Welcome to the Row

Prologue

"Come on, Jess," Danny grabbed my arm before I stormed out of the door of my college dorm. He'd been banging my roommate, so I was not in the mood to be very forgiving at the moment. All I wanted at the moment was to be alone for a while. Later, I'd come back and maybe I'd be rid of Danny for good. He was good looking, tall, muscular in an athletic kind of way. He had a full head of wavy blond hair and a pair of round, brown eyes and a friendly face. While he was a looker and was as friendly as his face suggested, he was also a player. Six months into our relationship last year, there had been rumors of him sleeping with his female literary professor, but I had ignored them and regarded them only as stories. I should have guessed he'd be like this. Danny and I had met on the first day of my freshman year last year, when I was eighteen.

We hit it off pretty easily, but ever since we got serious and it became evident that we would be staying with each other for a while, he'd been complaining that I was a boring, no-fun type of girl. He would urge me to go out and try new things, and stay in and try new things (if you catch my drift), but I was never all that adventurous even though my roommate was. She actually had a lot of bedroom toys lying around all over the place, and while I respect her lifestyle, I sometimes feel like I need to peel off a layer of skin on my eyeballs to feel clean again. Don't get me wrong, though, I have a wild imagination. I'm a big fan of mental musical montages and I often break into song and resist the urge to dance as well. I just never lived a real interesting life out in the open.

I don't have any siblings or anything, well, unless you count my sister Denise, but I always thought her to be the spawn of something strange that came to live with us while looking related to us with the straight, light brown hair given to us by our mother and the light blue eyes given by our father. We're similar only in name and physical appearance, because Denise is a hardcore vegan and feminazi. Once she tried to talk me into burning all of my bras because it's a symbol of how this patriarchal society wants to keep the female population under lock and key like a bunch of prisoners. I don't know what kind of underwear she buys, but my bras usually only come with one or two hooks, three if I'm feeling vulnerable. Anyways, while Denise is out protesting and using violence to get her way, I stay cooped up inside looking up porn and cat videos when I've finished my assignments instead of trying out the porn-style shit with Danny.

I threw him off my arm and swung my hand to give him a hard smack. I was too slow, because he dodged it and made another grab for my arm which I avoided by stepping back and turning to make a dash for the stairs.

"Stay away from me, Danny!" I shouted, anger making my face turn red and my brow furrow, "I don't want to see you again, you asshole!"

"C'mon, we were only fooling around a little, you know I'm yours," He said, as if that made it any better, "I only did it 'cause I was bored y'now, baby? I mean, you never try nothin' exciting, so I thought I'd go have a little fun, but I'd always go back to you, you know that."

"You think that makes it fucking better? I knew you were a little fucking dumb, Danny, but not like this," I ignored him and his shouting about how I was a bitch for calling him dumb and about how boring I was. I didn't need him anyways; all he was doing was dragging me down in my mood when he said something stupid and in my grades when he suggested we spend a little time pleasuring each other in place of doing homework.

I called a cab to take me to the Row where I could at least walk around and think in peace among the towering abandoned churches. I waited for it while sitting on the curb outside the dorm building of Stilwater University. It was one of the nicest looking areas in the city, but it was still as much of a shithole as the whole place. Drug dealers liked to take advantage of stressed-out college students. I'm not going to lie, I've tried some, but drugs were perhaps the only adventurous thing I've ever done and I wasn't even big enough to go back and buy any myself, so I never got addicted. I didn't mind, getting addicted would have just made my life shittier. I was nineteen years old and had been ready to commit myself to a loser like Danny. I covered my face and started to cry a little, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and wetting my palms and cheeks. I was young and already life started to look like hard, boring shit.

The cabby rolled up and honked while my eyes were still red and puffy. At least I wasn't in my pajamas or anything, or else I'd look really miserable. I got up and dragged my feet towards it and flopped into the seat once I'd opened the door. Buckling up, I could feel the driver eyeing me and my red face and eyes. I ignored his gaze.

"Where to?" He asked after clearing his throat during my awkwardly silent entrance.

"The Row," I told him, digging in the pocket of my denim capris for my wallet to have ready when we got there. The drive was about twenty minutes long, and after the staring match the driver did when I first got in the car, he didn't look at me again until we reached my destination, his hand already prepared to receive his payment. I gave him a ten and a twenty and told him to keep the change before I got out quickly, shoving my wallet back into my pants.

I was wearing nondescript clothing and was generally unnoticeable, so I assumed any gangs in the area would ignore me and my neutrality, my black, baggy t-shirt and my tighter capris, my hair was even in a boring light-brown ponytail in the back of my head, and I wore no makeup around my light sea-blue eyes or any on my light skin or naturally light pink lips. I was a tired-out college student who already was starting to give up doing anything valuable in life, so why dress for success?

