Once a King, Always a King: The Unmaking of a Latin King Read online

  2 Career Change

  MY BASEMENT apartment at Spanky’s became a Latin King hangout. The only part of that apartment that remained truly mine was the bedroom. The Kings often held their meetings there, which meant that I had to vacate the apartment since I was no longer a Latin King. The new generation of Latin Kings knew me as Rey Rey. I became close to Spanky’s new wife, Imelda. She was a small, fragile twenty-five-year-old Puerto Rican woman with no education at all. She seemed like everyone else in the neighborhood—very street smart but with no skills to survive outside Humboldt Park.

  Imelda introduced me to her sister Josefina; we called her Josie. Josie looked like a carbon copy of Imelda, but she was three years younger and a member of the Latin Queens. Josie had a reputation for being a party animal with an itchy trigger finger. Most of the Kings thought I was crazy when I started dating her. She had shot her last boyfriend one day when he tried to stop her from drinking more than she had already consumed.

  My relationship with Josie started four days after I met her. She showed up at the apartment high as a kite, drunk, and reeking of stale cigarette smoke. She flirted with me, then got physical, and finally insisted that we have sex. She was beautiful, and I had not had sex for a while, but I wanted her to take a shower first. Josie was persistent. She said she was horny and wanted to have sex first and shower later. I tried to lead her toward the bathroom and she began stripping her clothes off as I did so. Once she was naked I forgot all about the shower and her bad smell.

  The next day and from there after, Josie called herself my girlfriend. She practically lived with me. Josie did all her drugging and drinking at my apartment with the Latin Kings, and—just like that—I went back to my party animal ways.

  I began helping Spanky with his cocaine business. I’d cut, weigh, and bag the product for him in return for free rent and five hundred dollars a week. Often I did these things on my own. Known as Lil Loco when I was a hardcore gangbanger, I would get high on a daily basis to cover up my true feelings. I reestablished these old habits. Unlike the old Lil Loco, however, I no longer sought out violent confrontations or felt the need to prove myself to anyone. In this sense, at least, I had grown.

  The new Rey Rey became sort of a sex freak when under the influence of drugs and alcohol. Once I got high, I became obsessed with sex. Luckily, Josie was always ready and willing to please me. When she wasn’t around I would masturbate, since other girls in the neighborhood were afraid of Josie—all of them except for Spanky’s wife, Imelda.

  Spanky was paralyzed from the waist down, which left him sexually dysfunctional. He was in a wheelchair because, years earlier, the Latin Kings had suspected him of ratting me out to the law. They called a meeting with the intention of talking to him but shot him in a drive-by instead. They planned to kill him as a means of discipline by setting an example to others, but he didn’t die, and he didn’t even quit the Latin Kings, even though he knew they were the ones who’d shot him. Spanky could only sexually please Imelda orally or with his hands. She secretly desired more. Imelda came looking for me one evening so I could help her count out the money to purchase two kilos of cocaine. It was one of the very few days that I was alone in my apartment. She walked into my bedroom to find me lying on my bed, naked, in my own sexual world, masturbating. I don’t even know how she came to be in my room. I heard her voice saying something, but I didn’t acknowledge it. Then the voice got louder. “Espera que llegue Josie (Wait until Josie arrives),” the voice said. I opened my eyes, startled, and stared at her as she looked at me with a devilish grin on her face. Imelda did not take her eyes off me for one minute. Her reaction to my nakedness and self-pleasure turned my initial embarrassment into excitement. I got up, grabbed her by the back of the neck, and gently pulled her toward me to kiss her. Imelda turned her face so I wouldn’t kiss her and said, “no puedo (I can’t).” “Si puedes (You can),” I whispered in her ear. I placed my hands on her waist and spun her body so her back faced the bed as I kissed her ear and neck. I laid her gently on the bed and after a few more weak “I can’ts,” Imelda became my willing partner. That was the start of our affair.

