If you want to check out any of my other stories, check for my name under
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at http://homepages.ihug.co.nz/~raekw0n/writing/anfernee_williamson.html.
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This story contains adult material and graphic descriptions of sex. If you
are offended by such material, or it is illegal for you to access it under
the laws where you live, please leave now.

Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, and all characters drawn from the game are 
copyright Rockstar North. This story is fan fiction, and contains spoilers 
to the main plot of the game.

Do not distribute or reproduce this document, all or in part, without
express permission of the author. (c) June 04, 2006, Anfernee
Williamson.

---

SAN ANDREAS STORIES
Rock and a hard place


‘Fuck this,’ Carl thought.

The husky black quick glanced back out to the street. He was pretty sure he
was out of sight down the alley, but wasn’t taking any chances. The car was
still there, attracting about as much attention as he probably was.
Gangbangers had a tendency to stand out this far from the city. Carl could
see that the battered, low slung car had pulled off the street, stopping
near a hardware store.

Carl steeled himself, stepping out from beside the building. He began to
walk purposely towards the car, his right hand moving towards his pistol.
Its hefty weight pressed snug against the small of his back, where he had
pushed it down the back of his sweatpants. Its cold metal felt hard against
his skin, and made the adrenaline fueled sweat there feel so much more
obvious.

The gangbanger in the driver’s seat looked distracted, talking to another
homeboy in the passenger’s seat. Carl knew he had his chance to take them
by surprise.

‘No more running,’ Carl thought, as he began to cross the street towards
the car. ‘No more fuckin’ around. Fuckin’ Grove Street live or die ...’

Each quick step took him closer towards the driver’s window. Carl felt his
big form tightening up as the rush pumped through him. It was a feeling
that he thrived on, letting it charge him as he prepared to take care of
business. Carl’s eyes fixed on his target, who was still talking to his
homeboy. He took a grip of the pistol at his back, closing his fingers
tightly about it.

The gangbanger’s braids looked very well done, falling about the length of
his hard jawline. They stood out, almost as much as his green flannel
shirt. It made Carl pause, pause that deadly moment as the gangbanger
turned his head to see him looming over the car’s window. Carl recognized
that shade of green, and cursed himself for not having noticed it sooner.

"Fuckin’ Carl Johnson," the gangbanger remarked in a hard tone. Carl stared
down at him, his husky form shadowing the younger black.

"Who the fuck are you, homie," Carl replied, fingers locked about his
pistol. He hesitated pulling it free. It was hidden under the length of his
white t-shirt, but he didn’t need an exposed pistol to get the attention of
the people who were glancing over their way. "You best start talking quick.
Put them fucking hands up on the steering wheel where I can see em."

The gangbanger’s eyes hardened, something that was rivaled only by the
hardness in his face. He did what he was told, slowly, "Damn, CJ. Fuckin’
chill, already."

"You probably street enough to know what I got in my hand right now. You or
your homeboy try any shit and some drama ‘bout to go down up in here. Now
talk."

The gangbanger was looking slowly about the street, obviously checking out
his options. The streets were already busy, despite the early hour of the
morning. Plenty of witnesses. Carl could see the gangbanger’s homeboy
sitting still. He didn’t trust him or his friend.

"You in shotgun. Put your hands somewhere where I can trust them."

"Do what he says, Will," the gangbanger remarked. He looked angry, his dark
eyes flashing. His hands were still loosely on the steering wheel. "Fuck
this shit."

Carl waited until he was a little more comfortable with the situation, more
confident that he was in control. Whether these niggas were decked out in
Grove Street green or not, he didn’t trust anything. "Time to start
talking, homie. Who are you."

"Orlando. My niggas on Grove Street call me O. This here is Will."

Carl couldn’t see much of Will, just that his hands were up near the glove
compartment. Orlando looked like almost every hardcore gangsta on the
street. His face was young, yet hardened by a lust for death, and an
eagerness to impress. His dark scowl portrayed a deep set cruelty that made
Carl pause now that he noticed it. Orlando looked proud, prominent features
more than handsome. Despite being a little on the lightweight side, he
looked powerful. Under his green flannel shirt, a white tank top stretched
tight over a taut form.

"I ain’t heard of either you, homie!"

"You doubtin’ we Grove Street? Fuck I grew up on Grove man. I watched you
playin’ ball up at Big Smoke’s place since I was a fuckin’ kid! I seen the
way you wasted that nigga fuckin’ game after game!"

