Gangsta Read online

  At around 10:15 p.m. Lou-loc came strolling into they alley.

  He was late because he had to take 2 busses from his girl's house in Culver City. At first he didn't see anybody. Inside he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Gutter had changed his mind? Just as Lou-loc was about to turn back around he heard footsteps.

  The first cat to step out was this lanky, dark skinned kid. He wore a pair of creased blue Lee's and a black sweatshirt. His blue bandanna was tied off to the side on his bald head.

  The next figure to appear was a squat lil fat nigga. Lou-loc would later come to know him as Pudgy. They would become close friends as well as brothers at arms.

  Gutter came next, slithering out of the darkness. His char-coal skin and black jump suit made him appear to ooze from the shadows. He had a blue bandanna wrapped around his head as well as the lower half of his face. A pair of black sunglasses covered his eyes. He looked every bit of the thug mafucka he was.

  Lou-loc stepped up stone-faced. He was decked out in a pair of black Levi's and a gray sweatshirt. He wore a black Raiders hat over his tiny box-braids.

  "Sup, Loc?" Gutter said stepping towards Lou-loc. He was flanked by two other blue clad soldiers. "Thought you wasn't coming?"

  "Nah," Lou-loc said, "decided to come see what you niggaz was rapping bout."

  "So you think you can hold yours in a circle of your peers?" Gutter asked looking Lou-loc dead in the eye.

  "I guess we'll find out," Lou-loc said matching his stare.

  Without warning, Pudgy stole off on Lou-loc. The surprise that was added to the impact itself almost knocked Lou-loc off his feet. He managed to stay on his feet and land a hard shot to the fat man's gut. Lou-loc didn't wait to see if the blow had fallen. Lou-loc swung high and hit Gutter in the mouth. It was on now.

  Gutter shot a jab to Lou-loc's cheek staggering him. Before Lou-loc could counter, the dark skinned kid popped him in the lip. Lou-loc lost his balance and collapsed on his hands and one knee. He knew if he didn't get up, he was done.

  One of the other bangers made to kick, Lou-loc in his head, but he was ready for it. He grabbed the kid's leg and sucker punched him in the nuts. The kid, halted his attack, giving, Lou-loc the precious moments he needed to get on his feet.

  For every punch, Lou-loc threw, he took three. His lip was busted and he could feel one eye trying to close. He had to fight through it though. If he failed the test, his street credibility would be shot. Life in the hood is hell for a nigga who can't hold his.

  A mafucka always gonna try you. No matter what, he had to prove that he was man enough to hold his.

  The homeboys, whipped on, Lou-loc for what seemed to be an eternity. The homeboys tried to knock his head the fuck off, but Lou-loc stayed on his feet. Lou-loc fought with an animal-like fury that willed him to survive the ordeal. The youngster gave as good as he got. He hit one soldier in the mouth so hard, that the skin on his knuckle split open. He felt like he was going to fall on his face when, Gutter finally called for the homeboys to stop. It was over. Lou-loc had withstood the onslaught and proved his gangsta.

  "You see this?" Gutter asked out of breath. "You stood amongst a circle of your peers and held yours. You knew that, all you had to do was lay down and it would all stop, yet you wouldn't. Youz a stand up nigga and can't no mafucka tell you different, cuz."

  "Word up," co-signed the dark skinned gangsta, "Lou, you get down for yours, loc."

  "Lou-loc," Gutter repeated, "I likes that shit, cuz. From now on, we gonna call you, Lou-loc, cause you is one crazy nigga. Welcome to the family, cuz."

  The homeboys all hugged, Lou-loc and give him dap. They all either had something busted or lumped up. That, Lou-loc, was a true warrior. Gutter pulled out a bottle of 100 proof vodka and some weed. The homeys got fried that night to welcome their new brother to the fold.

  Lou-loc felt proud of himself. He had done something that most niggaz in the hood only strive to do. Become a part of something great. In killer Cali, your set is your badge of honor.

  Technically, Lou-loc, still wasn't anybody important. He would have to put in work for his new set, to get his status up.

  Sometime after that faithful night, Lou-loc would discover his gift in the game--murder.