I left the cab and it starting speeding down the street again once I had started down the sidewalk a bit. My red face had not started to change back to normal. It was blazing hot in the middle of summer, so I couldn't really expect it to. I did my best to hide from any eyes. As I got further down the sidewalk, I appeared to be next to a chain of apartment buildings (though the more correct term for them would probably be crack houses). There were more and more people the further I walked. One guy had a box full of knockoff watches, trying to sell me one. Yeah, that shit costs six-hundred dollars in the store, but that's because it works and it's made exactly of what they tell you it's made of. Next was a prostitute, rotating her hips seductively as she met me, even if I wasn't a man. I guess it paid to swing both ways.

"Hey baby," she greeted, "I could show you a good time," she caught a look at my face and raised a brow before she continued, patting my head, "And looks as though you could use it."

A trio of yellow-clad men a little ways down the street caught our attention before I could even say anything, "Aw hell naw," One of them said, crossing his arms. They were all standing in front of a brick wall that displayed a piece of graffiti art promoting a gang called the Rollerz whose gang color was primarily blue and a rival gang of the Vice Kings who wore yellow, The Third Street Saints who wore purple, and the Los Carnales who wore red. Everyone knew all of the gang names and colors because gang activity was big in this city, and you didn't survive without knowing who to avoid and what colors not to wear in certain areas.

"Man, fuck the Rollerz!" Another said.

"Lavar," One of them started, his body language screaming anger, "You gonna let those bitches disrespect us?" He turned to his friend sporting corn rows that had a can of spray paint.

"Shit, whatchu think?" Lavar asked, lifting the can to start painting his own gang's name over the Rollerz paint.

I watched as the three Vice Kings were approached by three other men clad in blue, perhaps the one who had placed the tag was one of them. The Roller in the middle came armed with a baseball bat as he and his friends approached.

"What the fuck you think you're doin'?" he asked the Kings who turned to explain themselves aggressively.

"Just bein' civic minded is all," said the chubbiest of the kings.

"Yeah, some stupid-ass cracker gone and shit all over this wall. We just cleanin' it up."

The fighting started there, with the Roller beside the one armed with the bat struck the King who had made that last remark. Blood sprayed from his nose when the attacker's fist hit it. Lavar came in and punched the attacker and dodged another hit swung towards him by another Roller. Then, he aimed the nozzle of the paint can and sprayed it at the Roller who had failed to land the punch. He screamed in pain and felt to the ground covering his eyes while Lavar started kicking him in the stomach and ribs, drawing out pained grunts in between his time screaming. The fatass Vice King and the man with the baseball were now struggling over the weapon, but still managing to punch and knee one another in the face and in other areas. The last Roller made a break for it, running past the Prostitute and me. We pressed ourselves against the wall to keep from getting in his way, but he stumbled and struggled in front of me because he'd been hit in the back of the head with Lavar's paint can.

Three more men dressed in red came to a screeching halt beside Lavar and the Vice Kings and the remaining rollers. They were all armed with guns, pointed at the other gang members. My heart started to race and I covered my ears, unable to hear what came out from behind the Los Carnales in the passenger seat before all of the members in the car opened fire on the five men present. It turned into a gun war, the Rollerz and the Vice Kings produced guns from their clothing that I didn't even know they'd been carrying. It sent chills down my spine and made me want to run for the hills, but I was frozen to my spot against the wall, covering my ears to no avail. There were explosions of red each time someone was hit. They'd spin or jerk backwards and hit the ground to only lie still unless they were still breathing. Lavar was the last king to die, shot in the liver before he sank to the ground, but not before he made a few good shots at the Los Carnales.

The Roller that had run past me before returned with an automatic rifle, and that was good enough to get my sneakers rolling on the ground. My breathing was ragged and my reddened eyes were now wide open. I was too terrified to cry anymore, the adrenaline rushing through my veins didn't let my eyes produce any more tears because I was too busy running away.

The red car had started to speed away, but the Roller killed the driver, sending the vehicle out of control. The rear bumper caught me on my leg and sent me hurtling towards the ground a few feet away. I rolled, scraping my elbows and hands and ripping the knee of my pants, tearing the skin under it as well. I didn't care, I was alive and as far as I could tell from my place lying on the ground, my legs were still in running condition. I was about to get up and start running again until I was approached by a Vice King who was not part of the group from earlier since they were all dead. He had just killed the Roller who had slaughtered all of the Carnales in the car.

I stared back at him as he looked down on me, hoping and praying that he would notice my neutral colors. He did, but I guess he didn't care.

He uttered those earth-shattering words, "Wrong place, wrong time, Bitch," and raised his pistol towards my face, and for a split second there was only me and the barrel of that gun left in the entire world. In delayed response, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for it, my heart jumping when I heard the shot.

