The BMW rolled slowly down the street. They had ditched the pickup and made a call. Two of their homeboys had delivered this new whip. It had been stolen the day before from long-term parking at LAX so the cops wouldn’t be looking for it just yet.
In two days’ time it would be in an auto shop being broken up. But for now it would help them prowl Arcadia without drawing the kind of attention a pickup would at this hour. Even the most eager gardening services weren’t out blowing leaves at three in the morning.
“Slow down,” said Pony. “I can’t see.”
They were scoping each driveway for the car. After the cops had arrived, Joker and Pony had watched from a safe distance as the tow-truck guy had gotten the Lamborghini started.
Usually they would have let it go. But not after the Chinese kid had pulled a strap on them. Now this whole thing was a matter of honor. Of pride. MS-13 pride.
Mata, roba, viola, controla.
Kill, steal, rape, control.
That was the Mara Salvatrucha motto.
Not run like a couple of punkass bitches because some rich kid pulled a gat.
He should have let them have his car. Instead he had played it like he was some kind of gangster.
“What’s with all the lions?” said Joker.
It was true. Lion statues stood guard outside many of the houses.
“They’re supposed to ward off bad spirits,” said Pony.
“Good luck with that,” said Joker, and they laughed.
They came to the end of the block.
“Down there,” said Pony.
Joker made the turn. Pony had a weird sense about things like this. He always had. Ever since they’d been little. It was like he had some sixth sense about stuff. It was freaky. Give him a haystack and Pony would know where the needle was.
The BMW crawled down the block. Pony hit the button to lower his window. He leaned out. “Stop,” he told Joker. He popped the door and got out. He walked up to a gate, a lion at either side, bigger than any of the neighbors had. Joker promised himself that next time they were out here with the truck, he would take a pair of these lions and put them outside his mom’s house. Maybe start a new trend in the barrio. Why not? They looked pretty cool.
Pony waved at him. He flashed their sign.
“You found it?”
“Yeah,” said Pony.
Joker threw the BMW into park, left the engine running and got out to see for himself.
There it was. Right out front of the house on the driveway. The white Lamborghini.
What an asshole, thought Joker. Not putting a car like that in the garage when you had one. It was like you were begging to get jacked.
“Mark it up,” said Joker.
Pony took a few steps back, and looked up at the house. All the lights were out, save one that burned upstairs. “We’re here now.”
Joker shook his head. That wasn’t what had been agreed. They were already pushing their luck coming back. This wasn’t like jacking up a car. A car just went where you pointed it. People weren’t like that. They had their own ideas.
If they were going to do this, they needed to do it properly. That meant they had to know exactly what they were walking into.
Plus they needed a green light from up above. You couldn’t be MS-13 and just go do stuff like this. It had to be run past a shotcaller first.
“Mark it,” said Joker.
Pony pulled the chalk from his pocket, and scrawled the sign down low so no one would notice it. He kept looking up at the house. He was still staring at it as they got back into the car and pulled away.