Savages

choices.” Make good choices when you get out so you don’t come back in.
    Good choices.
    So you can choose to kill for pride, for some silly-ass gang colors, for territory, for drug turf, or you can choose to kill for money.
    Jesus chooses to kill for money.
    Like the saying goes, “Do something that you love for a living, and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

187
     
    “What can I do for you boys?” Jesus asks.
    Jesus is the
jefe
of the 94s, got them a little
plaza
in DP, looking to move into the big Mexican hood in the SJC.
    But the SJC is Treinte country, so Jesus looks elsewhere for support. Has made him the big hookup with a rep of El Azul himself, because everyone knows that he’s going to come out on top, and then Jesus looks to move up with the winner. Perform for El Azul, and when he takes over, he’ll give SJC to the 94.
    Sal tries to play it strong. “It’s what we can do for each other.”
    Jesus laughs. “
Bueno, m’ijo
, what can we do for each other?”
    Sal turns and waves to Jumpy, who pulls the van up.
    “I don’t do cars,” Jesus says.
    Not worth the risk, not worth the aggra. You steal a car, you drive all the way down to Mexico, and then they rob you on the price.
    “Look inside.”
    Sal opens the passenger door and beckons.
    “What you
niños
got in there,” Jesus smirks. “TV sets?”
    Nooooo, not TV sets.
    Assets.
    Jesus whistles. “Where did you get this?”
    Sal is pleased with the reaction. Not easy to impress Jesus. “Let’s just say we got it,” he says, pointing his first and index fingers like a
pistola
.
    “I hope you dumped the hardware,” Jesus says.
    Which is very good, because now they’re talking between men.
    “Can you help us sell it?” Jumpy asks.
    “For a taste,” Sal quickly adds.
    Sure, Jesus answers. He can do that.
    There has to be a good 200K in that van. Kick some of that up to El Azul and he gets his attention. He turns to one of his boys and says, “Get my cousins here some beers.”
    Sal is happy.
    Stands and drinks beer in the VIP Room.

188
     
    Jesus goes to see a man he knows.
    Who will be very happy to buy this merchandise at a good price.
    Antonio Machado owns five taco stands in South Orange County, a good cash business to own, because he moves a lot more dope than chimichangas.
    Jesus chose Señor Machado because the man has ties with El Azul. The
jefe
will get his kick-up, Jesus will make Machado look good and get favors in return, and they’ll all make a lot of money. Even better, Machado is happy to lowball his offer to Sal and Jumpy, then pay Jesus the real amount, which will cover his kick to both Machado and El Azul.
    It’s good, smart business.
    Would be, anyway, except—
    Jesus lacks a vital piece of information.
    Señor Machado has seen certain video clips. He’s had visits from Lado, who explained to him that he should know which side his tortilla is buttered on, and this El Azul business? Don’t lose your head over that.
    The Queen lives,
Tio.
    Long live the Queen.
    And he’s also received, just this morning, an Amber Alert on a certain shipment of marijuana that suffered a misfortune: in no uncertain terms, our good friend Antonio, anyone who moves that
yerba
puts his own
cabeza
on the block. Anyone who sees or even hears about that
yerba
and doesn’t pick up a phone …
    Machado picks up the phone.
    Goes out in back of one of his stores, where the counter is busy with schoolchildren coming to visit the Mission, and he makes the call.
    “You’re a good friend,” Lado says. “We knew we could count on you.”
    Set up the sale.

189
     
    Jesus squirms in the fishing net suspended from the beam.
    “I’m going to ask you again,” Lado says. “Where did you get this
yerba
?”
    “From those two,” Jesus says, pointing down to Sal and Jumpy, who sit propped against the wall.
    “From those two
perritos
?” Hernan asks, jutting his chin toward the two boys, who sit in a pool of their own piss. “I don’t think so. Tryagain.”
    “I did!” It comes out as a whine.
    Lado shakes his head and swings the bat. Big baseball fan, Lado. Thought at one point he might have a crack at the pros. A cup of coffee in Double A, maybe. Now he loves to go to Padres games. Gets there early to watch batting practice.
    Jesus screams.
    “That was a single,” Lado says. “This is going to be a double off the left field wall.”
    He swings again.
    Jumpy hears a bone break and starts to cry.
    Again.
    “You want a