LA, Boyle Heights

Lorenzo, his doll Deborah, and his boys set foot in the City of Angels—Los Angeles. They flagged down a taxi and hopped in. As they drove through the streets, Deborah's eyes lit up like fireworks, her face pressed against the window.

"I like the air here better than in New York, see? It's got a certain je ne sais quoi." Deborah purred in Lorenzo's ear, nudging closer to him.

Lorenzo chuckled, "You're right Deb, ain't as smoggy as back home, and it don't look as cramped neither."

Deborah nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. "So, we're gonna start fresh in this town, huh?"

Lorenzo nodded, flashing her a grin.

In his mind, though, he knew that carving out a piece of the pie in Los Angeles wouldn't be a cakewalk. There were bound to be other mugs already staking their claims—and who knew what kind of mischief those LA crime families were up to.

Sure, the west coast rackets couldn't hold a candle to the big cheeses in New York, but that didn't mean they were pushovers. Lorenzo knew he'd have to tread lightly if he wanted to make it in this new town.

The taxi carrying Lorenzo, Deborah, and his crew pulled up to their destination. Lorenzo helped Deborah out of the cab as Adam carefully assisted Tiffany, who was as pregnant as could be, out of the car. The rest of the fellas piled out after them.

Lorenzo looked around at the unfamiliar streets of Boyle Heights. "All right, boys, we need to lay low and not attract any attention, got it?"

Nods all around from Adam, Richard, and the others. They split up and melted into the bustling crowd.

Lorenzo took Deborah's hand in his, and together they strolled off into their new life in Los Angeles.

Deborah looked up at the unfamiliar buildings around them, "So, where to now, Lorenzo?"

Lorenzo consulted the letter from Max that had led them here. "We're headed to 203 South Gless Street. That's where Max and the others are waiting for us."

Deborah wrinkled her nose, "Ugh, I never cared for that guy."

Lorenzo gave her a sideways glance, "Deb, you gotta let bygones be bygones. Max is part of the family now, and he's one of my most trusted men."

Deborah sighed, but didn't argue further. "I know, I know. I'll try to be civil."

***

Lorenzo and Deborah finally arrived at 203 South Gless Street. The two-story building looked just as nondescript as they'd been told. They made their way up to the second floor, where they stopped in front of room number two. After a few raps on the door, it swung open to reveal Max, grinning from ear to ear.

"About time you got here, boss!" Max said, ushering them inside.

Lorenzo glanced around the modest but clean apartment, "Looks like you and the boys have been making yourselves at home."

Patrick, Julius, Caesar, and the rest of the crew were already there, all rising to their feet and greeting their boss with respect. "It's good to see you, boss," they chorused.

After exchanging greetings, Max cleared his throat, "Boss, there's something you should know. This place... well, it ain't exactly ours."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow as he hung his hat and sat down with Deborah on the couch. "Care to elaborate, Max?"

Max and the others shifted uncomfortably, but it was Max who spoke up, "When we got here, we started laying low, just like you said. But we needed some dough, so we started in on some... side hustles. We didn't think the fuzz would catch wind of us so soon, so we had to find a new hideout."

Lorenzo's jaw clenched, "I thought I told you to lay low until I got here."

"I know, boss, I know. I underestimated this town," Max said, looking contrite.

Lorenzo sighed, "Alright, alright. How'd you end up here then?"

Max straightened up, "We got lucky, boss. We met a guy, a local employer. He agreed to let us crash here temporarily."

"Employer, huh?" Lorenzo chuckled. "And I bet he didn't put you up here outta the kindness of his heart, did he?"

Patrick spoke up, "That's right, boss. He's got ties to some unsavory characters in this neighborhood. We've been helping him out with a few... favors."

Lorenzo narrowed his eyes, "Don't tell me you boys were just doing his dirty work for nothing."

Julius shifted uncom Caesar and Max shot him a warning glance. "Well, boss, we were on the payroll for his legitimate business, getting paid minimum wage like the rest of the schmucks."

Lorenzo couldn't believe his ears. "You're telling me you risked your necks for peanuts? Are you nuts, Julius?"

Max and Patrick exchanged knowing glances, while the others remained silent. They'd seen this side of their boss before, and it wasn't pretty.

