There are times when he misses Chino.
He always knew who he was in the city he grew up in. He knew the apartment complex, three blocks down from his house, was really just dueling ground for a local gang.
That the woman across the street was in an abusive relationship with an ex-con. A huge man, with angry fists who beat her on the porch swing after she put too much sugar in his coffee.
He knew Jimmy Stars was a pimp, who visited his mom every Thursday night, and left bloodstains on the bedsheets, and thirty dollars on the coffee table. Thirty dollars that his stepfather used to get drunk every Friday afternoon.
Ryan knew every dark corner in Chino, because they were glaringly obvious.
It's not the same in Orange County.
There are no dark corners here.
Everything is hidden behind blinding, white smiles, and expensive clothes. When he shakes a man's hand, he wonders if it hit someone the night before.
And when a woman takes a sip of her drink, he doesn't know if that mouth will be wrapped around the cock of the man standing next to her later, or her husband, who's standing at the bar staring down a server's blouse.
Sometimes, Ryan thinks he never should have come here.
Then a hand brushes against his elbow, curls around his wrist.
Caressing.
He looks up, sees the warmth in Seth's eyes.
And knows that he made the right choice.