Dealing in Dreams

by Lilliam Rivera

  There is a long pause.

  “I don’t know what you guys are chirping about,” Truck finally says. “If Déesse has the smallest inkling the Ashés are coming to Mega, this means they’re coming for us. Let’s meet them before they get the wrong idea that Mega is open for any weak crew to stroll in. Them chickenheads won’t know what to do when they meet us.”

  I can’t suppress a smirk, because Truck is crazy and that’s why she’s my down-for-anything girl.

  “I don’t know,” Nena says. “I mean, why can’t we wait until they show up here?”

  Nena hems and haws. She’s the only one making noise.

  “Don’t go,” I tell her.

  “Then I won’t be an LMC,” she says, ending her sentence as a question.

  “It’s on you. It’s on each of you to come to your decision,” I say. Open floor is over. They must decide to stand with me or walk. “If you want out, take your stuff and go. If you want to bring order to Cemi Territory, then come correct.”

  No one breaks their stance. They are with me.

  A slight nod from me to Truck and she begins. “You heard what Chief Rocka said! We got us a mission here. Gather what you need. We are on the move.”

  There’s a hint of glee in the air. Electric energy. We are heading toward Cemi Territory. My girls are going to be by my side, the only way I can do this. We gather around and start strategizing. This is definitely crazy. I don’t know what we will find in Cemi Territory or what to expect from the Ashé Ryders. One thing is for certain: We are going in with our fists clenched.

  CHAPTER 9

  SEARCH PARTY

  We haven’t been back to the club since before the fight. My gut tells me we won’t be welcomed. It happens to every crew after a throwdown. Mega City residents give the losers the cold shoulder. This frostiness won’t last long, just long enough until the next throwdown is promoted. When we were newly formed and not well versed in fighting, it happened to the LMCs. We’ll have to bear with it. The people will turn around. Mega City is a fickle girl.

  “Que quieren?” Doña Chela asks. She glares at us from behind her encased storefront, speaking as if we’re toilers asking for scraps.

  “Open this door,” Truck says.

  When she refuses, Truck bangs the gate. Doña Chela, in her putrid-pink getup, jumps back. She’s scared, although not enough. How quickly we’ve fallen from grace. I place a hand on Truck and motion for her to step back. Now is not the time to lose allies, however flimsy they may be.

  “Bendición, Doña. I’m sorry. Truck has to learn how to respect our elders. It is what Déesse teaches. You hold our city’s wisdom.”

  Doña does not budge. I’ll speak to her financial side, since that’s where her heart is.

  “We need a quick bath. Food. How much?”

  Her arms stay crossed in front of her. She eventually scribbles down numbers on a piece of paper, acts as if she doesn’t remember exactly how much the items we’re requesting are going to cost. I want to rip the green wig from atop her head and make her chew on it.

  “I will need this many sueños. Plus, you can’t stay for long,” she says. “The Deadly Venoms are coming, and I don’t want any trouble.”

  She asks for more than double the tabs we usually pay. As much as I hate to give in to the exorbitant price when we need to conserve tabs for our journey, I hand them over. The Luna Club is the center of Mega City. Only the illest can pass through these doors. This also means information is being freely relayed to the papis inside. When it comes right down to the order of things, Doña Chela doesn’t matter. She won’t be the top dog forever. Similar to us losing face because we lost the throwdown, Doña Chela and the Luna Club will fall victim to the rotating tastes of our city.

  Inside, the papis try hard to contain their excitement in seeing Truck. One stern glance from Doña Chela and their demeanor changes. We’re given the service of only one papi each, which is fine by me. Truck lets out a stream of curses that can be heard from above the booming music. We eat our food quickly and separate to our rooms.

  Books waits for me with the bath already drawn. “Do you want me to read to you first?” he asks.

  “No. Just the bath please.”

  He helps me undress. That’s when I see the mark. I grab his arm and pull up his sleeve. There it is. “DV” in large letters. He’s been tagged.

