CHAPTER 1
California, Los Angeles, 2025 Sean
In the middle of a dirty back alley, a group of masked dudes were stomping the life out of me.
They kept yelling and cussing while their shoes crashed down on my ribs and face.
"FUCK! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LOST IT ALL!" one of them yelled.
The guy getting stomped? Yeah… that was me.
The dudes kicking me were the same ones I made the dumb mistake of borrowing money from.
"Ugh—" One of them yanked my hair up. Through the blur of my swollen eye, I saw him.
The one staring into my soul was DK.
I never even knew his real name. Everyone just called him DK.
I met him outside a weed shop a while back. We got drunk that first night. Weird way to make a friend, but back then it felt normal. We got close fast.
He was a good friend. He'd help me out whenever I needed it — money, advice, or just someone to listen when shit got too heavy.
Every time, he'd say, "This amount ain't nun to me." I believed him.
But this year had been straight hell. My mom got sick out of nowhere and left me and my sister to figure shit out alone.
I didn't blame her. I just couldn't understand why God would do us like that.
Being the oldest, I had to step up. And with DK around, it wasn't hard.
I didn't even know what he did for work, but I didn't care. Whatever he was into, that was his world. If he wanted to tell me, he would've.
I had already racked up $3,000 in borrowed cash. I always kept count — a habit from the streets. I really thought he didn't care and would just let it slide.
I hated borrowing from him. But it felt like my only good choice.
"Yo, u good?" My vision was wrecked from the kicks, but I knew that voice.
"C'mon man, don't ignore me," he said. Then — SLAP — his palm lit my face on fire.
"Tss— sorry," I muttered. I'd been beat enough times to know survival rule #1: tuck your tail, and act small.
"Tch. It's already been a week, man. I can't wait much longer. I need my money by next week or you're fu— Oh shit."
Before he could finish, blue and red lights hit the alley. The cops.
"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU BOYS DOING!" an officer yelled, flashlight blaring.
They all ran. Someone dropped me, and my head slammed onto the concrete.
I tried to look at the cop, but everything went black.
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The sight in front of me wasn't even funny enough to joke about.
"FUCK, WHAT AM I GONNA DOOOOO?!"
I started praying out loud, asking God why this was happening to me.
My bank account stared back at me, mocking me with its infinite amount of zeroes.
I had listened to some so-called "internet guru" who told me to take out a student loan and invest in BNBs.
I dumped all the money in. It flopped. Hard.
I didn't even get 5% back.
It felt like my soul was fading away.
The good thing? I still had a little time. The bad thing? The idea of getting a job made me want to cry.
I couldn't even say the word "job" without my eyes tearing up.
Then I had a dumb idea.
I picked up my phone and called my uncle.
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I slowly opened my eyes again. This time, I was in a hospital bed.
Nothing new for me — I'd been in hospitals more times than I could count on my fingers.
Pain shot through my ribs as I tried to sit up.
I took a second to piece everything that had happened together.
'DK's a snake. I owe him 6K. I got saved by the clock and the cops showed up.'
"Thank God." I never thought the idea of 12 could put a smile on my face but right now I couldn't be more grateful.
"But how the fuck am I gonna get 6 grand?"
The question loomed in the air.
"I'm really fucked now, ha…"
Click.
The door swung open.
A Dominican lady in her 40s walked in. She had a friendly vibe, but her face looked like she wasn't having any bullshit.
"Ah, you're awake," she said, coming closer.
"Yeah, I just woke up," I replied.
"That's great. How are you feeling?"
"I'm good. Sorry, but… can I leave?" I didn't wanna sound rude, but I had no time to waste.
"Ahh, sorry. You can't leave yet. This is the medical wing of Central Police Station. I'm just the doctor here. Actually, the officer who found you wants to talk when you're ready."
"Yeah, that's fine. Go get him. I'll tell him whatever he needs."
