Dealing in Dreams

by Lilliam Rivera

  Last night, I couldn’t find a way to tell my girls about Santo’s proposition, not even Truck. Instead, I gave them a pep talk to end all pep talks. I used words like “sisterhood” and “the Towers” and “making our dreams come true.” I spoke the truth, for the most part. Because I end the fight with Destiny, I will lose to her. Individually, they can save face. As for me, I will go down. When I do, the LMCs will lose.

  Nena gently tugs at my jacket and whispers, “She’s here.” A hush spreads across the courtyard. Eyes are glued to the balcony. School is in session. I hope once I see Déesse I will understand the task before me. I tried to figure a way out of this. The roads lead right back to me playing the sucker tonight. I have to trust Déesse.

  Déesse steps onto the balcony on the first floor of the Towers. She wears a flowing dress in neon colors so bright that those with the bad luck of being far away can see her. Her braids reach the floor and her arms are encased in large gold cuffs. Even the freckles that cover her face and neck add to her breathtaking beauty. I’m not the only one who carved freckles on their skin to imitate her. Every girl wants to be her.

  Standing next to Déesse with a sour expression is her daughter, Sule. She has no freckles.

  “My beautiful children! If you hear me, let me know. If you feel me, scream it to the sky,” Déesse says. Everyone, including myself, yells so loudly our throats most certainly burn.

  “All who hear me, far and wide, know that we are in this world for one thing, to make this life right. When everything around us was being destroyed by those lost in their blind ambition, we didn’t cry. We didn’t ask, ‘why?’ No, children, we got up and got to work.”

  Although Déesse begins each throwdown with these same words, I never tire of hearing them. It reminds me of my own power. I can do anything if I put my mind to it. My destiny is not fixed. It is manifested.

  Déesse continues. “Today I want to talk about our hands. These hands. Back then we relied on others to make our things. Food. Clothes. Weapons. Globalization, they called it. A fancy word. A big word. It meant not looking within our own talent and relying more and more outside. How do we feel about that?”

  There is a chorus of boos.

  “Everything made in Mega City is done by us, for us. We reuse every single scrap. Repurpose every item. With these hands, no one can stop us.”

  “Say it, Déesse,” yells Truck.

  Her words wash away my anxiety. My mother once told me how hard life was for her when she was a child. Hunger and disease wiped out many families. Violence was rampant. It wasn’t until sueño tabs were created that the city turned around. Food pellets have the essential nutrients a person needs. It was Déesse and her family who worked on a way to produce them on a large scale. She shared the knowledge with everyone.

  “They, the money people, the liars, the men, they destroyed the homes we had. With our hands we now have a new place. Don’t ever forget we did this together and we are going to continue to build a better future. Together.”

  How can one woman bring so much hope simply by speaking? Old-timers say Déesse learned the art of oratory from her great-grandmother. Listening to her speak, I am reminded of how my future can be reshaped, even if I’m living off of trades or sleeping on dirt floors. If Déesse wants me to throw this fight, I’m willing to lose if it means I’ll eventually be closer to her.

  “Today is a special night,” Déesse says. “Each month we prove we are triumphant in the streets. We can come together and defend our home. This isn’t La Casa de Déesse. No, children. This is our house! And we protect it with this.”

  She raises her fists, and everyone goes wild. Déesse waits for the roar to subside.

  “Go ahead, Sule. Speak to your sisters.”

  Only a few toilers, mostly out of pity, welcome Sule with claps. She mumbles so quietly. Those behind me scream at her to speak up. Sule repeats herself. No one can make out what she’s saying. This only makes her fumble even more. She huffs and reveals a flash of anger that causes a few of us to laugh.

  Anyone else in Sule’s position would love to be dressed in such beautiful clothes, to be part of such a beloved family. Not Sule. I don’t know how Déesse can produce such a plain, boring daughter. There’s a joke going around that if you want to insult a person’s beauty, just tell them they are “pulling a Sule.”

  “We are very happy to be here tonight,” Sule says. “To, ummm, for these fights.”

