Cuarenta y Cinco
I’ve now lived here long enough that I’ve overheard the old-timers at the shelter and people on the street talk a lot about an invite-only poker game that happened out in the neighborhood.
I just never cared enough to know who went or where it went down.
Like I said, I know when to mind my fucking business.
I’ve also overheard lots of bets being placed on HU sports teams, which isn’t surprising considering this is an actual college town with a school that places more value on its sports and athletes than its academics and high-performing students.
They raise money for the university endowment that they have and combine the two for these dumb fundraising events that clog up my email. Pinche culeros. Fucking assholes.
I had no idea that Alvi or his family were involved in both sports betting and neighborhood politics like that, but now that I know a little bit about him, it makes sense.
If he controls the game, he can control the neighborhood players.
Y luego podrá controlar quién gana. And then he can control who wins.
I recognize a lot of the faces that have walked into the shop and even said hello twice. He’s got neighboring business owners, local people, some city workers, and even a couple of HU administrators, all coming through to play poker after hours.
None of them walked in here empty-handed either. They brought in food, bottles of wine, cans of beer, a fucking cake, and a special bottle of whiskey. There’s also a plant.
Some lady placed a cactus on top of the desk that I’m sitting at and told me that cacti prevent unwanted intrusion.
I fucking love that. It speaks to my soul.
Between the prickly exterior and the vibrant flowers blooming from the top, I feel a deep connection to this plant.
It makes me want one as a tattoo to cover the X above my ass.
I’ve already got an idea for a single black rose to cover the X between my tits, so the cactus would fit the vibe.
He had a couple of round tables set up with chairs for everyone to sit and two long ones for all the shit that they brought in. With his setup, I could see them, they could see me, and I was okay with that.
No one paid attention to me except for tattoo guy, and I was okay with that, too. He sat on the arm of the couch across from the desk that I was at, and was at the center of it all.
I was on my laptop, looking for more data to add to my spreadsheet and never-ending Google Doc. I’m so mad at myself for not doing this before. I can’t believe it took Payton and my paths crossing again for me to figure out whose path to avoid in the future.
I’ve got so much shit to document and account for. ?No manches, wey! I still can’t believe it . It’s all so fucking wild.
It’s crazy that everyone who lives out on the block has their social media profiles and pages wide open.
They’re really out here acting like they aren’t the same motherfuckers who’d open their doors an inch with the latch still attached to see who was out in the streets, wanting no one to know their business.
Now, they have crazy-ass story posts and videos up on the internet for everyone to see. ?Qué loco!
I’ve gone through the four main OG’s and most of their second-tier capos, captains, and from what I can tell, they're all still on the inside. A few soldatos that I knew have gotten out and are paroled in New York, which means that they aren’t leaving the state anytime soon.
Even if they run, those ankle monitors aren’t coming off unless they cut off their fucking feet. At least now I know for sure who’s coming out in my lifetime and who I never have to worry about again.
It got fucking loud in there, and at one point, it was almost too much for me to deal with.
I was getting crazy, overstimulated, and couldn’t hear myself think.
I tucked my palms into the sleeves of Hunter’s hoodie and brought my hands up to my ears to cover them.
It didn’t really help. But the plant lady did.
She brought me a plate of food, and some fancy-ass soda, and told me in the sweetest fucking voice that I’d ever heard, that it was gonna be okay. She didn’t say anything else before she turned around to lean on the desk. It’s like she was standing between me and all the noise.
These fucking people were letting it all out.
None of them seemed to care that I was there or that I was overhearing their conversations about their personal shit.
What they did give a shit about is playing cards and talking business.
And from what they were all saying, it sounds like this new gang is bad for fucking business.
They voiced their concerns, and someone said that they’ve seen some guys standing on corners and not acting right. Another old timer talked about trash cans being turned over and unrest over by his shop.
The plant lady confirmed his story and said she saw some young guys looking around and checking shit out in the alleyway, which got my attention, before they moved on to all the lifting that was going on.
I kept my head down and shoved food into my mouth to give my face something else to do besides look guilty. Not that anyone was looking at me or probably even fucking knew, but still, I felt fucking bad that they were all this upset over some petty theft.
I fucking hate that I have to do it as often as I do, and I’ve always justified it by telling myself that the store owners won’t be able to tell. I didn’t mean any harm, and I really wish I could say that I won’t do that shit again, but I don’t want to fucking lie.
I wouldn’t want my list of lies to be as long as the list of complaints that Alvi had to listen to.
I will say this, though: every time a new voice was added to the growing concerns, he reassured them that he was on it.
That they remained under the protection of the Rossi name and family.
The good gang protects them against the gang that was bad.