Moments passed by and I didn't feel dead. Opening my eyes, I felt myself. I still felt alive and the only things that hurt were my hands, elbows, and my knees. As I was busy checking my vital signs, a large man towered over me, casting a shade over my face. I squinted and looked up at him as he offered me a hand, which I hesitantly took.

"You okay, Playa?" he asked in a deep baritone as he pulled me to my feet. He lifted me up like I was paper, so I had to note that either I was a skinny bitch or this guy was like a black Hulk Hogan. His expression and tone seemed friendly enough, so I supposed thanks was in order. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to get moving.

"Julius, let's go," said his friend close behind him. I paled. My throat went dry and I observed him and the colors he was wearing. Julius Little, I'd heard about him from the news a few times, he was the leader of the Saints! A gang leader was about the scariest shit I'd ever experienced aside from the Vice King who'd stuck the barrel in my face. I would have pissed myself were my bladder only a little filled. Julius put my arm around him and helped me walk as soon as we noticed that I was walking with a limp, brought to attention only because I'd given out a struggled groan when putting weight on it. The three of us started to hurriedly flee the scene, but were almost thrown forward and off our feet by the explosion of the car behind us. We stumbled, but still managed to get away. We walked for about a block before Julius sat me down against a building to get the weight off of my aching leg. Now that I'd walked on it a bit, it wasn't as bad as it had first seemed.

"That ain't so bad, you should be fine," he told me and gestured to his friend that had come along with us, "That's Troy, you can thank him later," Troy nodded to me and I nodded back, "The Row ain't that safe no more, girl. You got gangs fightin' over shit that ain't theirs, and you in their way, they don't care if you representin' or not."

Troy had hung out in the background, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head before he finally interrupted, "Julius, this is no time to recruit."

Julius turned to him and furrowed his brow, "We need all the help we can get, son."

Troy shook his head and threw a hand at the street behind him in a dramatized gesture, "No, we need to get our asses outta here."

"In a minute," he replied sternly and turned back to me. I gave him all of my attention, he'd saved me. He made me want to shit my pants in fear of him, but he saved be, so I owed him that much credit, "Look, the Row's got a problem. Come to the church when you wanna be a part of the solution." Julius stood and gave me a slight smile before he and Troy made their escape.

Be a part of the solution? Well, that was better than going back to Danny, and I suppose I did need to thank Troy and Julius for saving my ass. They could have killed me just as easily as the Vice King. I stood up and started walking away myself. My leg was fine albeit a little scratched up and sore. I grit my white teeth and squeezed my eyes closed until it didn't ache so badly anymore. I got away and walked into a convenience store a couple of blocks away and bought myself a bottle of water and something to crunch on to calm my nerves. I walked out and ate and drank on the park bench, taking deep breaths to assess what just happened.

Danny was a fucking douche, so there was no way I was going back to anywhere near him. I'd be lucky if I never saw that man-whore again. It would also do me some justice to prove him wrong. I don't have to be boring, I can be adventurous. What's more adventurous than joining a gang? After about an hour, I got back up. The sun was still high up in the sky and beads of sweat slid down my forehead. I poured the rest of the water in my bottle on my face to cool myself, providing a sweet reprieve from the hot sun and from my toiling thoughts inside. On one hand, I could join a gang and prove that I'm an interesting, full person. On the other hand, I could possibly die, disappoint my parents, and become wanted by the federal government if I commit enough crimes. I might seem like a psychopath to pass over the cons like this, but at the moment the only thing that mattered to me was getting back at every asshole who ever thought I had a dry personality. I'll be the most interesting fucker in Stilwater if I have to be.

I limped towards the church, but after a few more minutes, the ache in my leg became hardly noticeable and I could walk normally the rest of the way. The church was old and in a gothic style architecture. If it were any larger, it would be a cathedral, but the U.S. and Stilwater weren't known for their cathedrals. It was a generic catholic-style church that loomed over the buildings around it; casting is elongated shadow over the mid afternoon street that sizzled underneath the June sun. I approached it, my attention shifting instantly to Julius who was giving a speech to a mob of men and women in violet. I stood among them, listening intently.

"Every muthafucker here knows what we need to do," he started, "Those bitches be ridin' around, thinkin' they own these streets. I don't care what flags they're flyin', Rollerz, Carnales, Vice Kings—no one's makin' this nigga scared to walk the Row. We 'bout to lock this shit down right now."

That got a few cheers and rounds of applause from his audience. I had to hand it to him because Julius was one hell of a speech-giver. He even had me pumped to do some gang shit already, whatever that might entail. Most likely killing people, but after almost getting my ass killed today I didn't think I wouldn't be able to stomach dishing that shit out.

