Romance Fan Fiction ❯ How Did I Fall For A Gang Kid? ❯ Seperation of Powers ( Chapter 1 )

All characters and settings belong to me. No touchie!

 

===========================================================

 

“Anya!” my mom yells from downstairs, her screechy voice echoing on the fake, plaster-white walls, wanting me to giver her the time of day. It's funny really, she actually expects me to answer to her. Like that'll ever happen.

 

At first I try to ignore the grouchy woman - choosing to instead close my eyes and attempt at resting - but she persists with an, “Anya Katrina Mendoza, answer me!”

 

“What,” I yell, allowing my annoyance with her to seep into my voice. I'm always annoyed with her; it's been that way for the past 4 years. Ever since she decided to follow her cousins and move us to this dump of a city right before I started my 8th grade - I've hated the woman.

 

“Don't use that tone of voice with me young lady!” she screeches as I roll my eyes. “Anyways, you've got a phone call. Some man named Marcus.”

 

Marcus! It can't be. He promised to never call unless under the most dire circumstances. What possibly could have happened?

 

I jump from my bed with a start, running towards my phone while attempting to not trip over my extremely too-long, too-tight, almost-emo jeans. “I'll get it.”

 

I try not to breath too much into the receiver as I answer the call. “Hello?”

 

“Anya. It's me, Marcus.”

 

“Hey, how's it going?” I try to say without my words shaking.

 

“Not too well. Can you come down the warehouse around six tonight? I need to talk to you.”

 

“S-sure. Is everyone okay?”

 

It takes him a moment to answer. “Ya. Just come down here please.” The next thing I hear is a dial tone.

 

This is bad. Very bad. Marcus is worried. People like him don't get worried. People who are 50+ and deal in the business he works in do not get worried. This is so horrifically bad I don't even want to contemplate it.

 

“Anya, are you off the phone?” my mom shrieks.

 

“Yes. What do you want?”

 

“I need you to go pick up some stuff for me.” What the hell does she think I am? Her maid.

 

…Actually that's probably exactly what she thinks.

 

Knowing I'd need her permission to go see Marcus tonight, I decide not to bitch her out and pick up whatever the hell she needs.

 

“Be right down,” I reply.

 

Quickly, knowing I shouldn't waste time, I throw on a dark purple tank top and fly over to the mirror to check how I look, wanting to fix any problems. But of course I look like I always look. My pants are tight and show off what little butt I have. My shirt reveals without being slutty and is still able to cover my winged angel tattoo on my lower back that I got two summers ago. My dark brown hair is in it's naturally straight position, cascading down my back, and my makeup consists of a little black eyeliner and some dark brown eye shadow to compliment my hair and accentuate my blue eyes. My only problem, is the same problem I have each time I look at myself, my light brown skin tone; the skin that makes me unable to be in either the east or west side cliques.

 

But when I really think about it, neither clique is something I want to be apart of. Be an east sider, white kid with tons of money who hangs with the football jocks, or be a west sider Latino who joins gangs and dies before hitting the age of twenty.

 

Needless to say, neither are very tempting.

 

Running down the stairs I ask her, “Do you have a list for me?”

 

“Ya, right here,” she tells me, tossing me a two-paged list before returning to her laptop and papers for her job as a lawyer. “I've got a big court appearance in about an hour so I wont be here when you get back. Just put the frozen stuff in the freezer and do the same with the fridge ones. I'll put the rest away when I get back.”

 

“Ya. Okay.” I jogged over to get my keys to my Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution and some black ballet flats. “Oh by the way, when I'm finished can I go out to see some friends. Around…6.”

 

She sighs as if I'm being a nuisance for her. “Fine. But try not to get drunk. I for one will not be paying your bail.”

 

“Ya, ya, sure.” She sighs again. “Thanks. Bye.”

 

===========================================================

 

So now I've gotten this woman's dry-cleaning (which she even made me pay for, the bitch) and went to the Dryleaf Sunset Restaurant to make a reservation for her, since they `wont take reservations by phone or online'. It's her fancy way of saying she just wants me to do it instead.

 

Now I've got some stuff from the mall she's reserved (and paid for, thank god) and then a couple groceries. I need to finish fast since it's 4:00 and I still have to get home and put stuff away.

 

Walking into the mall is like walking into the Twilight Zone. On one side, there's a bunch of preppy name-brands (ie. Victoria Secrets, Hollister, Abercrombie, etc) and special expensive brands carrying the Coach, Gucci, Armani, and more crap.

 

But on the other side is a totally different story. You've got the donation centers and Salvation Army, along with Dollar Tree, Wal-Mart, Savers, Target, etc.

 

This is the splitting of the east and west side. That's how it happens in this city. The place is separated by rows of flower beds, keeping the rich white kids from the poor black/Mexican/every other race kids. It's in places like this that I stick out. I'm a west-sider who actually has tons of money and is a half-white, half-mexican mix. I walk in on the right side - the west-sider side - but must weave over to the east side to get my mom's Victoria Secret outfits.

 

I don't even want to know why she wears that stuff. It's not like she has a husband any more to look at her in it. He left back when I was about 5 and he hasn't, and won't, be returning anytime soon.

 

As I try to push through the crowd of colors, two hard bodies, both wearing black shirts and red bandanas, push me back. Latino Blood members. Great.

 

“Where you going, gringa?” one asks getting in my face. I look up. Oh well this is just perfect; it's Dominique Ramos with his stupid-ass friend Alejandro. Just what I need.

 

“Out of my way. I don't have time for you today.”

 

“Oh! Did you hear that boys. Mamacita don't wanna play.”

 

Ignoring the howls of comments that follow I merely add a, “Get out of my way Dominique. Before you hurt yourself.”