  She practically throws the microphone back to her mother and walks farther into the balcony so no one can see her. Poor Sule. She doesn’t have her brother’s smarts or her mother’s looks. She can’t even fight, although her mother has arranged for the best soldiers to try to work their magic on her. Kind of a waste if you ask me.

  Santo stands beside Sule. He’s dressed in armor although he will never fight because of his gender. What type of conversation did he have with his mother? Will Santo lose respect for me for throwing the fight?

  This angers me. Screw him and screw me for allowing my thoughts to be tied to what he thinks. There’s only the goal. There’s no room for feelings.

  “As you know, these streets have been patrolled by two of my most trustworthy crews. Las Mal Criadas are a true bunch.” The crowd goes crazy. They don’t let Déesse finish. She begins again.

  “Las Mal Criadas are a true bunch. They’re the Bad Girls. The E-ratic Commanders, the Wild Ones. With Chief Rocka as their leader, these soldiers have taken many a crew down with their strength and wisdom.”

  Toilers behind me pat my back. It feels good to be loved.

  “The Deadly Venoms have been by my side for a while. The Mighty Demons, the Thunderous Bandits, the Female MCs. Destiny has shaped her crew in her likeness—forward crushers. Now they are the ones to beat.”

  Everyone screams around me. The noise deafens to the point where the sounds blend into one.

  “Of the two, only one will stand. The victors will be placed on my right-hand side.”

  The time has come. A toiler picks up the clave and begins the rhythm. The “ta-ta, ta-ta-ta.” My crew begins the chant, our chant. Las Mal Criadas’ call to action, in synch with the clave.

  “Mal-Mal, Mal-Mal-Mal.”

  The repeating chant is soon joined with the sound of the congas. The thumping of the same beat over and over again. It follows the rhythm of my pulsating heart, the sound of my crew’s heart. I join in on the chant and focus on every word and what they mean. To be bad. To be born into this world for only one thing—to cause pain. Yes, I’ll lose this fight, but first I’m going to cause Destiny’s crew misery.

  We line up in formation. To my left, the muscle of my crew, Truck and Smiley, take up space. Smiley wears a gold grill, one that marks the victims she bites with an “LMC.” Her hair stands in multiple directions. Her lips are lined in bright red. Nena stays close to the middle, right beside my girl, Shi. Shi may be short, she’s also super fast, a quality most people underestimate. Her long black bangs conceal most of her face.

  I take one more view of the Towers. Those nameless strangers shout and throw petals down. Soon I will be among them.

  “Don’t forget, LMC. This is our moment,” I say to my crew. “Stick to the plan. Remember, we are sisters, family, and we look out for each other.”

  I face each of them. Tap them on their shoulders. They are ready.

  Déesse nods to Santo. He will light a malasuerte signaling the start of the throwdown.

  I focus on Destiny’s grotesque lips and wait to hear the explosion. Destiny voices foul curses. Those are the lips I will punch for the times she called me Santo’s whore. For insulting my crew. For disrespecting my house and the house of Déesse. And for killing Manos Dura. She will pay right before I lose the fight.

  Boom.

  Her crew gallops toward us. What a bunch of chicken heads. They fan out into a semicircle so Destiny stays protected behind them. My crew’s mission is to wipe them off one by one. Everyone is up for grabs except for Destiny
. They have no clue about my plan to fake this fight.

  I take the first Deadly Venom with a jab to the stomach. I finish her off with several kicks to the groin. Before I can charge toward Destiny, another Deadly Venom jumps on my back. She’s a crazed devil, yelling indescribable noise in my ear and ramming her fists onto my head. I try to flip her over. It’s a no go. Instead of a bear hug, she’s now going for my eyes. A baby recruit who thinks she’s got a chance with me. Not tonight, young gun. I push back, forcing us both to fall backward. When we drop, I elbow her in the ribs. While she catches her breath, I turn and straddle her body. I rain a flurry of jabs on her, destroying her face until her lip splits and her eyes roll back.

