Gangsta

by Foye, K'wan

  O'Leary carefully made his way toward the kitchen and kicked the door in, but no Lou-loc. He had slipped out the back and was making his way around towards the front of the house.

  Lou-loc peeped in the front window and saw O'Leary had his back to him. Lou loc knew there was only one way out.

  O'Leary had to get hit.

  It wasn't like him to kill for free, but he didn't have a lot of choices. It was either die or give up. It wasn't a hard decision, plus he wasn't too fond of the gas chamber.

  Lou-loc had managed to slip half way in the front door unde-tected when Stan did it one mo again. "Help us fool!" He shouted. O'Leary spun around, but Lou-loc was already on the move.

  O'Leary let off two wild shots which, Lou-loc dodged by dropping into a roll. As Lou-loc was springing to his feet, he let off a short burst with the Tech. The bullets slammed into O'Leary's legs with a sickening thud. As O'Leary was falling, Lou-loc charged him and squeezed the trigger. O'Leary shook left to right from the multiple slugs, and finally he hit the ground.

  Lou-loc walked over to O'Leary and looked over the body.

  O'Leary's face and chest were a mass of red goo and flesh. Lou loc heard the sirens in the distance and knew it was time to make his exit.

  "What about all this?" Stan demanded. "These kids can I.D.

  us. We can't just leave them like this. It's more killing to be done, Lou-loc."

  "You're right, homes," Lou-loc said. "Y'all give me them slob rags," he directed his crew. They did so, reluctantly.

  "What you doing, cuz?" Snake Eyes asked confused.

  Lou-loc didn't bother to respond. He took the rags and flipped O'Leary on his back. He got down next to the body and began stuffing the red rags into what was left of O'Leary's mouth.

  Tina grabbed her brother's hand and ran for the door. Lou-loc caught her mid-stride and pulled her back.

  "Look here, girl," he snapped. "You know what these mean?" He asked showing her the bloody rags.

  "Bloods," she said sheepishly. "You guys are bloods. But I promise I won't tell. Just let us go?"

  "Now, Tina," he said with a wide grin. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you. Your parents," he said motioning to the corpses. "They weren't supposed to die.

  "Listen to me, little one. When the police come, you ain't gonna tell them nothing. Do you understand?" She shook her head yes.

  "Very good, Tina. Now don't forget, we know who you are.

  If your story changes when the police get here, we'll know about it." After he made sure she understood, he made hurried steps towards O'Leary's prone body.

  All of the homeboys were looking at Lou-loc odd, but Stan was the only one stupid enough to say something. "Yo cuz, that was a good story, but we ain't Bloods, and Snake Eyes ain't dead.

  What's up?"

  Lou-loc stooped down to pick up O'Leary's gun and turned it on Stan. Before Stan could protest, Lou-loc shot him in the face. Blood splattered all over Gutter and Snake Eyes. Lou-loc wiped the gun clean and put it back in O'Leary's hand. He then wiped the

  Tech and put it in Stan's hand.

  "Stupid motherfucker," he said stepping over Stan's body.

  "Let's roll peoples." He and Gutter lifted Snake Eyes and helped him out the door.

  As they exited the house, there were police lights coming from the direction of the Buick. "Shit," Lou-loc cursed. "This way," he said motioning to a walk space in between some houses. Lou-loc and Gutter half dragged and half carried Snake Eyes through the row of houses and came out on the next street over.

  They jogged for about another three blocks before they slowed down. At a gas station, they jacked another car and headed back to the hood.

  Inside the car, Gutter asked the question that was on every one's mind. "Yo, Lou-loc, what the fuck was that all about? You know damn well when the police get there, that bitch is gonna talk."

  Lou-loc smiled devilishly. "Shit, I hope so." Gutter and Snake Eyes looked at each other and then back at Lou-loc.

  Lou-loc looked over his shoulder at his confused friends. "It was part of my plan. When them boys - police - get there, little Tina is going to spill her guts. They gonna see them brim flags I stuffed in ol' boy's mouth and figure slobs pulled the caper. The description she gives them is going to be three black dudes dressed in red. Not including Stan. And our deceased friend will take credit for O'Leary and the other two." Gutter sat back and just stared at Lou-loc. "You cold motherfucker. That shit is pure genius."

