Rico & Jules

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Jules
       You know, when I was younger and I would see the crackheads in my neighborhood I'd always think, "How could someone get hooked on something so bad". It's funny how I answered my own question later in life. How? Because of him. He was my drug, he was my crack. And, just like the crackheads in my neighborhood I got hooked on something, someone, that was so bad.
        If you're not from LA, like myself, you probably only know the TV glamorous version of the city. Throw that bullshit out the window. Nothing in LA is glamorous. Not where I'm from. We're over policed and overcrowded, that's always bound to start some shit. We can't go three days without a drive by, someone's always being robbed or killed, and gang presence is always at your front door. I guess I don't have much room to talk seeing as how "gang presence" is literally at my front door.
       I come from a long line of Westmob gang members. They're one of the largest gangs on the west coast. My grandpa, I called him pops before he passed, was a member. My dad is the leader , my brother Tyrell, my uncle Don, my cousins all are apart of the Westmob. So when I came along, the first babygirl in a long time, they treated me as if I were precious and fragile. Hence my name Jules.
       They try to keep me away from gang violence as best as they can, but trust me they don't have to try too hard. Although I come from a long line of Westmob members, I don't support gangs. I think they're apart of the problem of our community. Don't get me wrong, they do protect the people of their neighborhood. But, they also kill, steal, and flood that same neighborhood with drugs. There is no unity. I don't blame the members though, I blame systematic oppression, but that's a discussion for another day.
       My days always start the same. I wake up to rap music playing faintly from the living room. I roll out of bed into my bathroom where I do my morning routine. Brush my teeth, wash my face, and attempt to not look so dead. I open the door of my room and the smell of marijuana fills my nose, and the music gets louder. I walk towards the kitchen to see my brother Tyrell in the living room smoking a rello while playing 2k. "Good morning JuJu." Tyrell said he knew I hated that nickname, but I know what he hated too  "Wassup Relly." I said back, he shot me a stank look and I grinned. When I walked into the kitchen I was greeted with a kiss to the forehead from my dad. "Hey princess, your food is on the counter." Every morning, for as long as I can remember, my dad would always cook breakfast for me. Today was French toast sticks with eggs and bacon. "Thank you daddy." I said before prancing my way into the living room to eat.
        I was sitting on the couch when we heard a knock at the back door. Normally, if there's someone's knocking back there, it's one of my dads members. I got up and started to walk back to my room when I overheard Shawn's voice. Shawn is a kid in my neighborhood I grew up with. When his dad got shot in a drive by by the Los Solidos,  a rivaling gang, he joined the Westmob. "I did it, I caught that nigga lackin'." He said lowly to my dad I stopped in my tracks. "You did what!?" My dad said trying not to raise his voice. I looked around the corner to see them. Shawn was dressed in black hoodie and had a rolled up ski mask on his head, and in his hand.... a gat. My dad grabbed him by the collar and pushed Shawn out the door following behind him. Whatever this was, it wasn't gonna be good.
        I had changed into my white tube dress and slid on my tan flip flops before going out to my favorite fresh market place. "Where you going Ju?" Tyrell asked as I was walking out the door "To go to the fresh market." "Which one?" He asked. If I actually told him which one I was going to he'd snitch to my dad. See the fresh market place I like to go to is on the Los Solidos turf, and even though I'm not affiliated my family is. "The one over on 26nd." "Aite be safe." He said sending me on my way.
          I know it's kind of stupid to lie over something so trivial, but these motherfuckers like to overreact. I was strolling through the isles getting all types of fruits and stacking up on my mango juices. "You in the wrong neighborhood you know?" I heard a voice from behind me say. I turned around to see a Hispanic man, about six feet tall, with a shaved head, and tattoos covering his body even on his face...but, very good looking. He seemed to be working there, seeing his apron. "I didn't know there was a right neighborhood." I replied going back to my shopping. He may be good looking, but if he noticed I'm in the wrong hood, who knows who he could alert. He chuckled a little " I guess you got a point, but you know what I mean." I ignored his reply "You know, you're kind of bold being here. I'm a reasonable person, but if someone else found you they might not be as reasonable." I looked him up and down "I guess it's a good thing you found me." I said before turning back around seeming as if I was uninterested. I was, interested that is. I walked to the checkout counter, seeing as it might be time for me to make an exit before anything popped of. "So do you work here or something? I've never seen you before." I asked "Nah, I'm just doing a favor for a friend." His reply only made me more curious, but too many questions might lead you to an answer you don't want to know. After the lady finished ringing up my items, I grabbed my bags. "It was nice talking to you." I said to him before walking off, but was stopped in my tracks when he said "Rico." I turned to him once more "What?" I asked. "My name is Rico." He said shooting me a beautiful smile. "Jules." I said then continued to walk out the doors.

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Jules

Rico

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