The throwdown this weekend is by far our most important one. We’ve sparred our way to this very moment, beating other crews and proving we’re the best. The Deadly Venoms are hopefully the last obstacle for us to overcome before we step to the Towers. The stakes are too high for us to mess up.
I want to live in the Towers. It’s what I’ve been dreaming most of my soldiering life. We’ve never been this close to having this dream realized. I sense—no, I can see—it becoming my reality. No one else sees it as clearly as I do. Truck is too busy thinking of what’s going on right now, beating so and so, drinking and fooling around with chulos. I’m thinking about our future, of my whole crew’s destiny. Battling gangs for a measly crumb is dead. Once we’re set up in the Towers, we can watch other crews bash each other’s heads. Truck is wrong in thinking this weekend’s throwdown with the Deadly Venoms is just another fight. We are not only avenging Manos Dura’s death, but we are proving once and for all we’re worthy enough to live in the Towers.
“We can’t just beat the Deadly Venoms. We’ve got to put them on display,” I remind her.
“Don’t stress, Rocka. We got this. It’s a wrap!” Truck stands. “We got this. I’m going to—”
“No, we don’t got a thing.” I pound my fist on the table. “It’s important we show we’re smart. You feel me?”
Truck settles back down into her seat. She places her hand on my shoulder, a rare gesture that would embarrass others. Truck is fearless that way, not afraid to show a bit of vulnerability.
“Don’t worry. I’m here. We’ll get to the Towers,” she says. “No one else comes close. They’re even proclaiming our name.”
It’s true. Most walls across the city are tagged with our initials, LMC. More and more residents are sporting our colors of red and gold as a show of solidarity. The LMC has a reputation of playing things straight and fair. Even if the attack to Manos was never proven to be by the Deadly Venoms, it was cause enough for most of the residents of Mega City to despise them. I should feel good about this. Then why do I feel as if my plans are held by the thinnest of ropes? Anxiety rises, gnawing at me, telling me the bloody favors I’ve made along the way will never be enough.
I look at Truck. There is never any doubt, only confidence. I wish I were like her.
“I won’t sleep until I hear it straight from Déesse,” I say.
“It’s a done deal—”
“No.” I cut her off. “We need to be laser-focused. If we are not careful, we’ll end up old-timers, homeless, unable to contribute to Mega City after one too many throwdowns. We’ve got to protect ourselves and shape what we want our tomorrows to be.”
“I am,” Truck mumbles after a pause. She pulls her hand away and gestures over to a chulo to bring us more drinks. If Truck is nervous she’ll never tell.
“What are you tired cows doing here?” The drunken Deadly Venom pulled away from her chulo and now points at our table. The drink is giving her courage.
“Let’s go dance,” the chulo urges. The Deadly Venom refuses.
“No. I want to talk to them,” she slurs. “Las Mal Criadas are a bunch of played-out girls who can’t fight. Just wait until you see what we are going to do to you.”
This Deadly Venom is barely twelve. There are no scars or marks on her. She must be a new soldier, as green as Nena. I want to warn her, to tell her no matter how many soldiers she knocks out, there will be another one waiting to strike her down. I want to tell her she’s young enough to bail. This life is definitely not for everyone. The sueño factories aren’t that bad. There’s time to carve a decent if boring life as a toiler. Instead, I keep quiet.
The Deadly Venom lunges toward us. She bumps into our table and tips over our drinks. Truck looks at me. To let this soldier go would mean to show weakness. It doesn’t matter how green she is or if she acts alone. I must play the part. I get up and shove the Deadly Venom hard. Before the young girl has a chance to figure out her next move, I straddle her and throw a flurry of punches to her side, then toward her chest and ears. The girl tries to protect her face. I stop when her blood covers my knuckles.
“Go home or I’ll end the night with you,” I say. “Tell your leader we are ready for this weekend.”
The papi chulo helps the Deadly Venom up. He muffles her cries with his hand. The giant piñatas grin their paper smiles at me.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Truck laughs. I do not join her. Stupid girl probably hasn’t been fully initiated into the Deadly Venoms, so she’s here trying to make a name for herself. What a fool.
We eat our meal in silence. When I’m done, I retreat to the rented room and leave Truck with her chulos.
• • •
I submerge my bruised body into the scalding-hot water. Hot baths are so rare, the cost of having one in the Luna Club depends solely on the whims of the owner. Since it’s a slow night, Doña charges only a few of my tabs. It’s so worth it. My body aches from the patrol.
“Do you want me to read to you?” he asks. The papi chulos in Luna Club don’t go by names, just by type. I’ve nicknamed him Books because of the glasses he wears, although I’m sure he wears them only for show. I don’t know anything about him except he has a calming effect.
“No. Can you work on my neck, please?”
“Of course. Whatever you want,” he says.
I’ve never seen Books outside of the club environment. I don’t even know how he looks in regular clothes. I go to him because he knows right away what to do. A hot bath. A massage. It’s enough to slow down the adrenaline racing through my veins. Books is tall and slender with dark brown eyes that stand out behind the glasses. He knows well enough to wear a tight green T-shirt to make them pop even more.
“Have you heard?” Books whispers in my ear.
“What are they saying?” I ask.
“They say there’s a new crew coming into play.”
If Books expects me to react, then he’s at a loss. Not even in front of this harmless chulo will I reveal how I feel. Surely the next person who rents this room will be given a lowdown on my reaction. No. I act as if I don’t have a care in the world and wait for him to continue to spin his tale. I won’t have to do much to coax Books to talk.
“Really?” I say with a hint of boredom.
Books pours more hot water into the bath. The steam creates a fog around the room, shadowing the lit candles. Besides the tub and a couple of mismatched tables, the room is pretty bare. Doña rents more elaborate suites for role-playing. I detest those types of entertainment.
“Yeah. Apparently, they’re coming to topple Déesse,” he says. “Nobody wants to see her hurt. Déesse’s been so good to us.”
There’s a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Life as a papi chulo can’t be easy. Dealing with rowdy crews. Always being charming and at their service. Still, there’s no reason to hate on Déesse. Being a papi beats working in the factories or mercados. Books also can’t deny that a threat to Déesse is a threat to what we’ve built.
“Be careful. You seem to forget we owe Déesse everything,” I say. “Besides, new crews are constantly being formed. It took my crew two years to be registered. Another four to get to where we are at. This is just talk. Probably a crew trying to create buzz without doing any real work. Nothing more.”