GANGLAND Page 9

  CHAPTER 10

  Cisco sat in the emergency room waiting area of Roosevelt Hospital, waiting for Miguel to bring the car around. He touched the fresh stitches on the side of his face, and thought back to the meeting he had with El Diablo a few hours prior. That bitch Satin had told El Diablo of his advances, and he was rewarded with twelve stitches in his face. That just made Cisco despise his former mentor even more. El Diablo would have his day, and LC Blood would belong to Cisco again.

  Miguel pulled up in front of the glass doors and beeped the horn. Cautiously, Cisco stepped from the emergency room into the night air. As he slid into the car, he kept looking around as if El Diablo were going to pop out of thin air and cut him again.

  “Damn, Cisco.” Miguel said looking at the scar, “Diablo fucked you pretty good.” Cisco looked at Miguel coldly, and Miguel knew enough to shut his mouth.

  “Don’t test me.” Cisco snapped. “Did you provide Tito with the information I gave you?”

  “Yep, and I took care of it as soon as I dropped you off. He said he’d be good alone, but I told him to send Franco and Scales ahead just to test their defenses. If they can’t get it done, he’ll step to it personally.”

  “Very good, Miguel. Contrary to popular opinion, you aren’t a complete idiot.” Miguel looked at Cisco from the corner of his eye, but held his comment. “The winds of change are blowing, mi amigo.” Cisco said while lighting a cigar. “The ways of the old timers are fading. It is time we step into the twenty first century. New times, call for new leadership. Wouldn’t you say, Miguel?”

  Miguel wasn’t sure where Cisco was going with the conversation, so he figured it best to just play along. “Si, we need to step it up like the Italians and the Chinese.”

  Cisco grinned, seeing that he and Miguel were reading from the same page. “El Diablo has played a large part in the strengthening of our chapter, but he’s getting old. He thinks we’re still living in the 80's where people still respect and fear a name. These are the dog years, Miguel. The only thing people respect anymore is money and power. If you want something, you must take it. These old farts are losing their edge. We need fresh blood.”

  “So, what are you saying, Cisco?” Miguel asked keeping one eye on the road, and the other on Cisco.

  “What I’m saying is that during my time as boss of LC we prospered and made money. When El Diablo is removed from power, we will again be the head of the food chain. LC will be mine again. There are others amongst us who feel the same way. They too, would like to go back to living large instead of squabbling and dying over bullshit. By force or by choice, El Diablo will step down.”

  Miguel knew that Cisco was talking about a mutiny. If anything were to go wrong, those involved would surely become outlaws or be put to death. But on the other hand, if all went well Miguel would be able to get in on the ground floor. He didn’t know whether he was going to side with Cisco or El Diablo, so Miguel decided to play both ends from the middle. Whichever way it went, there was something in it for Miguel. He figured might as well play it out.

  “I assume you have a plan, Cisco?”

  A broad smile crossed Cisco’s face. “Indeed I do. Now listen carefully.”

  *

  Satin was coming out of Barnes and Noble, going over the day’s events. As she rounded the corner of west 8th street, she noticed someone sitting on her jeep holding what looked like a stick. It was dark on the block, so she couldn’t see who it was. Satin quickly retrieved her pistol and moved cautiously towards the jeep. As she got closer to the stranger, his features became more familiar to her.

  “Hola, senorita. Good to see you again, Satin.” Lou-Loc greeted her.

  Satin was surprised when she realized it was Lou-Loc. “St. Louis? How did you find me?”

  “As you said, I’m resourceful. Oh, and you can ice the gat, I’m harmless,” he nodded to the gun in her hand.

  Satin blushed, a little embarrassed that she was still holding the gun. After an uncomfortable pause, she put the gun back in her purse. Lou-Loc stepped forward and extended his arm. What Satin had assumed to be a stick was actually one long stemmed white rose.

  “For you, gorgeous.”

  Satin inhaled the sweet fragrance and blushed like a school girl. “Why thank you, St. Louis. It’s beautiful.”

