East Los Angeles, California

 

Andres liked to take a position of observation. He sat back, leaning against a brick wall, and watched as a handful of the Varrio Nuevo Estrada gang bickered back and forth. It was a mano a mano kind of thing, a show of masculinity. He wasn’t even sure what this particular fight was about. It reminded him of all the drama he’d seen when he was a stupid kid trying to make a name for himself. Back then it had seemed like his whole world. Now, it just bored him.

“Cut it out,” he barked, pushing away from the wall. “El Lobo is waitin’ for that money, idiotas!”

Every one of the boys in front of him shut up immediately. They knew better than to mess with him.

He waved them forward, holding out his hand. Each boy dropped a roll of money in his palm that had been bound with a rubber band. In turn, he dropped each bundle into a bag by his foot. Once the last boy had given him his due, Andres watched them stalk away, pushing at each other and beginning their argument again. He just shook his head as he gathered the dirty money and headed out.

Lobo was waiting in the back of his father’s paint shop, the fumes from the day’s assembly line of cars choking Andres as he moved through the musty old place. They needed to figure out how to ventilate a little better. Maybe add a few more windows before the undocumented workers all lost too many IQ points to keep working.

“Amigo,” Lobo said as he walked into the small office. He was a big man, as round as he was tall, his black hair slicked back against his skull, showing off a face that was so marked by acne scars and wounds from his many years on the street that Andres couldn’t even imagine what God had intended for him to look like. He was wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show off the extensive tattoos on each arm. Lobo was proud of those tattoos. Almost as proud as he was of his various scars.

“The day’s take,” Andres said, dumping the bag out on the desk.

“Looks light,” Lobo commented, not bothering to count the number of bundles.

“Manuel didn’t show up today.”

“Why not?”

Andres shrugged. “I just pick up the money. I’m not their mother. I don’t keep track of their comings and goings.”

Lobo nodded. “Pedro won’t be happy.”

“I think that’s your problem, hermano.”

Lobo glared daggers at Andres, but then sighed. “I’ll send little Tommy to find out what’s happening with Manuel.”

Andres nodded as though he couldn’t care less. The truth was, he knew Lobo could have pulled a gun on him, could have jumped out of that chair and beaten the shit out of him. Lobo looked like a clumsy fool, but he could hold his own in a fight. He could have made Andres pay one way or another for the missing funds, but he’d brushed it off. That showed a new level of trust that Andres wasn’t sure he’d earned at this point.

It was a relief.

“I’m headed out, then. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“You not coming to the club tonight? There’ll be a lot of girls there, willing to do just about anything you can think of, if you know what I mean.” Lobo made a gesture that left nothing to Andres’ imagination. “You should join us, get laid for once.” His eyes moved slowly over Andres. “You could probably use it, amigo.”

Andres crossed his arms over his chest. “I got something cooking at home. You know how that is. Yes?”

“Please tell me you ain’t the kind of guy who lets some woman tell you what to do!”

It sounded something like a joke, but Andres caught something of a challenge in the undertone. Lobo was wondering why Andres didn’t hang out at Isaac’s club every night like everyone else. Especially on a Friday night like this one.

He was suddenly back on the line, walking carefully toe to heel.

“No woman tells me what to do. But this one…hmm, mamacita! And she controls the pussy, right?”

Lobo nodded slowly. “But pussy’s easy to come by, especially at Isaac’s club.”

“Maybe random pussy just isn’t my thing.”

As Andres said the words, an image brushed through his mind, one that was as unexpected as it was familiar. He frowned, almost losing track of the direction of the conversation.

Why was he thinking about her now? In this moment? In that context?

“I know better than to let some woman take my balls and control me,” Lobo announced, pulling Andres back to the moment, to the argument he knew he was going to lose before it even began. “And I’m not a guy trying to prove he’s one of us. I’ve done that already.”