  Lou-loc slid out of the bed and onto his feet. As he stretched, various bones cracked and corrected themselves. "Rough night," he thought to himself, as he put on his slippers and shuffled to the mirror. Lou-loc looked at his handsome brown face in the mirror. He had lived quite a hard life to be only twenty-five. As hard and as fast as he lived, he still maintained his boyish features.

  His face was completely bare. No mustache or beard. It didn't reveal one trace of his actual age. Sometimes when he went into the liquor store, if the counter person didn't know him, they'd ask for two pieces of ID. I guess they thought his license might have been a fake.

  He was dark, but not as dark as Gutter. He had smooth chocolate skin, and when he smiled, his teeth were pearly white, behind his feminine lips. Martina always teased him about that. She would say, "Damn, Lou-loc. Your lips are pretti-er than mine."

  What stood out most about Lou-loc were his eyes. They were a very soft brown. Like caramel candy. The only blemish on him was a scar behind his left ear. He got that from a rival gang member in Y.A. Other than that, he was very easy on the eyes.

  Lou-loc shuffled over to the closet to find something to wear.

  When people were lucky enough to get a glimpse inside of the huge walk in closet that he had built for Martina, they couldn't help but to be impressed. Each side of the closet held three rows of hanging bars, like the ones you might see in a dry cleaner.

  Each row was filled to the brim with designer clothes from all over the world. There was Roc-a-wear, Sean Jean, Pradda, Gangsta

  Dolce, Gucci, and quite a few designers that people had yet to hear about.

  On Martina's side, she had minks, and leather jackets in just about every cut and color. She had dresses that wouldn't be available to the public for a few years yet to come. And shoes?

  Forget about it. She had every designer shoe you could think of.

  Lou-loc liked to spoil his boo. His homeys used to joke and call him a trick, but it ain't trickin if you got chick, right?

  Lou-loc's side of the closet was a little different. He wasn't no slouch or nothing like that, he had some fly shit. Leather jackets in every color, at least one pair of shoes made from each kind of animal, and some fly ass hats. Like Dobbs fifty's and things like that. But Lou-loc wasn't really into dressing up. He was a street nigga, so he mostly dressed accordingly, but even in that department he was holding. He always got the newest sneakers at least a year or so before they hit the street. He had a home as well as an away jersey for every sports team, including soccer.

  When it came to stunting, niggaz couldn't fuck with Lou-loc, but he was humble about his shit.

  On those rare occasions though, you might see him step in the place with his most prized possessions: A full-length electric blue mink coat, with a matching mink baseball cap. The cap was the real showpiece, let anybody else tell it. On the front of the cap was a diamond engraved 'C.' Lou-loc could ball with the best of them when he so chose.

  After a few minutes of debating, he decided on an outfit. He selected some black Carpenter jeans, a blue Dodgers jersey, and the matching hat. Sense this trip was going to be business, there was no need to floss his jewels. He selected a blue-faced Timex for his wrist, and a gold crucifix for his neck. To make the outfit complete, he reached up under his pillow and pulled out his nickel-plated nine. Chrome matched with anything.

  As Lou-loc made his way to the bathroom, he was stopped in the hallway by Martina's son Carlo. The boy was the spitting image of his mother, except his features were more masculine.

  Even though Carlo wasn't Lou-loc's son, he still looked out for the boy.

  "What up, O.G. Lou-loc?" Carlo said putting on his best mean mug. "What that Crip like fool? We rolling today?" Lou-loc smile
d and slapped the boy five. "Nah, Lil player. I got some things to do. Ain't you got no where to be this morning?"

  Carlo raised his right hand above his head. With his index finger and thumb, he made the shape of a 'C.' "Nah, every thing is blue." Lou-loc laughed at the boy's response, but Martina coming down the hall shouting, cut his laughter short.

  "Carlo!" she shouted. "What did I tell you? You want to be a thug, you do it when you're eighteen and out of my house.

  Understand?" With that, she popped him in the back of his head and sent him to his room.Now she turned her attention to Lou-loc, who was standing there quiet. "How many times I got to tell you, Lou-loc? Don't bring that shit around my kids."

  "Martina..."

  "Martina my ass," she cut him off. "Look, if you and Gutter want to run around making Assess of yourselves, you're grown and entitled to do so. My kids are a different story. I'm not having it. I don't want it around them or the little one in here," she said rubbing her stomach.

