him finish his story. When it was done, she was crying and his eyes were moist.
“My God, I never knew,” she sobbed.
“Not many people did.” He took another drink. “The LAPD rode down on the hood, pressing niggaz for a killer. It was only a matter of time before one of these fools started running their fucking traps. The big homeys decided that it was best for me and Lou to get low for a while. Lou-Loc had had enough of Cali anyhow, so it was cool for him to relocate to New York. Me, shit I couldn’t wait to get back to the hood. The thing is, we started getting money on the East Coast. We blew up real fast, baby. The next thing I knew, years had passed and neither of us was in a rush to get home.”
“You could’ve called or written me, Kenyatta,” she insisted.
“And said what? ‘Hey Monifa, I moved away from Cali to become an even worse criminal on the East Coast.’ Nah, baby, I had already done enough damage to your life and didn’t want to cause more. I figured in time, you’d forget about me and move on. Maybe find yourself a good working dude. I ain’t the kind of nigga you need in your life.”
“Kenyatta, that is the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard,” she said seriously. “How do you know what kind of man I need in my life? Jesus, I can’t tell you how many nights I laid awake thinking about you. I’ve been with other guys since you, but none measured up. You were my first and
Gutter craned his neck to face her. “Monifa, I-” his words were swallowed when she placed her mouth over his. Monifa kissed him deep and passionately, and he returned it. They stroked each other’s faces, and for just a few seconds everything was as it had been. The moment was shortlived as they heard a series of whistles coming from the house, followed by Tears appearing in the doorway.
“What the fuck is going on, cuz?” Gutter asked, ready to answer the war call.
“The sentries bagged a slob creeping through,” Tears said, lumbering down the stairs, tossing Gutter a pistol as he passed. The homeys were hot on his heels.
“Is he still alive?” Gutter asked no one in particular.
Rahkim pulled the slide on the sawed-off pump, “For the moment.”
Gutter looked from the jogging forms of Rahkim and Criminal to Monifa. Her eyes pleaded with him not to follow, but she knew better. Gutter was a soldier, and thus had to be in the trenches. When she nodded in understanding he took off after his comrades.
BY THE time the trio had made it to the end of the block, Mad Man and Lil Blue Bird were coming their way. Both the youngsters were dressed in dark sweatshirts and jeans. The young men were wearing the confident smiles of game hunters that had just bagged a prize. Walking between them was a soldier that Gutter recognized from the other side.
Pudgy was a portly young man, with a round face and thick neck. He was a highly respected member of the Mad Swans, who had spilled his fair share of blood over the years. Usually when a set was planning a raid they used cannon fodder as scouts. They would never send a soldier of Pudgy’s value for fear of losing him. Gutter wondered why they had chosen him, but his curiosity would soon be satisfied.
“We caught this nigga creeping, cuz,” Mad Man lisped. A few years prior he had had his two front teeth knocked out by some cops, so he whistled a little when he spoke.
“Yeah, old boy was riding in a mean Benz,” Lil Blue added.
“Punk-ass slob.” Rahkim raised the sawed-off. “My brother ain’t even cold yet and you got the nerve to show your stinking face round here. Y’all little niggaz move so I can peel this bitch!”
“Easy, Unc.” Gutter stepped between Rahkim and Pudgy. “Pudge, I know you ain’t got a death wish, so I assume you got a good reason for being here? Start talking before these hammers do.” Gutter motioned toward his heavily armed entourage.
Pudgy was clearly as nervous as a rabbit in a pit of vipers, but he tried to steady his voice when he spoke. “Listen, man, I didn’t wanna come here to die, but they said it would be a show of good faith.”
“Who the fuck is they?” Criminal asked.
“The homeys from Swan, Trik wants to meet with you guys.”
“Fuck Swan!” Rahkim raged, stepping around Gutter and placing the sawed-off to Pudgy’s large stomach. “You niggaz killed my brother, ain’t shit to talk about.”
Pudgy fought to control his bowels. When the homeys gave him his mission, he told them that he’d wanted no part of it. The Soladines were a wild lot and there was no reasoning with them. Still, Trik had insisted he do it. It was either that or be tried as a traitor. Now, Pudgy found himself about to be executed for trying to do his duty. His only hope would be to reason with the more sensible member of the clan.
“Gutter, man, tell dude to stall me out,” he pleaded.
“And why the fuck should I?” Gutter glared at Pudgy. “Swans shot my uncle and y’all knew he wasn’t riding no more. Fuck you and your whole set. Mad Man, Lil Blue, take this faggot somewhere and waste him. When you’re done, dump his body in Swan hood.”
“Wait, man!” Pudgy pleaded, as the youngsters grabbed hold of him. “We didn’t hit Gunn.”
“Yeah, so who the fuck put the work in on my uncle, Santa Claus? Don’t change the fact that a fuck nigga in a red suit did it.”
“Gutter.” Pudgy tried to compose himself. “Please, just meet with Trik. He can clear this whole mess up.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Rahkim said. “Trik is probably just trying to lure us out. Let’s smoke this muthafucka for the big homey, nephew.”
“It ain’t like that, man,” Pudgy insisted. “Trik just wants to bring an end to all this shit. On my kids, we ain’t lay hands on yo people.”
Gutter mulled it over for a few. Though Trik was quite a few years older than him, Gutter knew what he was about. Back in the day Trik had the reputation of being one of the most savage niggaz in the hood. If he wanted to get at the Soladines he wouldn’t have sent a messenger, he would’ve come in with an army. But for as savage as Trik was, he was one of the few niggaz left who respected the old codes.
“Okay, we’ll meet with Trik,” Gutter agreed. Rahkim started to protest, but Gutter waved him silent. “When and where?”
Pudgy visibly relaxed. “Trik said y’all could meet at the Beverly Center.”
“Fuck that nigga, who say he get to pick where the fuck we meet? Them ol ho-ass niggaz probably got something cooked up over that way.”
“Dawg, I wouldn’t play wit y’all or my life like that, Trik ain’t plotting,” Pudgy tried to convince Gutter.
“Nah, cuz, I’m wit my uncle on this one. We pick the spot or it don’t happen.” Gutter thought on it for a minute. “That Beverly Center shit is out; we’ll meet in the Beach… the old church on Fourth.”
“Okay, man, you got that. I’ll go tell him.” Pudgy made to leave, but Gutter stopped him.
“Hold on, cuz. I’m reasonable, not stupid.
Pudgy didn’t know Gutter that well, but he knew from the young man’s reputation that he was serious. Trik seemed sincere about his intentions, but Pudgy hadn’t been willing to bet his life on it. Now it seemed that he didn’t have a choice in the matter.
AFTER PUDGY placed the phone call to Trik, he was escorted to an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Gutter, followed by Criminal and Rahkim, made his way back to the house. Rahkim complained the whole time, saying how they should’ve just blasted Pudgy, and Gutter did his best to ignore him. He knew that they could keep killing Bloods from now until the end of the year, but there was no guarantee that they’d be any closer to catching Gunn’s killer. He would meet with Trik to see if his words held any truth, but if they didn’t, he’d be another dead slob.
When they reached the house Monifa was still standing on the porch where he had left her. At first she appeared rattled, but once she noticed they had all come back in one piece she relaxed. She knew better than to ask Gutter what had happened in front of Rahkim and Criminal, so she stored it away for later. She informed him that she had to make a run, and she’d be back in a little while. After kissing him on the cheek, she got in her car and pulled off.