  My sexual involvement with Imelda became both a blessing and a curse. Imelda began to look forward to our sexual encounters, and she got upset with the lack of opportunity, due to Latin Kings hanging around in my apartment all the time and Josie’s presence. Imelda grew jealous because Josie was spending nights with me, but she was only getting quickies here and there that, more often than not, left her with the desire for more. Her frustration led her to have Spanky ban the Latin Kings from using any part of the house as a hangout. I was happy that she had talked him into taking that action. I finally had some privacy within my own apartment, and Imelda and I enjoyed extended sex time. Suddenly it was I who wished it were Imelda spending nights with me instead of Josie. Imelda didn’t get high, she drank very little, and she always smelled so good and clean, while Josie was always under the influence of drugs and alcohol and reeked of cigarette smoke even after having freshly showered. I wanted Imelda for myself.

  My desire for Imelda got me closer to Spanky. I grew more involved in his drug business. I advised him on purchases and got him involved in the growing heroin business. Spanky’s profits doubled. My knowledge of the drug business from my former time as a dealer in the Latin Kings, and my reputation for loyalty when I was a King, were the only reasons Spanky kept me around. I knew this, and I also knew that it was just a matter of time before I would no longer be needed, and therefore dispensable, but I didn’t care. As long as I was a commodity, I was going to get all I could and then some.

  I was now driving a beautiful Pontiac Bonneville and attracting the attention of the opposite sex. Even with Josie’s reputation for violence, girls were now willing to get involved with me. My money seemed to remove all fear. The new generation of Latin Kings, however, was not impressed. Most of them felt as if I were raining on their parade. My presence kept them from getting closer to Spanky, and therefore considering themselves second, or third, in command and so forth. Because of that, they routinely requested that I prove myself worthy. My Lil Loco reputation did not carry me with this crowd. According to them I was just Rey Rey—unproven, untested, and not a Latin King. My return back to my violent ways became more and more inevitable.

  A little over a year had elapsed between the day Loca’s son died in my arms and my becoming Spanky’s right-hand drug man. I wondered sometimes if the friends I’d made at the university ever thought about me, but I made no attempt to contact any of them. I certainly didn’t want them to know about the turn my life had taken since they’d last seen me.

  With my increased drug use and lack of sleep, my nightmares became less frequent. When they did appear, they contained just as much violence as before, only now I had no one to comfort me, nor did I want anyone to find out what my nightmares consisted of. I had taken a step backward in life. I knew this, but could do nothing about it.

  3 Josie’s Way

  THE LATIN KINGS had completely evolved. They were now nothing more than violent street thugs. The memory of the first Latin King brothers, those who had fought for the survival and pride of their race, had long been forgotten even among those who’d been part of the struggle. The Latin Kings were now about nothing but crime and destruction, and they seemed to be very proud of their social stature. The older Kings were now at the mercy of a new, more aggressive, money-hungry generation of Kings. Word from inside penitentiary walls was no longer official law. The leaders on the inside (those imprisoned) came to terms with the brothers on the outside being the source of their comfort. They could still certainly get anyone severely beaten or maimed or even killed at any given time, but they began to overlook any problem that didn’t directly concern them. It was now all too common to have one Latin King faction be the enemy of another. This new way of demonstrating brotherhood created challenges for me.

  My growth within Spanky’s clique led to unwelcome requests for me to b
e reinitiated into the Latin Kings. It also brought constant demands for me to prove myself by making a hit. Most of those around me didn’t know me as Lil Loco, and didn’t believe or care about the stories they heard about my past. They wanted to see for themselves if I was actually the guy who would go into rival gang turf by himself simply for the pleasure of inflicting bodily injury. They wanted me out there with them every day getting drunk, getting high, and putting my life on the line for the benefit of the Latin Kings. No one, including myself, seemed to remember that at one time the Latin Kings had wanted me dead for the violence I had enacted on one of my own and that I had gotten violated out because I believed they were the scum of the earth. I had shot a Latin King because of the barrage of insults he threw my way about a girl I was dating being impregnated by a King in the penitentiary. I was aware that she carried in drugs for him (a mule), but I hadn’t known she was screwing him. The Kings had put a price on my head, but later downgraded it to a severe beating. I’d had to be hospitalized after the beating. As time went on, when I began to notice the favoritism given to some brothers and carelessness shown to others, I began to vocally disagree with many of the leaders. I also became vocal about my perception of the Latin Kings being a disease of the Puerto Rican community.