  “You’re with the Deadly Venoms now, huh?” Papi chulos aren’t to be branded. Destiny’s crew is tagging everything, including my favorite papi.

  “I’m with you,” he says. “No one else is here.”

  Books feels the temperature of the bath and takes off his glasses to wipe the fogginess off his lenses. Without them he looks tired. The last few days must have been intense. The wild parties the Deadly Venoms must have had. And now the tag. It’s never crossed my mind before how similar our lives are. Books and I hustle in ways that are not for the weak. Bruises from throwdowns and unwanted tattoos. Marks of two people trying desperately to get by.

  “Enjoying your new branding?” I ask, unable to hide my misguided jealousy. Why am I getting so worked up? I pay for his service. He treats me right. For reasons I can’t place, I’m confusing this transaction.

  “Branding is very important for crews,” Books says, rubbing the raw tattoo. “I’m here for everyone to enjoy. This can easily be taken off.”

  I take note of the anger in his voice. I recognize the edge very well. He hates the Deadly Venoms as much as I do.

  “It’s over, you know? Destiny and the rest of the Deadly Venoms.”

  He snickers, and I’m mad at him for laughing. We were the shit before and we’ll be the shit once again. There’s no time to convince Books he can bet on me. I’m here on far more urgent business.

  “What have you heard about the Ashé Ryders?” I ask.

  Books gives no recognition to what I’ve said. Instead, he pours me a cup of tea and one for himself. He adjusts his glasses. How long have I been coming to him? Even if the glasses are fake, he seems smarter than the other guys. I can tell by the way he maintains his personal collection of books. I’ve even contributed to his stash. Whenever I come across a book I think he might like at the mercado, I have it sent to the club.

  “Not much. Mega City pushed them out,” he says. “They don’t exist.”

  He’s lying. The room is probably being watched by Doña. Books is not stupid enough to place himself in a bad situation.

  I hold my hand out to him so he can help me into the hot bath. When he’s close I ask him again, this time quietly.

  “What do you know?”

  “Nothing concrete. Only that the Ashé Ryders are on the come up and they want to shake the way things are done,” he says. “Equality for everyone.”

  People can’t be serious.

  “We have it so good here,” I say. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “How long do you think the Deadly Venoms, and the rest of the crews, will last?” he says. “Maybe Mega City needs a change.”

  I’m in a healing center for a couple of days and the masses are jumping to absurd conclusions. So now the Ashés are coming to make things right? The Ashés are identical to the Deadly Venoms, only worse because their absence has made them seem invincible.

  “What do you think will happen to the papi chulo clubs, to the Luna Club, if what you say is true?” I say. “You’ll be sporting an AR on your arm instead.”

  “Whether I’m Destiny’s or working for Doña Chela, it doesn’t matter,” he whispers. “No one will be free until everyone is. That includes you.”

  He’s been reading too many of his old-school books. I am free. The LMC may be down in the dumps now. It’s temporary. The night is mine to break. There aren’t many soldiers who enjoy the freedoms I have.

  I turn to face him, letting water splash on the sides of the tub.

  He’s so close. What is going on behind those glasses? Is he trying to offend me? I want to kiss his lips, be reckless. Confess my
fears. Be the type of person who burdens their papis with their dramas. That’s never been me. I keep my secrets close. There he is, staring at me with secrets of his own. He wants to dismantle this city. This makes him dangerous, even if it is only words. This also makes him more real to me, more than just a regular papi. What kind of dreams does Books have? Are they similar to mine? Does he envision more to this life than the Luna Club?

  “What is it you want?” I ask.

  He takes his time. “I want to make you comfortable while you are here.”

  “Right,” I say, disappointed. He must follow the script. It would have been nice to be presented with an alternative answer. Maybe a bit of hope before my journey. Too bad.

  “Have you seen this ANT?” I reach to my Codigo and show him the image. He shakes his head.

  “The Rumberos are always attracting an interesting group of people.”

