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  “Praise the lord. I’m so happy for you, Lou-Loc. You need a good woman in your life. But how do you plan on truly making this girl happy if you’re still caught up in this madness?”

  “That’s kinda what I came to talk to y’all about,” he said timidly. Sharell, I’m getting out of the game and leaving New York, I’m done. I’m just hoping you don’t think I’m being a coward for leaving before my man wakes up.”

  Sharell’s eyes welled up with tears. She rushed to Lou-Loc, and embraced him. “Lou-Loc, I would never think you a coward for trying to survive. This is what you’ve always wanted, and Kenyatta knew it. There ain’t no shame in being tired. We all get that way if we go through enough. The important thing is you’re getting out by choice instead of by bullets or bars.”

  Hearing Sharell’s approval of his decision made Lou-Loc feel a little better. He had always had a lot of respect for her. She wasn’t no hood bitch, yet she wasn’t some stuck up chick either. She was just a young lady who had her shit together.

  “How’s my boy?” Lou-Loc asked.

  “Well it’s hard to really say. Some days he’s good, others not so good. The doctors say his condition is stabilizing, but he’s still unconscious. I’m scared, Lou-Loc. What if he doesn’t wake up?”

  “Don’t fret that,” he said patting her hand, “that boy tough as they come. I’ve seen Ken pull himself out of more shit than this. It’s a small thing to a giant, ma. Bank on that one.”

  “I hope so, Lou-Loc.”

  “So, how y’all doing as far as bread, honey?”

  “We straight, baby, thanks for asking. You know I work everyday and Ken has got bread in the stash, so we’re okay.” Sharell told him.

  “Okay, but what about the medical bills. I know Ken ain’t got no insurance and the hospital is gonna charge a grip for all this.”

  “Some big wig friend of Gutter’s is taking care of that. I told him that he didn’t have to, but he insisted. He said he owed Gutter’s family a favor,” Sharell shrugged.

  Lou-Loc was surprised to hear this. The last few times Gutter had met with Anwar he had never mentioned it to him, but the little prince seemed to be full of surprises. Lou-Loc would thank him later, but he wanted to stop in and see Gutter first. “Sharell, I’m gonna spend a few with the kid and get some things off my chest.”

  “Okay Lou-Loc. Take your time, I’m gonna run downstairs and grab something to eat. You want me to bring you anything?”

  “Nah, I’m straight.”

  “Okay, I’ll be back in a bit,” Sharell grabbed her purse and headed towards the elevator.

  Lou-Loc made his way down the corridor trying to figure out what to say to his brother. It was best to just open his mouth and let the words flow freely. When he entered the room, he almost broke down. Gutter was laid out in that iron bed looking like death warmed over. There were tubes running in and out of damn near every hole in his body, and a machine helping him breathe. His beautiful dark skin was ashy and drawn in. His hair needed to be braided over, and he had lost quite a few pounds. This was not the man he knew.

  At first, he was mad at Cross. The man had the means to save Gutter, and did nothing. But once reason took over and Lou-Loc realized there was no reason to be mad at his friend. It was not meant for man to interfere with what God had planned. Cross was just playing his part in the natural scheme of things and to be upset with him was selfish.

  Lou-Loc pulled up a chair beside his bed and took his friend’s hand. “What up cuz? This ya ace boon, Lou-Loc. Man, so much shit been going on since you took ya little vacation. The Homey’s been putting in work like a ma fucka. We done rode on damn near every blood set in New York. I found out them little marks that put the paper on you was from LC. I put the hurt in their leader’s little brother, and two of his peoples. I took care of that nigga, Born too, cuz. In return, Anwar made good on his end and knocked Scooby out the box. We set up the new spots out in Brooklyn, and baby boy the money is coming in. I got lil Boo and his peoples looking over shit out there cause that’s where they peoples is from. Peep the fly shit though, cuz; remember that chick, Satin? That’s El Diablo lil sister. Wait a second before you start preaching, she ain’t on it like that. She don’t fuck wit them niggaz. She ain’t got nothing to do wit the life, she a good girl. That’s my boo now, cuz. It’s like you always said, that bitch Martina was dirty. Come to find out she was fucking wit that lil slob Mac. He ain’t putting his lil dick in nothing no more though, cuz. Guess I should get to the point though, huh?” Lou-Loc hesitated as if his friend would answer him. “Me and Satin, we in love, cuz, and it’s the real thing and I wanna see where it goes. Them niggaz that tried to one you is dead and buried and Harlem Crip has established itself as an official powerhouse, so for the most part my work is done. I’m gonna hang up these pistols and live me a nice square life.”

