by Foye, K'wan
Lou-loc wanted to distance himself from the set, but something was always pulling him back. It was his sincere loyalty to the set that was slitting his own throat. No sense in worrying over it cause he'd come too far to back out. Against his better judgment, he'd accepted the contract from the Al Mukalla, and in return, they would eliminate a certain rival gangster, to the Crip's claim in Manhattan.
Lou-loc would fulfill his end of the bargain, and then he was going to step to Anwar. That kid was playing some serious mind games, and Lou-loc didn't like it. He valued his privacy, and people invading that, rubbed him the wrong way. Connected or not, he and Anwar were going to have a chitchat. If need be, he could get it too.
Lou-loc pushed those thoughts from his mind and concentrated on the business at hand. He intended to find out what the fuck Martina was up to. After all that he had gone through with his "baby mamma," she must've been outta her mind to tip out on him? It was okay though, he had a plan for that ass.
When Lou-loc got to west fourth he ducked into a little corner pub. It was an out of the way little spot filled mostly with Goths and hippies. Lou-loc trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, side stepped through the crowd and took a seat at a corner booth. When Lou-loc was finally able to flag down one of the leather garbed waitresses, he ordered a rum and coke. As he scanned the smoke filled bar, no one appeared to be taking notice of him. He preferred it that way.
After a few moments, the waitress returned with his drink and sat it on the chalky table in front of him. Lou-loc gave her his winning smile, and instructed her to keep them coming. The waitress smiled and made her way back to the bar area. Lou-loc sipped his drink and waited.
About an hour and three drinks later, he spotted who he was waiting for. The man who entered the bar was surprisingly young looking. In fact, he really didn't look old enough to be in the bar.
Strangely enough, no one bothered to stop him or ask to see his ID. It was as if they didn't even notice him.
The stranger must've felt Lou-loc watching him because he turned and stared directly at him from across the room. The stranger held Lou-loc's gaze for a moment, then continued on to the bar. As he passed through, the other occupants gave him a wide berth. Lou-loc continued to sip his drink and wait.
Just as the waitress was leaving Lou-loc's table, a lone figure appeared in front of Lou-loc. He was tall and relatively thin. His skin was dark and smooth against his high cheekbones. With his emerald green eyes, angular chin, and black trench coat, he looked more like a what than a who. Although he appeared to be no more than a high school student, he carried himself like some one of an earlier time. All of his movements were fluid and easy. Lou-loc didn't seem the least bit disturbed by the young man's presence.
Without waiting for an invitation, the stranger sat down with his drink and faced Lou-loc.
"I can tell you don't belong here," the stranger said in a whisper. "What brings you to this part of town, Gang Lord?"
Lou-loc swallowed the last of his watered down drink and sized the stranger up.
"I'm looking for a friend," he responded. "And I am no Gang Lord, Goth boy."
"Fuck you," the stranger snarled.
"Nah, fuck you," Lou-loc shot back. When the two men noticed some of the people turning in their direction, they both burst out laughing. As the threat of violence passed, the patrons went back to their drinks.
"Lou-loc, you are quite dramatic," said the stranger.
"Nah, you the drama king, Cross," Lou-loc responded. "Shit, I couldn't take you on ya worst day."
"Well, that cannon under your shirt would help," Cross said.
"Not much," Lou-Loc replied.
"So," Cross began, "this isn't your kind of place. What brings you down here to hob nob with us stiffs? You thinking about coming over to our side?"
"Nah," Lou-loc said, shaking his head, "I like getting drunk and going to the beach on sunny days. I ain't quite ready to give that up yet. Thanks though.
"But straight up though, I need a favor. I hate to come down here fucking your groove up, and all but..."
"Go head with that, Lou-loc," Cross cut him off, "if anything, I owe you."
"You don't owe me nothing, Cross. That time them cats shot me, you came through for the kid."
"Man, that was just a scratch. That night you found me, I was in a bad way. You could've left me out to fry, but you didn't. And even after that, you never told anyone about me. Not even your brother, Gutter."
"You asked me not to say anything, so I didn't. I don't get down like that. Besides, who would've believed me?"
"True. But anyway, what can I do for you? How can a child of Gehenna service the General of Harlem Crip?"
"I need you to do a little detective work, and if it comes down to it, maybe hit something." Cross picked his still full beer bottle up to his lips, but didn't drink. "That serious, huh?"
"It might be." Lou-loc said leaning forward, as if some one might over hear their conversation. "It's Martina."
"What?" Cross asked shocked. "You want me to kill your girl?"
"Slow down, Cross. I want you to follow her. I think she might be cheating."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Cross said honestly. "So, what's the plan. I mean, if she is cheating, how do you want to handle it?"
