OUT ON THE TOWN

My first stop was in the bathroom. I felt like my eyes were still full of sand and I needed to clean them. I didn't look too bad, but the bandage on my face from the wound that Magnus had given me with his belt buckle was nearly soaked through with blood. I peeled it off carefully, examining the cut. It was tender, but Pargo had done a good job cleaning it. I rooted around in the bathroom and found another bandage of roughly the same size, pasting it onto my face with some care. Before Smokey had tossed Kutta's bathroom looking for whatever he had been looking for—drugs, I assume—it had been quite well stocked.

With that done, I changed my shirt and put my new skull belt buckle onto a belt I'd found in the room that actually fit me, unlike Magnus's. The eyes of the skull gleamed at me after I polished it. It was just too cool not to wear out. I tucked my holstered pistol under my shirt in the back. It was starting to feel like it belonged there, a natural part of leaving the house. Keys, cash, sunglasses and gun.

The aunties had really done an amazing job on the apartment, on the house. There was no trash on the floor downstairs anymore, and with it gone, I could see that the floors and the carpets were all clean, as much as they could be. There were stains here and there that they were unable to get out. The downside of having a junkie live in your expensive house for so long, I guess. That reminded me, I needed to get the landlord the rest of his rent money. We had to make some sales and make them quick. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

I grabbed my keys and left the house, locking it behind me. The Comet waited for me on the curb, its white paint glowing faintly in the streetlight. I got in and started it up without issue. It purred at me and then growled as I pulled out onto the streets of San Tedeo. The gates of the LSS shop were open when I pulled up a few minutes later, light and music spilling out of the bay. I pulled in, stopping in front of the open garage doors and turned off the Comet. Hondo wandered out to see who it was and when he saw that it was me, gave me a wave.

"Yo, get enough sleep, homie?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Feel a lot better now, actually," I replied.

I wandered into the garage and saw that Hondo had the tarp off Gato's Jaguar and was working on it.

"I thought that thing was finished?" I asked.

"No piece of art is ever finished," Hondo replied with a grin.

Flattop chose that moment to emerge from the back office. "What he means is, if it were finished, he'd have to think about selling it. Ain't that right?"

Hondo just snorted and waved off Flattop's statement. He went back to work, dismissing the two of us.

"What's up, Homes?" Flattop asked. He walked up to me and clasped my hand in a bro-hug.

"I know we've got a shitload to do. Gotta sell lots of weed. But I need a little time off. Maybe we can go get a beer?"

"Ha! My man. I can do better than that. You remember that Blades chapter nearby?"

I nodded.

"They're having a block party tonight. Those are usually off the hook. We need to go."

"You want to go to a Blades block party? That doesn't sound smart."

"No, it's cool. We've got no beef and they know us. Nobody will fuck with us. Not unless we fuck with them first. We're good neighbors. You in?" Flattop asked.

I only had to think for a heartbeat or so. "Sure," I answered.

"Cool. Give me a second. We'll go. Hondo, you coming?" Flattop asked.

"Fuck no. I got shit to do. I don't need to get drunk in the street with a bunch of strangers."

"All right. We'll see you later, Homes," Flattop replied. Hondo waved absently, not looking up

I was trying to think what I was forgetting and then it came to me. My gun.

"Wait, I'm still carrying. Should I bring it?"

Flattop looked at me like I was stupid. "You serious? Stay strapped or get clapped, Homey. Just don't pull it unless you really have to."

A few minutes later, we were on our way. Even though it was literally only a couple blocks to the Blades territory, this was still LA. Or rather, it was San Tadeo. Nobody walked. Walking was the thing you did if you had no other choice. We piled into Flattop's Javelin and drove it a couple blocks, parking it near a blocked-off street.

"What's happening here?" I asked as we stepped out of the Javelin.

The street had been blocked with a bunch of different items. Well, not trash, but not a city barrier or anything. A bunch of planters, large wheelie garbage bins, parked motorcycles, you name it. An impromptu roadblock.

