Edge of Luck

CHAPTER ONE

WHERE DID YOU get the gun, Diaz? the cop asked.

Found it, I shrugged.

Where?

I don’t know, in the trash? I shrugged again.

We had played this game for some time already. He was asking the same set of questions, and I was returning the same set of answers. So far, I wasn’t tired, yet Officer Sanchez was losing his cool. After repeating it the tenth time in a row, he lost it.

There’s something wrong with your head, Diaz. Let me help you a little, he slapped me on the head.

It wasn’t painful, barely a minor inconvenience, rather just a slap at my ego. I knew I made him angry, and I knew he knew I wouldn’t talk. It wasn’t my first encounter with law enforcement.

Act like a smartass all you want, I know Baso gave it to you, he said.

Who the fuck is Baso? I asked.

Another slap. It started getting on my nerves. This guy, Officer Sanchez, pushed his luck. Yes, I was handcuffed and at a clear disadvantage, but after I will be out, I could always hang around to catch up with him when he was about to leave.

Where did you get the gun?! he went for another circle.

Found it, I sighed.

Where?

Ask your mom - her cunt can fit all kinds of weird shit.

Very funny, you little shit.

Now I knew for sure - he was going to punch me. His voice trembled, his face turned purple, and he had already swung his hand back but stopped halfway when doors opened. A tough-looking middle-aged woman stood in the doorframe and observed us.

Sanchez, enough of this circus, go, she said.

But lieutenant, did you hear what he…

Yes, she sighed, sounded tired, and that’s complete bullshit. The only time this sucker touched pussy was in his dream.

I don’t have an interface for that, I said.

See? So he never even saw one, she said. Go, I’ll take it from here.

Officer Sanchez gave me a look that said I’ll get you next time and stormed out of the room. Lieutenant looked at me, and I tried to look back but couldn’t play tough with her. She snorted, walked behind me, and I heard how electronic handcuffs were deactivated. A moment later, my hands were free.

Thanks, I… I started to say, but before I could finish the thought, a powerful blow in the jaw threw me off the chair.

What the fuck, shitbrains?! she screamed at me. Are you out of your fucking mind?!

I would’ve loved to answer, but she hit me so hard I had trouble moving my jaw. She grabbed me by the collar and jerked up. Her face was close to mine, and I could smell her breath - cigarettes, coffee, and a pack of S&C candy.

You dumb little chronic masturbator, you fucked it up! she hissed at me, her fist got me in the stomach by surprise, and I curled up on the floor gasping for air, trying not to vomit, while she clawed me by the neck. I kept your ass out of jail for this long, and that’s how you thank me?! By robing a fucking liquor store on your eighteenth birthday?! You fucking moron!

She threw me into the floor and paced across the room. She trembled with rage while I desperately tried to restore basic breathing functions - saliva mixed with blood ran from my mouth onto the floor. Maybe it was better if Officer Sanchez hit me - at least I could kick him back. With my aunt, there was no single chance.

I’m… khm… I’m… khm-khm… sorry… Mia, I managed to wheeze in between short gasps.

Lieutenant threw a gaze at me. Get up.

I looked up at her. I wasn’t in a hurry. I mean, I just got my ass kicked, and I wasn’t eager to get some more of this. After all, her knuckles had titanium enhancements, and each blow was comparable only with getting hit by a fucking freight train. Not that I ever was hit by a fucking freight train, but I was hit often enough by Aunt Mia’s fist to have a general idea of how bad it could be. And the older I got, the less she held back. Today she hit me for real, and I felt it - happy birthday, dumbass.

Jackie. Get. Up, she repeated. Her voice was quiet.

I was around Aunt Mia for a long time to know one thing for sure - when you heard her quiet, calm voice, you were in real shit. She could hit, she could scream, yell, promise to kill you. That was her, tough-as-nails lieutenant Mia Walenza - nasty character, not married, no children, two divorces, and gangster wannabe nephew (aka me) living under the same roof. As long as she was screaming at you, roughing you up, you knew everything was alright, at least you could beg for forgiveness, and eventually, she was going to calm down, call you a dumb sucker a few dozen times, and tell you that nothing bad happened and she would figure something out. But when you heard this calm, firm voice and she called you by the name - oh boy, you were in trouble.

Still coughing, feeling pain in my face and stomach, somewhat dizzy, I got up. She approached me and moved her hand, I flinched, expecting another hit. She smirked, instead reached for a tissue, and gave it to me.

Wipe your face, dumbass, you look terrible, she said and went for the chair.

