All Involved Read Online Free

still holding on. I swallow hard and say, “How much time we got?”
    Clever gives me a look like he doesn’t get what I’m asking at first, but Fate does. I don’t even need to say it.
    He looks at the wall clock and shrugs. “Hour and a half most likely.”
    That’s how long it’ll be before Lil Mosco buzzes back and hears about this. Nobody takes pagers on runs. That eliminates the temptation of using it while you’re doing business.
    So ninety minutes then, maybe less. That’s how long we got tofind out who did it, find them, and put bullets in them before wild-ass Lil Mosco gets home and starts shooting up house after house of anybody even halfway connected to this shit. But that’s not my style.
    I need to look whoever did it in the eyes, because what else is a sister to do?
    They need to know I know before they get it. It needs to be justice.
    Everybody in the living room can tell I’m on fire. Nobody says shit when I turn off the TV on a posse scene, badges getting handed out to a bunch of white hats. For a second, that feels like us. I hand Fate my rifle and pick up the phone to call mi mamá . We moved her out of Lynwood last year to somewhere safe, somewhere I can’t even tell you. She still hears things though, like the grapevine still runs right through her kitchen.
    Takes me five tries to get through. Phone lines must be jammed everywhere tonight. Guess I’m just lucky. When she comes on the line, I can tell by the tone of her voice she doesn’t know yet, but she knows something’s wrong cuz of my tone. I tell her not to answer the door, to lock it up good. I tell her not to answer the phone again until I get there cuz I got something important to tell her but it needs to wait, and I need her to hear it from nobody but me.
    â€œ Por favor, ” I say. “ Prométeme .”
    She promises.
    I hang up the phone and tell the kid to take us there, take us to the place where my brother got fucking dragged to death.
3
    The drive over in Apache’s Cutlass is the longest two minutes of my life. My left leg shakes like I-don’t-know-what and only putting my hands on my knee makes it stop. But that’s when the other one starts up and I’m like, fuck it, and just stare out the window at the mailboxes going by fast, at the front doors caged with bars. Everything’slocked up good and tight. I don’t blame them. It’s not so dark that you can’t see smoke over the tops of houses and know shit’s still burning in the distance.
    I remind myself to breathe as Clever parks one street over from the alley and me, Fate, and the lil Serrato homie cut between houses on the Boardwalk and come up into an alley with garages on both sides. The air is still here, like a bunch of people been holding their breath till we came. I’m too hot, so I undo the buttons on my flannel till it’s blowing out behind me and I only got my wifebeater left as a shield.
    Normally we’d roll in, see what we can see, and roll out quick. But we got time tonight. Even if somebody called the sheriffs, they ain’t coming for a while. Not tonight. Tonight the streets are ours.
    Clever’s right behind us with a flashlight and some of them bags with zippers already open and prepared. Clever’s an all-star for shit like this. We sent him to L.A. Southwestern College for Crime Scene Investigation last year. He’s almost got his A.A.
    I mean, part of you doesn’t ever want him to use what he learnt. But that’s the crazy life. Soon or late, it’s somebody’s turn to feel the cut. And you hate it when it happens to others in your clica, but you hate it more when it happens to you. I felt it twice already, for a cousin and mi padre gone down. Now that spinning wheel landed on me again. It’s my turn. Again. And I need Clever and his answers. I need ’em fast.
    I tap Fate on the elbow. He knows for what.
    He