  The Rumberos? A religious group searching for answers in the intangible. I can see how an ANT might find solace with a bunch of spiritual fools. The Rumberos are a small enough group to be ignored by Déesse. Because of their size, they move around quite a bit, with one caveat—they set up their tents by water. The tents are a perfect place to hide out in.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Do you want me to read?” His response is an indicator he’s through providing me with answers. Fine. I got what I could. I’ll go back to the role we were destined to play.

  “Sure. Go ahead,” I say. Books picks up from where he last left off.

  But what interested Dorothy most was the big throne of green marble that stood in the middle of the room. It was shaped like a chair and sparkled with gems, as did everything else. . . .

  I let myself follow the journey of a girl lost in a weird, upside-down world. Books’s soft-spoken voice describes a complicated journey. Hints of what Cemi Territory may hold for me.

  “You need to leave!” Doña Chela’s grating voice breaks me from my relaxed state.

  I get up, and Books hands me my clothes.

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he says.

  Who knows when I will see him again and how things will change.

  “It might be a while before I visit. Since I’m leaving, tell me this one thing,” I say. “What’s your real name?”

  He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “My name? I don’t remember.” His smile can’t hide the sadness behind it. He’s lying again. Everyone wants to keep their past to themselves. He’ll keep his secret, so no one, enemy or friend, can snatch it from him.

  “Do you want to take the book with you?” he asks.

  “No,” I say. “Save it for me. I’ll be back.”

  He nods, and I walk out.

  • • •

  I find my soldiers gathered around a girl.

  “C’mon, Gata, you know I’m good for it,” Smiley whispers in Gata’s ear. Gata came through the training camp, although she never could dig deep into the buffalo stance. She would rather hang on the sidelines waiting for the winners to appear. Gata has no allegiance to any one crew. She’s a type of freelancer who attaches herself to whoever is on top. Just last week that person was Smiley. There are plenty of freelancers who hang with top crews. Thirst Fans is what they are called.

  “Meet me tonight and I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Smiley flashes her mood teeth guard, which changes color with an emotional shift. Gata seems to be enjoying the attention.

  “I want to help you, Smiley. I don’t have it in me,” Gata says. “I’m already meeting Destiny at the Luna Club. How would it look if I appeared with you? The only currency I got is my word and my ass.”

  “Destiny? She ain’t the one. C’mon, now,” Smiley says. “We go way back. I mean, last week it was just you and me and the DJ playing your favorite song over and over. I did that. Not Destiny.”

  Gata’s not taking the bait. She gives off a nervous vibe, afraid of being seen with us. The circle of information is shrinking. There’s only a small window before it closes for good.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Gata says. “I can’t help you. I don’t know a thing about an ANT.”

  Truck grabs Gata by the hair. The meowing back and forth is getting old, so I’m not mad at Truck for finally moving things along. We usually don’t witness this dance between Smiley and her sources. We’re probably ruining this for her. Smiley likes Gata, and Gata feels the same about Smiley.

  “Stop wasting my time and give us the word before I rip this long, pretty hair,” Truck says.

  Smiley shoots Truck a look of anger. They’ve got their own ways of working the streets, and Smiley can’t stand the way Truck works hers.

  “Okay! Okay,” Gata pleads. Truck lets her go, and Gata immediately fixes her hair. “I might have heard about the guy you are looking for. He’s on a celestial trip with the Rumberos, wailing. What else is new? That’s what the Rumberos do. They wail. No fun whatsoever. Not you, Truck. You love to party, right?” She pushes up against Truck.

  Truck shoves her away. Truck hates when girls use their bodies to try to manipulate situations. Déesse believes women no longer need to rely on their beauty and sexuality to get by. I agree as does Truck. What a person looks like shouldn’t weigh in on how they navigate this city. The male gaze is dead. Gata is aware of this yet she still enjoys pissing Truck off. Smiley slides Gata sueños for trading and sends her on her way.

  Books was right. We need to visit the Rumberos next. What we’re currently wearing won’t do. We need to change.

  “Truck and I will go,” I say. “The rest of you head to the mercado and take care of the provisions. Remember what I said—divide the list and make sure no one is onto what or where we’re going.”