Mia sat and pointed at the other one. I wiped my mouth and took a seat. We sat in complete silence for a minute or two. Her cyber-optic-enhanced eyes glowed with amber light as she studied me. I, on the other hand, kept my mouth shut and touched my jaw - she got me good, there will be a bruise, and blood from the lacerated inner cheek didn’t stop. Well, at least all my teeth were left intact. That was good.

My aunt got a pack of cigarettes - Dynamite Slinky’s - out of the front pocket of her uniform. She got one for herself and threw another one at me. I caught it, put it in my mouth, pressed the activator on the side, and inhaled. Short vibration, the capsule got ignited, and it hit me. I held the smoke in for some time. It burned my mouth, my throat, my lungs. I wanted to cough, Dynamite Slinky’s were too tough for me, yet it was better than nothing.

Do you want to see your reflection? Aunt Mia asked.

What for? I asked.

So you could see what a fuck up I have to look at, she said and sighed, rubbed her eyes. Where did you get the gun, Jackie?

Found it, I said.

Quit fucking around, tell me the truth, she said. Was it Baso?

I don’t know what Baso you are talking about.

I turned off surveillance, dumbass, we’re alone, she said.

I looked around. Cameras turned away, observed the walls now, perhaps microphones were turned off too. I had no means to check it, but my aunt was cyber-enhanced with upper-tier iron, so she could do that without requesting any kind of permission from the department. Not since half of the department stacked to the old means. She wouldn’t lie, not with that tone of voice.

It may seem strange, but Aunt Mia and I - we had a deal. She closed her eyes on a lot of shit I did. She closed her eyes on me stealing stuff, selling stolen stuff, selling occasional junk on the streets, getting piss-ass drunk from time to time, smoking since I was twelve, getting in fights, and other shit too long to mention. She even closed her eyes on me being in the Los Realez street gang for the last four years. But on one term - I would never lie to her. Whenever I found myself in trouble, she demanded to tell her the truth from A to Z. Also, she told me never take her cigarettes, or she’ll bash my teeth in.

Baso, I said.

And why Baso gave it to you?

I was silent.

Jackie, come on. Why Baso gave it to you?

I don’t know… he just gave it…

And you just took it?

I nodded. I saw how she wanted to hit her forehead with her palm, yet abstained and asked instead. Do you know what this gun looks like?

I shook my head.

I tell you what it looks like, my boy. This gun looks like at least twenty years of high-max because the piece you had on you has eight hits, twenty robberies, and at least a dozen drive-bys. This piece is as hot as one can get, and you went to rob a liquor store on your eighteenth birthday. And not just any store, but the one across the cop’s favorite doughnut shop - genius.

I moaned and rubbed my face. I knew I was an idiot, but when your aunt step-by-step explains why exactly you’re an idiot - now that shit hurts like a motherfucker.

She sighed again. Nice, you idiot, just nice. She applauded. Bravo, Jackie, bravo. When they kicked you out of school for hijacking the principal’s car, I thought you couldn’t go more retard than that. But here we are - you went full retard, my boy.

I clenched my fists. The cigarette burned my palm, yet I couldn’t feel it. Fucking Ricky. Even though I promised to tell Aunt Mia the truth, I wasn’t a narc. I would never rat on my friends. I left out Ricky from this story. And the truth was - Ricky got the gun from Baso, he said it was my birthday present. Ricky not even once mentioned that the gun was hot, leave alone it was hot as fuck, I guess he didn’t know it himself. The rest was true - we decided to test it, rob the liquor store, and it so happened that the doughnut shop across, right when I went in with the gun in my hand, was full of cops in plains. Ricky waited for me in the car, so when at least ten cops went after me, he had a chance to stay out of it. Thanks fucking a lot, Ricky.

Listen, Aunt Mia pulled me out of my thoughts, for her, it looked like I was coming to terms with my next twenty years in high-max, it’s your eighteenth birthday, and no matter how dumb you are, you’re still my nephew. I will pull some strings so this gun won’t be your problem, but only if you’re going to promise me one thing - the second you walk out of this door, you’re no more connected to Los Realez, you’re no more doing dumb shit for Baso, and you’re not covering up this dumbass Ricky.

I raised my eyes at her, and by the look on her face, I knew that my little not a narc act didn’t fool her. I sighed. The whole place was full of cameras, I bet my aunt took a look, saw Ricky’s car, and knew what was what in an instant.

Jackie, can you promise me you’re going to go straight? she asked.

Yeah, sure, I shrugged.

No-no-no, she laughed, "it won’t work like that. I don’t want this yeah whatever shit that lasts for ten seconds, and then you’re sitting here once again for pretty much the same bullshit. Say it, Jackie, tell me you promise it."