Carl’s fingers stayed tight about his pistol, as he watched Orlando’s
passionate explanation. That much was true though, he had played plenty of
basketball on Grove. Smoke never was good at that game. The fat fuck. Carl
felt his mind hardening to someone he had once trusted like a brother.

"Grove Street is purple now, nigga. Fuckin’ Ballaz runnin’ the whole place.
We some the few of the fam that got the fuck outta there before Smoke and
Ryder finished everything."

Carl felt the pain of things again, the sickening reminder of how things
had turned so quickly over the last few days. Orlando was staring back at
him, his expression hateful. He recognized the pain that he saw there. For
a moment, his grip relaxed. Carl forced himself not to trust so easily. Not
after what had happened. His whole body was still tight with adrenaline,
ready to explode into action at the slightly movement.

"That still don’t explain how you tracked me down, homie. Start telling me
shit I don’t know before I put a fuckin’ pistol up in your face and see how
well you talk then!"

"I know Ceese," Orlando explained. The youth was hard in the face of
threats, resentful. "I know his family. I visited his fam out in Vinewood.
Your sister told me Ceese was heading out this way to pick you up. We been
tryin’ to find you two since last night."

"Kendl? You talked with Kendl?"

"Yeah, nigga. What I just tell you?"

Carl’s breaths ran ragged in his lungs as he tightened his grip again. His
fingers were starting to ache with the tension. His head spun with the
thought that someone had got that close to Kendl when Cesar had told him
she was hidden. Fuck this. Fuck Cesar. Why the fuck wasn’t he back there
with her, watching her back?

"Look, nigga. We ain’t got no place else to go. We rather be up here with
you than runnin’ fuckin’ scared. I don’t do that shit. We figured we find
you, that you would know what to do about the Ballaz."

"Grove Street is down, homie."

"Yeah, but that ain’t mean I ain’t still fuckin’ down wit’ Grove Street.
Fuckin’ live or die, nigga. This shit ain’t gonna turn me into a bitch. I
ain’t ditchin’ my fuckin’ colors."

Carl felt an admiration, seeing Orlando, seeing the passion in the youth’s
eyes. He knew gangbangers like him. They burnt bright and burnt fast.
Orlando was the sort who would go down in a hail of bullets when his time
came. But in his mind there was nothing worth dying for more than his gang.

"We all that’s fuckin’ left, CJ. But Grove Street ain’t down. Fuck that
shit. As long as we alive, Grove Street ain’t down. WE fuckin’ Grove
Street."

"Yeah, homie. You got that right," Carl replied, subdued.

"So get the hell up in here, nigga. These fuckin’ hicks got me on edge. I'm
sick of bein’ stared at."

Carl waited a breath or two longer before finally letting go of his pistol.
Orlando’s words touched him in a place where pride burnt brighter than
life. He was right, despite, everything that happened Grove Street wasn’t
dead. Not while they were still alive. Three homeboys. At least it was a
start. Carl pulled his hand out from under his t-shirt and pulled open one
of the back doors. He thought that he almost spied a look of relief on
Orlando’s usually hard expression.

Sliding into the back seat, Carl finally got a look at Will. The kid looked
younger than even Orlando, who himself looked to have just made it into his
twenties. He wore an oversized hoodie in a Grove Street shade of green. His
hair was done in cornrows, but just barely. They looked long since needing
redoing. Carl thought he looked like the sort of kid who wouldn’t survive
long on the streets. His face was boyish, maybe a shade lighter than his
homeboys. They looked like an odd pair, total opposites.

Orlando started the car again, the stereo bursting to life. The skillful
guitar playing of Lenny Kravitz filled the car as Orlando pulled back out
onto the street. Are you gonna go my way? Carl didn’t think he had much of
a choice but to trust. The paranoia that had haunted him over Cesar made
him feel the same way about Orlando and Will.

"So where we headed?" Orlando asked. His was driving at that same slow,
lazy pace that would hold up traffic anywhere else. "Was fuckin’ hard
enough trackin’ you down, nigga. Probably woulda just gone up the coast to
San Ferrio if we hadn’t found you today."

"Just turn right up here. Me and Ceese holed up in some place of his that
he bought a while back."

Carl felt his foot hit against something on the floor, looking down. It was
a well worn backpack, and something clinked inside as he pushed it a bit
further away from him. He got a look from Will, who glanced down behind the
seat towards the pack. Carl ignored it, sitting back, dead center. This way
he could get a good view of everything. He gave Will a stare that made the
kid face the front again.

