Chapter One: Keep Your Spot to Yourself

As soon as I pull into my driveway, I see Brutus coming. “Yo, Huey!” he says, starting to cross the street. Oh, shit. Brutus will talk your fucking head off if you let him. He’s an OG, maybe 60-65 years old, Blood affiliated. He’s bald, swole, has muscles on muscles, and is terrifying to look at. His body’s ripped, with tats crawling up his neck and face, but he walks with a limp.

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