I clenched my teeth. She knew I was all about promises. I wasn’t rich, I wasn’t the smartest, I didn’t have much, but I always had my word, and if I promised something, I would make it happen even if it killed me in the long run. At least, that’s how I saw it. Mia knew me too damn well.

What if I won’t? I finally asked.

That’s easy, I will leave the room and give recordings of our conversations over the years to the guys in the homicide and anti-gangs, they will probably spread the word who is the rat in Los Realez, and well, you know the saying among yours kind - snitches get stitches, and you, my boy, will get a lot of them in high-max… if you could survive remand, of course.

I bet she saw me going pale instantly, her lips spread in a sinister smile, and she knocked on her head with her finger. Fucking cyber-enhanced bitch. She never needed microphones, her head was a recording device all along. Fucking cyber-enhanced freak.

No-no… Mia… you-you… can’t do this! it felt like I got hit in the solar plexus for real this time.

In an instant, I couldn’t breathe, and cold sweat ran down my forehead, spine, and neck. All this while my temperature rose, and I could hear my heart pumping in my temples.

I can, Jackie, and I will, she nodded, I’m tired of covering up for you. You’re no longer a child, and it’s time for you to find out about the consequences of your actions. You either play the ball with cops, or you’re a tough gangbanger to the grave. Right now, you look like a little bitch who wants to look like a gangster while ratting out Baso every time we got you by the ass.

What?! I coughed all of a sudden. I’m not ratting anyone, never did, I’m not a narc!

Then what do you think you told me all those years?

The truth, between you and me - we had an agreement!

Wake up, Jackie! she smashed her fist into the table, a little bit harder than necessary, leaving a considerable dent, and I flinched again. I am the cop, and you’re my informant! What the fuck you thought you were doing all those years?! Sharing little rumors with your auntie?! For a street-smart wiseguy, how fucking dumb are you?!

Not that it never occurred to me that Aunt Mia could use whatever I told her in her work. I mean, I felt like it was just a somewhat reasonable approach, but I never expected her to record every conversation and treat it the same way she treated information from one of the whistleblowers from the streets. I covered my face again.

Listen, Jackie, I give you the last opportunity to walk away from this life, I promised your mother you will have a fighting chance in this world - and believe it or not, but being a low-tier goon of a street gang isn’t one. But I’m giving you this chance right now.

I saw her face, I saw her eyes. She was dead serious. I never saw her like that before. It was a completely new expression. Scary one. Aunt Mia, the person who took care of me all those years, put up with my fuckups, and made sure I won’t end up in prison or grave too fast, would do what she told me.

So what it will be? she asked.

Yes, yes, I will do as you said, I hurried to nod.

You promise?

Yes, I said.

Say the full sentence, she said.

I promise I’ll straighten out.

She smiled. Good boy, Jackie, we have a deal. Now to clear something up - if I catch your ass dealing with Baso again - you’re gone. If I catch you hanging around Pasadena Plaza again - you’re gone. If your friendship with this Neanderthal Ricky Valentino will turn into another petty crime wave - I’ll make sure both of you would end up in high-max. You got it?

Wait-wait-wait, I live in Plaza… I’m…

You’re moving out. You’re an adult now, and I don’t want to see you in my place anymore - you have a week to find a place of your own out of Pasadena Plaza.

But the prices are crazy! I tried not to scream.

And that’s not my fucking problem, Jackie, her lips spread in a wide smug smile, it’s yours.

Fucking bullshit… I coughed.

Jackie - you promised, she said and puffed smoke straight into my face, oh boy, I bet she waited six long years to do that, straight from the day when my mom died and I ended up under her guardianship. So, you got the terms?

Yes, I mumbled, knowing too good I had no real choice.

Perfect, now go and make me proud of my nephew for once. Do this not for me but for your mom - she would love to see you getting somewhere in life.

I stood up and went for the doors.

And, Jackie, she called me.

I turned my head.

If I were you, I would look for a job starting today - seven days, boy, you got seven days. And trust me, it ain’t much in this economy.

I didn’t respond, just nodded and left. I could barely feel my legs. I didn’t see anything, I didn’t hear anything. I couldn’t remember how I left the police department. All I heard in my head was the same phrase I promise I’ll straighten out.

CHAPTER TWO

I STOOD IN front of the police department for some time. I felt lost, disoriented. I stopped recognizing the familiar streets of Pasadena Plaza. I think the realization of what really happened there in the interrogation room caught up to me. All of a sudden, I felt nauseous.

Ey, cabron, need a ride? the voice pulled me out of stupor.