"It's a block party. You don't want cars driving through the middle of your party, so the Blades block it. Nobody living around here minds, anyway. This area is all Blades around here, and a few old people. Everybody else left."

The music up ahead was loud, and it wasn't just one beat. Four or five different beats at different volumes carried through the night air. Also in that air was the scent of cooking meat and the powerful smell of marijuana. Just up ahead behind the barrier were the first signs of the block party. A couple of barbecues and a couple of tables full of food. Standing around all over the place were groups of people talking. A quick glance and I was seeing nothing but people walking in shadow. Blades and others.

Flattop walked right in like he'd been invited, rocking up to the first table and smiling at the pretty black girl behind it. She was short, stacked and had long straight black hair that was set off by shockingly bright violet eyes. Either colored contact lenses were a thing or she was magical. Maybe both.

"Charisse, how you doing princess?" Flattop asked her.

She looked up and when she saw it was Flattop, the happy expression on her face turned a little sour. "Don't you give me that princess bullshit, Flattop. I ain't one of your baby mamas."

Flattop fired back quickly with a big grin. "Not yet."

She made a dismissive sound with her lips and teeth before looking at me and smiling. "Mack? You new LSS? Hi baby, I'm Charisse," she said.

"Hey. Yeah, I'm new."

"What happened to your face, Hon?" she asked.

"Cut myself shaving," I replied, only just keeping myself from reflexively touching the bandage.

She snorted a laugh. "Haven't heard that one before. You guys come in and make yourselves comfortable. Help yourself to food, and the booze is over there in the front yard of number 38."

"Thanks, Princess," Flattop replied. With an exasperated expression she waved him off. I snagged a hotdog already dressed with mustard and onions as Flattop wandered further into the block party.

"Bye Charisse," I called to her as we left.

"Have fun, honey," she called back.

Flattop was already a bit ahead of me. "Got to get something to drink, then we can mingle and find us some honeys."

I followed him as he wandered down the street, saying hi to the occasional partier.

"Sup Tig," Flattop said. "Hey Banz."

"Do you know all these people?" I asked.

"No, not all of them. But most of these Blades are from the hood, so I know them. The ones that came from other chapters I don't know, but it's all good. There's no beef between the LSS and the Blades."

House 38 was big and sprawling for this part of town, a single-story stucco bungalow with what passed for a large front yard. It was mostly dirt with a few sprigs of grass, bravely struggling to survive, but was big enough for the 30 or so people that were standing around in loose groups behind the steel fence, drinking and laughing. Off to one side was a long table full of bottles, and underneath that a few coolers with their lids open. A large stack of solo cups were obvious at one end of the table. Even that was the same here in San Tadeo. I wondered if it was even the same brand.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Flattop walked in like he owned the place, nodding to the occasional person. I followed in his wake, and soon we were beside the table full of booze. One of the men beside the table was tall, muscular, with dark black skin and a shaved head. He turned with a grin on his face, and I saw that he was a lot younger than I thought. Just barely out of high school, but I couldn't tell exactly. I identified him.

Sharp , Blades

"Sup Sharp, good party," Flattop said.

Sharp pulled Flattop in for a bro hug.

"Glad to see you could make it, homie. Help yourself to the drink, we're gonna get blitzed. We're celebrating, graduating as a probationary chapter to a full-fledged Blades chapter."

"Shit, already? Good work, man," Flattop replied.

"Who's this?" Sharp asked, looking at me.

"Hey, Mack," I said, and extended my hand.

Sharp shook it, not trying to crush my hand and also not trying to pull me in for a bro hug. Politely, and with respect, it seemed.

"Victorious. And you're new LSS, are you? You guys expanding again, Flattop?"

"Shit, Mack, you showing that title? Take that shit off. People are going to come at you with that on there," Flattop said.

Another guy who'd been standing around watching us talk smiled at that. He was small, a little shorter than me, slim and wiry with olive skin. He had close-cropped hair and a goatee that looked like he spent a lot of time grooming it. A quick identify brought up his nameplate.