"You didn’t tell me," Carl said. "How you know Ceese."

"Me and Ceese go way back, nigga. I know his fam. I used to do Sunday
dinners up in his families place. Ain’t never seen a guy with some much
fuckin’ family."

Carl used the moment to pry a bit more. He reminded himself that he had
Kendl’s best interests at heart anyway, "So this place you said my sisters
up at. Where is it?"

"Niggas place in Vinewood? It's the wrong side of the hills. Lil shack. One
his brothers owns it or some shit."

"Kendl was all good, right?"

"Yeah, nigga. She doin’ ok from what I can see."

Carl didn’t worry so much about the two any more. He figured that he could
get them back to Cesar, and if he didn’t vouch for Orlando’s story, then he
could take care of both of them. He tapped Orlando on the shoulder and
pointed over towards the prefab complex that was coming up on their right.

"I know how you are with yo sister, CJ. Think about everyone on Grove
Street knew not to even look at her wrong while you was out."

"Better believe it," Carl muttered.

"So chill the fuck already, nigga. I ain’t have to tell you Ceese is a good
man. He believes in that honor shit. You’re sisters’ aiight. Cesar ain’t
gonna turn like some niggas we know ..."

Carl took a heavy breath, neither of them had to speak names, "Best believe
that too ..."

The car bounced a little as they pulled into the rough soiled area of the
prefabs. Carl prepared himself again, mentally. Time to see how shit
checked out. He found that it was easy to slip back into old patterns of
taking care of business. It kept his mind off shit, and kept his mind off
the fact it had been weeks since he had last got laid.

"Park us over there, homie."

"Aiight."

Carl got out of the car as soon as it stopped, his big body tightening as
he let his right hand linger back again. Part of him argued with his sense
of mistrust. But Carl couldn’t help it when two of his closest had turned
against him so easily. What did it take to sell out your whole damn crew
like that? After how many years? Carl put his hand closer to his pistol.

‘Grove Street is Grove Street man, what the fuck are you thinking? These
boys are legit. You got the last of Grove Street up in here.’

The two of them got out of the car. Carl just wanted to wait and see
Cesar’s reaction. That done, he would trust and try and chill on all the
paranoia he had been feeling the last few days. Then maybe they could build
something to put things back where they belonged. He knew he was going to
need people for that. Loyal people.

"Yo Ceese! Come out here a minute!" Carl called. He motioned over at
Orlando. "You two hold up a minute, aiight?"

"What? What’s up?"

"Let me get my homie to vouch for you."

"Fuck this, CJ."

"Nah, chill your fuckin’ self. We Grove Street? You do shit my way." 

Carl closed his hand about the pistol and this time pulled it out, letting
it hang lightly at his side. He liked the way that shut Orlando up, and
made the homeboy fear just a little. Will had pulled his hood up over his
head, hanging back near the car like he didn’t want to be here.

The door of the prefab opened, and Cesar stepped cautiously onto the
veranda. His expression was guarded as he stared at Orlando, but it wasn’t
an initial reaction. Carl guessed he had already checked them out through
the window before coming out. The tall Hispanic stayed back, silent and
staring at Orlando with that look of surprise. Carl didn’t like it at all.
Certainly not the way you would treat an old homeboy.

"Sup, Ceese? Remember me?"

Carl kept his grip firm on the pistol, but still let it hang relaxed at his
side. "You know this nigga, homie?"

"Si, I know him, homes. What’s up? Where you find him?"

"Find him snooping around Hicksville with his homeboy here. He says he from
Grove Street and he know you and your family."

"Yeah, dude, he does," Cesar replied, still standing near the door. "We
used to chill."

"What about now? You still chill these days?" asked Carl. "You vouching for
him, homie?"

"Si, usted puede confiarlo en. He’s cool."

Orlando finally gave a smile, glancing over at Carl with a rather
vindicated look. He swaggered over towards Cesar, and gave him a staunch
street hug, one armed and straight forward. He muttered quietly in on the
Hispanic. Carl frowned, noticing the way Cesar seemed so hesitant. He
barely responded to Orlando’s greeting. It was like he didn’t even want to
touch him. Orlando pulled back, staring Cesar over.

"I guess you two got plenty shit you want to catch up on, but right now, we
got to figure out what to do from here." Carl shoved the pistol back in his
pants. "Sorry if I acted like I ain’t trust you O."