I looked around, and there, near the automated stand with hotdogs, stood Ricky. As I expected, he was already stuffing his mouth with an extra-large hotdog with double bacon and extra mustard - this guy was all about food. Whatever there was - he would eat it in a blink of an eye. He was a big guy, a tough one, the charming and handsome son of a bitch too - being around him wasn’t an easy thing. Seeing his smug, smiling face snapped me back to reality. I spat saliva mixed with blood on the ground, ignored one of the cops looking at me with disapproval, straightened the windbreaker, and approached him.

Shit, homie, they fucked you up for real, eh, he said, actively chewing.

Mia wasn’t happy, I said, touching my jaw and feeling how it got all swollen.

I bet, he chuckled and pointed at the hotdog stand. Want some? It’s on the house.

Are you fucking kidding? No way I’m eating this shit, I waved him off.

Come on - it’s good for muscles, he flexed his biceps under a leather jacket to prove the point. Meat, proteins, and other stuff - good stuff, makes you grow, turn you into a fucking animal.

I just sighed and shook my head. Tell me this when you will be in the line for a new heart.

"Only if this is going to be this banging cyber-heart Kickstarter 3, this shit is hot - pumps blood like an industrial pump," he smiled and winked.

I sighed. Let me guess, Aiden Masher got one?

Ricky laughed as if I had just spat the best joke in the whole fucking world. Yeah, as if Aiden-man is going to run some bitch ass Delta iron. What are you on, homie? My boy, Aiden M, runs only Epsilon tier.

Whatever, where’s the car, R-man? I got tired all of a sudden, needed to sit, close my eyes for a minute.

Right behind the corner, the place is busy.

I started walking, Ricky cursed, grabbed another hotdog, and ran after me. For some time, we walked in silence. I wasn’t sure what to say, and Ricky was too busy devouring another hotdog.

As expected - Ricky parked his car right under the sign No Parking. A cop-girl already stood near it and put something in her holographic tablet. It looked like another ticket for the wrong parking.

Oh, shit, just look at that ass, that’s my lucky day, hermano, he finished chewing a hotdog, brushed his teeth with a finger, wiped it over the jeans, pushed me in the shoulder, and hurried to appear right behind her. Hello, officer, what seems to be the problem?

I followed him and leaned on Ricky’s car. It was an ancient Pollomerro 53 - two doors, turbo 1.1-liter neo-green-diesel engine, 121.5 horsepower, the solid layer of impeccable rust was ruined by remnants of puke-green factory paint here and there. This shit shouldn’t be allowed on the roads, yet Ricky drove it daily and refused to let it go. It was his old man’s car and perhaps the only somewhat good thing Ricky got from him besides crippling debts.

Is this your car, sir? the police-girl turned to Ricky.

I got a chance to see her face - she was cute. Blonde, hardbody, even uniform and bulletproof vest couldn’t cover up that she had the body. Cyber-enhanced eyes, those were from the new collection - pink-mist or something like that, bright as fuck even under the direct sunlight. I bet at night, she could use them instead of a flashlight.

Yeah, it’s mine, I’m Ricky, Ricky Valentino, he spread in a charming smile.

Officer Susan Hoover, she smiled back, yeah, she had already lost the battle - the second they returned the smile, Ricky had them. I knew it for sure, I was around him long enough to know his modus operandi.

Are you sure you’re a police officer? he asked, still smiling.

Yes, why?

I heard they would never take ladies this beautiful - would make people commit crimes on purpose.

Here’s the badge, she pointed at the holographic badge on her vest, threw a quick look at me, then looked at me some more. What happened to him?

This guy? he pointed at me. Got roughed up by your buddies, it’s a funny story - I was actually picking him up.

She looked at me, saw my bruised face, and smiled at me all of a sudden. I hope they weren’t too rough, buddy. Man, she was not much older than I was. And already a cop. I bet soon they will get the badge straight from the cradle.

Cops are cops, officer, I didn’t return the smile.

Sorry to hear that, sir, she answered, her smile disappeared, apparently, I ruined her mood. Listen, mister Valentino, this is a clear violation, and I have to report you in the system.

Oh, come on, I was here for five minutes tops, Ricky tried to save the situation, all while looking at me with this expression that clearly said what the fuck, man, why do you have to ruin it.

Traffic Laws don’t have a time limit for illegal parking, you should know that since it’s not your first ticket, she answered, filling something in her tablet.

I sighed. Officer Hoover, right? Don’t be too hard on him, if something, I am the one to blame.

She looked at me. Behind her back, Ricky desperately put both index fingers to the corners of his lips and pushed them up. I tried not to roll my eyes and forced a smile.

The cop-girl observed me, then looked at smiling Ricky. Finally, she got tired of us, she hid her tablet in one of the pockets on the vest. Just get this thing out of here.

