Part 7: Behind The Scenes - Voice Actors 2

"BOOM!" laughed Smoke, doing a little hop and slapping his hands together,"Damn! you a killer baby, ice cold!"

Emmet stood to the side, eying me up and down, sizing me up, he seem to like what he saw. But Smoke still talking, talking that shit only Smoke seem to understand, telling me that real strength came from within. Emmet nod and tell me to listen, Smoke's talk seemed to make sense in his old cracked head.

I'd gone to Sweet's meaning to talk to him about what I had stocked in my kitchen, a little souvenir from my tagging up through Los Santos. But when I got there, Smoke and Ryder been there too, betting with each other, Smoke winning as usual, Ryder getting pissed about losing as usual.... and I decided I could tell Sweet about it later. Instead I asked about what kind of weapons Grove Street got, thinking about the Ballas coming back at us, wanting revenge for the shit I'd done to them over the last month.... got the answer back that we don't got shit.

They all seem pretty much used to that, that Grove Street got shit for weapons, a few pieces and that's all. I thought about the cabinets in my kitchen again, then remembered Emmet, and asked if he still about.

When I growing up, 5.0 cracked down on guns hard to try and control gangs in Los Santos. That shit made no sense, wasn't like gangs buy they guns from the local store anyway. But if you just want a gun for yourself, to protect you and yours, and you got a record, or you black - which the same as having a record, far as 5.0 concerned - then you had to go to someone like Emmet. But that was then and this now, and it seem like gangs getting their shit from international fucking mobs now or some shit, all Emmet could get his hands on was old shit.

But shit, a gun a gun, right?

Sweet seem to like the idea of getting Grove Street armed up again, having a real stockpile outside the shit we packing ourselves. It make me think, shit, Grove Street fallen that far down that Sweet be USED to Grove Street not being armed? Things was worse than I thought if that the case. He tell me to go get the guns, and Smoke say he'll come put in a word, saying that Emmet was Seville Boulevard Family, and they not on good terms with Grove Street no more.

I drove Sweet's old Greenwood, Smoke sitting tapping his finger against the side of his door, then switching on some music - Radio Los Santos - in time to catch Snoop and Dre rapping about taking out an undercover cop.

"Shit, those fools out the game now," Smoke say, shaking his head,"You hear this shit about Compton and Long Beach?"

"Yeah, that lawsuit," I say, nodding my head,"Got told they can't use real names and places or they be encouraging gang violence... stupid, as if people don't know they mean Ganton when they sing about Compton."

"That lawyer, Simpson? Thompson? Whatever his name... talking shit about gangs in court, he had no fucking idea what he talking about," say Smoke, shaking his head, looking disgusted,"Say Dr. Dre's raps be murder trainers.... hey here we are."

We pulled up against an alley and stepped out the Greenwood, moving down towards the back of the store and the dumpster where Emmet been selling his shit for 30 years now. I was kind of looking forward to seeing the old bastard again, hell a gun was a gun, and he'd been The Man back in the day, things can't have gotten all that bad.



Well.... shit.

But things hadn't been so bad after that, Emmet thought I Brian for a second, then when he remember my Moms dead he got all sad and we didn't even have to worry about that Seville Boulevard shit. Smoke even say he looking to get guns to get the assholes in the Green Sabre that killed her, which I didn't like hearing but got the job done. Emmet handed us a few pieces and showed us around his "showroom", the dumpster, crates and old fucked up car sitting behind the old abandoned store. Smoke got into it, playing the fool, rolling around and jumping and shouting names at the bottles he was shooting, like a kid playing a game. I was a bit more serious about it... a gun is serious business, I don't pull unless I mean to use it, and when I shoot, I don't just go blasting like some fool. Someone in Balla colors is fair game, but not your average asshole. You don't take out civilians, the police are more than happy to let gangs blast on each other, makes their job easier... and nothing a cop likes more than having less work to do.

We spent about 30 minutes with Emmet, trying out guns, testing their power, their speed. I took out the old car to finish things off, Emmet and Smoke impressed when it exploded, and then it was time to go, Emmet waving goodbye and giving us a fucking sales pitch as we left, like he selling carpets or chairs and not bullets and guns.... crazy ass nigga.



I got into Sweet's Greenwood and started driving, music on low and Smoke sitting thinking, fingers moving up the barrel of the gun.... Smoke a fat man, ain't no denying it, and I told you he an agile motherfucker... but he also got fast fingers, nimble.... sometimes you see his fat fingers do shit you don't believe.

"Shit's all fucked up, huh?" I say, wanting to break the silence, and Smoke turn and look at me through those big glasses of his, and start talking about the choices men face, about hearts and minds.... shit I don't know what the fuck he's talking about.

"You ain't changed a bit, still talking shit," I laughed.

"Who me? No I ain't changed," say Smoke, all thoughtful like, but then smiling,"I'm tired CJ, take me back to my crib."

I drove back to Smoke's, confused, not knowing what the fuck. Smoke a deep motherfucker, but not a leader, not like Sweet. Sometimes I think it bothered him, having all that brain and not being able to run Grove Street.... but then sometimes I think he like being Sweet's Number Two, telling him how to run things, Sweet taking Smoke's ideas and smarts and being the leader that Smoke can't be... shit, they like two halves of a whole.

Smoke seem cheered up when we get back, taking his new piece in with him, telling me to go chill back at home. I started to head off when my phone rang, and when I answered, it Sweet on the end of the line.

"I thought you were back representing Grove Street?" he say, voice cold as ice... what the fuck?

"I told you I was!" I say back. It had taken me a month to admit it, but now I was back and after all his prodding and demands, he was saying I wasn't?

"Then how come I ain't seen you wearing Grove Street Colors?" he ask, and I let out a groan... shiiiiit!

"You got to be seen to be representing, CJ," he say, and I knew he was right. Colors don't make the man, but at the same time, the colors DO represent the Family. I was Grove Street again, and I was doing what I could to make Grove Street stronger and better... but how could I do that and NOT wear Grove colors.

"There's a Binco near Rocky's Gym in Ganton," he tell me,"Next time I see you, bro, I want you in green."

"I'm sorry man, I just never got arou-" I started to say, but he'd all ready hung up, and I felt my good mood gone. Man, fuck you Sweet, can't you give a nigga one lousy day?

---

An hour later, I stepped out of the wardrobe upstairs in what had been Momma's house and was mine now, passed over to my name in law by her will. I looked at myself in the mirror, looked at what I was wearing. I had to admit, not only could no one say that I wasn't representing Grove Street, but no one could say I didn't look good either.



Man, I pulled this shit OFF!