Juicebox , Blades

"Fuck that, Flattop. Be proud of that shit. Those guys were assholes and I'm glad you put them in the ground."

He raised his solo cup. "Fuck the Hip. Here's to the victorious Lyle Street Soldados!"

A ragged chorus of "Soldados" and "Yeah, fuck them," rang out amongst the nearby partygoers.

"Yeah, Juicebox is right, but so is Flattop. You keep that title on all the time and people will want to run at you. You good enough that you can do that?" Sharp asked.

"Even if I was, I don't want that. There's no money in shooting people. Or at least, not as much as I like," I replied.

It wasn't exactly what I thought. It was cooler than what I really thought, which is why the hell would I ever want to have people running up on me, trying to kill me because of a title?

With a thought, I willed my intent to make the Victorious title disappear, and I felt a slight change as it did.

"Smart," Sharp simply replied.

"So this is your new blood, is it? You gonna take him to meet Gato?" Sharp asked.

"No doubt. He's gotta get the sign off," Flattop replied.

"Anyway, fuck all that shit. You're here now, have a drink. There's plenty of drink, plenty of food and plenty of honeys. Help yourself, all of the above," Sharp said.

Flattop had already got to the table by that time anyway, and had been pouring himself a rather full cup full of what looked to be just straight vodka and a bit of ice. I'd never been much of a drinker, in that if I could drink hard alcohol, it needed to be with a lot of mixer. Those people that could drink straight vodka or straight whiskey always puzzled me. How can you do that?

So, instead of pretending that I could hang with Flattop, I pulled a cold beer out of one of the coolers and cracked it open, taking a sip. It wasn't bad.

Another member of the Blades came up and joined Juicebox and Sharp with us. He was a little taller than Juicebox, but built like a brick shithouse. He had light brown skin, a large soft-looking afro, and was wearing a muscle shirt that revealed a beautiful tattoo of a black panther coiling around his neck. I identified him.

Black Beast , Blades

He nodded to me and Flattop. "Sup."

"This is Beast, he's my right hand. He doesn't talk much, but if you need something from us, and I'm not around, he's the man," Sharp said.

"As long as it doesn't involve talking. If it does, you're shit out of luck," Juicebox chimed in.

Black Beast didn't respond, simply giving Juicebox a casually lifted middle finger.

Flattop, in the meantime, had spotted a couple of girls nearby and had wandered off. A tall, light-skinned black girl with shoulder-length brown hair and a trim athletic build and a shorter Latina with long black hair, completely stacked. Flattop was already chatting them both up, but seemed to be paying a lot more attention to the Latina. I identified them both quickly before I nodded to Sharp and his boys and moved off to join Flattop.

Monica Denova, Student (F2)

Yasmine Marcus, Junior Aesthetician (E1)

It seemed odd that the girls weren't walking in shadow, but I didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. I guess it meant that they weren't part of the Blades, and were just here at the party. So good, I guess?

As I joined Flattop, he turned to me and gave me an introduction. "Yo, yo, yo, this is my boy Mack. Mack, this is Monica, and this is Yasmine. These young ladies are at their first ever block party," he said.

The tall, slim, brown girl was Monica, and the short Latina was Yasmine. My initial impression had obviously been correct, as as soon as he gave me the introduction, he pulled Yasmine away to talk to her one-on-one. Monica, fully aware of what was happening, went along with it and turned fully to greet me.

"That right, first block party? Mine too," I said.

"Nah, he's full of shit. I don't know where he got that from, I've been to plenty of block parties. Just not usually where nearly everyone's a gangster. You're walking in shadow, Mack, are you a gangster?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye and a challenge in her voice.

"Gangster? No. Businessman."

"Yes, a businessman with a belt buckle like that. I bet if I checked, you're carrying too, aren't you?" she shot back.

I couldn't tell if she was actually offended by the fact that I might be a gangster or not. There was so much playfulness in her voice, it could go either way. I'd never been great with the ladies, but the Victorious title and the gun in my back seemed to put some steel in my spine.

"Stay strapped or get clapped, you know what they say. You like the belt buckle, huh?" I asked.