Thank you, Officer Hoover! Ricky was all smile. Can I ask you for a second?

Being somewhat hesitant, she nodded and stepped aside with Ricky.

Listen, officer, don’t take too close to heart this jackass over there, he is a good guy, a little bit troubled, and today wasn’t too kind on him, he never saw a beautiful woman in his life, leave alone talked to one, Ricky was going at it. We’re good guys, parking in the wrong spot and getting roughed up by your colleagues doesn’t define us, just give me a chance, and I will prove - we’re better than we may seem.

Where are you going with that, Valentino? yep, she got the bait.

Let’s say I give you my contacts, and if you think I’m worthy of your time and attention, you can call me up, and we can talk off work, I know few good places around Plaza, it can be fun, he smiled.

Since his smile got wider, I think she accepted his contacts, and now it was just a question of time. Ricky loved this trick - he gave his contacts to the girls, made it look like he was interested, and wasn’t pushing them at the same time. He knew how to not look like a creep, leave an image of a choice. In the end - his face, his smile, his muscular body, and laid-back, easygoing attitude made them call, made them meet, and usually, they ended up in bed with Ricky by the end of the night. He would brag about it the next day, but none of those relations usually lasted longer than a month or two. At the end of the day, they found out that Ricky was just a street-smart guy with a shady-past and uncertain future - definitely not marriage material, but a good fuck (as Ricky liked to say it) nevertheless.

I got tired of observing this pick-up masterclass, kicked the passenger’s door, and it opened up - we broke the lock a few years ago when we got drunk, lost the keys in the pond, and needed to get home before dawn. I fell into the seat and sank into it, waiting for him to return.

Alright, hermano, why the long face? This chick was digging you from the start, and you didn’t even give her your contacts, Ricky said, jumping on the driver’s seat. Do this too many times, and this city will be out of girls without my contacts. What Mia told you?

Just drive, Ricky, I said.

He shrugged but shut up and tried to start the engine. The car made coughing noises, and if it was a living being, it would be considered an act of goodwill to shoot it in the face. The moment he turned it on, which took at least two minutes of swearing, banging on the Start-Stop button, and whispering in its dashboard all kinds of terms which would pass for sexual harassment and most definitely would put him behind bars if Officer Hoover stack around a bit longer, I was almost deafened by the loud something that was Ricky Valentino’s Personal Fine Tune Mix. I turned it off. Ricky tensed up but, to my surprise, didn’t say anything.

I pushed my head onto the headrest and clenched my teeth. I still didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know where to start or what I should even say. Ricky knew me the best - he threw one glance and already knew I was in trouble. And since he knew me the best, he let me be a jerk for a while.

We rode in silence for some time. I was looking out of the window. It was a rather surreal experience to travel the streets by car, knowing it all was going to end soon. I almost forgot how overpopulated Pasadena Plaza was and how its roads were designed with shit in mind. Narrow streets, not capable of fitting the overbearing amount of cars; intersections, junctions, and exits that made no sense whatsoever if you weren’t local; lack of any signs and traffic lights that didn’t function like the intended majority of the time; and the worst of them all - other drivers. To drive in Pasadena Plaza, you had to apply the mentality of a warrior - timid drivers would get nowhere - you had to cut in the traffic, dominate every meter of the road, fight for your place under the sun, and be ready to get physical. As if the whole point of the district translated in its labyrinth-like narrow streets, giant overpasses, and enormous super-highways with endless traffic flow.

Fuck, man, I’m so fucked, I moaned and covered my face.

What happened, hermano?

Mia got me by the balls, I said. Made me promise to straighten up my act.

Wow, hardcore, he whistled, glanced at me, squinted. Like - promise-promise?

Like, say it fucking loud and clear, I said.

She put your balls in the vise to make you say that, eh?

Kind of, I sighed. The fucking gun, Ricky, the fucking gun was hot as fuck! I was looking at twenty years in high-max, thanks to Baso! Fucking jerk…

Ricky made a face but said nothing. I knew what was on his mind - he wondered whether Baso fucked us over, gave us the gun from one of his big boys. As if to prove me right, he said: He didn’t say anything about it being hot, you know, only that it was your present.

I nodded. My head was ready to explode - both from overbearing emotions, existential dread, and missed hits from my aunt. I tried to be a realist from an early age - accept things the way they were. That’s how my mom taught me - she was a sad and pragmatic woman, and she raised a sad and pragmatic son. I had to acknowledge that Baso just gave us hot as a shit gun since he didn’t want one of his precious guys to get caught with it. What if I get caught? Nothing bad - Baso knew I wouldn’t talk (well, except this little thing I had going with my aunt), and nothing of value would be lost, just another expendable kid from the block. And I knew for sure - it wasn’t a setup since I was the idiot who took it and tried to go big. At the end of the day, I was the one to blame for this shit.