  "Ain't it though," Snake Eyes added. For the rest of the ride they laughed at Lou-loc's wicked plan, and thought about what to tell the big homies.

  The next morning Lou-loc went out and got the paper. When he opened it up he smiled at the headline: "BLOODS MURDER

  COP AND HIS WIFE IN THEIR CARSON HOME". Inside there was more: 'Detective John O'Leary,49, and wife Marline, 46, were found murdered in their Carson home late last night. Police arrived on the scene last night after the detective called for back up to apprehend four men who had broken into the house.

  'By the time they arrived, the detective and his wife were already dead, along with, his partner Billy Banks,33, and another youth. Stanley Jones, 22, of Inglewood. Jones was a long time police informant who had been providing information on both Crip and Blood activity.

  "Switch hitting mafucka," Lou-loc thought to himself. All this time, and Stan was working for the other side. Goes to show you never really know somebody.

  When the news had reached the OG's from East Coast, they wanted to blue light Lou-loc for killing one of theirs. Big Gun,

  who was Gutter's uncle, stepped up for Lou-loc. He made it clear that if anyone from East Coast touched Lou-loc, Harlem and Hoover would retaliate.

  In the weeks that followed, the police were stomping on Blood Asses from Orange County to the Valley. Every top dog on every Blood set were leaned on to give up the killers. With the LAPD, that could hurt.

  Things heated up for the Crips also. Not only were the police on them, but the Bloods too. They didn't appreciate all the unnecessary publicity. It was open season on anything blue. That summer, Lou-loc took a bullet to the leg. Suddenly California started to feel very small. So Lou-loc decided he needed a change of scenery, and headed east. That was two years ago.

  CHAPTER 3

  Lou-loc reclined in the passenger seat, smoking a blunt of Hydro. "If it's one thing I do appreciate about New York City, it's gotta be the Hydro," he said blowing smoke out of the partially open window. "This is some bomb shit." Gutter was dipping the Camry in and out of traffic on the West Side Highway. Lou-loc looked at the speedometer and the gage read eighty.

  "You gonna make us crash, Andretti," Lou-loc said sarcastically. Gutter glanced at his friend and returned his eyes to the road. In spite of Lou-loc's comment, he pushed it to eighty-five.

  "Player, you just ain't hip," said Gutter over his shoulder.

  "This here is New York City, cuz. Everybody out here already drive crazy as hell. It's like they say, 'when in Rome,' right?"

  "Well you still ain't gotta drive all stupid," Lou-loc warned, as he passed the blunt. "Man, if you get me stopped with this strap - gun - I'm gonna be tight as hell. Shit, I might let them slobs get at you on the island," he joked.

  "Quit bitching, punk," Gutter said as he inhaled the smoke.

  "Ain't nothing gonna happen to your scary ass. Martina can have you back in one piece."

  "Fuck her," Lou-loc said annoyed. "She don't run me." Lou-loc turned away from Gutter and busied himself by looking out the window. Gutter looked at his friend quizzically.

  "Trouble at home, cuz?" Gutter asked with Lou-loc remaining silent. "Don't even play me like that, Lou-loc. We came up on free lunch together. If anybody knows when something is on your brain it's me. Why don't you just spill?"

  "Man," Lou-loc said with a sigh. "It's not major. Its like, you ever feel like you might be out growing Sharell?"

  "Hell nah," Gutter said speeding past a truck. "Let me put you up on something, cuz. When
we moved out here bitches were trying to see us left and right. They were all good to fuck, but that was it. Sharell was the first and only one I clicked with." Gutter switched lanes without signaling, and nearly collided with an elderly couple in a mini van. "That girl is a gem. Baby go to school at night, and work a state job during the day. You should've asked if she was out growing me?" Lou-loc smile at his friend. "You right, player. I just be feeling like... maybe Martina ain't that one. I'm trying to get out of this shit, and she trying to pull me deeper in it.

  "It's getting to me. If it wasn't for that bun in her oven, I might've bounced already. You dig where I'm coming from?" When Lou-loc mentioned the baby, Gutter shot him a look.

  "What?" Lou-loc asked hostilely. "Nigga, if you know something I don't, then spill it?"