  Quick tally on the LMCs. Nena is being tag-teamed by two Deadly Venoms. Smiley comes to her rescue, takes a big bite out of one of them. Nena gets her bearings back and is able to get in a couple of good blows. A Deadly Venom holds a bag by her side. This is a tip I gave my girls before the fight. The Deadly Venoms are known for storing shit and rubbing handfuls of it into their opponent’s mouth. Disgusting and effective as hell. Nena sees the girl and outsmarts her by jumping on her first. The shit bag falls from her hands. I don’t wait to see what happens next.

  Truck tackles another. Destiny continues to hide behind her people. What a joke. To lose to her is a tragedy. My insides burn at the thought. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to pull this off. Pride usually gets the best of me and it’s directing me to win. I’m reminded again of the task when I take a quick glance at the Towers.

  “You’re mine.”

  The massive giant heading my way is Destiny’s second- in-command. She goes by the name La Chiquita. There’s nothing small about her. There’s only one weak spot on her, her thick ankles.

  La Chiquita grabs me by my collar and lifts me off my feet. I struggle to break free. The girl has been working on her biceps. Truck wields a bat and breaks it on La Chiquita’s back. It only causes her to slightly loosen her grip. La Chiquita doesn’t even wince. She just laughs.

  “Damn, Chiquita, cut back on the sueño mixers for once,” I say, then kick her while Truck is crouched behind her so she topples over. Before La Chiquita gets up, I grab my baton and swing it at her ankles. Chiquita coils, screaming bloody murder as I hit her again.

  Finally, the path is clear. Destiny is left unguarded. I glance at Déesse. She speaks to Santo. There must be a question of whether I’m going to go through with the plan. With the adrenaline rush, it almost seems too easy not to.

  “You punk ass. When’s the last time you’ve been in a fight, you cow?” I yell. There’s no one left to protect Destiny. Sweat pours from her, clamping down her ratty hair. “How much have you stolen from innocent people? You’re the losing end of this crew.”

  The crowd can’t get enough. I enjoy seeing Destiny cower. Humiliating her is easy. I have to let her win, no matter what. Focus, girl. Focus. Destiny has to win.

  I stride up to her and punch her on her side. Wrong move. My hand crumbles. She’s wearing protective armor. With my strong hand useless, she flops her body on top of mine, sending me reeling back to the ground. She’s going to try to smother me.

  “Where’s Santo now?” she grunts.

  Her body reeks of greasy food and armpits. She’s going to kill me with her stench. I head butt her. When she doesn’t move, I try biting her ear. She pulls away before I give a good crunch. There isn’t much time. She barrels over to me again, wielding a cap. She throws it. I dodge out of the way.

  That’s when I see him. The ANT we took down the other day. The one with the charm. He’s here and he’s walking over to the field, ignoring the violent action before him. The ANT’s stride is long and determined. His eyes are wild, and he’s looking right at me.

  “I need to speak to Déesse.” His screams are guttural and deep. A desperate person. Toilers try to stop him from entering the field. He shrugs them off. Others laugh and think at least this can be a comical obstacle to the throwdown. I’m not laughing.

  With my mind distracted for a second, Destiny takes the opportunity to punch me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. Even while she hits me with one jackhammer after another, I strain my neck to see where the ANT goes.

  “I need more sueños!” He grabs at the toilers around him. Clawing at them, determined to be heard. They push him away. He is a pesky nuisance.

  The ANT forgoes entering the field and instead argues with the guards. He tries to get the attention of Santo, and it appears as if he’s succeeding. Santo no longer watches me getting my ass kicked. Instead, he has turned to see what the commotion is with the ANT.

  I flip away from Destiny for a second and run toward Santo. I can’t have the ANT mess my game up when it comes to giving Déesse the charm. Whatever lie he spews might hinder any progress. I barrel toward him to shut him up.

  I’ve forgotten the one thing I’ve taught the LMCs: Never give your opponent your back. Destiny grabs my ankle, and I fall flat on my face. Gravel etches into my skin. She pounds my back. Holy Mega.

  I look up. Santo leans toward the ANT. What is he saying?

  Destiny lets go of my legs after a smashing kick. I stand up to knock her out, completely forgetting my initial plan to lose. She stands her ground with a baton in her hand, the exact same one I used to pull down her own people. Destiny is about to take a big swing, right to the side of my skull. There’s only a second, a second that transforms into an eternity as I watch Destiny’s demonic grin display her pink mouth guard. She takes a swing. Everything goes in slow motion. The baton comes down, down, down.