So… you’re going to do what you said? Ricky asked after some silence.

What else can I do? I shrugged. Mia wasn’t fucking around this time, Ricky, you should’ve heard her. She said if I’m not doing this, I’m looking at twenty years and… I coughed and licked my lips - Ricky didn’t need to know all the truth. Well, there will be consequences for me, man. For real this time.

He nodded. I noticed how his face got tense, he threw a few glances at me.

I didn’t rat you out, I said.

I know, bro, son of a bitch relaxed. You would never set me up.

Maybe I should for once, I sighed.

Nah, I’m too handsome for the prison, homie, it would be a shame to lose this face in high-max, he gave me one of his charming smiles, that kind of smile that was going to make the police-girl call him eventually, too bad none of them worked on me.

Yeah-yeah, whatever, I waved him off.

He turned on the music again. Changed the volume so it wouldn’t rape our ears so hard, and now we were riding on the highway listening to Ricky Valentino’s Personal Fine Tune Mix. I looked out of the window. At buildings, streets, people. Couldn’t believe that I would have to leave Pasadena Plaza.

So, what’s the plan, hermano? asked Ricky.

I… I don’t know, man, I have a week to clear up Aunt’s place.

You can always move in with me, he shrugged.

Nah, she told me I have to leave Pasadena Plaza.

He whistled and shook his head, a smile of disbelief appeared on his lips. Now that’s bullshit, bro, that’s some old-school banishment-ghetto shit. Where would you go, eh?

I don’t know, I said.

I tell you what, you move in with me, and we will decide, he said.

I shrugged. At first, I wanted to refuse, then it hit me - if I moved in with Ricky for a week, I wouldn’t have to see Mia. Now that looked like a good thing to do. Good plan, perfect plan.

I’ll hit your couch for a week, Ricky, then I think I’ll have to live on the streets somewhere else, I said.

Why?

Because, Ricky, Mia isn’t fucking around! She made it clear - she catches me going my old evil ways, and I’ll end up in high-max before I can finish this sentence!

He shook his head once again but didn’t say anything. I could only agree with him - that sounded like something straight out of one of those movies. Getting banished from my own neighborhood. What a fucking joke.

Pasadena Plaza wasn’t something fancy, in fact, it was one of the poorest, dirtiest, and most desperate districts of City 0. It had the highest violent crime rate, it had the biggest amount of street gangs, and it looked like it held a firm leadership in every and single metric of the city as long as it was the bad one. Yet I loved this place, I didn’t know any other district. Well, that would be a lie, I made runs for Baso to Mountain Plains, but I never was there for too long, after all, chums from Mountain Plains didn’t want to see any boys from Pasadena Plaza.

Alright, here’s the plan, I said, surprised at how firm my voice sounded all of a sudden.

I’m all ears, homie, Ricky said.

I have to find a job.

Like a real job? he raised his eyebrow.

Yeah, 9 to 5, office, ten fucking coffee breaks per hour, crippling debt, depression, suicide thoughts every single minute of existence, and banging boss’s secretary when she’s not too busy sucking his dick, like real kind of job, I nodded.

Banging boss’s secretary, he smiled. Shit, cabron, that’s all you had to say to make it look like living the dream.

I laughed and punched him in the shoulder. He hit me back. We did it for some time, laughing like idiots, hitting each other, almost got in an accident, got honked at, returned the favor by flipping the bird at the sucker. It felt good, it felt like I was back in control.

Now the whole ordeal seemed to be nothing but another challenge. I wasn’t a bitch, I didn’t back down this easy. Never ran away from a fight, won’t run away from a job and becoming someone. Damn it, there was at least a dozen corporates out there looking for young, ambitious, and tough-as-nail kids ready to become legends in the making. And I was tough, I was ambitious. I had my word, and my word meant something - if I promised something, I did it. Yes, sometimes it got me in dumb situations like getting my ass jumped on by fifteen rival thugs, getting stabbed by elf-boys, or just drinking an amount of alcohol that would kill a fucking cyber-bear on combat steroids. But now I promised actually a good thing, I promised to put my life back on track.

I don’t know, bro, my mom told me to always look on the bright side of life, Ricky finally said, wiping tears from laughter.

Yeah, besides, how hard could it be to find a job?! I laughed.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS FUCKING hard to find a job. It was even harder since you had a long-long list of offenses of all kinds by the age of eighteen.

