I can't speak.
He lifts the bags close to my face. "You want to act like a man? Welcome to the family business."
The words sink in slow, each one heavier than the last.
"At least this way," he goes on, "I can keep an eye on you. Make sure you're not doing anything stupid."
"But Dad —"
"No buts."
He shoves the bags into my hands like he's passing me some stupid chore, then turns and punches the wall again, this time with a groan that sounds almost like pain.
"Fuck! I didn't fucking want this life for you."
"I-I…" The words jam in my throat.
"Just shut the fuck up." He cuts me off, jaw tight. "You were supposed to make her proud, Mijo."
That one cuts deep.
My voice comes out small and thin. "I'm sorry."
"Whatever." He drags a hand over his face, furious and exhausted all at once. "Do you have buyers for these?"
"Just some kids at school. And the park."
"Then we're in business."
He steps back, already done with the conversation. "Go get your cut. After that, you run for my guy. Not whoever the hell gave these to you. Aunt Val knows what I'm doing, but if she asks, we talked and you're scared straight. Got it?"
"O-okay," I stammer, folding the bags back into my backpack with shaking hands.
He turns to leave.
No lecture. No punishment. No outrage.
Just that.
Like he didn't just hand me a life sentence wrapped in a father's voice.
The door swings shut behind him, and the room stays dead quiet.
I sit there with my backpack in my lap, staring at the floor, at the bed, at the place where my life just split clean in two.
What the fuck just happened?
Diego steps slowly into the room, looking around skeptically.
"You good?" he asks softly, almost in a whisper.
"Yeah," I breathe out. "I don't know what just happened, but I think I have a job now."
"No shit, man. If it's replacing selling, what else are we going to do?"
I never told my aunt or my dad that Diego runs with me for Marcelus and "B."
"You're still good, man. Keep pushing. We have a lot of product to unload." I motion to the backpack.