  Gutter lit a Newport and took a deep pull. "Cuz," he said exhaling the smoke, "I've been your truest, bluest home boy since that day we jumped your skinny ass on to the set. I would never put you in a cross or question your judgment, but I gotta get this off of my chest." Gutter paused to make sure he had Lou-loc's attention. "You sure that kid she carrying is yours?" Lou-loc looked at Gutter as if he'd lost his mind. "How you gonna ask me something like that? What the fuck you done heard, Gutter?" No answer. "GUTTER!"

  "Alright, Lou-loc. I heard it through the grape vine that

  Martina been creeping. She been tipping with one of them Inglewood niggaz."

  "Creeping, Gutter?"

  "Square biz, Loc."

  "I don't believe this shit," said Lou-loc pounding the dash.

  After all the work I been putting in, all for this Bullshit? And she's fucking with a stinking ass brim. Where you get this information, Gutter?"

  "Sharell," Gutter said lane hopping, to exit off Christopher.

  "How she know?"

  "Hos gossip, Lou-loc. Few days ago, she was in the nail shop on 126th street. That skinny bitch Nikko was up in there with two of her girls, and shit. You know Nikko don't you? The bitch I was fucking from Martina's old block?" Lou-loc agreed.

  "Any how, she was talking about how much fun her and Martina had when they went to that jazz spot out in Long Island.

  When her girl asked her who she was with, the bitch had the nerve to say, 'Oh, Blood and his cousin Mac, from Inglewood family.' Bitch acting like it's cool to run with them folk.

  "Sharell wasn't even gonna follow up with it. She figured maybe the girl was talking about another Martina? That was until the chick she was with asked if you and Martina were still kicking it like that? When Sharell looked up at the mirror, Nikko was looking at her as if to say, 'I hope you heard me?' "I'm gonna kill that ho!" Lou-loc cursed. "How does she think she's getting away with this shit, huh? I ain't no fucking buster. That bitch gotta die, G."

  "Easy," Gutter said touching his friend's hand. "You gotta get your shit tight first nigga. You can't be doing shit all wild bill like."

  Gutter found a parking lot on Leonard Street and pulled his ride in. Before he cut the engine, he pulled out his twin Glock 18's and placed them under his shirt. Lou-loc placed his gun under the passenger seat.

  "Gutter, what the hell are you doing? With all that world trade shit that went down, security got tight down on this end.

  You gonna fuck around and get locked up." He waved Lou-loc off. "What ever, bitch. I like to be prepared. You seem to be forgetting two things gangsta. Number one, I'm a foreigner, and number two I'm a Muslim. They ain't too big on either one now a days."

  "Gutter, you is about a scary motherfucker if I ever seen one. The military ain't thinking about your ass. They laughed at each other and began walking south to B.M.C.C.

  Being around his partner lifted Lou-loc's spirits, but what he heard about Martina still bothered him. He wasn't sure if the information was 100% just yet, so he couldn't wild out just yet.

  One thing was for sure, he was going to find out sooner than later.

  ***

  The northbound traffic was fairly light for a Thursday afternoon.

  Cisco wove his red M3 in and out traffic with a vengeance. He was mad as hell, and he wanted the world to know it.

  "Fuck Diablo!" He said to no one in particular. Cisco was tired of being disrespected. For three long years he ran LC Blood while Diablo ran from a murder charge.

  After all this time, and now Diablo wants to come back on the scene barking orders. If it wasn't for Cisco, the great El Diablo would still be hiding in Cuba with his head in the sand.

  It was Cisco who got the other man to confess to the crime.

  The poor soul owed a debt to LC. A large one at that. In exchange for his life, he was to take credit for a murder the

  police already knew El Diablo committed. They didn't care who it was. As long as they had some one of color to blame for it, they were cool with the arrangement.

  The judge handed that simple bastard twenty years. Every one was happy. The police got their murderer, the assistant D.A.

  got a promotion, and El Diablo was allowed to come back home. Cisco felt it was a fair deal all the way around.

  Through all this, the old bastard didn't even so much as utter a word of thanks.

  "Diablo," Cisco said out loud. Devil was a fitting name for that black hearted son of a bitch.

  Cisco pulled a tiny cellular phone from his pocket and flipped it open. He quickly scrolled through the phone book until he found the number he was looking for. With a manicured nail, he hit send and waited.