In those five days, I was on sixty-seven interviews. Forty of them ended the second they found out about my criminal past, twelve didn’t even start because I was from Pasadena Plaza, eight ended with me being escorted by the security, and the other six were nothing but a disappointment where I was laughed at.

My only hope was the last one. I sat in the eyes-burning white room with white walls, a white floor, a white ceiling, white lights, white chairs, and a white table. Across the table sat the creepiest, weirdest man I ever saw - he was wearing an impeccable white suit, white shirt, white tie. His skin looked plastic and was the same pristine white color as surroundings, he was bald, and even his eyes were white and dead. The only thing out of order here was - me.

Name? he asked - his voice matched his looks, the same dead, cold, detached.

Jacob Diaz, but friends call me Jackie, I said.

He raised his eyes at me. Made some notes on his holographic tablet.

Age.

Eighteen.

Education.

Almost finished.

What university?

Eh… school, I said.

You almost finished school? once again, he raised his eyes at me.

Aha.

He made another note on his holographic tablet.

Arrests?

Well, hah, there were a few, I nervously chuckled, but who hasn’t?

Severity?

I wouldn’t say there’s anything too severe…

Violence related?

It… happened once or twice… who can remember?

Any gang or criminal enterprise affiliation?

Can you call hanging out with homeboys being in the gang?

He nodded, made a dramatic full stop in his tablet, and once again raised his dead eyes at me. An uncanny smile appeared on his face.

We will contact, he said.

Seriously? Wow, I thought I butchered it…

No, mister Diaz, you completely failed. It’s just a procedure and common courtesy, please leave before I call security in, the man said with the same uncanny, creepy smile.

That’s bullshit, I said, taking a sip of beer and ensuring I was comfortable on the couch.

Still no luck? asked Ricky - sitting in the armchair in nothing but his boxers.

Not at the slightest - yes, I mean, on the last interview, they even talked to me, but what is the point when I still get the boot in the end?!

That’s rough, homie.

Can’t fucking believe one small mistake puts a fucking cross on your life!

Stabbing a police officer isn’t a small fuck up, Jackie, so is armed robbery, first-degree aggravated assault, resisting arrest, and selling illegal substances without a license, said Susan walking in front of me with this perfect ass of hers in really tight panties.

Officer Susan Hoover spent a lot of time in Ricky’s apartment. By the end of the same day, she called Ricky, and none of us could sleep that night. Ricky and Susan weren’t because they were banging like mad, and I couldn’t sleep because Susan was really loud and expressive about everything Ricky did to her. I was just lying there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, thinking of every fuck up I made in my short life, and mumbling Happy Birthday, Dumbass Jackie over and over again. Shitty end of a shitty birthday.

On the days when she wasn’t working as a beat cop, she was rolling with Ricky in the bedroom and made sure I knew what I lost the moment I snapped back at her on the street. And, man, there was a lot to lose - she had the body. Anyway, she walked in front of me, knowing too damn well I was guiding her every movement with my eyes, and jumped on Ricky’s knees.

Shouldn’t you be at work? I asked.

Nah, I took sick leave, she shrugged and licked Ricky’s cheek, he gave her a damn good slap on that ass and bit her nose. Daddy was rough tonight.

Anyway, if tomorrow is nothing, I’m pretty much fucked, I preferred to ignore it and also cover up the most humiliating hard-on in my life, instead, I went for another cigarette.

I can put in a good word for you, Susan shrugged, getting away from Ricky for a moment.

That was another small fact about Susan - she worked as a patrol officer, but the whole of her family was career cops. Starting from grand-grand-parents and ending with her. Her uncle - Donald Hoover - was the chief of the Pasadena Plaza department, so she got it good, and her ass was never on the line no matter how often she took sick leaves or spent working time in coffee shops instead of patrolling. Also, she didn’t mind hanging around two gangster-wannabe fuck ups.

I’m not going to the police, I said, and then had to add. Not sure they would take me even if I wanted to anyway.

It’s not the police, Jackie, we don’t need a jailbird. It’s my roommate, Misty, she is working in a private company, they are big, and I heard they are on the lookout for people.

I looked at Susan again.

Why did you tell me about this only now?

You look desperate, she shrugged again and pouted at me. Little Jackie looks really desperate, ain’t he, Daddy?

She had this creepy shit calling Ricky - Daddy. Ricky didn’t like it, but she was a good fuck, so he closed his eyes on this one. Still, every time she called him Daddy, he cringed. Every time she called him Daddy, I cringed. This time wasn’t an exception, I clenched my teeth, he made a face while she didn’t look and shook his head.

You’re castrating me with words, Sue, I sighed, but yes, I am. I am desperate.