  My reluctance to become the totally out-of-control gang-banger I’d been in the past led fourteen- and fifteen-year-old kids to challenge my manhood on a consistent basis. I knew the rules. If I knocked the shit out of any one of them, as I really wanted to, I would become a punching dummy for all the Latin Kings. Spanky intervened as much as he could, but kids in gangs, with or without guns, are still ignorant. Basically I would just walk away from the shouts of “punk,” “pussy,” “coward,” and so on, being directed at my back, and go have sex with Imelda or someone else to make myself feel better. That was my way of retaining my sense of manhood—having sex with as many women as possible. But I knew that, sooner or later, I would have to participate in a violent act.

  One Friday night Josie showed up at Humboldt Park drunk and pissed off about rumors she’d heard that I was sleeping around. It didn’t help that she arrived just in time to find a pretty sixteen-year-old sitting on my lap flirting with me. The girl’s name was Jessica; her nickname was Lady J. Jessica was being recruited by the Latin Queens and had taken a liking to me. Lady J looked very physically mature for her age. With her made-up face and her big breasts and ass, she looked older than Josie, though she was really six years younger. Lady J had a natural tan look, with long black hair and brown eyes. She was Puerto Rican, born in Chicago, and spoke very little Spanish. Lady J liked material things. She gravitated to people with money, and I was the one she had chosen to cling to from the first day she saw me, about a week earlier. I knew her age, knew she was jailbait, but went for it anyway.

  Upon Josie’s arrival, Lady J immediately got off my lap and began to walk away. I remained sitting on the park bench and watched Josie come toward me. All the folks standing even remotely near me immediately distanced themselves. They could see that I was in some deep shit, and they didn’t want to be in the way if Josie pulled a gun and started shooting. Josie, however, went after Lady J instead. “You fuckin’ bitch! What are you doing all over my man?” Josie shouted as she walked rapidly toward Lady J. Lady J didn’t respond. She just continued to walk away. I knew I wanted to have sex with Lady J eventually, so I went to her defense. “Leave her alone,” I shouted at Josie. “It was my fault.” Josie turned to me, shouting every curse word imaginable in Spanish and English. She tried to slap me, but I was able to deflect her swings. She persisted in trying to hit me, but I dodged her swings, all the while laughing uncontrollably. Josie backed me up against a parked car and threw a kick to my groin. I lowered both my hands to stop her kick and got slapped on my face twice. The second slap left two fingernail scratches from my left ear to my lip. My laughter stopped and I became enraged. Josie didn’t care about my anger and continued to fight me. I stepped away from the car and punched her in the face, bloodying her nose and mouth. Josie fell but immediately got back up and came after me as I tried to walk away. The Latin Kings gathered around, waiting for Spanky’s approval to defend a Queen, but Spanky told them to leave us alone, that it was a personal problem. I wrestled Josie to the ground, pinning her, and asked her to stop. “I’m going to kill you!” she screamed. I asked Spanky to have someone hold her so I could leave. He gave the order and it was done. Several Kings helped Josie while I got into my car and drove away. Lady J, understandably, had already left the scene.

  I drove around the park smoking a joint, then headed back to Spanky’s place. I was still pretty angry when I walked into my apartment. I lit up another joint and downed a beer. I was opening a second beer when Imelda walked into the room. “My sister can sure be a bitch sometimes,” she said. I walked over to Imelda and kissed her hard. She responded in the same manner. Within seconds we were half naked, having sex on the kitchen table. Our sex was violent, more violent than it had ever been. I treated Imelda as if I was beating her up, only sexually. After five minutes it was over. We were both exhausted. “I love you,” Imelda said as she caressed my face. I got off her, grabbed my pants, and headed for the bathroom. I showered, got dressed, and went out to find Imelda had left. I got another beer, lit up another joint, and sat down to watch television. After a few minutes I heard a commotion outside.