  Lou-Loc sat for a minute just listening to the sounds of the machines in the room and Gutter’s labored breathing. The longer he sat there it seemed like the more depressed he got. Seeing his friend like that was hard on him and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to take it. “Cuz, I’m sorry for what happened to you, Lord knows I am. If we could’ve traded places, it’d be me in this fucking meat factory instead of you, but it didn’t play out like that,” he composed himself. “G, I know you’re probably salty with me for getting out but we both know I didn’t intend to play this game forever. I’m tired and I need some peace in my life,” Lou-Loc told Gutter’s hand in his. “Cuz, before I make this move I need to know that we’re square,” he felt Gutter’s hand twitch slightly, and then tighten around his. Gutter was letting him know that he was free. Tears began to well in Lou-Loc’s eyes and this time he let them flow.

  Lou-Loc cried like a baby as he held the hand of his dearest friend. He cried for his father who was gunned down in a mall parking lot. He cried for Gutter’s father, and grandfather, who died for what they believed in. He cried tears for every man he had ever murdered, and the mothers who had to bury their children. He cried for the youth and black America.

  *

  As Lou-Loc was hunched over his friend crying he didn’t notice someone watching the exchange and shedding their own tears. These were not tears of sorrow, but tears of vengeance. Cross now knew what he had to do. When he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand it came away smeared with blood.

  CHAPTER 21

  Satin was on top of the world. The evening breeze was warm on her face as she carried her small bag of groceries back to her loft. Hell, it could’ve been pouring rain and she wouldn’t have cared. Her life was finally beginning to get better. She had been skeptical about coming at Lou-Loc the way she did, but her forwardness had paid off. Once she found out that he felt the same way she did.

  It was like her aunt used to always say, “Love is an unpredictable thing. When in doubt, follow your heart.” Those words rang true in her situation. She followed her heart and hit a home run. She knew she loved Lou-Loc from the first time she laid eyes on him. Their hearts called to each other, and now they would become soul mates.

  Satin’s thoughts were interrupted when she saw Michael’s car parked in front of her building. This drama she didn’t need. She was a grown ass woman, and Michael could go fuck himself if he had a problem with her being with Lou-Loc. Before she could get to the car, Michael hopped out and started towards her.

  “Satin what the fuck is up with you?” El Diablo snapped.

  “Nice to see you too, Michael.” She said sarcastically.

  “Don’t play with me, Satin. What’s this I hear about you fucking this nigger from the other side?”

  “First of all,” she said pointing her finger, “his name is Lou-Loc. Second, he’s not a nigger, he’s a writer, and third, we’re not just fucking, that’s my man.”

  “Your man? He’s a killer! Lou-Loc personally executed two of my peoples. Satin, how you gonna fuck with somebody that broke our little brother’s nose?”

  “Michael
, please. Jesus brought that shit on himself. He started fucking with Lou-Loc and got his little ass kicked. The only reason he didn’t get himself buried was because of me. Lou-Loc loves me, so he let Jesus live.”

  “Loves you?” Michael said rolling his eyes. “You poor misguided child, he’s just fucking you to get at me. This shit is like a fucking slap in the face. You know how stupid this has me looking amongst the other Blood Generals?”

  “Michael, you’re making yourself look stupid pressing this shit. If you recall, Lou-Loc and his peoples didn’t start this shit? Y’all cast the first stone.”

  “Satin, you don’t know shit about shit as far as this goes.”

  “Michael, don’t play me, okay. You don’t think I know it was LC who shot Gutter. Jesus already let the cat out of the bag. Shit, why you think he got his nose broken?”