And there it was, the true purpose of this argument. It’d played out just like Andres had known it would. He’d seen this coming for weeks. He was almost relieved it had finally happened, feeling the level of trust ratchet up yet another mark.

He’d never imagined this would move as quickly as it had. Lobo wasn’t quite the fierce gang lieutenant he thought he was.

“Because I don’t go fuck around with you, I’m not loyal?”

Lobo shrugged. “You said it.”

Andres forced an uneasy expression, dropping his arms in a sign of surrender.

“Okay, compadre,” Andres sighed, “let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear!”

 

***

 

The walls of the large club vibrated with the bass beat of the music, so loud that Andres could feel it vibrating in his chest. He walked through the place like he owned it, following Lobo’s lead. Women flocked to them like they were rock stars. Lobo was a powerful man in the Varrio, and these women clearly knew it. Andres was getting attention simply because he was with Lobo. No one knew who he was, but being with Lobo was enough.

“Take this one, hermano,” Lobo said, pushing a pretty blond girl toward Andres. “I took her home last week. She knows her business.” His last words were followed by a big wink that told Andres more than he’d ever wanted to know about Lobo’s sex life.

“I’m Jessica,” the girl said, moving hard against Andres’ chest.

She was clearly a girl from the valley, one of those suburban kids who thought it was exciting to hang out with gang members. Stupid girl would probably end up addicted to coke, or arrested for prostitution instead of going to the top tier college her parents had dreamt of since the day she was born.

Andres grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly out to the dance floor. She turned her back to him, rubbing her ass against his hips as she began to move to the music. He held her waist, keeping her close, her perfume invading his every sense as he watched the room around them. He half expected Isaac to be here tonight, but if he was, he was in the back somewhere. He recognized a half dozen of Isaac’s lieutenants, like Lobo, but no one of any significance.

“You come here a lot?” he asked the girl gyrating against him.

“Every night.”

“When’s the last time you saw Isaac?”

She turned and slid her arms around his neck. “He comes on Fridays, most weeks.”

“Yeah?”

“He’ll be here after midnight.”

He glanced at his phone, checking the time. Ten-twenty. He had a little more than an hour and a half to wait.

“You got somewhere you need to be, baby?” she asked, brushing her lips along his jaw. “I’m not good enough for you?”

“You’re perfect, chica,” Andres told her.

More perfect than she could imagine.

He ran his hands down her back, trying to remember the last time he’d held a woman this way. He thought it was probably four years ago on a night he’d never forget. But that night had had repercussions he couldn’t afford to repeat, especially not with some kid from the valley.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the show.

She shook her hips as she raised her arms above her head, her eyes hard on his as she slowly lowered her body down the length of his, stimulating things he knew she was good at thanks to Lobo’s comments. He pulled her back to her feet with his hands around her wrists, slipping one arm around her waist and turning her into something like an old-fashioned dip, his mouth finding the soft space beneath her jaw. He nibbled at her flesh, his tongue stealing a taste or two of the slightly salty flavor of her skin. She groaned slightly, smiling as he lifted her back up, and her arms slipped easily around his neck again.

They moved together for a moment, really dancing for the first time since they’d come onto the floor. The music had changed, the hard beat turning into something a little softer. She pressed her body against his, the length of hers not failing to miss any part of his. He was tall, nearly six-three, but somehow—maybe because of her heels—she managed to fit against him almost perfectly, coming only a few inches short of matching him piece for piece. They fit like puzzle pieces, her curves sitting just right with his hard angles.

She pushed at the heavy work shirt he wore over his t-shirt, exposing the tat he had on his upper arm. Her fingers traced the edges of it.

“You get this in jail?”

“What makes you think that?”

Her eyebrows rose. “I told you, I’m here most every night. I know the difference between a jail tat and a studio tat.”

“Should I be impressed?” he asked.

She tilted her head. “Maybe I’m the one who should be impressed. What’d you serve time for? Drugs?”

“B&E.”