She left. A few minutes later, she came back with a tall, bald, white cop — he looked like every LA cop you'd see in movies.
He pulled up a chair next to me.
"Hey there. You awake now?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for the help."
"What's your name?" he nodded and asked.
I paused. I didn't have an ID on me.
"Paul," I told him the truth.
"Alright, Paul. I'm Officer Bradley. You mind telling me what happened?"
I looked him dead in the eyes.
"I got jumped. Some guys thought I owed them money from back when I was in the streets. But I'm clean now. They just caught me slipping. That's all."
He squinted at me for a second, maybe trying to figure out if I was lying.
"Alright," he finally said. "Ill need you to fill out some forms for us and if you'd like you can also give a recount of the situation and press charges."
"Yeah, for sure. Thanks."
He stood up, nodded, and left the room.
I slowly got up, ignoring the pain in my ribs.
I knew I had exactly one week before DK found me again.
I needed to get this done with and come up with $6,000 fast.
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My uncle wasn't anything special. Not good-looking, not smart, he wasn't even street smart.
But he had money.
I'm not sure when or how it happened, but it did. One day we were in small apartments downtown, next thing I knew, we had mansions up in the mountains.
I had my suspicions, but honestly? Who cares. A fool can make millions in a million dumb ways.
But that wasn't important, what was important was that he could give me 50 grand.
I dialed him up, biting my nails as I waited for him to pick up.
The phone kept ringing… and ringing… and ringing.
I began to have a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't pick up.
I wasn't surprised. The man loved to drink and sleep.
I hung up.
I needed to move. Sitting there staring at that blank computer screen was making me want to disappear.
It was summer, so I didn't have to worry about layering up.
I hopped into my Honda Civic — a gift from my 16th birthday — checked my wallet for some cash, and drove downtown.
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I had been walking around the block for 30 minutes now. Still no clue how I was gonna make $6K.
Sell drugs? I couldn't even afford to buy them to start.
Theft? I didn't have a weapon, and who the hell just carries $6K on them?
Everything I thought of either put me in jail or needed money I didn't have.
I kept wandering aimlessly until I noticed a small crowd up ahead.
They were circled around something. I squeezed my way in to see what was going on.
It was a lady playing rock, paper, scissors with a man.
I watched as the guy kept losing. He was getting slapped each time, cheeks turning bloodshot red.
Then finally, he won.
She smiled and handed him $100.
He looked shocked. She asked if he wanted to go again. He nodded, and they played another round. More slaps.
I couldn't lie… I was hooked.
When he finally got his second $100 bill, I stepped up.
"I wanna play," I blurted out.
At the exact same time, another dude next to me stepped forward."I wanna try too," he said, grinning wide.
We both paused, glancing at each other. Up close, I noticed him — short dreads to match his height, and energy like he just walked out of a music video.
"Sean," he said, flashing a quick nod.
"Paul," I replied back, nodding once before turning to the lady.
The lady grinned, almost like she was waiting for this exact moment.
She handed each of us a card, and even gave one to the old man who had been getting slapped.
The crowd started yelling, begging for cards.
She just smiled, apologized, and said those were the last ones.
Then she hopped into a car and took off, gone in seconds.
I looked down at the card. Nothing fancy — just a triangle, a square, and a circle on it.
I flipped it over. There was a number on the back — probably how they'd reach me. It didn't even have a normal California area code, but whatever. Any group handing out $100 bills like it's candy probably had their own weird setup.
Sean turned and walked off first, a huge grin stuck on his face like he'd just won the lottery. He held the card up to the light every few steps, practically skipping as he disappeared into the street crowd.
Paul stood there a second longer, staring at his own card, eyes heavy with thought. Then he tucked it into his pocket, let out a long breath, and turned the other way, moving slow, his shoulders weighed down like he was carrying the whole world.
From a distance, the two figures drifted farther apart, one glowing with excitement, the other sinking deeper into his own mind — two strangers now tied together by the same card.