Carl motioned the smaller gangbanger over, and then gave him a hug, one
like Orlando had tried to give Cesar. He felt the hardness of Orlando’s
body against his for the moment, he gave off a heat. Orlando kept close,
muttering to Carl.

"It's all good, nigga. Ain’t like shit like this happens every day. I ain’t
blame you for bein’ so fuckin’ tight ‘bout all this."

Carl pulled back, giving Orlando a hard look. Damn, the nigga had a mouth
on him. He could see him getting beat on for shooting off so much back on
Grove Street. Orlando barely gave it any mind, seeming to let that be the
last of the matter.

"Figured you two was gonna go back to your brothers, nigga," Orlando
remarked to Cesar, heading up into the prefab. "What with Kendl being back
there an’ all."

Cesar still seemed a little shell shocked for some reason, "Yeah, that was
the plan, ese."

"It was?" Carl asked. He pushed Will in passed him, the younger homeboy
still lingering back. Carl was starting to recognize that hesitant,
standoffish nature that he had seen in Cesar last night. The Hispanic
shrugged.

"Figure it as good as any, dude, plus I know how you worrying about your
sister."

Carl headed inside and took a seat on one of the many that lined the wall
of the lounge area. There might have been plenty of places for all of them
to sit, but there was no way the four of them were going to be able to
crash here for much longer than a night. Orlando took up a place opposite
him, his manner relaxed since he had seen Cesar. He slouched, low and wide
legged.

"All I wanna know right now is what happened back on Grove Street," Carl
said. "I wanna know where shits standing. Ceese tipped me off about my
brother Sweet getting ambushed by Ballaz."

"You know Ryder and Smokes behind all that shit," Orlando remarked, with
that passionate, hateful fire in his eyes again. "Because they rolled on up
to Grove Street wit’ a grip of Ballaz, ready to start bustin’. They fuckin’
struck his colors. Way they was talkin’ you an’ Sweet was already dead. But
Will here heard shit a little different. He heard you got out and Sweet got
arrested."

"Yeah, that’s sorta true, homie."

Carl couldn’t help but sense the feeling between them. It was like all the
times he had huckered down and planned his next move. Except then it had
been with his brother, and Ryder and Smoke. He still couldn’t get over what
had gone down. But bit by bit, all the pieces were coming together, and
there was little other course but to accept it and move on as best he
could. He had to try and pick up the pieces of this mess.

"This some ol’ heavy planned shit, nigga," Orlando continued. He was back
up on his feet. "Ballaz’s moved in on all Grove Street turf in one big hit.
But wit’ Ryder and Smoke on their side, ain’t no way they could fail. They
knew all our secrets. When the time comes, and they layin’ face down, best
believe I’m gonna piss on their backs ..."

"I appreciate your loyalty, man," Carl said. "We gonna need soldiers like
you if we going to do anything about this." He glanced up at Cesar who had
been stolidly silent throughout, "You down, ain’t you homie? You gonna ride
with us?"

Carl noticed everyone’s eyes were on Cesar, and yet he was still as
hesitant and unfocussed as he always was of late. Carl wondered if perhaps
losing his crew had fucked him up more than it had fucked up him. He had
two niggas on his side now. Cesar had no one other than him. Cesar hadn’t
acted as messed us he had over the last few days.

The Hispanic stayed leaning up against the counter, "‘Course, homes. You
know I'm always down to help you out." Carl noticed how he was still
sharing glances with Orlando. The braided gangbanger hardly appeared
worried about it.

"Whatever we do, we gonna need a larger place than this," Carl asked.
"Ceese, you got a place closer to Los Santos? Like near where Kendl’s at?"

Cesar shook his head, distracted. Carl pulled himself up to his feet and
walked over to him. "Ceese, snap out of this shit, homie. We need to keep
our minds on this and sort it out."

"Ay, I'm sorry, homes." Cesar avoided his eye, sighing quietly. "I just
need a bit of air."

"Huh ...?"

"If we goin’ anywhere I'm gonna need more fuel in my tank, nigga," Orlando
remarked. "Why don’t you and Will go take care that shit. We can sort out
what to do when you get back."

"Whatever."

Carl was more preoccupied with Cesar and his continue strange moods. It was
beginning to fuck him off. The Hispanic had more mood swings than a damn
bitch. He caught his hard thoughts, rubbing his hand back over his short
shaved head. He wanted to give Cesar a break, but it was hard when he was
acting like this. He watched as he headed out of the prefab.