  "Listen Martina," he started. "You know what I am, and what I'm about. It was that hood shit that got ya nose open for me from the jump, remember? You got some nerve trying to get brand new on me."

  He pulled up his T-shirt exposing the tattoo on his stomach.

  "Look at it," he demanded. "O.G. Crip, you see it? That's who I am Martina. I'm a mother fucking gangsta. I didn't ask for the shit, that's just how the fuck it is. "Where the fuck I come from we ain't got a whole lot of choices, ya heard? It's either you bang Gangsta

  or get banged on. Not like these motherfuckers out here, who tryin' to get a name.

  "Back home, we live, die, and murder for colors. They start recruiting at thirteen, you know that? They snatch the babies and turn them into soldiers. Machines and killing tools. That's the only way a lot of them niggaz know how to live. It's about survival.

  "Martina, I would never get yours or anybody else's kids caught up in this craziness. All this shit is genocide, but I can't deny what or who I am. I'm going to be a Crip until they put me in the ground. I can't change that, but I don't have to poison others with it. Let that burden be mine to carry."

  "What ever," she responded. "That all sounds good, but I can't see it. You and that fucking ass hole Kenyatta, or Gutter, or what ever you want to call him? Y'all always into something.

  Every time I turn around it's Lou-loc did this or Gutter shot that one. What the fuck?"

  Lou-loc paused to gather himself before answering.

  "Martina, you must be crazy if you think I'm going to be hustling all my days? Yo man got a plan. I'm going to be a writer. I'm going to be bigger than Goines, Slim, and any of them other motherfuckers out there. You watch." She let out a chuckle. "Nigga please. Them people is larger than life in that game, who the fuck is you? They got publishers and agents, what you got? You need to keep on getting that paper instead of daydreaming. Shit, a bitch got kids, and a bitch need thangs. Them funky books you call yourself writing ain't going to put no food on the table." With that last comment she made her way back to the kitchen.

  He wanted to follow her and continue the argument, but all the liquor he had consumed the night before was raising hell in his gut. He went back into the bedroom to get what he needed.

  He took a small wooden box from his nightstand, and headed for the bathroom.

  When Lou-loc got into the little blue room he stripped naked and sat on the toilet. The liquor was doing a number on his stomach and he needed to get it out of his system. The sooner he did it, the better he would feel.

  Lou-loc pulled out some rolling papers and a bag of weed from the wooden box. With the speed and skills of a veteran marijuana smoker, Lou-loc rolled a joint. "This'll chase the headache away," he said to himself.

  Once the joint was rolled, he lit an incense and then the spliff. The weed smelled like sweet perfume to his nose. He inhaled deeply, sat back and let his mind coast.

  He silently went over the things he needed to do in his head.

  He had planned on just keeping himself local today, but Gutter needed him, and it was hard to tell Gutter no. He could be very persuasive.

  Besides, he didn't like the idea of Gutter riding out to Brooklyn by himself. The blacks out there were bad enough, but these people Gutter was going to meet weren't black. They were Middle Eastern. From what Lou-loc had heard of them, they were very unpredictable and distrustful of Americans.

  It was a good thing that he was riding with Gutter, that way he would be free to think instead of concentrating on the road.

  But the way Gutter drove, he would probably have to watch the road anyhow. Oh well.

  It's not that Lou-loc didn't have his own ride. In fact, he had two cars in New York. He and Gutter owned identical two-door Camrys. The only difference was, Gutter's was dark blue with gold rims. While Lou-loc's was silver with chrome rims.

  Lou-loc's pride and joy was his '1979 Cadillac Sedan De Ville.' He had that flown out to New York from LA. The body was a forest green while the tires were pearl white with gold hundred spoke rims. He even had his boy Wiz fit it with bullet proof plat-ing in the doors and roof. Even the windows had been proofed.

  And a Caddy ain't a Caddy without hydraulics.

  When Lou-loc was halfway through his joint, he noticed one of those important looking manila envelopes sticking out of the bathroom garbage. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that it was addressed to him. He pulled the envelope from the garbage, and read the label out loud.

  "Borough of Manhattan Community College. That bitch!" he snapped. This was no doubt Martina's handy work.

