WEST COAST 18+

5.

W E S T C O A S T

"Aw shit," Berto released a sigh.

Enrique typed on his phone, sitting on the porch and enjoying the cool breeze brushing his skin. "What?"

Berto nodded ahead, "That's my mom's new boyfriend," he said with a look of disgust on his face.

Enrique lifted his gaze across the street, seeing the black Honda pull into Berto's mother's house. "I take it you don't like him."

"I hate that motha fucka. He comes up in my house thinking he runs shit," Berto explains while glaring at the bald-headed man with tattoos on his scalp.

"Be nice to your stepdaddy." Enrique chuckles as his best friend nudged him.

"Fuck outta here," Berto says.

And to bother him even more, "He might be the father figure you never knew you needed."

Berto presses his thumb to his chest, "I'm good on my own."

Enrique sizes him up. "Really? You're selling drugs and got a gun on you."

Berto tilted his head, "So do you, foo."

He smirks, "touché."

Enrique grew up with a father in the house. It's how he even got involved in this lifestyle in the first place. The Saints was something his father took pride in deeply, repping his yellow flag wherever he went.

The man was fearless, and he passed that trait down to his son. The fast life was all Enrique knew, and being surrounded by it edged him into it. Enrique has uncles, aunts, grandparents, and cousins involved with the Saints, so it was inevitable.

Berto grew up on the same block as Enrique, so he was dragged into the life by affiliation. He figured that if he was going to have problems with people, he might as well be involved. And besides, seeing his best friend do it somewhat made him want to do it.

This dangerous life made him money, so Berto was easily influenced.

"Enrique," his sixteen-year-old sister, Genevieve, called out as she opened the front door. "Mami said she's done with dinner. Are you coming in for a plate?"

"Tell her I'll be in, in a second," Enrique responds, Genevieve nodding before heading back inside.

As a young girl, Genevieve didn't have to worry about if she was going to be pushed into this lifestyle like her brother's. She has a choice to sit like a pampered princess, but that didn't mean she didn't suffer the problems the life brought.

Genevieve couldn't be friends with anyone or date anyone that's an enemy of the Saints. She was cool with not being friends with certain people because she could always find another friend, but when she had a crush on this guy in middle school, her family shut it down once finding out his father had issues with hers.

It was a couple of years before that, but it didn't matter.

Once an enemy was made, it was made.

Another downside Genevieve could name is how people didn't want to be friends with her because of who her father and brother were. It was exhausting when people feared her for what they did, but once seeing how untouchable she was, there was something to like about it.

"I was about to sit there," Georgie said as he was robbed of his favorite seat at the kitchen table by Enrique.

"Get me out the chair," Enrique says, looking up at him, being serious.

"Enrique," Georgie groans.

"Take the chair from me," Enrique encourages, Georgie leaning over to push him out the chair. Enrique didn't move, smirking that his little brother was struggling.