AKA Angels

San Bernadino, California
Sunday


"So you are the one they call Big D? I heard a lot about you." We had just stepped back inside as the fumes from the barbecue was making it too hot even in the shade.
"Na. I´m just D. Big D is up at Chowchilla doing a three-strike-15-to-life for armed robbery." Pause.
"Hey Spinelli" she yelled across the room "Was there a big D at CIW when you left?"

Spinelli, a woman of short stature with a greying crewcut and a faded tattoo declaring something in old english captions across the front side of the neck walked up to us; an unlit cigarette dangling from the left side of her lower lip.
"Fuck if I know." Spinelli took the unfiltered camel cigarette, licked the back end and put it behind her ear. "She the one be snitchin´ when we was up gettin high over at what´s-her-names place?"
 The conversation was suddenly cut short when a third woman, dressed in a baggy t-shirt with "Operation  Enduring Freedom" printed on it, walked up to us.
"You guys know Atrea? She´s here. She´s the same man. The same. She looks good." The new arrival then turned to me: "You ok there, buddy? Seem a little lost, that´s all."
"Oh, I´m just great. Really enjoy hangin with you guys. For real" I countered, trying hard to bury my schoolboy accent in a fake Chicago-brawl sprinkled with bits and pieces of the lingo I´d picked up so for over the course of the afternoon.
"Cool, man. Just checkin´"

"Get the fuck out of the picture college boy." Spinelli low right next to D.