Just then, the apartment door swung open, and in walked a man with a young woman on his arm. Max stood up, "Boss, he's here." He gestured to the man, "This is Errol Schroeder, the guy who owns this place."

The girl, Peggy, couldn't contain her excitement upon seeing Lorenzo. She yanked her arm from Errol's grip and rushed over to hug him. "Boss, you're finally here!"

Errol's eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Peggy's familiarity with this newcomer, especially when he noticed that the "boss" was younger than Max.

"Who's the punk, Max?" Errol demanded.

Max stepped in, "Watch your mouth, Schroeder. This here is our boss, Lorenzo Lupo."

Errol's frown deepened as he pointed at Lorenzo, "You mean to tell me you're all working for this kid? He doesn't even look like he can grow a single hair on his chin!"

Deborah had enough. "You better watch your mouth, mister!" she snapped, standing up for her man.

Errol's lecherous gaze shifted from Lorenzo to Deborah. "Well, well, aren't we a sight for sore eyes?" He sauntered over to her, leering. "You look like you could use some fun... without the kid, of course—"

Before he could finish his sleazy proposition, a fist collided with his stomach, doubling him over. The assailant? None other than the "kid" himself, Lorenzo.

"Argh!" Errol stumbled back, clutching his abdomen. "You little punk! You just made a big mistake!"

Lorenzo didn't dignify him with a response. Instead, he wound up and delivered another devastating blow, this time to Errol's ribs. The older man crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.

Max and the others watched helplessly as their boss towered over the coughing and wheezing Errol. The message was clear: no one insults what's his and gets away with it.

"How do you like that, huh?" Lorenzo sneered, towering over Errol. "You still think I'm just a kid?"

Errol coughed up blood, his eyes filled with fear. "You're dead, punk! You don't know who you're messing with! I've got friends in high places, I can have your ass thrown in jail so fast—"

Lorenzo didn't let him finish. His fist connected with Errol's mouth, sending teeth flying and blood spurting.

"I don't care who you think you are," Lorenzo growled, the coldness in his eyes chilling. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pistol, pressing it against Errol's temple. "Just know that I could end your pathetic life right now."

The barrel of the gun against his head finally sank in for Errol. He raised his hands in surrender, his eyes wide with terror.

"I-I don't want to die! Please, have mercy!" Errol whimpered, pleadingly looking at Max and the others. "Guys, help me out here!"

Lorenzo backhanded him across the face, "No one's coming to save you, Schroeder. You're all mine." He grabbed Errol by the chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact. "Now, I heard you've been using my men for your little games. Care to elaborate?"

As they watched the scene unfold, Max and Patrick couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Two years ago, they were in Errol's shoes, on the receiving end of their boss's wrath. They knew what was coming next—Lorenzo would take over their operations, and their lives would never be the same again. Despite the fear they once felt, they couldn't help but feel a tinge of pity for Errol Schroeder.

Errol's heart pounded in his chest as he met Lorenzo's icy glare. Fear gripped him like a vice, causing his hands to tremble and his voice to quaver. "I-I've only been helping your boys, I swear! If it weren't for me, they'd be behind bars by now!"

Lorenzo's hand flew across Errol's face, the sting of the slap searing through him. "I don't give a damn about your good deeds! Just tell me about your illegal operations that my boys are involved in!"

Tears welled up in Errol's eyes as he pleaded, "It's not my operation, I swear! I'm just a middleman, working for the man who owns it all!"

Lorenzo's brow furrowed. "Then who is it, huh?"

Errol hesitated, but the fear in his bones forced the words out. "It's... it's some LAPD officers. Floyd Rose and Leroy Tate."

Lorenzo stroked his chin, a calculating glint in his eye. "So, it's a couple of badges, eh? Los Angeles is more interesting than I thought..." He mused, before turning back to Errol. "Well, well, Errol Schroeder. You've got my attention. Now, why don't you enlighten me on the details of these illegal operations you and the cops have been up to? I'm quite intrigued in... these businesses..."

Errol's eyes darted desperately between Max and the others, pleading for help. But Lorenzo's words slithered into his ear like a venomous snake. "Didn't I already tell you not to look at them? Eyes on me, or you'll be begging for another beating."

Errol's gaze snapped back to Lorenzo, his heart pounding in his chest. Terror gripped him tighter than before, but he knew he had no choice. With a shaky voice, he began to spill the details of their illicit operations.