  “No thanks needed. But do me a favor, and cool out on my government. My friends call me Lou-Loc.”

  “So we’re friends, huh?”

  “For now. Maybe further down the road it’ll get a little deeper.”

  “Let’s not get a head of ourselves, Lou-Loc. One step at a time, okay?”

  “Fair enough. Listen, why don’t we go some where and rap a little. You know, get to know each other?”

  Satin’s face took on a look of disappointment. “I wish I could, but I have plans. They’re having a black writer’s convention at the garden, and I want to see if I can get some of these signed.” she said, holding up her B&N bag.

  “Damn, ain’t fate a bitch? I come all this way to see you and, you hurt my feelings. Guess another time then?” Lou-Loc looked at her with puppy dog eyes, and Satin damn near wet herself. Satin wanted this man in the worst kind of way, but she had to be cool about it. As Lou-Loc turned to leave, Satin stopped him.

  “Hey wait,” she said grabbing his arm, “I got an idea. You could come with me. I mean, only if you want to?”

  Lou-Loc had already decided that if need be, he would follow this girl to the ends of the earth, but he couldn’t hip her to it. He had to play hard to get so he wouldn’t seem thirsty. Lou-Loc scratched his chin and shook his head. “I don’t know, Satin. I’m not even dressed properly. I don’t wanna cramp your style.”

  “Don’t be that way,” she said rubbing his hand, “you might even enjoy it. You said you wanted to get to know me, right? So here’s your chance.”

  “Okay, Ms. Angelino, you’ve convinced me. Give me a sec, to make a phone call, and we’re in the wind.” Lou-Loc called Martina, but she wasn’t home. After leaving a message, saying that he wouldn’t be home until late, he turned his attention to Satin. “Okay, Satin, everything kosher. If you like, we can take my car?”

  “I told you, I’m not that kinda girl.” she said faking an attitude. “We’ll go in my car, and if you try something I will put one in you,” she patted her purse.

  Lou-Loc gave her his winning smile and said, “Shorty, I ain’t no pervert that’s hard up for a nut. You’re safe with me. Shall we, Ms. Angelino,” he extended his arm.

  “Indeed we shall,” she took his arm. The two lovers strolled arm and arm to Satin’s jeep. They were smiling like they had both hit the lotto, looking forward to what the future might hold.

  *

  Martina sat listening to Lou-Loc’s message, putting lotion on her legs. She was tight at the fact that Lou-Loc wouldn’t be there tonight, but she didn’t sweat it too much. She had plans of her own.

  After she finished dressing she called a taxi and went downstairs to wait for it. All she could think about was her secret rendezvous and how much she was looking forward to it. She was so wrapped up in her own shady thoughts that she had no idea she was being watched. When the taxi pulled up Martina hopped in and gave him the address where she was going.

  The whole time Cross had been hanging from a ledge on the second floor watching, and listening. He was so angry that he wanted to pounce on her right then and there but he didn’t. Lou-Loc was a good man, and Cross refused to do him dirty no matter how much it would’ve pleased his own desires. Hopefully, when Lou-Loc realized how much of bitch she was, he’d ask Cross to take her. Until then, he was just going to watch.

  When the taxi pulled off, Cross released he ledge and dropped soundlessly to the ground. He made hurried steps to the curb where he had left his motorcycle. It was a custom built Harley Davidson with what looked like an infant’s skull mounted above the headlight. With a swipe of his boot, the hog roared to life. When Martina’s taxi had gotten about a block or so, he p
ulled out behind them. He wasn’t worried about losing them because he had Martina’s scent, and once the Cross had been set on your trail there was no escape. As thoughts of his payment came to mind, Cross licked his cold lips and smiled. Although he couldn’t touch Martina, the same didn’t apply for her would be lover. Whoever had been foolish enough to cross Lou-Loc, by shacking up with the whore, had literally stepped into the demon’s maw.

