ANATOMY OF A GIRL GANG
ANATOMY OF A GIRL GANG
Copyright © 2013 by Ashley Little
US edition published 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any part by any means—graphic, electronic, or mechanical—without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may use brief excerpts in a review, or in the case of photocopying in Canada, a license from Access Copyright.
ARSENAL PULP PRESS
Suite 202 – 211 East Georgia St.
Vancouver, BC V6A 1Z6
Canada
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The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the British Columbia Arts Council for its publishing program, and the Government of Canada (through the Canada Book Fund) and the Government of British Columbia (through the Book Publishing Tax Credit Program) for its publishing activities.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons either living or deceased is purely coincidental.
Editing by Susan Safyan
Book design by Gerilee McBride
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Little, Ashley, 1983–
Anatomy of a girl gang / Ashley Little.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-55152-530-3 (epub)
I. Title.
PS8623.I898A73 2013
C813’.6
C2013-903249-5
C2013-903250-9
For the children of the Downtown Eastside and gang girls everywhere
The darkness of the mind & the darkness of death, & in between the bright day, bright city
—George Stanley, Vancouver: A Poem
Contents
Prologue
Sly Girl
Part 1: Year of The Gun
1. Mac
2. Mercy
3. Mac
4. Kayos
5. Mercy
6. Sly Girl
7. Vancouver
8. Z
9. Mercy
10. Sly Girl
11. Vancouver
12. Mac
13. Sly Girl
14. Mercy
15. Kayos
16. Mercy
17. Z
18. Mac
19. Vancouver
20. Sly Girl
21. Kayos
22. Mercy
23. Sly Girl
24. Mac
25. Kayos
Part 2: Streets of Plenty
1. Mercy
2. Vancouver
3. Kayos
4. Z
5. Sly Girl
6. Kayos
7. Mercy
8. Mac
9. Vancouver
10. Mercy
11. Kayos
12. Z
13. Vancouver
14. Mac
15. Sly Girl
16. Z
17. Kayos
18. Mercy
19. Mac
20. Z
21. Mercy
22. Sly Girl
23. Kayos
24. Mercy
25. Vancouver
26. Sly Girl
27. Vancouver
28. Mac
29. Vancouver
30. Mercy
31. Kayos
32. Mac
33. Mercy
34. Z
35. Sly Girl
36. Kayos
37. Mercy
38. Sly Girl
39. Mercy
40. Mac
41. Vancouver
42. Sly Girl
43. Z
44. Sly Girl
Part 3: Down for Life
1. Kayos
2. Sly Girl
3. Mercy
4. Mac
5. Kayos
6. Mercy
7. Mac
8. Vancouver
9. Mercy
10. Kayos
11. Mercy
12. Mac
13. Z
14. Sly Girl
15. Mac
16. Mercy
17. Kayos
18. Mac
19. Mercy
20. Kayos
21. Sly Girl
22. Z
23. Mac
24. Vancouver
25. Sly Girl
26. Z
27. Mac
28. Z
29. Vancouver
30. Mac
31. Sly Girl
32. Mac
33. Sly Girl
Epilogue
Sly Girl
Acknowledgments
Glossary
About the Author
PROLOGUE
SLY GIRL
I was shot in the face three years ago. The guy on the news said it was gang-related. But it wasn’t. Not really. It was just a bullet that went the wrong way. I left the rez in July thinking that I wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of bullshit no more. And where do I end up? Vancouver, BC, Gang Capital of Canada.
Ha ha, right?
My gang is called the Black Roses, and we are this city’s worst nightmare. There are five of us. Mac, she’s our OG, says there can only ever be five—a handful—any more and it would get out of hand. Mac didn’t even want me in the gang, eh. Not at first she didn’t. Mercy had to convince her to let me in. Said they needed someone who knew her way around dope, and there I was, all gettin ready to be fourteen, already knowin everythin there is to know about everythin: crack, meth, heroin, coke, weed, whatevers.
How’d I learn?
Oh, man, everybody knows that stuff if they’s born on the rez I’m from. Don’t necessarily want to know it, but you do, you do. My five brothers, they liked to mess around with it all. Showed me a lot. Too much, maybe. But I don’t really think too much on them no more.
My gang calls me Sly Girl. That wasn’t always my name. But now, it always will be.
PART 1
YEAR OF THE GUN
MAC
Of course I didn’t want her to do it. You don’t let someone you care about—hell, someone you love—sell themselves on the corner like another dirty piece of kiff. Fuck that noise, man. I said we would never do that. Never. That’s about when I realized the Vipers didn’t really give a solid fuck about us. They weren’t our family, they weren’t our friends, they were just using us like everyone else.
They tried to get me to do it first. I flat out refused. Told Cyco to go down to Davie and get his own ass fucked. Mercy worked East Cordova for two nights. The second night she got home, the side of her face looked like a grated eggplant. Her lip was bleeding all over the place, it was nasty.
What the fuck happened to you?
It’s nothing. I’m fine. She let her long black hair fall across her face as she dug around in the freezer for ice.