"Forget that nigga," Orlando said. "Take care of my car, CJ. We don’t need
to rush this shit. Ain’t like Ryder and Smoke goin’ anywhere. Fuckers are
sittin’ pretty up in Grove now. They ain’t moving."

"Yeah ..."

Carl barely heard Orlando, heading out after Cesar. What the fuck had come
over him? He quickly spied the Hispanic leaning up against the prefab,
further along the battered wooden exterior. He headed over towards him, a
look of concern etched into his dark features.

"What the fucks going on, Ceese? You bugging out."

"Ay, I'm cool, homes."

"I ain’t never seen you act like you been the last few days, man." Carl
kept in close to the Hispanic, preferring to keep his voice down. He
glanced back towards the door, but it looked as if their two new allies
were staying inside. "This got something to do with that nigga Orlando?"

"Si, homes, but not how you think."

"I thought you said you two were cool?"

"We are. I just haven’t seen him in a while, Carl. It's a bit of a
surprise."

Carl frowned, still keeping close to the Hispanic, "You two have a falling
out or something?"

"Nothing like that, homes," Cesar said. He finally turned to face Carl,
looking him in the eyes for the first time in a while. "We two used to be
close. Ciérrese como hermanos, like you and me are now. But then I met your
sister ..."

"Yeah, girls change things like that sometimes," Carl replied. Things were
starting to make a little more sense. He kicked at the hard, dirt ground.
"He don’t look like the sort that be too cool with a change like that."

Cesar looked at him strange a moment, but then shrugged. "Nah, dude, he
wasn’t. But I swear, things are cool ok?" He put a hand on Carl’s shoulder,
just staring at his eyes for a few very long moments. Carl started to feel
uncomfortable in the silence, but Cesar broke it with an almost soft
remark, "We hermanos, right?"

"Of course, Ceese. Why you think that shits going to change?"

"I don’t, but shit gets twisted up sometimes," Cesar replied. There was a
resignation about his expression. "I'm just glad we homeboys, ese. I'm
happy with that."

"Yeah, I'm glad we homeboys too."

Cesar looked past him, and Carl glanced back over his shoulder to see Will
standing near the door. The young black held up a set of keys before
tossing them over in Carl’s direction. He grabbed them effortlessly, and
grunted, looking obviously put out by the suggestion.

"I better take care of this. I guess we ain’t gonna get that chance to
chill by ourselves for a few days yet, Ceese."

Carl was surprised that the Hispanic chuckled, smiling back at him. His
mood seemed better, some of the weight that was resting on his soul lifted.
"Ay, its cool, homes. We get our chance."

"C’mon then, homeboy," Carl remarked, trudging over towards the car, and
motioning to Will. "Lets go take care of this shit. You can tell me a lil
about yourself on the way."

Carl got into the car, waited for Will before starting it first try, and
reversing out slowly. He noticed Orlando standing near the door, watching,
before he turned the car about and headed back out onto the street. It
would feel good to get back into things, Carl considered. It was hard
sitting still, even if it had only been a day. The thought of doing
nothing, laying low for so long intimidated Carl.

He looked over at Will, sitting slouched in the passengers seat. The young
homeboy’s hood was still pulled down over his head, shadowing his face. He
seemed almost totally oblivious to what was going on around him, his hands
shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Carl turned the stereo off, hoping
it might encourage the youth into talking. He wasn’t surprised when it
didn’t.

"So how long you known O?" Carl asked casually, trying to remember if he
had spotted a petrol station anywhere in his time out of the prefab. Will
shrugged, answering with little more than a grunt. "You been down with
Grove Street long? I ain’t seen you around."

"You been out of town the last few years."

Carl frowned, feeling the obviousness of the remark drive home the point.
Grove Street had been great once, and up until the last few days, it had
been great again. But it was becoming more and more obvious that it had
been Carl and his brothers hand that had insured that. He really had been
gone a long time if Grove Street could come to this, friends betraying
friends, family not even recognizing family.

"Well I’m not leaving Grove Street again," Carl remarked, quietly. "Things
gonna be different this time around, homie."

The comment elicited little from Will. Carl glanced over, seeing the
homeboy staring out at the buildings they passed. Distant and silent. Carl
grunted, annoyed. He decided not to push the youth, happy that he spotted a
station not too much further up the main stretch. The suspension groaned as
Carl pulled up into the bay. Cesar could probably work wonders with this
car, he thought.