  “Damn, Satin. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were siding with them black bastards?”

  “Oh, please. You know I don’t get down with that gang shit in no kinda way. All this sides shit don’t mean nothing to me, so miss me with it. I could care less if the police killed or locked up every one of them dumb ass so called gangsters. For your information, he’s getting out of the gang so we can be together. Lou-Loc is my man, and that’s just the way it is.”

  “Ya man? Satin, that black son of a bitch don’t love you. To him, you another notch on his belt, a fine ass piece of Spanish pussy!” Michael didn’t mean it like he said it, but it was too late to take it back.

  That last comment hurt Satin deeply. She and Michael had their differences, but he was still her brother. If anything, she wanted him to be happy. She didn’t expect him to accept Lou-Loc, but she wanted him to at least understand how she felt.

  “Fuck you, El Diablo.” she said coldly. “I could give a fuck what you think.”

  “Now you listen,” he said grabbing her by the arm, “I’m your big brother, and I know what’s best for you. I forbid you to see this ‘spook’ anymore. I forbid it.”

  Satin threw her head back and burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious. I’m not the little girl you remember asking for dollars. I’m grown, Michael. G-r-o-w-n, so you can bump your head with the dumb shit.”

  Satin turned to walk away, but El Diablo wasn’t done yet. He spun her around and slapped her across the face. Satin dropped her groceries and stood there in shock. Michael had never put his hands on her before, but there was a first time for everything. “Satin,” he said reaching for her, but froze when she drew her gun and aimed it at him.

  “You dirty motherfucker.” She hissed. “Ain’t no man ever laid hands on me, not even our father. Let me tell you something, you dope peddling snake. I don’t give a fuck what you say, this is my life. Me and Lou-Loc are going to be together, and that’s a fact. Now if your small, racist brain can’t accept that, too fucking bad! That’s the way it is. And if you ever raise your fucking hand to me again, I’ll empty this clip in your worthless ass. Now can you dig that?” Before he could answer, Satin was strutting towards her building. Before she went through the lobby door, she took another jab at her brother. “The next time I have to pull a gun on you, it’ll be to take your life,” Satin disappeared into her building.

  Michael stood there at a loss for words. What the fuck was his family coming to? The same little girl he raised had just threatened to kill him. All he wanted to do was look out for his sister’s feelings. There was no doubt in his mind as to whether or not his sister loved his rival. But did Lou-Loc feel the same? El Diablo knew he had to bring some clarity to the situation, and quickly. This shit was getting out of hand.

  *

  Cisco stood on the corner of 125th and Park under the Metro North station waiting for Tito to show up. The excitement had him so worked up that he wanted to jump up and down. El Diablo had called and told him about the altercation with Satin, and asked his opinion. Cisco played the role of the concerned councilor, but inwardly, he jumped for joy. The mighty El Diablo was playing right into his hands. Within the next day or so, he would be the sole controller of LC Blood. Before Cisco could fantasize further, his cell phone vibrated.

  “Hello?” He sang.

  “Cisco.” Purred the seductive voice on the other end.

  “Martina, what a pleasant surprise.” He lied. In all actuality, Cisco had no love for Martina. She was loose and had no loyalty. She would sell her mother out to the highest bidder. As foul as she might’ve been, he still needed her. She would be a key player in his scheme.

  “So, what the deal, mami?”

  “You know the deal. You got my paper?”

  “Listen, sweetheart, don’t put the cart before the horse. You’ll get ya bread when the job is done.”

  “I know you got me, Cisco. I just got shit I need to do, that’s all.”

  “Yea, me too.”

  “Cisco, why don’t you swing by my crib before you turn in for the night?”

  “Oh yea, for what?”

  “Just to chill, you know? Gosh, a bitch can’t just wanna hang for old time’s sake?”

  “Yea right. Martina, I know you too well. You always got something up your sleeve.”

  “Nah, it ain’t even like that. But if one thing leads to another, you know?”