 

This of course makes them all defensive and at least 4 of them move their hands to their pockets where no doubt there are probably guns and knives hidden. “We won't be the one getting hurt Mamacita.”

 

“Alejandro,” I turn to him; the one kid who doesn't say anything and may possibly still have some brains attached. “Call your pack off. Preferably before you get us both kicked out of here.”

 

He takes a moment to survey the area, and noticing the security guards creeping closer, decides to back off. “Let the gringa pass. We don't have time for her anyway.”

 

“Ese, you sure?” asks Dom as their little pack of mooches watches hungrily. “You know I've been itching to pummel some Wonder Bread.”

 

“You'll have your shot Dom. No ahora.” And with that said, he moves out of my path so I can escape to the other side where the white kids have gathered to see the disturbance. Of course, when they see me coming near, the scatter and pretend to be extremely busy picking their nails.

 

This is the life of a middleman. I'm too white and too rich to be a true West sider, but too Mexican to live on the East side with the rich kids.

 

Walking into Victoria Secret, I sigh with relief seeing my best friend Diana working. This girl is a total white kid but she thankfully doesn't fit in with her neighboring East-siders. Maybe you can't tell from the big pink suit she's forced to wear while on her shift, but she's a total Goth. Not even the big pink ball of girly-ness can hide her neck tattoos and black hair. Those are the only signs that my Diana is still in there.

 

“Anne! I didn't know you'd be coming today. Come on in, my shifts almost done. Just got one more order than I. Am. Out of here.”

 

“Actually that order's for me.” I smile sheepishly and she laughs.

 

“Mom again?” She knows about my mom's love of control. Probably the only person on the planet aside from myself who does. It's because we've been friends since forever. Since 8th grade when my mom went to some fancy-schmancy party and forced me to come. Diana and I managed to escape without anyone noticing and became the best of friends in one night flat.

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

“Ugh. And she bought lingerie. Does that woman even count her birthdays anymore?”

 

“She's 30 and some odd months. Just refuses to say how many months.”

 

We laugh lightly, the easy way we joke making me feel better already. “Wanna catch a movie later? My mom's got this date thing set up for me and knowing my mom, I'm gonna need someone with brains to talk to raise my IQ after I meet this boy.”

 

“Are you calling your mom's choice of men stupid?”

 

“Nooo…YES!!!”

 

I just laugh. “Well sorry hun. But I can't. Already have plans.”

 

“Oh-la-la. A boy perhaps?”

 

“Oh you wish.”

 

She sighs. “Yep.”

 

I'm about to respond when my phone starts vibrating. In a second I realize who it is: Marcus. “Hold on a sec Di…Hello?”

 

“Anya! I need you to get over to the warehouse right now!” His voice was jumpy and worried. Something happened that changed from this morning. I don't know what, but something big.

 

“Alright, alright. I just need to do one more thing and then I'll be—”

 

“No!! I need you to come over right now. This can't wait till 6.”

 

“Alright, alright. I'll be right over.” I hung up.

 

“Was that the boy-toy? Why no introductions for me huh?” Diana asked suggestively, her eyebrows wiggling.

 

“Sorry Di. I gotta go. I'll explain later.”

 

I was running out the door with the bag of lingerie when she yelled back, “Anya! Is everything alright?” She seemed actually concerned

 

“Ya. I'm just in a big hurry and I have to drop everything back at my house and I still have groceries to get and—”

 

“Hey, calm down.” She came over to steady my shoulders. “Give me your keys. I'll get the groceries and drop everything at your house. You can take my car.”

 

“What? No Diana, I couldn't.”

 

“Girl. Please! It's obvious you're in a hurry. Now take my act of generosity since you of all people should know it's a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

 

“Thank you! Di I love you right now.” We laughed and hugged. “Ok, here are the keys, and the grocery list. And here's my credit card to pay for it all. I will owe you for life love.”

 

“Ya, you will. But it's okay, I'll expect payback.” I smiled. “Now go get them. My cars the green RX-7 out back. East side I'm afraid.”

 

“No problem. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 

“Go get `em tiger,” she laughs as I run out the door, running past the large herd of preps.

 

==========================================================

 

Dom's POV

 

Anya Mendoza. What an annoying and weird case. It's obvious to anyone who sees her that she's a Latina and yet she struts herself around like all the other stupid slutty East-siders. Hell, she even shops at Victoria Secrets. What a whore.

 

I turned to my Blood Brother. “Alex, I don't see why you let that gringa walk all over you. She deserves to be shown her place.”

 

“Ese, you gotta learn when to let `em go by. She may be a bitch but we both know messing with her would only get us a celda.”

 

“Besides,” Alex's brother, Luis, adds. “Who would want to mess with that face? She may be a gringa-bitch, but she is fucking sexy.”

 

“Man, can you ever keep your micho in your pants?” Cayo, another Blood asked.

 

“Not with her wearing shorts like that. Man, I'd like a try at that mamacita.”

 

“Ha. Good luck with that one Luis,” Alex joked. “Gringa wannabes don't even look at Latinos like us.”

 

“A dude can dream.”

 

That of course was when my phone started vibrating. “Well keep dreaming bro.” I turned away from the group as they went back to more conversations

 

“Diga,” I answered my phone.

 

“Dominique, can you come down to the Warehouse for a little while. I need to talk to you.” It was Marcus.

 

“Sure, I'll be right down.”

 

“Bring the Castros' with you.”

 

“Ya. Sure man.”

 

I hung up and turned to where everyone was talking. “Alex, Luis, we gotta go down to the warehouse. Boss wants us.”

 

Alex jumped up from where he'd seated himself atop the table. “Any idea what's up?”

 

“Not a clue. Sounds important though.”

 

“Alright,” Luis added looking back over his shoulder to our group. “Adios.”