Gutter had been in the house for about fifteen minutes when Snake Eyes came in. The young attorney’s cane clicked against the hardwood floor as he crossed the foyer into the living room. Though his limp had improved over the years, he still sometimes depended on the walking stick for balance. After speaking to everyone, he made his way to the backyard where Gutter was sitting on a lawn chair talking to Criminal.
“What up, Harlem?” Snake Eyes dapped him.
“Ain’t shit, we got a lead on Gunn’s killer so we gonna mash in a few.” Gutter filled him in.
“Well, you’re gonna have to fill me in because I got something a little more pressing to holla at you about.” Snake Eyes took Gutter gently by the arm and steered him out of earshot of everyone else. “I got a call from Sharell today, she says she’s been trying to call you, but keeps getting the voice mail.”
“I kinda smashed my phone. I’ll call her when I get in the house. Is everything okay?” Gutter asked.
“Yeah, she was ecstatic actually. Satin is at your house,” Snake Eyes told him. Gutter just smiled. “G, you wanna explain to me how you were able to get her released from the hospital?”
“Trust me, cuz, you don’t even wanna know, loc. But check, they say Trik from Swan wanna jaw about who bust on Unc.”
Snake Eyes raised his eyebrows. “Straight up?” he asked, momentarily forgetting about the fugitive.
“Square biz, homey. He say he got some information on who popped him up and he wanna meet with me.”
“You think he trying to plot?” Snake asked.
“Man, if he don’t play fair Ima let Criminal and them niggaz break that power saw in on Pudgy’s fat ass.”
“Shit, I’m rolling with y’all,” Snake Eyes declared. He had a fire in his eyes that Gutter hadn’t seen in quite a few years.
“Nah, Snake. It might get ugly, and you’re too valuable to get caught up in some bullshit,” Gutter explained.
“You can’t cut me outta this one,” Snake Eyes insisted. “Big Gunn was always looking out for me, and I want to see his killer brought to justice,
Gutter couldn’t even argue the fact that Snake Eyes had a very valid point. Of all his comrades, Snake Eyes had been the closest to Gunn. Not only did he school him to the streets, but he was the main reason why Snake Eyes didn’t fall under the sword after the O’Leary murder.
There were several gang factions, Crip and Blood, that didn’t appreciate the heat the cop killers had brought down on them. Lou-Loc and Gutter were safely tucked away on the East Coast, but Snake Eyes had remained in California to finish school. A few cats thought about getting at him, or maybe even turning him in to call the dogs off, but Gunn made it very clear that if anything happened to Snake Eyes, the hand of death would fall on the offender. So, with Gunn as his guardian angel, Snake Eyes was able to finish school and pass the bar. Though his main legal practice was based in Miami, he made frequent trips to L.A., where he did consulting out of a small office downtown, off Central Avenue.
“A’ight then,” Gutter agreed. “But you keep your ass out of the fire if it gets hot, Snake.”
“Man, stop acting like we ain’t come up under the same knuckles.” Snake Eyes waved him off.
“Now, when we go through there we ain’t gonna roll deep, but we gonna bring muscle and insurance. Criminal”-he turned to the youngster-“round up two or three of your best shooters, I got something I need y’all little niggaz to do.”
“All day, cuz,” Criminal said with vigor.
“Snake.” Gutter turned to his longtime friend. “Walk with me, counselor. We’ve got plans to lay and enemies to blast.”
“SPEAK ON it,” Major Blood said into his cell phone. He listened for a minute as his little cousin Reckless brought him up to speed on what was popping on the west.
“Yeah, they snatched his fat ass out in Torrence,” Reckless said. Major could hear the mirth in his voice. “Trik is trying to smooth things over with them sucka-ass niggaz, you want me to go see him?” the young boy asked, eager to lay something down for the cause.
Major Blood thought on it for a minute. “Nah, let that Jheri curl-wearing muthafucka breathe for now. Once I take care of shit out here, we can put the second phase of our plan in motion. Just lay low until it’s time to mash niggaz out.”
“You got that, big homey. So when we gonna move on the old heads?” Reckless asked. He hated missing out on all the killing he was sure his cousin was putting down on the East Coast.
“In due time, Blood, for right now you just keep your eyes and ears open,” Major told him.
“A’ight then, see about me.” Reckless ended the call.
Major sat, processing what he had just learned. He wished he could be there to see the look on Gutter’s face when the mystery finally unfolded, but it would have to wait. There were things that he still had to put in order before his plan could come full circle. The UBN could fool themselves into believing they were running the show, but when the smoke cleared Major Blood would show them all who was really in power.
chapter 23
DANN AND Tears walked into the garage of the Soladine house to find it overrun with soldiers. Men sat on crates or leaned against walls, chatting. The fact that they were all armed told them that something was up. In the center of the mix were Gutter, Snake Eyes, and Criminal. Snake Eyes was leaning in whispering to Gutter, who was loading an AK-47.
“Damn, it looks like Kuwait in this piece,” Danny said, handing Gutter the box containing his new cell phone.
Tears gave all the men dap and leaned against the workbench, which held a variety of firearms. “Looks like you niggaz is fixing to ride?”
“We are,” Criminal said. Seeing the confused looks on Danny’s and Tear’s faces Criminal went on to rundown what Pudgy had told him.
“You think these niggaz is on the level?” Tears asked, taking a Mac 11 from the workbench, and checking the clip.
“We’ll know in a little while,” Snake Eyes said, popping a clip in a 9 and reaching for the next weapon to load. “We’re meeting them niggaz in Long Beach.”
Danny picked up a shotgun and cocked it. “Now, this is what I’m talking about.”
Criminal twisted his brown face in disgust. “Homey, put that strap down before you hurt somebody. This ain’t no fucking game, so be cool.”
“Come on, man. You act like I ain’t gangsta with mine.” Danny puffed up.
Criminal studied his East Coast cousin for a minute before responding. “Trip this, cuz; it’s easy to sike ya self up to ride on a nigga, but sometimes the coin flips and you can wind up on the other side of the pistol.” He raised his shirt so Danny could see the darkened lumps from healed-over gunshot wounds. “My nigga if I don’t know nothing else I know you die the way you live and I plan on going all the way with it.” Criminal brandished a long pistol.
Danny held Criminal’s gaze, but the lifeless eyes staring back at him swept a phantom wind across the back of his neck. “I can respect that, homey. Look, all I’m saying is that if my homey Gutter is riding into a dangerous situation, I’m going too.”
“It’s cool,” Gutter spoke up. He looked at his protege seriously and asked, “So you really trying to ride the train?”
Danny stared at Gutter and said, “All day. One thing you always told me was that the set came before anything. If you ’bout to sit wit the devil then you might as well get me a chair.”
Gutter held out his fist. “Solid, little brother.”
“Harlem gangsta to the death, big homey,” Danny declared loud enough for everyone to hear, and pounded Gutter’s fist.