  CHAPTER 11

  Gutter strolled casually from the corner bodega, smoking a Black & Mild and scratching a scratch off with a quarter. He was proud of how well things went with the Al Mukalla, and even more pleased that Lou-Loc had accepted the contract. Soon the dough would be rolling in, and their crew would be in good shape. Lou-Loc was a true blue home boy. Gutter knew that he didn’t want to accept the contract, but he did it off the strength of the set. He was a real nigga.

  Gutter felt a little sour about the whole situation. He knew Lou-Loc wanted out of the game and all the bullshit that came with it, but he put his dreams on hold for the good of their gang. The only reason Lou-Loc was still putting in work is because of his love for Gutter. All the years they had spent putting in work would soon have to come to an end. Gutter had already decided that once this thing had been done for Anwar, he was going to set Lou-Loc free from his oath. The time they spent getting down with and for each other had been sweet, but Gutter knew Lou-Loc had bigger plans and Gutter respected that.

  Gutter pulled out his wallet, and removed a bank deposit slip. After the two grand he had deposited the day before, it had brought the total to thirty thousand. It was money that Gutter had been secretly saving up for his friend. Once their business was conducted, he planned on giving it to Lou-Loc to help him out with what ever he wanted to do with his life. It was a good deal of bread, but you couldn’t put a price on a friend like Lou-Loc.

  Gutter was brought out of his thoughts by a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. With reflexes born from years of street training, he dove to his left and pulled his gat in one motion. Just as Gutter hit the ground rolling, a hail of bullets ripped through the car he had been standing next to a second prior. As Gutter got to his feet, he saw two young men wearing red scarves over their faces charging at him. Gutter’s brain screamed out a warning, ENEMIES!

  The first Blood raised his Mac 10 to let off another burst, but Gutter beat him to the punch. Gutter let off two quick shots, and both hit their mark. The Blood dropped his gun and howled in pain as the first shot slammed into the meat of his thigh, and the second shattered his cheek bone. Gutter took a second to admire his handy work, and that second cost him dearly. As he tried to move out of the second attacker’s line of fire, he got hit. The bullet slammed into his stomach and sent him flying backward through the window of a dry cleaners.

  As Gutter tried to get to his feet, he was greeted by two more bullets. One struck him in the arm and the other hit him in the chest, and sent his pistol flying. It seemed like the party was over for old Gutter, as the Blood called Scales moved in to finish him off. Gutter was fighting to stay conscious, but it was a losing battle. Scales raised his .45 revolver and smiled at the fallen gang leader. Just as Scales began to tighten his grip on the trigger, a cry shattered the darkness.

  “HARLEM MUTHA FUCKA!”

  Before Scales even had a chance to turn around, he found himself being ripped to shreds by a hail of bullets. The unknown attacker pressed down on the trigger of his .380 and didn’t release his grip until the clip was spent. As Scales lay on his back bleeding and twitching, the stranger stepped over him and bashed his skull in with the end of the oak cane he’d been carrying.

  Gutter could hear the chaos erupting around him, but couldn’t find the strength to move. The stranger was tugging at Gutter and calling his name, but Gutter was having trouble focusing. Between the pain and the loss of blood, he was losing his will to fight. For the briefest of moments, Gutter forced his eyes to focus on the stranger, and the face was familiar. It was Snake Eyes. Gutter managed to force a smile onto his lips, and then the darkness claimed him.

  *

  Lou-Loc and Satin sat sipping coffee at a small shop not far from Madison Square Garden. They had just come from the convention and decided not to call it a night just yet. At first Lou-Loc had been a bit skeptical about going to the event. In fact the only reason he even bothered was to spend some time with Satin. Once they reached the convention, Lou-Loc was quite astounded by the whole affair. There were people, and books of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Most of the books on display were books that he’d read already. There were a few he hadn’t checked out, so he bought them, and got them signed by the authors. Some of Lou-Loc’s favorite writers were at the convention. He wanted to run around grinning and shaking hands, but he couldn’t come across as a groupie in front of Satin on their first date.