  “I can help with the Rumberos,” Nena says. “My father fell in with the group for a bit, so I know what it’s about. Wearing blue. The lyrics to most of the important songs. It’s a call and response, so you . . .”

  “Shut up,” Truck says.

  “I can help,” Nena mumbles.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, Truck,” she says. “I didn’t say a thing.”

  There’s a change in Nena’s response. A bit of anger mixed with defeat. Nena is growing tired of being yelled at by Truck. That’s too bad, because Truck won’t stop until Nena pushes back with all she’s got. Truck did the same thing to Smiley and to Shi before her. You can prod the young ones too hard. I’ve seen girls from other crews beg to enter the LMC after being driven to the edge. There’s a fine line to follow when molding an LMC. Nena is reaching that point.

  Truck and I differ in how to handle new recruits. I think each girl can be shaped into what we want. Violence isn’t the only path to take. Truck isn’t Chief Rocka for a reason. Her anger gets the most of her. The arguments we’ve had have almost come to blows. There are times when I wonder if she wants to be the leader of the LMCs. I see the way she scowls at my decisions. She doesn’t approve of the way I’m handling Nena. Truck thinks I’m getting soft. That’s not the case. Each recruit is different, and if Truck were smart she would see that.

  “Nena, give me the intel on the Rumberos.”

  Her smile glows. She only wants to help. The black eye from the fight is barely visible. “They wear blue for the ocean,” Nena says. “You wear blue or you won’t be able to go in.”

  I let her continue even though Truck huffs beside me.

  “Once you enter, there’s only drumming and wailing,” she says. “You’re conjuring the spirits. No one is there to fight. It’s peaceful. He took me once. I remember dancing.”

  Rumberos are not considered crews. The tents are more a poor woman’s version of a boydega, where residents can meet and let go of their aggressions. It makes sense the ANT would hide there. He can suck on sueño tabs without anyone caring. Now that he no longer has the azabache, what more can he do?

  “Also, be aware of the really young girls,” Nena repeats. “They consider some of them, umm, vessels
. I think that’s what they call them. They’re messengers, and they might have messages you do not want to hear.”

  Truck’s head is tilted to the side. She doesn’t believe a word Nena is saying. Neither do I. It sounds pretty ridiculous.

  “Good work. Now go with the others and make yourself useful,” I say. Nena’s smile remains as she runs to catch Shi and Smiley.

  “I keep repeating myself. The girl is a waste,” Truck says. “We should trade her before we leave.”

  “Be patient,” I say. “She’ll surprise you one day. Watch.”

  Truck doesn’t see it. Each girl at one point didn’t seem much. Now look at Shi and Smiley. I can’t imagine life without them in the crew. They’re so essential with their own strengths. Shi and her quiet way of gathering intel. Smiley and her mischievous way of cheating and winning. Nena too will prove to be irreplaceable, just as Manos Dura did. Manos was a fierce fighter but she also had mad love for toilers. When she thought I wasn’t watching, she would give her food pellets to the littlest ones in need. The streets loved Manos. The same will happpen to Nena. She’ll find her groove. I’m sure of it.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Truck says. “Or maybe we’re carrying her.”

  She walks ahead. Truck is anxious. Back at the D, she tried to tell me how she felt about this new directive from Déesse. I shut her down, stating there wasn’t time to talk. I don’t want any doubts placed in my head, even from my right-hand girl.

  CHAPTER 10

  SPIRITUAL BACHATA

  My tronic sits nestled in an inside pocket of my all-blue jacket. Truck can’t find a spot for her weapon. She prefers her tronics big and bold. She decides on a small tronic tucked in her boot. We don’t need them. The Rumberos aren’t about that life. Still, it never hurts to be ready. I can hear the rumbling sound of congas playing.

  As we approach the tents, the smell of burning sage is so overwhelming I start to cough. Two Rumberos sway at the entrance. Their movements are so languid, I wouldn’t even consider them real guards. They don’t hold any weapons or even have a rage face. Instead they greet us with warm smiles.