Alright, then I will hit my girl and tell her there’s a cutie pie looking for a job, she got up and walked by me again, now she was just teasing me, I barely contained a loud sigh and looked at Ricky, who just facepalmed his face. What is this hurry anyway? This couch ain’t good for you?

I coughed, made another sip of beer, and clicked my tongue.

His aunt, Mia Walenza, gave him seven days to fuck off, said Ricky instead. It’s a hard thing to do without money, you know, chica.

Wait, so you’re this idiot who was caught with a hot gun during the robbery and got rolled in the interrogation room by MB Walenza? she turned to me, there was a strange expression on her face.

MB? I asked.

Mighty Bitch, she shrugged as if it was a common term everyone should know. Now I get it, boys in the diner told me it was a real show - she beat the crap out of you for real. Still, you took it like a man, even Sanchez had to acknowledge that you took it better than he expected, and he has some serious grudge against you.

Of course, they couldn’t hear us, but I bet it still was entertaining enough through the see-through screen. And yes, I took a hell of a beating, that’s for sure - every place where Mia’s fist reached me was nothing but a picturesque bruise.

Holy shit, Jackie, so what’s the deal? she forgot about Ricky and jumped on the couch near me - her body was jiggling in all the right places, I think Ricky just got jealous.

As Ricky said, she told me to straighten out and gave me seven days to get the fuck out of Pasadena Plaza or… eh… we’re going to have a real problem. Like very real.

How very real? she asked.

Like twenty years in high-max, if not something worse, kind of real, I said.

You know how to make enemies, Diaz, she smiled, then rubbed my bruised cheek. It will do good for you, you look like a sweet-sweet boy, Jackie.

I shrugged, not sure whether it was a compliment or an insult. Sipped beer instead and preferred to see it as a compliment. Besides, her touching me was somewhat arousing, a little bit erotic.

I’ll call Misty right now, she jumped up and ran away into the bedroom.

Both Ricky and I gazed after her. Irritating or not, she had a damn nice body, knew how to move it, and every her touch was something. Also, Sue alone was of more use than both Ricky and I.

Meanwhile, she smashed the door so hard, part of the paint chipped off from the wall, volplaned to the floor, glided over it, and was lost somewhere under the couch. Yeah, that was another thing about Susan - she wasn’t the quietest type in everything she did. She was loud in bed, she was loud in conversations, and she couldn’t close the doors quietly even if her life depended on it. I turned to Ricky with a question on my face, he shrugged. We knew each other for long enough to communicate without words.

Just by looking at him, I asked him how long he would put up with Susan. By shrugging, he said something that could translate as Eh, as long as sex is good. We understood each other, and not a single word was spoken.

But seriously, I said after a pause.

I don’t know, bro, she’s cool, but man, she’s loud… he sighed. This crib survived my old man, yet she trashed the wall in my bedroom in just a week. I mean, come on, chica, I know you put enhanced muscle fibers, and I respect good iron, but for fucks sake, don’t flex with my flat!

When will you tell her? I asked.

Not earlier than she settles your ass with this job, he shrugged.

Respect, I smiled.

You know me, homie, I’ll take one for homeboy any day of the week.

Yeah-yeah, poor you, just have to bang the girl with the most perfect body we’ve seen so far, I smirked.

You’re welcome, cabron, he smiled.

We exchanged air fist-bumps and laughed some more. Shit, if not for Ricky, I would be dead a long time ago. He was this kind of backup you wish you had at all times - the guy who was smart enough not to jump off the bridge but dumb enough to get involved in all kinds of street hustles for shit and giggles.

"It’s done, tomorrow at 9 AM, you should be in the office of Neatly Violet Inc, Susan declared, walking out of the bedroom, a wide smile on her face, then she noticed my face that clearly said I didn’t know what she was talking about. It’s Royal Gardens 3 district, I’ll send you an address."

While I got a request to receive location on my neural interface, we exchanged looks with Ricky. Royal Gardens 3 district was out of my league, like way out of my league. It was way out of Ricky’s league. Man, it was way out of anyone’s league if he was from the shithole known as Pasadena Plaza.

Are you sure I won’t get arrested the moment I step in there? I asked.

Nah, just wear something clean and try not to rob any liquor stores on your way there and you should be alright, she giggled and jumped on Ricky’s knees. Daddy, your baby worked hard today, did she earn some gratification?

Yeah, talks like that were a complete boner-killer. I looked at Ricky and gave him two thumbs up, he sighed but then manned up and took one for the team like the real trouper he was.

Daddy’s gonna give it to ‘ya, he said, which was met with happy demonic screeching noises.

Ricky stood up from the armchair, holding Susan in his arms as if she weighed nothing, and headed to the bedroom to do what man gotta do