Episode 2

...

Red Frank, that’s what the aunties here in the favela call me to scare the kids...

“Behave, or Red’s gonna get you!”

Being feared doesn’t bother me, I earned my reputation; after all, no one gets to the top and stays in the crime game by being nice. I learned early on that you either rule or are ruled, and I wasn't made to obey anyone.

My father was a drug dealer, worked for the former boss of the favela, he taught me a lot about life in crime, it was just him and me, my mother left when my father joined the gang, she didn’t want to be a gangster’s moll, but he wouldn’t let her take me, and so he raised me.

My parents were from the South, of German descent, they came here to try to make a better life, but it didn’t work out, and to put food on the table the only solution my father found was to join the faction.

After my mother left when I was ten, my father always told me that no woman truly loves a man who lives in crime, that you can’t trust a woman who accepts this life, they’re all lying and just want the money and the privileges we have.

My father wasn’t affectionate or anything like that, but he did what he could with what he had, from the age of fifteen I would go with him to the drug dens, and I learned to make the runs in the favela. Samson, the former owner of the favela, always said I had a future, and he was right, because I’m here, owner of this whole damn place!

I took over the favela after Samson went down during a raid, they killed him, my father and seven of our men, the rest were arrested. I didn’t even wait for the funeral, I took over the favela right away, and it was with bullets, lots of bullets. I wasn’t going to risk letting the favela fall into the hands of strangers.

I’m not going to play the nice guy, a big part of it was ambition, wanting to be the boss, have power, money, luxury and women of course. But I also didn’t want my people to suffer, Samson was bad for the people, but he wasn’t exactly a saint either, he did nothing to improve the lives of the people.

I wanted to rise in the ranks, make money and earn respect, even fear from people, I wanted a car, an expensive motorcycle, a nice house, good food and drink, parties and everything else I wanted, but the people would be treated well. I lived down there, I walked the alleys, I know what these people are going through, and I’m going to do what I can to help.

Our faction has rules, and no one is forced to join, but if you do, you have to follow the rules, obey or die, simple as that.

Everything in this bitch goes through me, I’m judge, jury and executioner, my word is law. I solve any problems that arise in the community, I help if needed and punish when deserved. People know they can talk to me or my brothers if something is wrong. So besides being feared, I am respected, I’m a criminal, damn it, but I’m a man of my word!

I’m not one to show emotion, I don’t remember crying again after my mother left. I only smile when I’m with my buddies, and I’ve never said “I love you” to anyone, nor do I intend to. My friends call me “Fridge”, because they say I’m cold. But I just don’t have the patience for that kind of stuff, that’s all.

I have four right-hand men here in the favela, my brothers who have been with me since the time we were just kids. There’s Sledgehammer, Robson, Little Marcel, and Juba. They would die for me and I for them.

But my closest is Sledgehammer, we kind of have a connection, you know, the things we went through, the things we did, it brought us closer together. That’s why at twenty-eight years old, he’s second in command of the favela.

I wake up early, today is an ordinary day, but I feel strange, a kind of tiredness, a boredom, as if every day were the same, I don’t like this shit, it feels like something is missing.

I get out of bed and go straight to the shower, I sleep naked anyway, I take a shower, get dressed as always, jeans, black tank top, flip-flops, my gold chains, the basics...

I go downstairs, turn on the coffee maker and make my coffee, here I only have coffee, I eat out so I don’t make a mess, I live alone, even though the place is big, I don’t like anyone up in my business, the only ones who come here are my friends, for barbecues, parties, that sort of thing, we do everything at the court or somewhere else, my house is my refuge, my sacred place.

I go down to the main drug den, before six in the morning, when at seven the mules start arriving to do the night shift handover.

By nine in the morning, I’m done, I meet up with the guys and we discuss what needs to be taken care of and what we’re going to do next week, crazy Friday. Time flies, it’s already noon, we had lunch at the den. I spent the rest of the day meeting with people and collecting debts, when seven o’clock rolled around, I called the guys to have dinner at Seu Juarez’s diner, but Aline, Juba’s wife, cooked us a feast at their place. We left, Sledgehammer rode in the car with me, Little Marcel with Juba and Robson on his motorcycle as always, more isolated.

As we drove through the street, the hookers almost jumped in front of the car, horny as hell. Sledgehammer enjoys all the attention, I liked it for a while, now I’m over it, I know it’s all fake, so it lost its appeal. Doesn’t mean I don’t get laid if the girls are up for it, if it lands in my lap I’ll take it.

Dinner was great, Aline is a hell of a cook, I almost made myself sick. We chatted a lot, but no shop talk or cell phones, that’s Mrs. Aline’s rule.

I hung out for a while, and then I took off, I’m beat.

I passed by the street with the gas station and saw an açai place, I thought it was cool, I love açai and this one is close to home, I didn’t stop because I’m still full from dinner, I’m going straight home to play some video games and get some sleep.

Tomorrow will be better, there’s a dance, I’m gonna drink, get me a girl and have some fun with my boys.

***This work has been signed with NovelToon, and piracy such as reprinting without permission is strictly prohibited.***

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***