  Cisco couldn’t help but to laugh. Here this bitch was pregnant as all hell, and still scheming on cock. Cisco and Martina had hooked up on occasion, but the way things stood, he wanted no part of her. The bitch was a stone snake that didn’t have a preference about who she bit. If she was willing to cross a nigga she was supposed to love, imagine what the fuck kinda shit she would get him into? Cisco was arrogant, but he wasn’t stupid.

  Martina was going on and on about the good times they used to have, but Cisco wasn’t really listening. He was too preoccupied with looking for Tito. Just as Cisco was about to bark Martina’s head off, he spotted Tito coming down the steps from the Metro North. “Martina, baby, I gotta go handle something, and make sure everything is set for tomorrow. Make sure you handle your end. When you make all the arrangements, call me,” he ended the call without waiting for a response.

  “Damn,” Tito said as he walked up, “these fucking people out here wanna overcharge you for everything.”

  “Don’t sweat it, my man. It ain’t your bread anyhow. So we clear on what’s up?”

  “Yea,” Tito lit a cigarette.

  “Good, good. Make sure they make the train when it’s done. Now for our other problem, sometime tonight our friend the giant is going to meet with an accident. Nothing serious, just enough to sideline him. I’m gonna volunteer you to stand in as El Diablo’s body guard. When he gets my call, you’ll know what to do from there.”

  “Damn, Cisco, you one cold motherfucker. I’m glad we on the same side.”

  “Tito, you’ve kept it more than real with me from day one. Didn’t I always tell you that I was gonna take care of you? Once I’m running the show, you’ll be my number one.”

  “What about El Diablo? He sure as hell ain’t gonna like this.”

  “Fuck, Diablo. As long as you do what I say, he ain’t gonna be in no position to do shit. The N.Y.P.D already got a hard on for that nigga. They’re gonna jump for joy when this shit pops off. Hell they’re gonna put him under the jail. Just make sure you put them things where they need to be when you go to pick him up.”

  “I got you, Cisco. Everything gonna be gravy.”

  *

  When Lou-Loc arrived at the park, they rest of his lieutenants were already there. There were six of them in all. There was Lil Boo, who ran the shop in Brooklyn. B.T. Gangsta, from 145th. Moe, from Wagner and High side, from St. Nicolas Projects. With Pop Top and Snake Eyes overseeing everything the gang was all there, so it was time.

  “What it is fellas?” Lou-Loc greeted everyone.

  “Life is good, homey, and you the reason for it.” Lil Boo replied.

  “Hell yea,” Moe chimed in. “Shit these ol’ slob ass niggaz is on the ropes, cuz. You Cali ma
fucka’s lay it down for real. Them niggaz that you had out here tore shit the fuck up. That shit had me hyped.”

  “Right, right,” High Side cosigned.

  “So what’s up, Lou-Loc?” Pop Top asked. “I know you ain’t called a nigga way down here for nothing?”

  “Fo sho, my man. I got something to say to yall niggaz. Some of yall might not like it, but it’s just the way shit is.” Lou-Loc said.

  “Well spill, nigga.” Top said.

  “Well, it’s like this,” Lou-Loc started, “I been banging for the hood for the last twelve years. I done put in work, and earned my stripes. As all of you can agree, I’m one of the realist cats in the whole Crip gang, on the east or west. I’m the last of a dying breed which is what makes this so hard for me to say,” Lou-Loc sighed. “I’m out the game.”

  The park went so silent you could’ve heard an ant fart. There was a look of utter shock on all of the Homies faces, all except Snake Eyes. The thought of Lou-Loc leaving the gang was inconceivable. He was one of, if not thee baddest niggaz on any set. Pop Top was the first one to break the silence. “What you mean, cuz?” Top asked sorrowfully.

  “I mean what I said.” Lou-Loc responded. “This shit here is wearing on my nerves, cousins. All this killing, it can drive a motherfucker batty. It just ain’t for me, cuz.”

  “How you gonna bail on us like that?” High Side asked. “I know how you feel about all this, but you and Gutter started this shit. Y’all showed us how to bang accordingly. That man done did a lot for us, but you the real power behind Harlem Crip, Lou-Loc. In this little bit of time, you’ve established us as the strongest set in the five boroughs. You that nigga right now and you just wanna give it all up?”