  "Hello," came a voice from the other end.

  "Como esta?" asked Cisco. "What's going on, Tito?"

  "Cisco, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Tito said.

  "I think I'll be needing your services, Primo. Are you dressed?"

  "Si, Don Cisco. I am still an early riser. Why do you ask?"

  "Because," Cisco said getting off the FDR heading south on Park Avenue, "I'm coming to snatch you up. I got some moves to make and I want you with me."

  "Drama?" Tito asked sounding more alert now. "Say the word and it's a wrap for whoever."

  "Tito, be calm," Cisco said soothingly. "If it were that serious, you'd be the first to know. I'm only a few blocks from you so come on down. We'll talk further when I see you." Without waiting for a response Cisco ended the call.

  He pulled the M3 to a stop on 129th street as he waited for a red light to turn green. As he looked out his passenger window, he noticed a group of boys crossing the street. At first he paid them no mind, but at the sight of the blue bandannas hanging from their belts, he felt himself become very angry.

  At the sight of his enemies, Cisco reached for the chrome plated 9mm on his lap. One of the boys made eye contact and Cisco put on his mean mug - angry face. Cisco decided that if one of the boys recognized him and decided to try him, they would literally "get it at the light." The boy slowed his pace and returned Cisco's stare. Cisco spat out the passenger window and raised his gun so it rested on the steering wheel. At the sight of the cannon, the boy turned away and quickly caught up with his boys.

  "Puto!" Cisco snarled as he sped off through the now green light.

  By the time Cisco made it to 126th and Park, Tito was already standing outside. Tito was one of those people whose appearance didn't match their character. He was a very average looking young man, neither short nor tall. He was slim, but at the same time very muscular. This was no doubt from the years of chopping cane in Puerto Rico. Tito had spend most of his life as a farm boy, and moved to New York as a teenager.

  Tito's skin was an even tan complexion, making him look like a light skinned black. He wore his hair in a close fade with a part on the left side. His face was covered in a five o' clock shadow where a beard should've been.

  Overall, he was fairly young looking in appearance. Except for his eyes. His eyes didn't have the bright youthful luster of a twenty one year old. Tito's eyes were dark and cold. Like someone who had seen many horrors in his time.

  Although Tito looked harmless enough, he was anything but.

  He was
Cisco's most brutal enforcer. Tito had developed quite a reputation because of his expertise with blades and his willing-

  ness to use them. On the streets he was referred to as Major Blood."

  Tito came into the fold shortly after El Diablo's disappearance. He was recruited straight out of Rikers Island's juvenile wing. He was there finishing up an eighteen month bid for slash-ing an enemy on the streets.

  He quickly became a favorite of Cisco's after disfiguring a rival gang member for bumping Cisco in a club. Ever since that incident, he had served as Cisco's body guard and assassin.

  When Cisco assumed control of LC, he offered Tito a spot as his second in command. Tito declined the position, saying that he preferred to be in the trenches with the rest of the soldiers.

  As Cisco sat in his car waiting for Tito to approach, he eyed the predator and admired him. Despite living in a neighborhood infested with Crips, he continued to dress in red.

  He was decked out in a red champion hoodie with red and white Air Force One's. Being that the weather was nice and Tito was still wearing a thick pull over, Cisco knew the man was strapped. And he preferred it that way.

  "What's good, Cisco?" Tito asked as he hopped into the passenger seat.

  "Fucking street rats," Cisco said looking in the rear view at the young Crip soldiers he had just punked. "Tito, I don't see how you can stand to live amongst these people?" Tito looked back at the boys then turned back to Cisco.

  "Fuck em," he said in a calm voice. "There are advantages to living amongst the 'Crabs.' In the event that we go to war or something to that affect, they would never think to look for me in their own back yards. Besides, I have an understanding with these young ones around here. They don't fuck with me, and I don't slaughter their families."

  The two men enjoy a good laugh, then Tito becomes serious again. "So what has brought you to the slums, Cisco?" Cisco smiled like the Cat who has just swallowed the Canary. "Tito, my friend, there are about to be some drastic changes in our fair city, and I want to ensure that we reap the benefits. Listen carefully to what I am about to run down to you."