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1
ANGEL
35th- 59th, that belonged to the Bend Legs. The Bend Legs, like Angel, belonged to Poboy Jones.
Poboy was a light skinned man built like a Rottweiler, tatted from head to toe. His curly hair was thinning out on his forehead and his face sagged with the weight of hard living. You never saw him without his bandana or his gun.
Angel caught the gangster’s eye when she was twelve years old. From that moment nobody dared try her young ass out because Poboy didn’t play about females he had claimed.
When the gangster bought the fine little thing from her mother at seventeen years old, he surprised everybody when he refused to fuck her. Instead he kept her in the crib playing house for him. Cooking and cleaning, doing wife shit. Occasionally she watched him fuck other hoes. He told her one day she would have to learn the freak shit, to please him. But not yet.
There was a secret reason Poboy didn’t claim his rights with Angel, and that reason was her daddy. Angel’s daddy was apparently some Korean Mafia kingpin. He’d been paying her mom to keep Angel fed and dressed and all, but the old bitch was a drug addict and she sold her daughter to Poboy to score some more crack. Once Poboy learned about Angel’s daddy, he worked out a little “deal” with the Koreans. Every day he didn’t pop Angel’s cherry cost that Asian motherfucker five hundred dollars. Nobody else in the set knew about this. Angel herself had no idea that her daddy was a millionaire, who lived in Korea with his real family, managing his L.A strip clubs from a distance.
Poboy was obsessed with Angel more than he’d ever been with any woman. Angel was the baddest female in Saturn Heights, undisputed. A little drop of cinnamon. Big ass, fat pornstar titties, a slim waist. She had pretty slanted eyes andjuicy dicksucking lips.
But she wasn’t like those other hoes. She didn’t bang, first of all. She had been born in Saturn Heights like the rest of them and like Poboy himself. But Angel was on another level. Quality. She always smelled clean and looked good. She spoke nice and soft, never raised her voice. She could draw better than Hillz, the artist of the set, and it made a nigga jealous as fuck, which was funny to Poboy because he knew Hillz wanted to fuck her at the same time. Hillz wasn’t the only one. A girl like Angel caught attention no matter what. Many people had approached Poboy with offers for her. He considered one day selling her virginity if the Koreans decided to stop paying— always a risk— but that would never happen. Poboy had already decided Angel would be the mother of his children.
Poboy himself wasn’t no youngster. At thirty-seven he was almost at a hustler’s natural lifespan. Had him thinking about starting his own family. But just any female wouldn’t do. Angel was like a ripe fruit and he would be the one to pick her.
Poboy had his own house in Saturn Heights. In his Mama’s name, of course— you could never be too careful. Unlike the rundown one-levels that rolled on endlessly over multiple blocks, the house was a three-story, with walls, a hedge, a fence, and a gate with a buzzer and cameras.
It was a Sunday, and he’d just come back from church. Being half Mexican he was a devout Catholic. He was in a good mood, but that wouldn’t last because there was still business to take care of. Poboy checked to make sure Angel was still asleep in her room— they slept separately— before he answered his phone. It was Hillz calling.
“Talk to me,” Poboy said.
“Baritone ain’t talking. Found him with the safe and the gun but he denying everything.”
“Cut off his hand.”
“You want me to use the saw, or the—”
“I don’t give a fuck, nigga. Speakerphone when you do it.”
He listened to the helpless cries of his former right-hand man (ha) with approval. Baritone was a rat for the Lincoln Heights set. Poboy had ordered his death to be slow and painful. Hillz was on the job, a true killer. If only he learned to control himself around Angel, Poboy would have made Hillz a General. Right now his current and only General was begging for his life.
“Please, cuz, I got a wife, kids—”
“Tell us where you put the rest of the money and you can go home,” Hillz lied.
“I don’t have it! I don’t— Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Poboy picked up the latest edition ofHustler Mind.While Hillz finished up the job, he read it cover to cover. Once Hillz hung up to take care of the body, Poboy realized he was hungry. He wanted a rare steak with mashed potatoes and asparagus. He was about to ask Angel if she wanted to eat something, but on second thought she’d been giving attitude lately and some hunger might do her good. Just then his line rang again with the last person in the world he wanted to hear from at that moment.
“Herbert? Boy, you said you was coming to take me to my appointment!”
“Ma, I told you not to call me on this phone. One of the boys will take you.”
“Last time I rode with ‘em bandy-legged negroes my teeth damn near fell out from the speed they was driving. Fuck am I supposed to do about this pain in my hip? You told me you’d take me to the doctor weeks ago. I ain’t seen hide nor hair of your ugly ass!”
They began to shout at each other, an hour passing with neither getting anywhere. Only when Hillz called back did Poboy hang up in disgust.
“What?” Poboy growled. “This had better be about my food.”
“Got a message from the Koreans. They want to talk to you.”
“Fuck the Koreans for now. Tell one of the boys to bring me a steak. Rare. I want it HOT. With mashed potatoes and asparagus. If that shit ain’t hot, they lose a finger. Tell them that.”
“Yes cuz, you got it. Your girl want something too?”