Carl got out of the car, and proceeded to fill it up, his mind already
going through the options. With two cars, they could head back towards
Vinewood and hole up there. Maybe there was a back way that Cesar knew
about. Maybe they could rent a couple of motel rooms, find out whether
there were any other survivors of Grove Street. Carl ignored that stares
that he got from the old man attending the office. For some reason he
started wondering about Tenpenny, and his brother.

Carl wasted little time paying for the petrol and heading back to the
prefab. He ignored Will for his thoughts as he finalized the plan. Carl
felt the charge of action again, revitalized by the thought and reality of
a new direction. Things were going to be looking up from here. With Cesar
at his back, along with the other two from Grove Street, he had a solid way
ahead. Carl found himself admitting begrudgingly to himself, Orlando was
right. As long as they were alive, Grove Street was alive.

Carl pulled the car around and parked near the entranceway, in preparation
for a quick leaving. He figured an hours tops was all they needed to stay
here. Getting out of the car, he noticed Will fall in stride with him, and
felt somewhat hard about his feelings towards the youth. It seemed strange
that the future of Grove Street was partly in the hands of two gangstas so
vastly different, Orlando and Will.

The prefab felt empty as Carl headed back up inside, a cursory glance not
revealing either Orlando or Cesar. Carl heard the sound of voices from the
bedroom, recognizing O’s harder tone. He headed towards them, eager to get
them underway and out of this tiny hideout. It was time to get towards
bigger and better things.

"I’m just sayin’, nigga, for old times sake. Stop bein’ a fuckin’ bitch
‘bout it."

Cesar’s voice carried more lightly on the air, making Carl stop in his
tracks, "Homes, I’m not joking. I don’t suck cock any more. I told you,
ese, I’m going to marry Kendl. That part of my life is over. No hago eso
más."

What the fuck?! Carl paused near the blanket that kept the bedroom separate
from the living area. He didn’t believe he could have heard that right.

"That ain’t what yo dick sayin’ right now, Ceese. I see how yo still
lookin’ at me. So why you ain’t get down on yo knees fo’ me, give a nigga a
lil love."

"I’m serious, homes. I can't do it." Cesar’s voice sounded harder. "Homes
... don’t do that."

Carl felt his big chest tighten, his mind rioting at the reality of what he
was hearing. Disbelief swamped him, and he started the few brief steps
towards the door. He had to put shit straight, he had to see this for
himself. There was no way that Cesar had just said what he had.

‘My fuckin’ homeboy doesn’t suck cock!’

Carl felt something on his arm, glancing back annoyed in his growing
anxiousness to see what was going on. He saw Will, holding onto his arm,
the youth’s face deadly serious, yet still shadowed by his hood. Will shook
is head slowly, as if warning off against what Carl meant to do. The big
black tugged his arm away fiercely and turned to shove back the blanket.

"Just go down, nigga."

Carl saw the shock in Cesar’s eyes, the look of horror on his light
features. It struck Carl almost as immediately as how close Orlando was to
the Hispanic. That and the fact that the black’s sagging cargos were down
around his ankles, exposing those long, sinuous legs and dark boxers. He
had Cesar backed up hard against the only wall space in the bedroom,
trapped with an arm hard up against a wall. Carl though how it looked
almost like Orlando was in front of a urinal, ready to take a piss.

There was no way what Carl heard could have been wrong. Carl could see it
all too easily. Cesar was all but ready to drop to his knees and suck
Orlando’s dick. The thought of it made Carl’s mind reel in disgust and
disbelief, hearing those words off Cesar’s tongue. His own fucking homeboy!

Everything began to hit home, with the force of a baseball bat to the head.
Being in bed with Cesar. Discovering that porn tape. The way Cesar had
lingered those few times. Carl shook his head, anger mixing with disgust on
his dark features. He saw the effect it had on Cesar, the way the
Hispanic’s eyes reached out, how they panicked within. He saw Orlando’s
cocky smirk as the gangbanger glanced back towards him. Carl let his
expression harden, before turning away from the bedroom.

"Homes! CJ!"

Carl ignored Cesar, hearing the Hispanic raise his voice in Spanish in the
bedroom, then something that sounded like a thump. Carl just knew he
couldn’t be here as he pushed past Will and headed outside, he couldn’t be
near Cesar or Orlando. This changed everything, and there was no way in
fuck Carl could let himself stay.