"Follow her, see where she goes, and who she sees. If she's seeing someone else, kill him. Her, I'll deal with. You'll be paid for your services, and you can do what you want with his body.
As an added bonus," Lou-loc slid a manila envelope across the table "those two are suited to your...refined taste. You'll get the locations when the job is done." Cross' mouth began to water as he looked over the contents of the envelope. "Lou-loc, you've got yourself a deal. I'll get on it tonight."
"Thank you." Lou-loc said standing to leave. "Oh, and Cross? No harm is to come to Martina. Are we clear on that?"
"Don't worry. I won't hurt the little lady, but I can't say the
same for her little friend. A slight upon you, is a slight upon me.
And that, my friend, is unforgivable." With that last comment, Lou-loc left the bar. He was quite sure that Cross would carry out his wishes to the very letter, he was big on repaying debts owed. Especially those in blood.
***
Cross sat at the table for a few more moments pawing over the envelope. This would be easy. Cross had seen Martina with other men more than once, he just didn't want to hurt his friend. Many a nights he'd wanted to step from the shadows and ravage some young thug pawing at his friend's girl.
Lou-loc had helped Cross a while back. He had always treated Cross with respect and honor. Cross would defend Lou-loc's honor and there would be blood claimed for this. Cross just hoped that bitch Martina didn't accidentally get caught up in the cross fire.
"Oh, well." Cross thought to himself as he stood to leave.
There were always the casualties. For now, that wasn't Cross' concern. The night was young, and he was hungry.
CHAPTER 8
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.
El Diablo had no patience when it came to his little sister.
That just made Cisco despise his former mentor. 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. "I've had quite enough of th
e Bull shit for one day, my friend. Did you provide Tito with the information I gave you?"
"Yep. 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 to test their defenses. If they can't get it done, then 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 strength-ening 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 LCB, we prospered and made money. When El Diablo is removed from power, we will again be the head of the food chain. LCB 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 Bull shit. 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.
If worst came to worst, he could always inform El Diablo of Cisco's plan. 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?" Miguel stated.
A broad smile crossed Cisco's face. "Indeed I do. Now listen carefully."
***
Satin was coming out of Barnes and Nobles going over the day's events. It was just like Michael to pop up after God knows when from God knows where and expect acceptance. "Fuck him," she thought. He wasn't gonna stop Satin's show. s 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," he said getting up off the car, "nice to see you again, Satin."
"St. Louis?" Satin said surprised. "How'd you find me?"
"As you said, I'm resourceful. Oh, and you can ice the gat, I'm harmless."
Satin blushed, a little embarrassed that she was still holding the gun. Usually the fact that a stranger had tracked her down would've been creepy, but something about Lou-loc made Satin feel at ease. 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 ahead 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," Lou-loc said. "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, miss Angelino," he said with a smile, "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 til 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."
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, miss Angelino?" he said extending his arm to her.
"Indeed we shall." she said taking 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 carefully putting her hair into twists, she pulled her DKNY dress out of the closet; her nails were painted sunset orange to compliment her gold dress. After she was finished primping, was ready to jet.
Martina called a taxi and went down stairs to wait for it. All she could think about was her secret rendezvous. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts, that she didn't notice the red eyes watching her.
Cross crawled along the side of Martina's building watching his prey. He knew she was a bogus bitch, and that just made it harder to keep the beast in check. He wanted to swoop down on her and crush her skull, but those were not his friend's wishes.
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.
The taxi came and Martina got in. Using his extra sensitive hearing, Cross heard Martina give the cab driver an address in Jersey. After the taxi pulled off, Cross released his grip and leapt to the ground. Even though he was at least six feet tall, his land-ing was as silent as a blade of grass.
Using his powerful legs muscles, Cross was again airborne.
Only this time, he landed on a custom built Harley, with what looked like an infant's skull resting where the head light was supposed to be. With a swipe of his boot, the hog roared to life.
When Martina's taxi had gotten about a block or so, he pulled out behind them. It wouldn't be a problem for someone of Cross' type to follow the taxi, even though it was quite dark. 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.
Cross and Lou-loc had more than a friendship. They were bound by blood as well as loyalty. It was a bond that Cross took very seriously.
Whoever the poor fool turned out to be that Martina was meeting with, was going to learn that the price of good pussy wasn't always worth it.
CHAPTER 9
Gutter strolled casually from the corner bodega, smoking a black, and scratching off his game card. 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. As far as getting down went, you couldn't get no more down than Lou-loc. 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 bull shit that came with it. He wasn't like most niggaz, who wanted to get out because they was scared. Lou-loc wanted out because he was tired of the lifestyle, and Gutter understood that.
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. He didn't wanna slang no more, 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 twelve 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.