living room, she began speaking.
“It’s Mr. Gunn,” she sobbed with a heavy accent.
“What’s wrong?” Rah asked frantically.
“We thought we had stabilized him, but he started hemorrhaging internally.”
“Move!” Gutter barked, rushing past her.
“Wait!” she called after him, but Gutter kept going.
When he got to the bedroom where Gunn was being kept, he heard orders being barked and metal scraping. Ignoring the nurse and his aunt who were both following closely behind him, Gutter barged into the room. When he stepped through the threshold, a lump formed in his throat.
Doc Holliday was a homey, who had pulled his way through the sludge of the ghetto and had graduated from medical school. He worked at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Pasadena, as a resident. Big Gunn had schooled him to the game back in the day, so he was more than willing to take some time off to tend his former mentor in his time of need.
Doc Holliday stood over Gunn’s bed in a bloody lab coat, working expertly trying to stop the bleeding. Sweat ran from his forehead into his eye, which one of the attending nurses wiped. He tried a variation of clamps and stitches, but the bleeding just seemed to continue. It wasn’t looking good for Gunn.
“Doc, what the fuck is going on?” Gutter approached.
“Gutter, not now,” he said, applying pressure to one of the wounds. “I’m trying to save your uncle. Get these people out of here and let me work!”
