He finds Petrosyan at his restaurant, a six foot two Armenian wearing a green soccer jersey, sipping vitamin water with one hand while the other taps a pack of Kools against the counter. “You,” Petrosyan says, by way of greeting. Jonesy holds up a laminated menu. “‘Gyros Galore,’ huh? What happened to ‘Shawarma Hut’?” “Too […]
Ochoa’s water-pale eyes flash in the dimness. “You got it for me, yeah?”
He’s lying with his back against a cement pillar, surrounded by chicken bones and filthy needles. Junkie’s paradise, beneath the Cesar Chavez Bridge in South Tucson. Freeway sounds echo from below.
Huerta shows him the cellophane wrapper. Chiva. Black tar up from Sinaloa. She’s spent the better part of the past twenty four hours getting the money to pay for it, on her back, knees, and stomach. Mostly in cars, though a few tricks were willing to spring for a room at the Budget Inn.
Rena pulled into the Muscle Bound car lot an hour before close. As soon as her pumps hit the asphalt one of the salesmen came ambling over, all three hundred pounds of him tucked into a dark blue track-suit. His eyes slid up and down her. “Didn’t I see you here a couple days ago?” […]
In the watchtower’s shadows, plastic dice rattled. “A 14. You missed the Goblin King, LeShayne.” Ross bounced a twenty-sider against the worn concrete. “But one of his guards throws a spear at you–hits.” Breaths sucked in. Ross glanced at the ring of stoic faces. LeShayne, Donal, Marquez, Harris, and Sykes. Convicted killers, every one. Lean […]
“Meet the new boss.” Lorca had just finished loading detergent onto the van. He climbed down and saw a middle-aged guy, vaguely familiar, with his arms folded across his chest. He had a flat-top of sandy blonde hair. “Where’s Ross?” Lorca asked. “Pastor Phelps caught him watching porn on the company laptop. Third strike, I […]
