Chicano Gangster Letters Novels & Stories

I reach under my mattress. I stare at the white piece of paper that could possibly be my brother's ticket out of jail. I pray silently for this letter to have what I need, a name is all I need. It could all end so simply, without more bloodshed. I take a deep breath before tearing the envelope. I stare at the paragraph written on the unlined paper. Sure enough, the letter is riddled with symbols and abbreviations and I can't understand a thing it says. NN, x¢b, I can't make sense of any of this. It makes me so mad that I ball it up in frustration, but then I smooth it back out.

"All of you!" The sunglasses I wore masked the stony gaze I gave her. "I'm truly sorry for your loss," I said. "Believe me." Kelsey's mother led her away as she sobbed even harder. "What a shame," Esposito, one of my lieutenants who had been abroad, says to me. "These gangsters think we're made more of iron than flesh and blood." "We are gangsters, you old fart," Romanelli retorted. "Marchesi thinks he can fuck with us." Riccio pulls out his tablet, and I see a photo of one of Marchesi's warehouses, which had been burnt to the ground.

They were called the Green gang because all they cared about was money which they termed 'green'. They were loud and ruthless. Their leader, a short Black man who called himself Dinero said, “Yo! Ash man! Turn yourself in.” Dinero wore green rimmed shades, and his cut off jeans where sagging from his slim waist. Ash looked him up and down before replying, “I'm sorry man, but I won't. I thought we were brothers, we run these streets together. All of a sudden, you're going to rat me out to the cops. You ain't being loyal.”

Flame informed Stephano who turned to look at the warehouse that was in front of them. Stephano walked into the warehouse with his hands both buried in the pockets of his pants as he looked up to study six men all hanged up upside down with their faces covered with a worn-out sack. “These idiots are from the chilean gang. A small group of mugs who rob people and smuggle drugs into the states for big known cartels.” Flame told Stephano who now seemed rather uninterested in the subject. “And, these are the morons who killed that woman and wanted to frame my brother?” Stephano asked and Flame was quick to nod.

I doubt that other clans are here. "I-I will not do it again! Just don't kill me!" I can't believe Andy was able to scare X. And what scared me, even more, were the words that came out of Andy's mouth after. "You know, I'm a kind person, but that's just for people who are kind too. And I think that you're not a good one, right? Because you're a gangster! LIKE THE GANGSTER WHO TOOK THE LIFE OF MY FATHER! AND I WILL NEVER EVER FORGIVE YOU ALL. I HATE GANGSTERS!"

At Mexico, in one of the greatest gangsters of the country apartment, the man in his middle thirties drop his cigarette and turn to the guy who was not on shirt but his upper body was filled with tattoos up to his head. The guy bow his head to his boss who quench his cigar before puffing out the last smoke he took in. “Is my brother and his friend still recovering?” He asked for the guy to bow his head. “Gently El jefe, Derek tend to progress faster than his friend.” He said for the man to nod.

"Do you know the names of the gangs?" "No. I never learned them." He smacked his palm to his forehead and sighed. "Sunny?" "Yes, boss?" She sat up straight. "Wanna tell her the names?" "Sure." She nodded. "Snakes and Lions." "Thank you. Now Laura, can you guess which one we are?" "Wait you're all in a gang?" I blurted. All eyes fell on me. Then everyone started giggling, except Bran whose eyes were dead serious and pleading for me to get this right.

And I see nothing. I tuck the gun into the waistband at my back and snatch the envelope. My fingers tighten around it as I close the door, flipping every lock behind me. Back inside, I move to the counter and rip it open. A folded piece of paper slides out. No official seal. No address. Just a handwritten letter. And at the bottom… a single, ornate R. Ricardo. Of course. I clench my jaw as I start reading. “Charles Gregory, I showed you once. You didn’t learn. Now Maria’s dead. That wasn’t just punishment. That was a preview. You’re not the golden cop you think you are. You’re nothing.

Juarez patted him on the shoulder wordlessly and then walked to Charlie directly before smiling and saying in Spanish, “Hello. You’re Mr. Wade, right? I am Rafael Corona Juarez. You can call me Rafael.” Charlie did not understand Spanish, but he did not face any obstacles when communicating with Juarez because Colin was there to translate for him. Charlie looked Juarez up and down and found that this Mexican man was indeed very gangster-like. Although he was not tall, he appeared very strong. He was also wearing a shiny thick gold necklace around his neck, and he even had dental braces inlaid with diamonds. He had very short-cropped hair and looked rough. He certainly did not look like a goo

While Conchita lapped up her mother’s syrup and then cleaned the floor, Donna said, “A new country heard from: Who’s Jim Garçia?” “Officially, he’s Jaime Garçia,” Maria explained, Conchita’s mouth then being occupied with her mother’s delectable pussy. “He’s Alfredo Garçia’s grandson.” “And who’s Alfredo Garçia?” Donna persisted. “He controls the entire Chicano community in Southern California, anyway, if not in a much larger territory than that. When Alfredo Garçia tells a Chicano to jump, the only possible response is, ‘How high do you wish me to jump, Don Alfredo?’ Anyway, that’s who he is.”