Gutter by K'wan Page A

and him dump out inside her.
    â€œOh, hell no!” She pushed him off her. C-style looked between her legs and saw semen running down her thigh and into her sweatpants.
    â€œMy fault, ma. That shit got so good I couldn’t hold it.” Rob was leaning against the wall with his pants around his ankles. His dick was swinging freely with leftover cum dripping from the tip.
    â€œRob, you are so fucking irresponsible. I told you I don’t want to get pregnant!” she barked, taking a sanitary wipe from her bag and trying to clean up the mess he’d made.
    â€œDamn, why you tripping. It’s not like I wouldn’t be there for you if you got pregnant. I’d handle mine,” he assured her.
    C-style gave him an angry look. “Rob, how the hell you gonna handle anything when all you do is run the streets with the set? You ain’t even got a job.”
    â€œI sling stones for mine, baby, you know what it is,” he said proudly.

    â€œRob, your ass is too smart to be so stupid. You think you can play the block forever?”
    â€œNah, not forever. Just until I get my cake up. Fucking with Gutter we all gonna be rich.”
    â€œFucking with Gutter you’re more likely to end up dead than rich,” she said seriously. “Rob, you know I love the big homey too, but he’s gang-banging on a whole ’nother level.”
    â€œSo, what you trying to say? You don’t think I can hang?”
    â€œRob”—she touched his face—“I’m not saying that at all. What I’m saying is to get where Gutter is, you’ve gotta be willing to go to hell and spit in the devil’s face. When I look into your eyes I see life and promise, when I look into his eyes I don’t see anything. ”
    Rob sucked his teeth. “Whatever, man. One day you’re gonna see that your man is just as down as anybody else, you watch.” He pulled his pants up and started walking down the stairs.
    â€œWhere are you going?” she asked with an attitude.
    â€œI gotta meet the homeys,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll get up with you later, ma.”
    C-style stood in the staircase not knowing whether she should be mad at Rob or herself. He had pulled a typical nigga move, getting his then leaving her without so much as a hug or a kiss, just to go be with the set. Being down used to be fun, but that was before the killing. Gutter promised to bring prominence back to the C-nation, but all he’d brought was death. She and Rob were both down with the movement, but it was Rob’s determination to prove himself that scared her. She knew how Gutter and Pop Top broke in their shooters and knew that Rob couldn’t handle that kind of pressure.
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    HOLLYWOOD STEPPED out of his smoke-gray Chrysler 300 Limited. The vehicle resembled a Bentley, but the design was more squared.
He fitted it with whitewalls, but left the factory rims on it. He would always tell people that the factories on that particular car gave it nobility. Hollywood had what people would call refined taste. He liked his cars plush, his women seasoned, and his money new. This is what pulled him from between a young girl’s thighs to the block.
    Hollywood gave himself the once-over in the vehicle’s tinted reflection. He ran a manicured hand down the waves that rippled through his dark hair. The laces of his Nike Airs looked as if they had been bleached, while the cuffs of his jeans were perfect. After adjusting the collar on his smoke-gray blazer, he stepped off the curb.
    He saw B. T. and a few of the other homeys congregating in front of the store. The timing couldn’t have been better. B. T. owed him some money through one of his girls. She had swung an episode with the Crip, but he couldn’t pay all of the money. After dropping Hollywood’s name, and agreeing to repay the rest, she let him rock. Now, it was a week later and B. T. didn’t have