  Satin was very impressed by the fact that Lou-Loc was so well read. He knew a little something about all of the books there. He had either read them or heard of them. He even bought Satin a book about a girl who wanted to have the best of both worlds. It was written by that guy with the dreads that kind of resembled Jerry Rice ten years ago. He’s a brilliant writer and his books are always juicy.

  As Satin sat stirring her French vanilla coffee, she decided to pick Lou-Loc’s brain. “So, Lou-Loc,” she said licking her stirrer seductively, “how come you know so much about books?”

  “What, you surprised I can read or something?” he asked playfully.

  “No, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that when you talk about books and writing, there’s so much passion in your words.”

  “Writing is something I’m very passionate about. It’s my escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday bullshit.”

  “So you write then?” she asked, leaning in a little closer.

  “Sure do.” he responded. “I’ve written two books and a bunch of short stories.”

  “I’m impressed, Lou-Loc. You don’t strike me as the type.”

  “Why, because I rock my pants a little looser than most folks or cause my hair is all braided up? Tsk, tsk, Satin, how stereotypical of you.”

  “Cut it out, Lou-Loc. You know what I mean.”

  “I know. I’m just messing wit ya. I get that a lot though. People tend to judge you for face value instead of who you really are. It’s a’ight though; I kinda like it that way. People tend to give you a wider berth when they think you’re some kind of sick cat. And what about you, Satin, what’s your story?”

  “Don’t really have one to tell you the truth. I’m just a young girl trying to work her way through school, and make a better life for her family. Since my aunt’s been sick, I’ve kinda had to bear the burden. You know taking care of my little brother and all.”

  As Satin spoke, Lou-Loc felt closer to her. She was such a deep person; he wanted to hear all she had to tell. Lou-Loc moved closer to her and placed his hand on hers. His pager went off, but he ignored it and listened to Satin.

  “So, it’s just the three of you?” he asked.

  “No,” she said turning her eyes away, “I have another sibling, an older brother. He doesn’t come around much. My aunt calls him a street person. She doesn’t agree with his lifestyle.”

  “And you, Satin, how do you feel about his lifestyle?”

  “I don’t condemn it, nor do I condone it. It’s just how he is. I wish he would give those damn streets up.”

  “I see how you feel, doll, but for some of us, the streets are the only way out.”

  “Oh, you mean like you? Will the streets be your escape as you call it?”

  “Hey, hold on now, Satin. I ain’t never say I was an angel. I make no excuses for what I do and as far as your question, no. Believe it or not, I’ve grown quite tired of the game.”

  “So, why do you still play it?”

  Lou-Loc was caught off guard by that question. He didn’t really have an answer, so he just spoke from the heart. “I don’t know why I play it. I guess because I don’t
know how to stop playing it.”

  Satin looked up at Lou-Loc with tears in her eyes and shook her head. “Hey, come on,” he said moving around the table to her side, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She waved him off but didn’t push him away. “It’s not you,” she said wiping her eyes, “it’s this fucked up world we live in. So many talented brothers like you get pulled down by these streets. I’m just sick of it.”

  “Satin,” he said taking her in his arms, “people can change. Your brother can change, there’s still time.”

  “And you, Lou-Loc, can you change?”

  “Who knows, maybe if I had the right person in my life to help me? Will you help me change, Satin?”

  Satin looked into Lou-Loc’s eyes and saw sincerity. This only made her cry more. Here was this man that she hardly knew, and she was falling for him face first. She wanted him, and she knew he wanted her, but what about his girl?

  “Lou-Loc,” she said pulling away, “this can’t be. I have to be honest, I want you. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you going into The Magic Theater. We want each other, but you got a girl, and I can’t rock like that.”

  Lou-Loc stepped back completely taken by surprise. How the hell did she know about Martina? He could’ve lied about it, or denied the fact that he was still with Martina, but he didn’t. There was something about Satin that made him want to be totally honest with her, no matter what the consequences.