Fuck that. You are not fine. Who did this to you?
She shrugged.
Who did this!?!
I don’t know. Some yuppie, drives a BMW.
You know what? Fuck this shit. This is over. This ends. Now.
She sighed. Mac, when I joined, I agreed to put in work for the gang. Whatever it takes, I said. This is the work they need done right now.
This is not work, Mercy. This is human slavery.
She winced as she pressed a bag of frozen peas to her cheek. She sat down at the table where I was weighing and bagging up weed. Got a joint for me?
I’m serious, Merce. How much did you make tonight?
Four-fifty. She sat up a little straighter.
Yeah, and how much of that do you get to keep, personally?
She shrugged. None, I guess.
Doesn’t really seem worth it, does it? I handed her the joint I’d rolled for her.
Well, Mac, you tell me then, what the fuck else am I going to do? Her dark eyes shone in the harsh light of the bare bulb. I’m a high school dropout and a Punjabi orphan from Surrey. This is the best gig going.
I looked around the dank little SRO we shared. It was a shitty box with brown water stains spreading across the ceiling and mould growing in the windows. We could hear our neighbours fight and fuck and fix. The whole building reeked of piss, and cockroaches scuttled around 24/7. The Vipers paid our rent and filled our fridge and “looked after us.” But we had to work for it, nothing came easy. I had been thinking of leaving them for awhile. Things just weren’t right. Mercy and I should’ve been treated like queens, you know? Now our boys were picking fights with other crews, and bodies were dropping all over the city. Civilians too. It was mad carnage. Now, because I was a Viper, I was a target. What the hell kind of protection is that? That’s the opposite of protection. It’s bullshit is what it is. Fuck it.
I watched my best friend blow smoke out the side of her mouth, her lower lip swollen like a rotten plum. A tear escaped from her left eye, which was nearly swollen shut, and she brushed it away like a fly. That’s when I decided: I was exiting the Vipers and taking Mercy with me.
I packed up all our shit that night and called Cyco in the morning. He came over with another OG named Vex.
What’s all this about, girls? Cyco put his feet up on our kitchen table and lit a cigarette. Vex stood by the door, hands in his pockets.
We want out, I said.
He snickered, and Vex cough-laughed into his hand.
I glared at Cyco while I lit a smoke.
He looked from me to Mercy. What? Because of that? He gestured to her face. That’s nothing. That’s a kiss! Eh, Mercy? You’re fine, eh, chicky-poo? C’mere a minute. He patted his thigh as if she were a dog that would come and settle on his lap.
We’re done, I said, and put my gat on the table in front of him. I remembered when he’d given it to me. The first week I joined, more than a year ago. My very own Glock .32. It was a beautiful machine. I’d fired it a handful of times. Not to kill anyone, just to scare em. Let em know they couldn’t even dream about fuckin with me. I shot a guy in the hand once for snitching. He gave testimony in a trial that put one of our crew away for fifteen years. Blew his fuckin fingers off, man. I thought he got off easy.
Mercy slid her 9 from her waistband and laid it on the table.
So that’s it, eh? After everything we’ve done for you? Just gonna take back what you promised us? Think you can make it all disappear? He snapped his fingers.
You haven’t really held up your end of the bargain, homes.
He snorted. Well, good fuckin luck to ya if you think you have got a hope in hell of making it alone out there. You two are nothing without the Vipers backing you. You’re nada. Fuck all. Less than zero. I’ll be surprised if you last an hour out there on your own.
We’ll be fine, I said, and glanced at Mercy as she crossed her arms over her chest, her nostrils flaring like they do when she’s about to get mad. The diamond stud in her nose glittered in the sunlight that leaked across our kitchen. I stubbed out my cigarette in the tinfoil ashtray.
Phones. Cyco held out his hands and we placed our burners in each of his palms. And what’s your uncle gonna have to say about all this, Miss Mac?
He’ll say I should’ve left a long time ago, when you all started getting sloppy, killing people for no reason, shooting civilians, acting like pimps when you’re supposed to be gangsters.
Jeez, girl. You got some big balls for a chick. C’mere.
What?
C’mere, I need to give you a goodbye kiss.
Huh? We’d kissed before, oh hell, we’d done more than that, we’d done everything. But it was a long time ago, and it only happened twice, maybe three times. We were drunk. No one in the Vipers knew about it. Except Mercy. I looked at Mercy; she’d pressed her lips together so hard they’d turned pale purple.
You know, if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t be able to get away with this. Not without severe motherfucking consequences. Cyco’s blue eyes flashed as he took off his ball cap. Now get your ass over here, girl. Show me some respect.
I got up and walked toward him, avoiding his eyes. When I got close enough, he grabbed my left hand and brought it to his lips, kissing me in the web between my thumb and first finger. Then he put the end of his cigarette on the place he’d kissed and held it there.
Fuck, C! I jerked my hand away, but he held it tight. The smell of my searing flesh flipped my stomach, and for a second I thought I’d puke all over him, but I looked into his eyes instead, and made my gaze stone-hard.