She nodded slowly. “Robbed some rich fucker’s home?”

Andres wanted to laugh at the words that flowed from her pretty, suburban lips like she knew something about living on the streets. Girl like this would never survive the life Andres had lived.

“Something like that,” he said, being purposefully vague.

“How long you serve?”

“Long enough.”

She shook her head as she looked up at him. “You guys usually love to brag. What’s your deal?”

“Maybe I only like to brag to people who matter.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You heard what Lobo said, right? I’ve been with the best of the guys here. If that doesn’t count for anything—”

“Doesn’t count for shit. You’re just a pussy these guys like to use whenever the mood strikes. If you think there’s more to it than that, you’re a bigger fool than you look.”

She reared back and raised her hand like she honestly thought he’d let her hit him. He grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back, pulling her roughly against him. Then he kissed her, stealing her mouth like it’d belonged to him from the moment he first touched her. She fought against him for a moment, trying to turn her head away to break the kiss, but he held her too tightly for her to get her freedom. He wasn’t sure if she gave up because it was fruitless, or because she liked what he was doing, but she did. She let her lips part, opening them to offer him what he’d already begun to take on his own.

He let her wrists go, and she wrapped her arms around his neck again, her fingers digging into his thick, black hair. He slid his hands down over her ass, finding the bottom edge of her short skirt and pulling it up enough to expose her bare ass to anyone who cared to look. She didn’t seem to mind. She pressed her hips back against him, filling his hands with every bit of flesh she had to offer.

She groaned when he moved his mouth from her mouth to her throat. One of her hands dropped to grip him through his jeans. He pulled her wrist back, yanking her hand behind her back, but not before a wide, excited smile spread across her thin lips.

“You are going to be a lot of fun, big boy!”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.”

He untangled himself from her and left her standing alone in the middle of the dance floor. She cursed as he walked away, but the words were lost in the loud music. He ordered a shot of tequila, ordering the second before he’d gotten the first. His body ached despite the alcohol that he’d hoped would take the edge off. He watched the women walk around the club, looking for their next target, and all he could think about was a girl who shouldn’t have been on his mind at all.

“Want to party, sexy?” a little Hispanic woman asked, sliding her hand over the front of his pants.

Lobo was right about one thing: these women were willing to do just about anything.

He wandered to the back room—or escaped, depending on how one looked at it—and found a poker game in full swing. He bought a seat and settled in, ordering a bottle of tequila as he proceeded to fleece these guys for every penny they had.

It was closer to two when Isaac wandered into the back room. He was an average-looking guy with what people these days would call a dad bod. He had narrow shoulders, a thin chest, and a belly that hung out over his jeans like a woman in her fifth month of pregnancy. Andres couldn’t see what was so impressive about him. But it was clear who held the power in this gang. The moment Isaac walked through the door, the cussing and the vulgar conversation stopped. This dangerous gang that ran the streets in East L.A. suddenly become as docile as a women’s book club.

Andres watched Isaac, watched the entourage that moved around him. His lieutenants migrated toward him, eager servants ready to provide him with anything he might ask for. But it was the faces of the young men Isaac entered the room with that Andres was most interested in. These were nothing more than boys, some dealers from the street who had been promoted for reasons Andres could easily guess to become Isaac’s companions, others suburban teens like Jessica, groupies who thrived on the excitement of the danger that seemed to swirl around the gang.

Andres studied each face, looking for one face in particular. It wasn’t Lobo’s bullying that had convinced him to come here this night. It was the hope of catching sight of one face in particular. He was losing that hope, his attention slowly drifting back to the card game. But then a soft giggle drew more than just his attention, but also the attention of some of the other guys at the poker table. The source of the giggle wasn’t obvious at first. But then Isaac turned to survey the room just before disappearing into the office, and his movement revealed the small, almost dainty boy who’d been walking beside him the whole time.

Recognition bloomed for Andres.

Finally.