lindsey and the loco g's

lindsey clutched the large leather bag with both hands as she cried in the dark corner of the abandoned brownstone on thirty-ninth street. “what the hell have i got myself into?” she sobbed to herself as she leaned against the layers of spray painted gang tags that marked the boundary between the disciple’s turf and that of the loco g's. the cold january air blew unforgivingly through the rusted frame of the broken windows and lindsey shivered. “oh chavez…how did everything get twisted around like this?” her only real crime was falling in love, chavez just happened to be the wrong man. chavez didn’t have much luck during his brief seventeen years, lady luck seldom visits lower manhattan. now fate had dealt them a hand they had never imagined, it wasn’t a game anymore. “one big job and i’m out baby” he had promised her, “me and vato got it all planned, ain’t nothin’ can go wrong.” now chavez was dead and she was on the run from the law. lindsey was all alone in the world. the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hollow corridors and she drew her knees in tight behind the large bag. “it’s time to come out lindsey” her mother said peering into the couch cushion fort, “mommy needs the cushions back, and what did i say about playing with mommy’s purse?”