After about a thousand years, he let go of my hand. He looked from me to Mercy to Vex. He shrugged, and Vex nodded.
Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Take your shit and get the fuck out of here, he yelled. Don’t ever come back! Don’t try to contact us, any of us—ever. Don’t acknowledge us if we pass you on the street. You two are dead to us now. You’re on your own, you dirty orphans. Now, get out!
Vex held the door open.
Mercy and I picked up our stuff—two suitcases and two backpacks between us. We walked out the door, holding our heads high.
That night, we crashed at a crack house that was open to anyone brave enough to go inside. It was so disgusting; you’d throw up if I told you about it. We had to sleep in shifts, one of us always awake, to make sure the crackies stayed off of us. I woke up near dawn to Mercy tugging at my hair.
Sorry. Just getting a roach out.
I rolled over and covered my ears to block out the sounds of people moaning, humping, tripping, fiending. I could smell the blood and shit-stained mattress through my sleeping bag, and promised myself I would never do this again.
The next day, I insisted that we splurge for a room at the Cambie. We had about a grand in savings between us. We spent fifty bucks for two beds with clean blankets, a desk, a lamp, a shared kitchen, a bathroom, and a laundry room. It was worth every penny. Everything smelled like bleach, and it was wonderful. I just needed some time to think. Make a plan.
MERCY
I thought Mac had finally gone insane when she told me she wanted to start a new gang. But I knew she had lost it when she said an all-girl gang.
That way, we won’t get taken advantage of, you know? We won’t have to put up with fuckin bullshit like that ever again. She was talking about my two-night stint as a hooker working for the Vipers, which, for the most part, I had blocked out of my mind.
But who will protect us?
We’ll protect ourselves, same as always. She patted her lumpy coat pocket which held her new .32.
I don’t know, Mac.
And I’ll talk to my uncle about Lucifer’s Choice backing us.
But, what if …
What if what? Eh? What if we actually start seeing some real money from all the work we do? What if we get respect? What if we each end up driving a Lexus and living in an oceanfront mansion? Shit, I don’t know, Mercy. At least we’ll have tried. We’re gonna be the OGs, Merce, she said in a whisper. I’ll be the leader, and you’ll be my right hand. No one would dare fuck with us.
What will we call ourselves?
The Roses.
The Roses?
What? You don’t like it?
Nah.
Roses, as in roses that grew from concrete, you know, like Tupac wrote about.
Yeah, yeah, I get it, but it’s too girly.
Mac took a swig of her Colt 45 and rolled her eyes. She flicked some stray hairs from her face, then took the elastic off her ponytail. Her roots had grown in, leaving a crown of dark brown hair, while the rest was bleached blonde, dry as dead grass. She needed a deep conditioning treatment. Bad. She ran her hands through her hair a few times, then gathered it up and put it back in a tight, smooth ponytail.
>
Okay, what should our name be then? she asked me.
How about, the Black Roses?
The Black Roses. She said it out loud a few times in different tones of voice, smacking her gum around in her mouth. Alright, I can live with that.
And so, on a rainy day in October, the Black Roses were born.
MAC
Mercy and I had been wracking our brains trying to come up with girls we could recruit. Unfortunately, everyone we came up with was an addict, a whore, or a square.
What about that tough chick from our elementary?
Which one?
That redhead, Kylie or Karla or something. Set the girls’ washroom on fire that time? Used to wear safety pins in her ears? Always beating the shit out of people for no reason?
Oh, yeah, Kayla something. Had all those freckles.
Kayla O’Reilly.
She might be a good fit, if she’s not a raging mental case by now.
Yeah, she was pretty intense.
Intense can be good, though. Do you know what she’s up to?
Mercy shrugged. Heard she had a kid a couple of years ago. I’ve seen her around down here a few times, but she looks healthy enough.
Alright, well, next time we see her, we’ll suss her out. See if she’s what we’re looking for.
What is it that we’re looking for, exactly?
Bad bitches, I said, and lit my smoke.
Mercy laughed and reached for my lighter.
KAYOS
I sorta knew them from before, from back in the day, you know? I remember being at a couple parties they were at, a few years ago. They seemed like pretty cool chicks. I saw them around downtown sometimes and we said, what’s up. You know, whatevs.
One day I was shopping on Granville and saw them walking with a case of beer. They called me over, asked me if I wanted to come back to their crib for pizza and beer. I said, sure. Why not, right? Their place was a run-down Vancouver Special on East Cordova. A total shithole, yo. Chain-link fence, scrubby brown grass, garbage in the driveway, junkies shooting up in the alley behind the house. Seriously. But they had their own place, all on their own, so whatevs, you know? And inside, it was actually pretty pimpin. Yeah, they’d done it up right. And so we’re at their crib, shooting the shit, eating pizza, drinking beer; I’m admiring the cozy furniture, plush rugs, crazy-awesome paintings on the wall, wondering how they got all this sick shit. Then, they ask me if I want to be in their gang. I laughed.
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