  And then it’s lights out.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE HEALING GAME

  My hand reaches up and finds my head completely wrapped in bandages. The events leading to my current situation come to me in succeeding snapshots. Although I feel drugged, the image of Destiny smashing my head slowly comes into focus. How did I make it out of there without brain damage or death?

  A tired toiler hovers over me, probably counting the hours when she can go home.

  “Water,” I half whisper, half grunt to her. The toiler ignores me.

  Destiny clocked me because I was too busy trying to stop the ANT from reaching Santo. So dumb. The ANT doesn’t have anything on me. Now I’m stuck in this room with my head wrapped up. Who knows what else is missing from my memory. I let an ANT get the best of me, and the worst part is, I got sucker punched by Destiny. I was supposed to lose this fight. The hope was to make myself not look like too much of a chump. Who knows how bad off Las Mal Criadas are. Did I screw our chances to get to the Towers?

  “Hey, you. Water.”

  The toiler pretends not to hear me. She fiddles around with a tube connected to my arm. Never once addresses me or offers a drink. She exits before I can gather the strength to throw something at her.

  Everything hurts. Even my eyebrows. At least I’m not dead. I got to get out of here. I don’t feel safe. I try to lift myself off the bed. The pain is too much. There’s no way I’ll be able to leave. I search the table next to me, hoping to find a syringe I can use as a weapon. This tube connected to whatever poison they’re pumping into me has to go.

  As I draw my breath in to pull the tube out of my arm, I hear the rattling of the doorknob. I’ve got to move. One. Two. Three. Pull.

  Nena storms into the room, rushing to my bedside with tears and snot rolling down her cheeks. She wails hysterically. I can’t understand a word she says. Right behind her is the rest of my crew.

  “Chief Rocka! Chief Rocka. Oh my God. I thought you were dead. They wouldn’t let us see you, and I kept telling them I would do them in. I told them they couldn’t keep us away from you.”

  She notices the blood pooling around my arm. The tube dangles on the side of the bed.

  “She’s bleeding!” she yells. I wince at the sound of her voice, as if Destiny once again wields a baton to my head.

  “Please shut her up,” I say.

  “Damn rookie. You never know how
to act.” Truck pushes her away. “Step aside.”

  Smiley chuckles while Nena wipes her snot on her shirt.

  “Sorry, Chief. I tried to keep them at bay. They wouldn’t hear of it,” explains Truck. “Besides, they wanted to pinch.”

  Smiley opens her jacket to reveal a new stash of medical items she conveniently hijacked. If there’s an angle to work, Smiley is the one to find it.

  “May I?” Shi asks. She examines my arm. Shi is the type of girl who doesn’t say much. At the training camp, Shi was quiet to the point others thought she was unable to speak. It’s the quiet ones who are usually underestimated. After we left the camp and started striking on our own, Shi stepped to us one day. She let me know a rival gang member was about to jump one of my girls. Shi didn’t ask for anything in return. When the information was confirmed, Truck and I knew we wanted Shi to join the LMC. At the time we were heavily looking into completing our group. Smiley was already on board. With Shi by our side, we just needed to find our fifth, which we did when Truck recruited Manos Dura.

  Shi brushes away her bangs from her eyes and pulls out a bandage roll from inside her jacket. She starts to wrap my bleeding arm. She’s good at tending to our wounds after fights. She also has the intel on the latest medicine available in the mercado. Shi’s our doctor when there are no doctors to be had.

  Even with Nena sobbing, I’m glad they’re here. My family.

  “You’re living the life,” says Smiley. “At least you got a bed.”

  Smiley rocks a black eye and a couple of stitches above the other. I bet the person got it worse under her hands.

  “I look and feel wrecked,” I say. “I’m dying of thirst.”

  Nena runs out the room before being told to do so.

  “So, how long have I been here?”

  “Two days,” says Smiley. “My chillas on the inside gave me the lowdown. I made sure you were being well taken care of.”