She reached out a finger and touched it, running a fingertip lightly across the glossy skull and touching the ruby eyes. "It's a bit creepy, a bit scary, but yeah. It's cool."

I grinned at that. "Yeah, I think so, too. It was hard earned."

"Oh? Tell me the story, but I need a drink first," she replied.

She moved a little closer, and for a moment I blanked.

The proximity of a beautiful woman like her was starting to trip breakers in my brain. Her perfume was intoxicating, and the closest I'd come to the unending river of pussy that ee-sky books promised to their protagonists had been Smokey's girlfriend, not an encounter I wanted to repeat.

I snapped out of it. "Come on then," I said, putting my arm around her waist and guiding her towards the drink table.

A few minutes later she had a drink, rum and coke, and we'd moved a bit off away from the table, which was a traffic hot spot. We were leaning against the house, our heads close together as we talked. I'd managed to deflect the story of the belt buckle, telling her that I'd tell her the real story when I knew her better, and probing for information about her instead. She was a cosmetologist, or studying to be one. I didn't know exactly what that was, but I think it has something to do with hair and nails.

I'd just finished my second beer and was going to get another one when somebody slammed me against the side of the house. The bottle fell out of my hands and I turned to see an angry-looking guy with long dirty blonde hair, a broken nose, and dark tanned skin, glaring at me angrily. He was big, taller than me, and while not exactly jacked, he was no stranger to hard work.

I quickly ID'd him.

James Damore, Senior Mechanic (D4)

"What the fuck, man," I barked at him.

"What the fuck are you doing talking to my girl?" he barked back at me.

"James, get out of here," Monica yelled, but he was ignoring her. All his attention was fixed on me.

"Get the fuck out of here before I break you, little boy. You think walking in shadow scares me? I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast."

I couldn't resist and laughed. "You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?"

That was it. He swung. Either he was drunk and slow, or I was fast because I simply moved aside and his meaty fist smashed into the stucco beside my head, breaking it apart.

I shoved him hard, pushing off from the house, trying to get him away from me before the follow-up punch. Getting pinned up against the side of a house by a guy much larger than me seemed like a really bad idea. I had no idea where Flattop was, but I had to assume that I was on my own for at least a minute or two. A lot could happen in a minute.

James staggered back a few steps, and then came back in swinging. I did my best to block but I really hadn't ever been in a fist fight. His fist hammered into my ribs and knocked the breath out of me, and then the follow-up shot smashed into my face, bouncing me off the side of the house. I slumped a bit, unable to help myself, and James rushed in, leaning down with his right arm cocked back. I fell the rest of the way to my ass and his blow missed, grazing my ear. In a frozen moment I could see pieces of stucco embedded in his knuckles, blood flowing freely. Either he was high or really drunk, because he didn't seem to feel any pain at all. I was just about to change that.

He was close enough that when I drove the heel of my shoe directly into his nuts, I had a lot of leverage. He actually lifted off the ground before falling backwards, squealing in a ridiculously high-pitched tone. It didn't knock him down, but he staggered back and grabbed his balls, shrieking. He wasn't quite out of the fight yet so I got to my feet. Before he could charge me again, my gun was in my hand and pointed at him.

I hadn't been watching what had been happening around me. The fight hadn't gone on long, again, less than a minute, but Sharp, Beast, and Juicebox hadn't gone far.

Beast's punch took James hard in the stomach, knocking any remaining wind out of him. Grabbing one of his arms, he twisted it around behind James' back and began to frog march him toward the front gate.

"Yeah, get the fuck out of here. Don't come back. If we see you in this hood again, that's it for you, motherfucker," Sharp called at him.

"Sorry about that, Homie. You can put the piece away," Sharp said as he came over and stood beside me.

I holstered my gun, pulling my shirt to cover it again. "Thanks," I said to Sharp.

"Don't mention it. Have fun," he said, eyeing Monica with a grin.

"I knew you had a gun under there. What else are you hiding?" Monica said as she grabbed my arm and pressed herself against me. She smelled great.