Is he high? I will never let my crew throw a fight. Never. We’ve bashed our way to get to this point. How would we look if we played chicken? No one would ever take us seriously. He’s got me wrong.
“It won’t happen. We aim to win.” I vigorously dry my hair. “You made a mistake. Las Mal Criadas are no punks and, by asking, you’re insulting me.”
He stands and grabs my shoulders, forcing me to face him. “This is no joke. You can’t win.”
This can’t be. I pull away. “Why? Who benefits from this?”
We’ve never been approached before to throw a game. If we had, the person would have been trounced for asking. By doing so, we lose credibility. How would we look in front of Déesse if we decide to cave in unless . . . ?
“She’s asking us to pull it, isn’t she?”
Santo returns to playing with the candle wax. I have my answer. This is wrong on so many levels. Why is she asking me to do this? I need a reason, because right now the signs point to hell no.
“This doesn’t make sense. My crew is meant to prove we can beat the Deadly Venoms. I’ve been leading them toward this, and now you’re telling me to fake the fight. I don’t get it. Why would Déesse ask me to do that?”
He can’t even look me straight in the eye because he knows this is trash. What a joke. I can’t go to my crew with this. Déesse has been straight with the people of Mega. Straight and fair. Why is she playing me?
“What’s the deal?” I search for answers. Santo has his city look on, a hard and cold expression. Not even a tiny glimpse of why, just a furrowed brow. “Tell me, Santo. If you’re my brother, then you’ll tell me what’s going on.”
He traces the lettering on my choker and pulls me in real close, so close I can feel his breath on my neck. He gestures to the door. The rooms here are being recorded. Of course. How foolish I’ve been. Doña Chela sits listening to our whole conversation.
“This is coming from her,” he whispers. “Déesse has her reasons, and she’s not sharing them with me. I’m sorry.”
Santo holds me tight, and I try to decipher the meaning behind this setback. As top crews, the Deadly Venoms and Las Mal Criadas must occupy the same neighborhood. The neighborhood is clearly divided. The Deadly Venoms patrol along the 2 Line, while we are on the D. The 2 Line is a sweet section of Mega City. No lost ANTs, just decent toiler families trying to get by. The D Line covers a bit of the border, which means breaking night is riskier.
Even with their better section to patrol, the Deadly Venoms have gotten sloppy lately. They force certain families to pay tribute to them in the form of trade. Protection “offerings.” Crews are meant to guard the citizens of Mega, not steal from them. The families they’ve been gouging are promised access to the Towers or a better living situation. The Venoms are even dangling medical supplies to these families, drugs only Tower residents are privy to. When the Venoms fail to provide what they promised and the families are brave enough to complain, they use violence to shut them up. People are too afraid of the Venoms to say anything to Déesse. These families are begging for us to retaliate.
If the Deadly Venoms are messing around with the rules, then it’s only fair the better crew rises up. I don’t understand.
“What if we don’t?” I whisper.
“I think you know the answer.”
I do. There will be no Towers for us. The chance to join her special guard will be squashed, and Las Mal Criadas will be stuck doing the same old crap, patrolling borders for lost toilers.
This isn’t right. What did Las Mal Criadas do to get on her bad side? Did my crew overstep their boundaries? I rack my brain, going over recent events in my head, seeing if we tripped. I will tear the whole crew apart if I find one of them messed up our chances over a dumb mistake.
Santo pulls away.
“What’s this?”
He takes hold of the black fist necklace. I try to snatch it back. He quickly moves farther into the room. Santo dangles the charm by a candle to get a closer look. He concentrates as if he’s waiting for the necklace to speak.
“It’s none of your business,” I say.
Adrenaline pumps through my body again. Keep it together. The plan was to find a way to get the charm to Déesse. This still holds true, although it looks as if my goal is slipping farther away from me.
“Where did you get this?” Santo twirls the charm. I reach for it again. He’s too fast.
“Stop trying to change the subject.” I try my best to be vague, sensing Doña Chela sits in a remote room watching us as if this is her own private novela being performed live.
“This doesn’t look familiar. AR. AR.” He mouths the letters. “They must be a new crew. What did your intel get on it?”
Any other day and I would freely share my findings with Santo. His connections have gotten me things other crews can’t ever afford. Not today. I’m taking this straight to Déesse. Now more than ever, I need the charm to be valuable. Besides, if he’s not willing to tell me why his mother wants us to pull the fight, then I’m not willing to tell him what I know about the charm.
I punch him in the gut, not too hard, just enough to send a message.
“Okay, okay.”
He hands the charm back. I tuck the necklace deep in my pocket.
“So, how are you going to play this?” he asks.
This isn’t the first time he’s been a messenger for his mother. At least he came to me and didn’t send some random assistant instead. This proves Santo is an ally. Since the directive comes from his mother, I can see why he can’t divulge her reasoning. I respect this. He has to side with his blood family. As for me, I must decide whether I’ll be a true follower of Déesse or whether I choose another path.
There’s no option. Las Mal Criadas will fight the Deadly Venoms. If Déesse is asking me to lose, then she must see an objective that goes beyond the throwdown. I don’t know what that is. I have to believe she will take care of us in the long run. She hasn’t proven otherwise.
When my mother died, Déesse came to see me. Only a few hours had passed since I found my mother’s body unresponsive. I was alone in the underground home she claimed for us, unable to formulate my grief. I was so lost. I didn’t know what to do next. Déesse entered the room with no entourage. No guards. I had never spoken to her before. I was just a young punk with no reason to be close to such a goddess. Yet, here she was before me. Déesse took hold of both my hands and made me a promise.
“This pain will pass, and what will remain will be the loving moments between you and your mother. Don’t blame her for how she handled this life. A broken family is hard to heal. Now it’s your responsibility to honor her and forge a new family. I promise to take care of you as I take care of my own daughter. Because when you hurt, I hurt.”
I will never forget what she said. Those weren’t just words. I felt them. Although I never spoke to Déesse after that day, she kept true to her promise. A beautiful ceremony was held for my mother in the courtyard for everyone to see. My mother died of a broken heart. When my sister and father left, where else could Mom turn for her pain? Déesse understood that Mom wasn’t an addict. She was just confused. It was an accident.