The foster parents weren’t as indifferent; they did care. About the child support paychecks, that was. Out of which, not a penny went towards Leo’s welfare, once again leaving him hungry and the butt of yet another cruel joke of the universe. Having had enough of the mean world, Leo set fire to the house. Legend had it that while the flames raged, Leo stood on the lawn, bathing in the orange glow and masturbating, while everyone inside screamed.
The legend might have some truth to it because Leo was into arson, so much so that he had actually burned down five houses on Devil’s Night. It was a dare among the local hoods in Detroit during Halloween, which ended up killing people on many occasions. Leo was never caught for these things, but he was caught for torching a Ferrari, and they sent him to juvie for six months.
Leo suffered with a condition where patches of his hair fell out. These random bald spots gave him a disturbing look. Combine that with the fact that Leo giggled in a high-pitched voice frequently, straight from his throat, like he had some weird Tourette’s syndrome, they practically made him a hyena. People generally treated him like a leper, but when Ryatt met him, he just knew he’d found his first real friend, because Ryatt felt like a leper.
Leo also reinforced Ryatt’s belief: when God gave, he gave everything to one person. Looks, money, women. But when he fucked someone up, he beat him to the road, hammered him until there was no molecule of him left.
Ryatt said, “Sorry, guys.”
“No sweat, Lolly,” Leo said but Thomas still looked disappointed.
The basis of Young Boys Inc. was no one knew anything about anyone, except their street names. This was their survival method. So Leo was ‘Badger,’ because he was as fearless as honey badgers that fought even apex predators like lions and king cobras; Thomas was ‘Buddha,’ because he was always composed; and Ryatt was, unsurprisingly, ‘Lolly’.
However, the rules didn’t apply to them because they were friends from childhood. Still, they didn’t use their real names at hangouts.
“What up, Buddha?” Ryatt asked. “You gonna be like that the whole night?”
Irked, Thomas asked, “Why did you pull that crazy shit? Don’t tell me it’s nothing.” Thomas pointed his forefinger at Ryatt. “I can see it in your face. You’re looking for trouble.”
“It’s Bugsy, man!” Ryatt’s voice rose and earned looks of interest from a group near them.
Thomas shushed him. “You know we can’t do nothing about him, except pay him off.”
“I know but I just want to… I just want to rip his arms and legs apart. He’s making my mom sad. Really sad, you feel?”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Thomas said. “But he’s untouchable. He has something that we don’t got—”
“Gang and guns, I know. I know.” Ryatt waved him off. “You told me that already.”
Leo got up and lifted his shirt, a .21 revolver shining in his waistband. “We have guns and we have each other. What we waiting for?”
Thomas scowled at Leo. “Don’t go filling his head with that sorta stuff, fool.” He turned to Ryatt. “Give it time. You need to become a big player to even think about icing someone like Mr. Hat. And you ain’t ready for the big leagues yet.”
Ryatt sighed and looked around. The walls were all painted: YBI, Young Forever, Boys Better Than Men. He spotted a new one today, a neon-green eyesore. It read, Incorporashan. Ryatt shook his head. Maybe if the genius behind the graffiti had known what ‘Inc.’ stood for, or even how to spell, he wouldn’t be in a place like this.
Well, that wasn’t true, was it? Ryatt knew how to spell it and here he was, amidst idiots and affiliating with gangsters and drug dealers. Loathing every second of it, he reminded himself that he needed to ascend, and he sure as hell couldn’t do it here, not in this stupid club.
“What if I am?” Ryatt asked.
“Huh?” Thomas frowned.
“I mean, what if I am ready for the big leagues?”
“No, trust me, you are not.”
Ryatt gave it a few seconds of thought. “So what if I ain’t? We’re always pushed into situations that we aren’t ready for or experienced enough to handle. But we struggle, fuck it up a few times, and eventually get a grip on it. Isn’t that how you grow in anything?”
“Damn, that’s deep. You learn that in school?”
Ryatt stared at Thomas. “No disrespect, Buddha, but I’m done with small-time shit.”
“Yeah, me too!” Leo said. “We gonna hit the liquor stores now.”
“What are you? My little bitch?” Ryatt asked with a lopsided grin. He pulled Leo close and rubbed his head, making him cackle.
“Fucking jackasses.” Thomas shook his head. “Tell me which liquor shop ain’t got a shotgun these days.”
Ryatt let go of Leo, who laughed maniacally and wiped snot off his upper lip. Sometimes Ryatt wondered if everything was alright up there in Leo’s head. He wouldn’t put his money on it.
He turned to Thomas. “Don’t care. I ain’t dealing no more. That’s not me.”
Thomas said, “This is literally the first day of your job.”
“And apparently, I suck at it. I just sold an ounce to a pig and got picked.”
“So why can’t we go back to boosting wheels off freight cars? Or mugging workers from the sweatshops?” Thomas asked.
“Nah, man. Not enough profit.”
Leo said, “What you got in mind?”
Ryatt took a deep breath. He had been wondering about his career options for a few months now, and he had picked the one he thought was the most lucrative. The scariest thought had never been getting caught and going to jail, but rather that Iris