They started playing cards, and I heard bets go back and forth on their poker game, Hunter’s game, and the basketball game that was also happening tonight.
Tattoo guy didn’t miss one of them. He was out here making it happen like a hustler.
He would have no fucking problem surviving out in the city if he had to.
A few hours in, I saw Payton’s Instagram announce that my man’s team had won their game.
I acted like I didn’t know when Alvi walked up to the desk to tell me the same thing.
But then he mentioned that my cabrón had scored, showing me a video of it on his phone, and I turned into a fucking cheerleader.
Literalmente. I jumped up and down with clapping hands that I held over my heart; all that was missing was the fucking pom-poms.
I pried his phone from his iron fucking grip and put it closer to my face to watch the clip over and over again.
I had no fucking idea what I was watching him do, but I did know it was hot as hell.
I zoomed in on his sweaty face and moved away when Alvi tried to grab it back.
I gave it up, but not before I emailed myself the video and link.
A little while later, Alvi caught me watching the clip on my laptop for the 13th time.
I couldn’t help it, my man looked bad out there like a fucking professional.
He was smooth and rough, and I liked watching him score a goal for me like he said he would.
Evidently, that shit was noticeable. My cheeks were bright fucking red. Me chiveé. I was blushing.
Alvi thought he had jokes and went as far as to fold up a piece of paper into a fan, before he dropped it on my keyboard for me to “cool off.” Pfff, no mames, wey.
He thought it was so fucking funny and was laughing before he said I was something called a ‘WAG’. I got so fucking pissed at what he was implying and had to let him know that he isn’t gonna call me a dog.
I was fucking surprised to be honest, especially after all the nice shit he had said and how he’s been.
But I didn’t give a fuck; I told this motherfucker right to his face, while standing in his place of business, that I don’t bark for no man.
??Y tú, quién eres?! Who do you think you are, calling me a fucking WAG? Pff, As if.
And then I had instant regret when he told me what it meant.
I was so fucking embarrassed that I pulled my beanie down over my eyes and hid in Hunter’s hoodie when Alvi explained that being a WAG had nothing to do with a dog’s tail or whatever the fuck it is that I thought it was. It meant I was his girl. Aye, no.
I held out my fist for him to bump, because I wasn’t sure what else to do, and my words wouldn’t work. I was sorry for going off on him about it. That shit wasn’t okay, but he just smiled and said it was funny as hell. Más bien humillante. More like humiliating.
After I was done dying of embarrassment, the conversations in the shop got serious. They twisted and turned back to the new gang. Every hair on the back of my neck, especially the ones over that fucking X, stood straight up to see what was happening.
I was getting anxious, and I had that intuitive feeling I’d get when something bad was about to go down.
I’ve learned to trust my gut and to follow my intuition.
I know it’s my Diosas guiding me. I didn’t hesitate to reach for my girl in my pocket as reassurance that I can and will defend myself.
I’ll fucking kill whoever I have to to keep myself alive.
People from the neighborhood were starting to pack their shit up to leave, and when the plant lady was on her way out, she came up to where I was sitting, looked me straight in my face, and told me that I needed the protection of the cactus more than Alvi did.
She moved to the side of the desk and put her hand between my shoulder blades, rubbing clockwise circles into my back. I didn’t flinch or shove her touch away. It was comforting, powerful, and I knew—I just knew—she was a fucking witch.
She also wasn’t playing and made Alvi promise that he’d re-gift it to me. So he picked it up off the desk, slightly bowed his head, and offered me the potted plant in front of her.
I grinned when she patted this big-ass tattooed man on the arm and called him a good boy. She was cool as fuck. She owns a crystal and tea shop on the other side of the street. She’s also Alvi’s grandmother’s best friend.
All that’s left are some middle-aged, old-school-looking guys that Alvi’s dealing cards out to. From what I’ve now heard, two of them own stores down the block and two work for the city. All of them went to high school with Alvi’s father and uncles.
It’s been a while since anyone walked in here, and I keep checking the door to see if Hunter’s here yet. I’ve never missed a man before, and now, I’m out here wondering where he is. He’s been gone too long, and I don’t like it.
It’s fucking crazy to think that six fucking months ago, this fine-ass man was on his bullshit and couldn’t commit to sitting at a table with me. I roll my eyes just thinking about it. Porque ahora es mi novio. Because now he’s my boyfriend. I literalmente roll my eyes just thinking about it all.
A boyfriend that fucking promised me that he’d be back after his game. I look at my phone for the millionth fucking time. I’m starting to get cranky and sigh as loud as I fucking can as I slam my laptop shut and think to myself, ?Vente ya! Come on, just get here already.