  I went out to witness Josie trashing my car while the Kings, Queens, and the rest of the neighborhood cheered her on. She had a baseball bat and had already put several ugly dents on the front hood and broken the front windshield and the driver’s side window. When she saw me she started swinging the bat faster and wilder. I ran to stop her, and she swung the bat at me. I ducked under the swinging bat and grabbed hold of her before she could swing again. I held her really tight and made her drop the bat. I looked at a laughing Spanky and asked him why he let her damage my car. “Because you’re a punk,” another King answered before Spanky could say anything. That same King stepped toward me, jeering. “Hit me punk, hit me.” “Back off, leave him alone. It’s personal,” Spanky yelled. The King backed off. I picked Josie up, threw her over my shoulder, and took her inside.

  Inside, Josie continued to attack me. I hit her again, this time with the back of my open hand, across her face. I carried her into the bedroom, threw her on the bed, sat on her, and pinned her down as she screamed her lungs out. Spanky and several other Kings came and watched what was going on. They found me on top of her, pleading for her to calm down. Spanky laughed and instructed everyone that we be left alone. I told Josie I was sorry for hitting her. I assured her that I loved only her, and that she was the only one for me. I caressed her hair and face. Her screams became whispers but they were still obscene. I bent over and started kissing her face. Josie began softly kissing me back. We ended our fight with an all-night sex session. In the morning, Josie was gone. I walked into the bathroom, and there on the mirror written in lipstick were the words “I love you, Rey Rey.”

  Josie took my car to have the damage she had caused fixed. From that day forward, she became obedient to my every word. She seemed to become obsessed with my beating her. It was as if she liked it, and she looked forward to getting into confrontations with me that would result in my beating her one way or another. She would seem loving and caring, and then out of the blue begin fighting with me. She knew that the one way to get me to hit her was to hit me first. We always ended up having passionate sex and forgetting about it until the next time.

  Our fighting and making up became the talk of the neighborhood. Spanky joked that we should stage pay-per-view events for our fights. Other Kings used it as a way to look for confrontations. It frustrated them that Spanky protected me even though I wasn’t a King. I was a valuable commodity to his business, though, so I was untouchable.

  I started pursuing Lady J again about a week after my first fight with Josie. She felt safer to mess around with now that I had some sort of control over Josie. L
ady J and I began having some very heavy petting sessions that we both knew would eventually lead to our having sex. Her fingers sparkled with the gold rings I gave her that I had collected from junkies in exchange for drugs. I felt sure she was convinced that being my lover would get her more.

  Lady J was sixteen years old and using her body for profit without actually becoming a prostitute. It didn’t bother her that the first time we had sex was behind some bushes at the Montrose Avenue lakefront. Her ultimate plan seemed to be to have me for the long term. My plan was to have sex with her until I got tired of her, or until another young woman just like her took her place.

  I made arrangements for Lady J to come over to my apartment on a Sunday evening. Of course, this would depend on whether Josie was around or not. Josie spent Saturday night and most of Sunday with me before leaving, saying she’d be back later that night. As soon as Josie left I paged Lady J with a special code that signaled her to come over. I told her that I would leave the side door into the basement unlocked for her. I proceeded to prepare the bedroom for her arrival.

  I made the bed and cleaned up a little. I then stripped to nothing except a pair of bikini briefs and a tank top. As I was folding my pants to put them away, Imelda walked into the bedroom. She kissed me deeply, then grabbed my briefs and pulled them down as she knelt before me to perform oral sex. I completely forgot about Lady J. I just enjoyed the moment for all it was worth. Several minutes later we heard Lady J scream, “Oh my god, Spanky is going to kill you!” Imelda jumped up and told her to shut the hell up as she ran back upstairs. I pulled up my briefs and went toward Lady J. Lady J looked at me with a shocked expression and headed toward the door. I put my pants on and went after her. When I caught up to her, I talked her into believing that it was the first time that had happened. I told her that Imelda had initiated the act, and that I felt I had to comply because she threatened to have Spanky kick me out. “I’m kind of glad you walked in,” I assured her. “Maybe now she’ll be too scared to do it again.” Lady J seemed to believe every word. She came back inside with me, but we did not have sex. I had to deal with Spanky.