"Fuck yeah!" An Asian man with a Jersey Shore-style haircut with bleached tips and a pair of sunglasses in front of me exclaimed, looking behind him at all his fellow Saints until his eyes settled on me. He pointed and furrowed his brow, spitting, "Who the fuck's this, bitch?" That drew the attention of several other gang members.

Julius nodded to the guy who'd pointed me out and explained, "Troy and I found her. I was gonna see if she'd ride with us."

"Julius," He'd taken on a matter-of-factly tone, "If she wants to run with the Saints, she's gotta be canonized."

Troy nodded in agreement, "Hey, he's right, Julius, everyone had to do it."

"You ready for this, Playa?" Julius asked me. I looked around at the Saints members cracking their knuckles and necks and clenching their fists. My brows raised up in surprise and I stayed glued to my spot among them.

"If, uh," I started, "If 'canonized' means giving me a welcome hug, yeah, I'm down with that," my voice cracked a little bit and the Asian guy from earlier laughed at me.

"That ain't even close to what it means," he said, assuming the position to fight.

I tried to casually shrug and assume the same position they'd taught me in the women's self-defense class I'd been dragged to with my sister and chuckled nervously, "Guess I'm down with that too." Never had I dreamed I'd ever have to use any of the moves. Aim for the crotch: that was always a good start.

The first guy came at me, swinging a punch. I nearly shrieked when I jumped backwards to avoid it. In a frantic but fluid motion, my foot came up and hit him in the crotch. Don't scream, don't you dare scream, I kept telling myself. My fists were clenched tightly although I hadn't used them yet. The man I'd kicked in the crotch was struggling to get back up. I kicked him in the face this time and he stayed down. Two guys came after me next and I aimed to use the same method. Aim for the crotch. He dodged it and laughed at me, calling me a little girl before I was launched forward into him by a blow to the back of my head. I felt weak and I struggled to get back up. The saint I'd been leaning on punched me in my stomach and my legs went completely weak. I was deadweight and he dropped me. After a few deep breaths, I'd gained control of my legs again, but the two were starting to stomp on me. I covered my face with my arms and kicked at them hard. I heard a light crunch and a shriek as one of them felt towards the ground on top of me. I punched him in the face, pain shooting from my hand up throughout my whole arm and I let out a cry in response. I couldn't let this distract me too much. I threw off the Saint who was lying on top of me, cradling his nards in his hands. It took some effort, but I finally worked my way out from underneath him while the other Saint got busy trying to stomp me again. I caught his foot with both of my hands and used all of my upper body strength to keep him from crushing my face beneath his work boot. I kicked upwards again and caught him in the stomach, weakening him before I aimed again at his groin area. I was shameless. When he had been subdued and was also lying on the ground, protecting his family jewels with his hands, I'd gotten up just as a fourth guy came at me. I jumped backwards and to the side to dodge his attacks, taking a kick to the knee. God, that hurt and I grit my teeth, but threw all my might into a punch at his nose. It caught the side of his nose and he put his hand up to cover the gush of blood coming out of it. I raised my brows, surprised at what I had done. I'd actually broken somebody's nose! My attacker backed down once he felt lightheaded from all that bleeding.

Another guy approached me, but instead of attacking he slapped me on my back and gave me thumbs up. I guess I'd passed canonization, albeit by cheating. I still passed. The other guy I recognized as Troy in his oversized purple polo shirt, chewing on his toothpick.

"You earned your colors today," he said. That was impressive. Who knew kicking some guys in the balls would earn me (little) respect? I smiled and nodded.

Another someone came up behind me and patted me on the back. I twisted around to see the face since the voice was new, "That was, uh, Impressive work," that sounded more like a question than a compliment, "Johnny kicked the most ass during his canonization, though."

"Good to know," I replied, looking at the guy the new face had gestured to, recognizing it as the man who'd pointed me out earlier. That was Johnny.

"Shit," said Johnny, "Took me half the time too, and I didn't have to kick nobody in the dick."

Whatever.

Julius was now approaching, smiling and maybe a little bit disturbed by the whole scene as everyone else was, but he still looked pleased, "Welcome to the Third Street Saints," He told me. I smiled and shrugged sheepishly in reply.

Julius stepped back and got right down to business. I guess I wasn't going to take a few minutes to work over the fact that I'd just joined a street gang.

"Let's get back to business. If we're serious about takin' back the Row, we gotta let those muthafuckers know what time it is. Now, you break it down, and it's all about respect. Get enough of it, and they're gonna back off, and we're gonna move right on in. We got some friends in town that could use some help. Give 'em a hand. 'Course, you can always drop some muthafuckas flyin' the wrong flag. So long as the word gets out that the Saints is on the Row, I don't give a damn how you do it. You feel me?"

Come on, Jess, you feelin' this?

Yes sir, I am.