  Some time back, Lou-loc decided he would finish his schooling. He had taken some classes at LBCC, but never received his degree. It had always been his dream to become a writer, so he planned to pursue a degree in Journalism, and recognize his dream.

  "Negative tramp," he said to himself. Here he was trying to do something with himself, and she was trying to sabotage it.

  Instead of being happy with "Joe Schmo", she had to have a baller. She wanted to marry a drug dealer.

  Well her little trick didn't work. He still had time to deliver the forms before the deadline. He would just deliver it in person as opposed to mailing it.

  CHAPTER 1

  After his shower, Lou-loc went into the bedroom and began dressing. He figured if he dressed and left quickly, he could avoid a confrontation with Martina. As if reading his mind, she appeared in the doorway.

  "Daddy," she said in her sweetest voice. As soon as he heard her tone he knew what she was after...paper.

  "You know daddy, my sister's wedding is next week?" No answer. "Well, are you still going with me?" Lou-loc continued tying his sneakers. "I can't call it," he said still not looking at her.

  "What kind of answer is that? What you mean, you can't call it?"

  "I mean what I said. I don't know."

  "Lou-loc," she whined. "How you going to do me like that?

  How will that look to my family?

  "You supposed to be my man, but you would let me go to my sister's wedding solo?"

  Lou-loc's anger was rising, but he tried to keep it in check.

  "Martina," he said through clenched teeth. "Them people don't even like me. Every time we go by there, her and her stank ass friends be talking about me.

  "They think if they speak Spanish, I won't understand. That goes to show how stupid they are. I grew up in L.A., Spanish is a second language for us. Dumb ass heifers."

  "What you mean my sister be tripping?" she shot back snaking her neck. "Don't even go there. Especially the way your sister came out here acting. That little yellow bitch acting like her shit don't stink."

  Lou-loc had finally had enough. "Look, Martina, you know just as well as I do how that yo sister is, acting all high off the hog and shit. She be acting like she ain't even from the projects."

  "Plus she always bragging on that punk ass nigga she hooked up with. Talking about he a high powered lawyer, and all the money he got. I'm surprised he got any at all.
>
  "Between your gold digging ass sister and all the powder he snort, they'll be broke soon. Shall I go on?" When she didn't answer he continued.

  "If your sister supposed to be oh so in love, maybe you can answer me this? If she love her man soooooo much, why little Snoopy seen her hugged up with one of them fag ass brims on 112th street? Huh, tell me that?" Lou-loc felt himself about to go over board, but he figured why stop now? So he didn't. "Yo sister just salty because I didn't take the pussy when she offered it to me." Lou-loc walked over to the mirror and started combing his wild hair. He told himself, that he couldn't give in to Martina this time. He had to stick to his guns. But when he looked at her reflection in the mirror, his heart sank.

  Her full sexy lips were drawn and pouted as she stood looking at her feet with her hands on her belly. When she looked at him, her big brown eyes were rimmed with tears. Martina was a pure hell raiser, but at times she appeared so innocent and fragile.

  He stopped combing his hair and walked to where she was standing. When their eyes met, a lone tear ran down her cheek.

  She had him hooked.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and spread her legs. With one hand she was wiping the tears from her eyes. With the other hand she motioned for him to sit between her legs. And he did.

  She began to gently finger comb his hair while he rested his cheek on her thigh. As Lou-loc smelled the fresh sent coming from her private place, he remembered all the good times they had when he first came out to New York. She was a pain in the ass, but he loved her.

  "Why you always got to go there, Lou-loc? I know you don't like my family, but you don't always have to throw it up in my face like that? A bitch got feelings too, you know?

  "I didn't even come back here to argue with you. I knew you'd feel funny about going around my peoples, so I just figured I'd start softening you up for it early. I'm sorry for wanting to be around you."

  Lou-loc started to feel bad. He honestly thought she had come to hit him up for some bread. Guess he was wrong?

  "My bad," he whispered. "Your moms and every body else is pretty cool"- when they weren't trying to get him in church- "but me and Mirasol just don't click." For a long moment they just sat in silence. Each lost in their own thoughts. Lou-loc got up from the floor and walked over to the mirror. Martina had parted his hair and put a French braid on either side. It wasn't much, but it would do until he had a chance to get it done by the Africans on 125th.